Are you an extreme angler who's always looking for that edge?
What do you consider extreme fishing?
Do you primarily fish at night?
When you do venture out during daylight hours, do you only choose opportunities when the surf is up and the fog is in?
When it's BAD out, is that GOOD for you?
Do you find it difficult to find a fishing buddy to accompany you on your adventures in the surf?
The port city of Magadan in the Russian Far East
Magadan is situated on the shore of the Okhotsk Sea and is home to 150,000 hardy souls.
During Stalin’s brutal reign, Magadan was the capital of “Kolyma Land” and was the administrative headquarters of the infamous Gulag or death camps. Many people were sent to Magadan but few ever lived to returned home. To read more about Stalin’s purge visit:
KOLYMA: The Land of Gold and Death by Stanley J. Kowalski
Ice covers the northern part of the sea for more than half the year and summer surface temperatures rarely rise above 54 degrees Fahrenheit. The climate is extremely harsh, with average temperatures in January plummeting below -13 degrees Fahrenheit, accompanied by strong winds. Summers are short and cold, with frequent rain showers and fog. The average temperature in July is 54-59 degrees Celsius.
In the summer of 1998 I paid a visit to the Kolyma Region as a guest of the Russian government and an Alaskan vodka importer. I produced a documentary on the local area and the making of one of the finest vodkas in the world, Magadanskaya Vodka. When I was finished filming the city, museums, mayor’s office, and distillery I was taken on a couple of fishing adventures. On one trip I had the opportunity to fly over the vast taiga forests, hilly tundra lowlands, and vast mountainous-steppe, until we finally landed in the middle of the Yama River. This was definitely the most extreme fishing location I had ever visited. And the most pristine! We caught fish after fish in an area that was indescribably beautiful.
After landing the helicoper in the middle of a gravel bar we proceeded to catch a fish on every cast.
I've yet to find someone who can tell me what type of trout this is. Do you know? I've been told it might by a Kamchatka Trout.
The vast wilderness area was more fantastic then I had ever imagined.
My last adventure was to include a dive in the Okhotsk Sea. This involved 3 hours of driving across an immense mountain range, followed by a two hour voyage on a small landing craft that had been commandeered for the day. Once we shoved off from the mouth of an enormous river, we never saw another sign of civilization. We passed several small rocky spires that jutted out of the sea, each one covered with cormorants, puffins and several other of kinds of seabirds…over 7 million birds populate the shoreline in this province alone. The sea was flat calm and the weather was hot by Siberian standards – close to 70 degrees!
We anchored up next to a small island and dropped down a few baited hooks, within minutes my comrades were pulling up small herring, pollack, smelt and cod. Crab pots were set around the boat and then quickly pulled; in no time at all they were jammed with large crabs akin to Alaskan King Crabs.
After a stern warning to watch out for Salmon Sharks I donned my wetsuit and strapped on one of their ancient double hose regulators. It looked like it could have been one of Jacques Yves Cousteau’s first prototypes…breathing through it was like sucking air through a swizzle stick.
The bottom looked a lot like the New England Coast, only the jellyfish were a strange new variety that I had never seen before. It was an underwater wilderness every bit as vast and unspoiled as what I had seen in my helicopter ride over the tundra. This had to be the one of the last unspoiled seafloors on the planet…or was it?
Now I find out that the Russians are probing the area to try and discover the source of contamination that is now evident in the area. It seems as though there might have been some dumping of nasty toxins somewhere in the adjacent waters.
When are we going to learn that there ARE NO REMOTE AREAS where we can disregard the environment and hide our dirty laundry…there are always consequences for this kind of shortsighted action.
It appears we’re not immune to it right here in Rhode Island, America’s “First Vacationland.” Just a few days ago the city by the sea, Newport, had to close beaches because raw sewage from a broken sewage line had sent millions of gallons of untreated waste into the water. Lovely!
This post has inspired me to reprint the original story I did for On The Water magazine back in 1999 titled "So Near and Yet So Far" -- look for it on my website's "Photo Essay" area.
On Saturday morning, between the time spent videotaping the kayakers and doing a little fishing myself, I made it a point to dive with my digital camera to chronicle a specific spot called “Mike’s rock.”
In the late 70s I shot so many bass over 30 pounds in this area, it was quickly dubbed Mike’s rock by my dive buddies. On this particular morning there weren’t any 30 pound stripers waiting to have their pictures taken, however it was still a real treat to visit such a special spot. What makes it such a striper magnet? 
A view looking straight up from close to the bottom of the cut.
You would never know it by looking at Mike's Rock from above water. The only clue to it being an attractive spot to fish is the fact that when waves hit the face of the rock they explode in a powerful eruption of white water. It seems that the wave's energy is concentrated by the shape of the shoreline; there is a small area where over time the waves have scooped out a small pocket, or cup shaped depression in the bedrock.
The dark ball at the bottom and center of this photo is the center of an exploding wave. The surrounding water is a mass of bubbles that obscures the sun and creates a veil of white water.
The water drops off quickly right next to the rock and on the bottom there is a small reef directly in front of the sheer wall. The gap between the wall and the reef creates a little ravine that is cobbled with stone. This dark little cul-de-sac offers sanctuary from the force of the surge overhead and it's a haven for small bait fish. The breaking waves overhead create a huge cloud of bubbles that diminishes the visibility and provides predators with a place to ambush from. 
It’s also pretty cool to settle on the bottom and hear the pounding waves directly overhead. You can even feel the sound waves rumble through your body. If the crashing surf is the “heart” of a wave, then this spot exposes you to the deep “soul” of the wave. You get to feel all that pent up kinetic energy as tons of moving water heaves into a stone wall. It’s an amazing experience and a place I’ve always treasured.
A male tautog roams the bottom near Mike's Rock. The aerated water is terrific habitat for blue mussels and blackfish or tautog just love mussels.
Donna with a schoolie striper taken on a cut down, stubby Slug-Go.
At Nomans we met up with the film crew from On The Water magazine’s TV show, “Fishing New England.” Once again all my gear needed to be transferred to another boat and it was time to start the camera rolling. Nomans Land Island is an extremely interesting place to fish, seeing how if you head due south the next land mass you’ll run into is Puerto Plata in the Dominican Republic, about 1,500 miles away. Head East and 3,000 miles later, you’ll run into the Canary Islands. In other words, it’s out there.
Neil Larson and Chris Megan started fishing with live eels and it wasn’t long before I was called into service to video the last stages of the fight. Before the day was over I would film and video several bass in the 20 and mid-30 pound range being brought to the boat. I also spent over 2 hours in the water exploring this remote outpost. The bottom ranged from a desert of sand to rocky shoals studded with massive boulders and turbulent water. I covered nearly a mile of shoreline but I wasn’t surprised to find all the fish concentrated in only a few tight areas. Without giving away Twice’s honey holes, I can tell you this: with ANY ISLAND find the extreme corners of the land, and fish the north, south, east and west TIPS of the island and you’ll run into fish. Catch the show when it airs and you’ll see some nice fish that I found on a boulder field while scouting the area.
We made a quick pit stop for gas in Menemsha Harbor where I got a chance to say hello to the fine folks at Larsen’s Seafood Market and where I finally got a chance to eat my late breakfast/lunch at 4:00 PM. By the time I returned home, unpacked all the gear, washed it down and transferred the digital images, it was 10:30 and time to hit the sack.
This fabulous painting, "Fishing the Breakwater," was created by famous marine artist Ray Ellis. It and other breathtaking illustrations can be found in the Martha's Vineyard Bass and Bluefish Derby book "Fishing The Vineyard." The following story by Mike Laptew is an excerpt from the book.
There are many breakwaters throughout the United States, but few as famous and productive as the one so beautifully captured in this painting. Situated near the end of West Bayson Road, the Lobsterville Breakwater is the westernmost jetty in Menemsha Bight. The view from this rocky perch is extraordinary. Whether you're there to watch the sun creep over the hill behind Dutcher Dock or to witness the magic of a sunset over the Elizabeth Islands, standing on the breakwater is an experience to savor. And then there's the fishing!
This manmade finger of granite blocks and its companion jetty to the east create a gateway to Menemsha Pond. Through this narrow passage, floodwater from Vineyard Sound courses its way into the pond, providing an infusion of brine that fortifies this incredibly fertile area. This estuary nurtures crabs, lobsters, mussels, clams and scallops, plus vast schools of sand eels, mackerel, spearing and herring. During the ebb tide these baitfish are often flushed past the jetties and into the sound, providing an ample source of food for the local predators.
Anglers perched along the jetty walls stand to intercept a wide variety of game fish. Striped bass, bonito, bluefish, false albacore and other species line the banks, patrol the channel and take up station at the mouth of the inlet. Small wonder that many derby anglers target this area in their quest to take the elusive "grand slam" category.
As a diver and an underwater videographer, I have had the great fortune of seeing both the incredible beauty of this area and the awesome array of predators that prowl its depths. I'll never forget the time I was performing a salvage dive along the length of the jetty. With Coast Guard permission and accompanied by a private escort boat for safety, I rode a slackening ebb tide on an incredible journey. Without the aid of scuba tanks, I proceeded to free-dive the length of the channel. Swept along by the current, I drifted faster than any diver could ever hope to swim. Along the way I saw hundreds of striped bass, thousands of baitfish and many other interesting denizens.
The dive revealed a wall of stone that came to life below the surface. The granite blocks that appeared so stark and sterile above water took on a whole new appearance. Cloaked in moss, festooned with mussels and encrusted with barnacles, these chunks of granite were transformed into an artificial reef. Securely anchored to the base of the breakwater, long tendrils of kelp undulated in the current, while tiny fish darted among the amber-colored strands. A tautog swam in and out of its cubbyhole in the rocks, while stripers cruised both the shoulder and base of the jetty.
I had all I could do to keep from smashing into the rocks, yet the stripers were able to maneuver effortlessly in the turbulent flow. Occasionally, they would flash by with the push of the tide, but most of the time they would plow headfirst into the raging current with just a few sweeps of their powerful tails. I found several huge bass lurking behind large boulders that littered the bottom of the channel. These "cows" attained their respectable size by knowing how to get a substantial meal without expending a lot of energy. By stationing themselves out of the current they could easily ambush unsuspecting prey that was being swept past.
As I began to surface next to the very end of the breakwater, I encountered the largest bass of the dive, holding in what could be described as the post position. She was neatly tucked into the seam of two rocks, where she could eye everything that entered or left the inlet. Just a few feet above, a couple of fishermen struggled to cast their lures as far as they could into the center of the channel. If they only knew what lay beneath their feet! (I didn't have the heart to tell them.)
I guess part of the magic of fishing the breakwater is that every section of it can be productive. You can cast your lure off the very tip of the jetty with the hope that a school of marauding bonito will be working the area. You can soak a chunk of bait during a slackening tide with the hope that some gluttonous bass will devour it. You can wade the shallow edges and watch as stripers fight to eat your fly. Or you can cast your plug from Aquinnah to Chillmark in the belief that "the grass is always greener on the other side." It's no wonder that this collection of boulders has attracted anglers from all over the island and from all corners of the world. The pyramids of Egypt may be taller, the Great Wall of China may be longer, but few stonewalls can boast more fish, or a more beautiful view.
Fishing the tip of the Osa Peninsula is most definitely extreme...extremely rugged, extremely beautiful and extremely productive.
Tomorrow morning I'll be filming/fishing off another extreme location -- Nomans Land Island. I hope it's a great dive, but not a dynamite one...I'll explain more on my next blog.
Mike
On a couple of occasions they were directly below me as I was on the surface trying to catch my breath. Every time I dropped down they would spook out of the area before I could train my camera on them. The ones I did find were in all the predictable locations: on the edge of a drop off, on the corner of the reef where the current eddied to provide a break from the full force of the tidal flow, and down the middle of a deep ravine that ran straight into the shoreline. 
