The other day, I ran into Pat Toomey at the Stop & Shop, and he said very nicely, “I’ve decided to go fishing at sunset, do you want to go?” Everything inside of me wants to say “YES!” except for the part that knew I had to open the shelter, which answered, “I can’t.”
“Another day,” said Pat, avid fisherman and co-owner of Among the Flowers Café with his lovely wife, Polly. “Definitely,” I answered.
That’s one of the great aspects of fishing, there’s always another day to look forward to.
Except when there isn’t.
Except when nature, or people, remove or change the favorite fishing location. In recent weeks, many fishermen, both on and off the Island, have been concerned about our beaches. If you read the paper (https://www.mvtimes.com/2024/01/17/edgartown-declares-emergency-south-beach/) or glance at Facebook for five minutes, you’ve seen pictures of drastic changes to our south coast beaches. So much of it, it’s heartbreaking.
Once the three recent storms subsided, fishermen (and islanders) flocked to their favorite beaches.
Why? The answer is simple: Love.
Anglers, and even wonderful islanders who don’t fish, love our Island beaches. This land, the place where we literally put our feet, often barefoot, is home, is peace, the place where we cast our cares.
While the grains of sand beneath our feet may shift with the tide, our love for the land does not change. So when the sands are shifting, our hearts demand visual confirmation of any reports or rumours.
Before I drove to South Beach, I saw Michael Blanchard’s photos on Facebook—two before and after photos. The barren wasteland that used to be the lush backdrop for many anglers from sundown to first light is a devastating sight.
I walked, hand in hand, from the Left Fork down to Job’s Neck and back. Hours of tossing and hoping, tall sands and waving beach weeds keep watch in the dark of night. I called Michael, heart in my throat.
“How’s this?” I asked. “Everything’s gone,” Michael said, the catch in his voice unmistakable. “It hurts. It’s like South Beach was bombed in a war.”
Michael is known on the Island for his photography. He also likes fishing. For years, Michael has been photographing the Derby. His photos were used on the covers of the Derby program and given as prizes to all Grand Leaders.
“I first went to South Beach as a photographer to record something quite significant. After a while, I thought, holy s***, my beach is gone. I have written so many photos and stories from South Beach. It’s depressing.
“The really worrying part is that the town put in a ton of sand and planted all the grass seedlings that started to grow, and in two storms it all disappeared. Brodie (Michael’s dog) used to love to run on the grass looking for moles. Now, there’s nothing there but sand,” said Michael.
Before Michael and I got off the phone, I promised to take him fishing. He said that every year he would fish in Derby as well as take pictures. This year, I won’t let him down.
I haven’t said goodbye to Michael yet, I already texted Johnny Hoy. No one knows Tisbury Great Pond (TGP) better than Johnny. He watches over TGP as a loving father who cares for his children. Since South Beach is in trouble, I need to know how TGP and Quansoo are doing.
Quansoo has many memories, mostly of fishing, but also of quality family time. For years I was blessed to have a friend who owned property there and shared the coveted key to the pesky gate.
Johnny called me with good and bad news. Like South Beach, the fifteen-foot dunes that marked the landscape at Tisbury Great Pond and Quansoo are gone. “The wind keeps blowing sideways, caressing the sands. They’re gone,” said Johnny. “During the December storm, the opening was just closed and the sand was still there,” said Johnny, who works with the town to open the lake as needed for TGP’s health. “In three weeks, the lake opened twice. The surges made one heck of an opening.
I was curious about the surges, and Johnny explained that there is a digital tracking device that records the water levels and temperature of the Tisbury Great Pond. “The water level went over six feet, three times. I’ve never seen that before,” Johnny said. The surges probably aren’t a bad thing. I hope it’s cleaning out the TGP and oxygenating it. ,” Johnny said, adding, “The oysters are going to be nice and salty.”
While the oysters will be delicious, the storm brought bad news for shellfish and freshwater fish.
“Tons of sea clams were pulled from the bottom. The south wind rolls the clams in the sea and they drift away. Hundreds of bushels. They died or the birds got them,” said Johnny.
Those waves are no friend of the adjacent freshwater coves either. “The adjacent pond – Long Cove – has not breached in thirty years. There are dead perch and pickerel. I’m looking for sunfish in the bushes,” said Johnny.
I hadn’t finished talking to Johnny when I heard, “What I’m concerned about is our freshwater ponds taking in saltwater,” said Cooper Gilkes, legendary angler and owner of Coop’s Bait and Tackle Shop . Coop expressed concern about white and yellow perch, pickerel, and trout living in all the coves and ponds near the ocean.
I shared with Coop that Johnny mentioned the dead fish in Long Cove. Immediately, he said, “I wonder about Oyster and Watcha.”
I talked to Pat about perch fishing in February and, like Coop, I wondered if the fish I wanted to eat in the winter were still alive after the storm surges.
Coop also said a word that could strike fear into every fisherman’s heart: “plovers.”
Where Michael noticed a barren land of sand and no grass for his dog to catch moles, Coop saw the sand through the eyes of a seasoned fisherman. “Plovers love the open beach.”
Without the beach weeds, we would see more plover nests all over South Beach, which could close one of our Island’s most popular beaches to fishing and travelers for months—like the months of summer. Time will tell, and every angler out there continues to cross his fingers that the plovers nest elsewhere.
One of the ironies of recent hurricanes is that the beaches that were hardest hit were not beaches open to oversand vehicle (OSV) travel. Fishermen and beachgoers have heard a lot of flack about how OSV vehicles can damage a beach in Chappy, but it’s been decades since South Beach, Quansoo, Lucy Vincent, or Squibnocket had any. oversand vehicle to them.
I asked Coop what it was like thirty or forty years ago.
“When I was a kid, we used to drive from Edgartown to West Tisbury—all along the beach. It’s explosive. I can remember driving around Gay Head,” said Coop, with a smile on his face.
“I don’t know what’s going to happen,” said Coop of the Chappy misunderstanding. “We might as well enjoy the beaches as much as possible before they disappear. When Mother Nature wants to get them, she’ll go and get them.”
For me, the first place I go after every typhoon is Chappy. Even though I couldn’t drive north of the Jetties or out to Cape Poge, I visited as many beaches as I could. The breach that opened in 2022 finally closed with a large amount of sand and beach present. Wasque got the needed sand through The Rip, but lost a ton on the fishermen’s ladder. I’m pretty sure all the sand lost near Wasque ended up at Leland’s and East Beach. Both beaches are wider and have more beach frontage-a big plus for all of us who drive there to fish.
Someone posted on Facebook that there are many violations in Cape Poge. I had to see it for myself. I knew I couldn’t drive there, so I took the road to North Neck. No violations, thank God. Maybe places during typhoons where washed away at high tide but nothing lasting. Gut looks as magical as ever. I said to my friend who was with me, “Just think, in three months I will be standing on that water casting and all will be right with the world.”
Speaking of our beloved Chappy, this Wednesday, January 24, is the Edgartown Conservation Commission’s meeting, where they will review and discuss the two NOI’s presented by The Trustees of Reservations. All fishermen and beachgoers must attend that meeting via Zoom. Join the Webinar: https://us02web.zoom.us/j/84642032818.
I hope to see you at the beach and at the Edgartown Conservation Commission meeting.
