The Old School Way: A Long Island Sound Blackfish Story
For the party boat angler looking to master the art of catching tautog, sometimes the old ways are the best ways.
The air carries that distinct autumn chill, a signal to seasoned anglers that it's time to shift focus from the fleeting summer species to the undisputed bulldog of the Long Island Sound: the tautog, or as we affectionately call it, the blackfish. These days, the rails of party boats are lined with anglers dropping brightly colored jigs, a testament to modern innovation. And while these new-school techniques certainly put fish on the deck, there's a certain gritty satisfaction in sticking to the traditional methods that have been fooling big, white-chinned tog for generations.
This is a guide for the party boat fisherman who wants to learn the classic art of blackfishing—the way your grandfather did it, and his grandfather before him.
Gearing Up for a Brawl
Leave your light-tackle fluke rods at home; blackfishing is a full-contact sport. You'll need a rod with a sensitive tip to detect the subtle tap of a tog's bite, but it must also possess a powerful backbone to wrench a stubborn fish from its rocky lair. A stout conventional reel spooled with tough braided line is the weapon of choice. These fish aren't easily spooked, so a heavy-duty monofilament or fluorocarbon leader of at least 40-pound test is crucial to withstand the abrasive nature of the wrecks and rocks they call home.
The classic party boat rig is a study in simplicity and effectiveness. The goal is to keep your bait firmly on the bottom and maintain a direct line to feel every little bump and scratch. A simple, single-hook rig, with the sinker positioned a few inches below the hook, is a favorite among many veteran anglers. This setup provides excellent bite detection and minimizes the chances of getting snagged in the structure.
For those who prefer a bit more hardware, the "snafu rig," a double-hook setup, is a time-tested option for increasing your hook-up ratio, especially when using a whole crab. Many old-timers consider tying their own rigs the night before a trip a cherished ritual, a way to mentally prepare for the battle to come.
A Crab-Lover's Dream: The Bait
Blackfish are equipped with a powerful set of molars designed for one primary purpose: crushing crustaceans. While they might occasionally be tempted by a clam or a worm, crabs are the undisputed king of blackfish baits. On the party boats of Long Island Sound, you'll almost exclusively be using green crabs, which are abundant and a favorite food source for tautog.
The way you present the crab can be the difference between a full cooler and a long boat ride home. Some anglers prefer to use a small, whole crab, cracking the shell to release its scent into the water. Others opt to cut larger crabs in half, exposing the meat and juices. A popular and effective method is to thread the hook through the leg sockets, ensuring a secure hold.
Don't be afraid to experiment throughout the day; sometimes the fish prefer a large, hearty meal, while other times a smaller, snack-sized offering is the key to getting bit.
Finding the Sweet Spot: Location, Location, Location
In the world of blackfishing, nothing is more important than your location. These fish are structure-oriented, meaning they congregate around rocky bottoms, wrecks, and mussel beds. The Long Island Sound is a treasure trove of these blackfish havens, from the rocky coastlines of the North Shore to the countless wrecks scattered across its bottom.
A skilled party boat captain is your greatest asset. They have an intimate knowledge of the "nooks and crannies"—the lesser-known pieces of structure that hold fish. When the boat's engine cuts and the anchor is dropped, trust that you are in a productive zone. Your job is to get your bait down to the bottom and into the strike zone.
The Art of the Bite: Patience, Precision, and Power
This is where the seasoned veterans separate themselves from the novices. A blackfish bite is often a subtle, almost delicate, affair. You might feel a series of light taps or scratches as the fish crushes the crab in its powerful jaws. The natural instinct is to swing at the first sign of life, but this will often result in a stolen bait and a missed opportunity. Patience is a virtue in this game.
Wait for a solid, steady pull or a distinct "thump." This is the signal that the fish has fully taken the bait and is moving away with it. When you feel that, it's time to set the hook with authority. Don't be timid; you need to drive the hook home and immediately begin reeling to pull the fish away from the structure. If you give a blackfish an inch, it will take a yard, diving back into the rocks and breaking your line in an instant.
The Party Boat Experience
There's a unique sense of camaraderie on a fall blackfish trip. You'll find a mix of grizzled regulars and wide-eyed newcomers, all sharing in the excitement of the hunt. Listen to the advice of the mates; they are on the water every day and have their finger on the pulse of the bite. Don't hesitate to ask questions; most old-timers are more than willing to share their knowledge with an angler who is eager to learn.
When the bite turns on, the air will be filled with the sounds of hooting, hollering, and the frantic cranking of reels as anglers battle these powerful fish. There will be tangled lines, lost rigs, and plenty of good-natured ribbing. It's all part of the rich tapestry of the party boat experience.
Keeping the Tradition Alive
So, the next time you find yourself on the Long Island Sound in the fall, consider leaving the fancy jigs in your tackle box and giving the old-school method a try. There's a deep satisfaction in mastering the art of bait and rig, in feeling that subtle bite, and in winning the tug-of-war with one of the most challenging and rewarding fish our waters have to offer.
It's a tradition that has been passed down through generations of Long Island fishermen, and one that is well worth preserving. The old-school way isn't just about catching fish—it's about connecting with the heritage of our sport, understanding the fish and their environment on a deeper level, and proving to yourself that sometimes, the simplest approach is still the most effective.
Tight lines and heavy coolers,
