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Burning Spots
By: Paul Melnyk
Surfrats.com Weekly Editorial #6
Nov 12th, 2007

I got these burning spots in my groin… I think I’ve been doin’ too much wetsuiting…..

Ahh, I guess this is not what you expected… SOO, here is the real deal….


Where did this antipathy for people who squeal to everyone about the hot fishing spots come from? Well, just look at your cavern dwelling ancestors for some insight.

It all started for the search for food. When a tribe needed stuff to eat, they would send out the gang. When those spear chuckers found plentiful grazing grounds or productive coastlines, they would claim them for themselves, hide the location, or put up a mojo to scare away the competition. They would also fight to the death for those grounds…
This is the way the human race has always conducted itself. Like monkeys howling in a banana tree, we do not give up our important stuff very easily.

There is evidence that the Vikings had settlements in Canada and maybe as far south as Massachusetts, in their search for food and new resources. Old relics mention a place called Vinland. This place was first thought to be Nova Scotia, but for the fact that there are no grapes there. Our northern coast does have wild vines full of purple fruit, and the remnants of what look like ancient Viking style shelters and walls have been unearthed in New England.

Fishing became closely tied with economics as European society progressed. The Portuguese had one of the first monopolies on cod fish, which lasted for centuries. This was the foundation of their great wealth and empire. Apparently, these fishermen learned at an early age to keep their collective mouths shut. History shows that these sailors were frequenting the Grande Banks for codfish as long ago as the 14th century. The blabbermouths would be killed, as would ill-fated snoops who tried to follow the ships. The Portuguese fishermen had no shadows….

With the modern era, the tradition to keep “mum” was continued. This was the direct result of the exiguousness of the species, and the marketplace. Let’s not forget that years ago, you could sell your fish. Back then, you could go on a fishing vacation and make more money than you started out with.

So, it became important to keep the locations of hot spots to yourself. If you sold your fish at market price when the bass were scarce, then your fish received premium value. Obviously, if the word got out and the googs showed up the next day, you could expect the price of those fish to diminish dramatically. People kept their spots to themselves.

Boats would keep their Loran numbers under lock and key. These navigational coordinates were worth gold. Montauk was and still is known for keeping the numbers quiet. Captains have had fist fights and gunplay over secret grounds. There was an old timer in the sixties out here named “Seabass Jack”. Jack was a close friend of my family, but he would never divulge his bass hole to anyone. Nobody ever fished with Jack either. He was a loner. Ol’ Jack could go out and catch two hundred pounds of seabass in a day. His grounds were coveted by many in town, as the Seabass species is a cash cow. The price was always high. Many captains would try to follow Jack. Jack would take them on a joy ride to nowhere, burning tanks of fuel in the process. He had a sixth sense for these interlopers. Jack would give up a day’s receipts to keep his secret safe. Nobody ever got his numbers and he took them to his grave.

Today, the reasons for keeping your mouth shut are a bit more obscure. People are still very possessive, even though the reasons for coveting have become irrelevant. The market for striped bass has become almost nonexistent. Those who have the tags to sell fish can do little but make gas money with the income.

So why do we hide our fish?

Today, it seems that as soon as someone takes a big fish, in six hours everyone knows where, when and how. The news of Mike Melano’s sixty two pound fish of several weeks ago spread like fat cooties in a whorehouse! I saw the fish weighed in at 7 am and by nine o’clock word had flown around the world. The inter-web! One reason I gave up on my website was the hate mail and death threats I would get from relating as little as what side of the island the fish were on…

I remember fishing with Vito Orlando and George Wade at Shagwong one particularly dark night. We were all alone at the point, catching some nice fish when a buggy came down the beach in our direction. The motor barely hummed and the lights were blacked out. Just as the truck drew near, Vito had a powerful strike! I will remember what George said at that moment for as long as I live. It was one of the rare times when you could hardly hear him speak, but his words were so powerful. The growl of it echoed in his voice:

“Vito… If you raise that tip… I’ll f**kin’ murder yah…”

Vito let that slob run straight out, never setting the hook. The truck passed buy without an inkling of our success and we fished alone for the rest of the tide…

I must admit that it is a great deal more satisfying to catch twenty five pounders all night with no one else around. This was the idea of the whole skishing thing. The best part is that it never gets crowded out there. With so few of us skishers, there is little to hide.

One thing I want all of my reader’s to understand. Information is only as good as the source. A fish call more than three hours old or twenty miles away is useless. I can guarantee the fish will be gone by the time you get there. Fish seldom stay at the same location for more than a couple of hours during a tide. Big fish are even rarer than this… they are always on the move. Most of all, please remember…..

THERE AIN’T NO STINKIN’ FISH IN MONTAUK. NO HOW… NO WAY!

(c)Paul Melnyk 2007, written exclusively for Surfrats.com

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