It wasn't a day. It was really just a couple of hours, maybe less. Time fogs the memory, but this was so unusual it's pretty sharp.

Early August of '71. The fishing had been slow. Stripers and bluefish were not cooperating, not even for the charter boats out of Rock Harbor in Orleans, or Sesuit Harbor in Dennis.

My 15 foot work skiff was tied to its mooring in Wellfleet Harbor.

After work, I decided to give it a try.

Left Wellfleet Harbor and passed Jeremy's point which ends at Billingsgate Shoals.

At the south end of the point I turned west to go between it and Billingsgate Island, which is only an island at low tide. The rocky foundation and a few remnants are all that remain of a lighthouse that once stood on the island as a beacon for boats navigating these waters at night.

Once clear of the point and the island, I headed north to a particular landmark on Jeremy's Point. From this landmark I headed due west, a course which would take me to a hole on the expansive flats to the west of the point.

It was the hole into which we would let the tide sweep live mackerel when using them for bait. The bass tended to congregate in this depression which was four or five feet deeper than the surrounding area.

I fished for a half hour or so, without so much as a look. There was hardly any breeze, and the surface of the water was calm.

I glanced to the north toward Truro and saw a sight which made my jaw drop. I have heard of a bass blitz, but had never seen one. Coming in my direction was what appeared to be whitewater rapids, with countless gulls and terns diving into it.

It literally raised goosebumps on my flesh.

I had a mackerel colored Rebel on my rod with the Penn Squidder baitcaster.

When the river reached me, I could not make a cast without landing a fish. I even boated a couple of seagulls which probably cost me a half dozen fish getting them free. Fortunately, I had a burlap bag in the boat in which to wrap them. Even then I got nipped more than once, and those gulls have a nasty bite.

As soon as the lure hit the water, a fish was on. If it got off, another would grab the lure. Every cast resulted in a fish in the boat, even if it was the fourth fish hooked on a cast.

Then, like someone threw a switch, it stopped. The fish went down, and it was over. I went to the south in search of the fish, but never found them. In the final half hour or so of searching, never got another bite.

Just as well, I had to get them to the market it Chatham as quickly as possible.

A stop at home on my way to grab a picture, give a few to neighbors, and back on the road.

In that brief period, I caught 17 stripers, and 17 bluefish. The count in the picture is 30, or 31 fish. It was taken after I had given away three or four.

wow!! im glad i read it before posting lol i was bout to ask was that a recent pic. but anyways talk about memories '71. thanks for posting. 10 years before i was born. born in 81

That would be pretty memorable! Thanks for sharing ...

skillet

Great story, Rhino. Thanks.

    Yep.  There's nothing like Bluefish chasing Mullet minnows in surf.

    Great story.

Great story

Awesome