Saltwater Fishing
aboard the...
Take it E-Z!
Legs pumping, heart pounding, heaving with each explosive breath, I struggled to maintain and forward momentum up the steep,
narrow trail. We had been riding for hours on lonely, unmarked single-track and deserted overgrown fire roads, winding around the
cool freshwater ponds and through the tinder dry oak and pitch pine forest of the Outer Cape. As the warm sun approached its mid-
day zenith, one last hill barred us from our goal. I pedaled rapidly to a rhythmic cadence pounding like a kettle drum in my head, a
simple mantra that matched each quick stroke of the crank and went, "Push. Push. Push.”

Two hundred yards away, countless shrieks erupts the uninhabited shores of South Monomoy Island as an ornithologist passes
through a colony of nesting terns. Here, on the only wilderness area in southern New England, hundreds of birds wheel into an avian
tornado and rise above the sandy island. North and South Monomoy were separated from the mainland in 1958, And this terminal
moraine from the last glacier is still unstable as the occasional screaming November storm rips new channels and redistributes its
white quartz sand. Least terns, common terns, and the endangered roseate join 200 feet above the marsh grass and then settle as the
naturalist moves on. “Featherhead” mutters captain Tony Biski. I’m not sure of it’s an epithet for the lone biologist or he just prefers
the sound to something more formal. Tony likes colorful speech and delights in the way words sound in the brisk salt air. He calls his
many stories antidotes”, and as he leaves the dock he often exclaims “We’re off like a prom dress”, but beneath the ex-bar room
bouncer’s formidable hulk is the soul of a poet.
The Mayor of Monomoy
By Tom Rosenbauer
The Outermost Place
Sports AField Magazine
Magazine Articles...
Cape Cod Striped Bass - Shangri-La
Article By Tom Rosenbauer
Striped Bass with their perfect fish shape, silvery scales, tidy horizontal lines, and straight mouth are almost a clich'e of what a fish
should look like. If the same plastic surgeons and orthodontists who groom the teen age girls of Long island and Connecticut where to
create a fish it would be a striper. And further on the road to mediocrity, the don't burn line like a bone fish, jump like a tarpon, or
jump on a line with a malevolent glee of a snook.
Off The Elbow of Cape Cod

Articles and Photos By Joe Healy
I would not argue if you were to accuse me, the other two anglers in the boat, and our guide of lucking into an embarrassment of
riches rolling, slurping, and swirling through the ocean around us. The sea birds knew it: thats why the terns and gulls and
shearwaters hovered over the boat for the better part of the afternoon, free-falling seaward and swooping away with a surfacing bait
fish that the striped bass had driven airborne.