Author: Riley

Virginia Beach Spadefish Adventure with Scott and the Midnight Sun: Sharks, Chaos, and a Whole Lot of Laughs

This spring my buddy Scott and I headed down to Virginia Beach for a fun change of pace from our usual flounder trips. We stayed at the Schooner Lodge and had a full day booked with our friend Captain Ryan Rogers on the Midnight Sun. A solid crew from Scott’s work was joining us in the morning for some spadefish fishing. We were excited and ready for whatever the day would bring.

We got to the hotel and immediately ran into a parking headache. They would only let one vehicle park overnight, so we had to drive about nine blocks away to find a spot. On the long walk back down the boardwalk, we stopped at Chix on the Beach for dinner. The food was excellent, but the real show was our waitress. She was not at all prepared for Scott’s nonstop personality. She handled it like a champ, though, and we spent most of the meal laughing with her. By the end of dinner, she was basically one of the guys.

The next morning, we met up with the full group. Joe, Jason, Vince, and Nick, the rest of the crew, was rom Scott’s work, turned out to be a really fun bunch. Captain Ryan and mate Luke had the boat loaded and ready. We headed out toward the Chesapeake Tower light in search of big spadefish. Those fish are incredibly strange creatures. One boat is loading up while another sits ten feet away, with nothing happening. We had to wait our turn to slide into the right spot, but once we did, the fishing turned on strong.

We caught spadefish after spadefish, along with a nice cobia and some fast Spanish mackerel. The rods stayed bent, and the cooler filled up fast. Everyone was having a blast. Then things got wild. A big dark shape started circling the boat. It turned out to be a twelve-foot great white shark. Mate Luke said the shark looked completely lost and was at least twelve miles from where he should have been. My first thought was about the divers working about a mile away. Yeah, that was enough for me. I hardly want to take a shower some days, much less get in the water with that guy swimming around.

We watched the shark for a while from the safety of the deck before it finally moved on. Between the excellent fishing and the surprise shark visit, it turned into one of those days you talk about for years.

This trip had everything. Parking drama, a hilarious dinner at Chix on the Beach, nonstop laughs with a great crew, and an unexpected shark encounter. Captain Ryan and Luke ran a smooth and fun trip on the Midnight Sun. The fishing more than delivered once we got in the zone.

Scott and I have done a bunch of trips together now, and this one definitely goes in the highlight reel. Whether we are chasing flounder in the wind or dodging sharks in Virginia Beach, it does not matter. As long as we are together, it is going to be a blast.

Another great trip in the books. Tight lines, stay safe out there, and always keep an eye out for lost sharks.

Here is the shark video SHARK

This spring I headed back to Chincoteague, Virginia with three great fishing buddies, Ron, Joe, and Jack, for another shot at those legendary big flounder. We had five full days planned from April 25 to 29, a solid boat, fresh rigs, and way too much optimism. The goal was simple: load the cooler with doormat flounder and enjoy some quality time on the water.

Mother Nature, however, had different plans. She apparently ordered extra wind and forgot to cancel it. We rolled in on the 25th and were immediately greeted by the same old Chincoteague spring gale. Saturday blew so hard we never even bothered launching the boat. Instead, we turned the hotel room into an unofficial fishing story headquarters. We swapped old fish tales, told the same lies we have been telling for years, and roasted each other nonstop. Zero fish were caught, but the amount of laughter made it feel like we were winning anyway.

Sunday morning the wind was still howling like it had a personal grudge against us. Rather than sit around feeling sorry for ourselves, we decided to do something smarter. We went to Union Baptist Church on Church Street. What a fantastic move. The people there were incredibly warm and welcoming, the service was uplifting, and Pastor Kevin brought a great message. We left feeling recharged and a little less salty about the weather.

Monday was the day we had been praying for. The wind finally took a break, the water calmed down, and we launched with big hopes. The flounder were home and hungry. We worked the channels and edges, and the fish started coming over the rail. By the end of the day we had a respectable cooler of keepers. Nothing broke any records, but every one of us got into fish and the high-fives were flowing. After days of being windbound, it felt like pure victory. We cleaned fish that evening, grilled or hit a local spot, and celebrated the fact that we were no longer skunked.

Tuesday gave us another decent weather window, so we went back out and added a few more nice flounder to the cooler. The forecast for Wednesday looked absolutely terrible, and since that was supposed to be my last day anyway, we made the smart call to pack up and head home Tuesday afternoon instead of fighting one more round with the wind.

We only had two real fishing days out of five. On paper that sounds like a flop. In reality it was another winner. Ron, Joe, and Jack are the kind of guys who turn hotel-room story time and windy days into memories. The church service was a surprise highlight, the fish tales were better than some actual fishing days, and when the weather finally gave us a chance, the flounder showed up and made it all worthwhile.

Patience really does pay off. Staying longer gave us the chance to hit those good weather windows. Always have a backup plan for wind days. Church, storytelling, or exploring the island beats sitting around being grumpy. Chincoteague flounder are there once the wind drops. Early to mid-spring can be prime if you can wait out the fronts. Bring snacks, good coffee, and friends who make you laugh when the fish are not biting.

Another Chincoteague trip in the books, another cooler of fillets, and another pile of great memories with solid friends. These trips never go perfectly, but they always end up right where they should. Tight lines, everyone. If you have got a crew that can turn windbound days into good times, you have already won the trip.

The Plan (April 16 – 19)

Every spring, my good friend Scott and I get the itch for big flounder. Chincoteague, Virginia, has been calling our names for years, so we finally pulled the trigger and booked a mid-April trip targeting those fat doormat flounder that make the Chesapeake and coastal bays famous. We packed the truck with rods, coolers, a new flounder rig setup, and high hopes. The plan was simple: fish hard, eat well (we booked a place with a kitchen), and bring home some fillets.

Spoiler: Mother Nature and a few hotel pipes had other ideas.

Day Zero – The Hotel Fiasco

We rolled into Chincoteague on the 15th excited and ready. That excitement lasted about 30 seconds after we checked in. Our hotel had major busted pipe issues, so they shuffled us to a “replacement” property. Let’s just say it was… charming in the way only a true fishing-trip dump can be. No efficiency kitchen, questionable carpet, and a distinct aroma that screamed “budget motel.” Our grand plans of cooking fresh catches every night went straight out the window. We laughed, shrugged it off, and hit a local seafood spot instead. Sometimes the best trips start with lowered expectations.

Day 1 – Windy But Productive

The first full day on the water gave us decent conditions… if you ignored the wind. We launched early and pointed the boat toward some proven flounder spots. The water was moving well, and we started picking up fish.

We put a few solid keepers in the cooler—nothing in the double-digit pound range we were dreaming of, but respectable flounder that fought hard and made the trip feel successful right away. The wind kept building, though, and eventually we were getting tossed around too much to fish effectively. We called it a day earlier than we wanted, but we still had fish to show for it and big smiles on our faces.

Day 2 – The Marine Layer Strikes

Day two was supposed to be our big push. Instead, we woke up to stronger winds and a thick marine layer rolling in fast. We launched anyway (because of course we did), but it quickly became obvious it wasn’t safe. As we headed back toward the ramp, the fog got so thick we could barely see the bow of the boat. Approaching the takeout, everything was a gray blur. It was one of those “glad we’re not out there” moments.

We tied up, waited at the hotel hoping it would burn off, and checked the forecast every 30 minutes. By late afternoon, it was clear Sunday was going to be even worse. With heavy hearts (and a cooler full of nice flounder), we decided to pack up and head home a day early.

The Real Reason It Was a Great Trip

If you look at the fishing report on paper, this trip was a bust. We got skunked on our main goal of monster flounder, dealt with hotel drama, and got chased off the water by wind and fog.

But here’s the thing—fishing trips aren’t really about the fish. They’re about the time on the water with your people. Scott is one of those friends where nothing ever feels like a failure. We laughed about the dump hotel, roasted each other for packing too much gear we barely used, told old stories, and made new ones. Even sitting in the hotel room watching the fog, we were cracking up and already planning the next trip.

Lessons Learned (and Tips for Chincoteague Flounder)

• The weather is king on the East Coast in spring. Have a flexible plan and don’t be afraid to pull the plug when it gets sketchy.
• Our plan next year (now that I am mostly retired) is to wait until we are headed there to make the reservations.
• Book hotels with good cancellation policies… or at least confirm the pipes are working.
• Flounder were around! Even in tough conditions we found fish. Next time we’ll target slightly calmer days or protected areas.
• Bring snacks, good coffee, and a positive attitude. They matter more than you think.

Would I go back to Chincoteague? Absolutely. Would I go with Scott again? In a heartbeat.

Tight lines, friends. Sometimes the best fishing stories come from the trips that don’t go according to plan.

Hey anglers! If you’ve ever had one of those days where the fish are laughing at you from the depths, this one’s for you. Today (December 26th, Boxing Day, yes, we’re still chasing stripers right after Christmas!), the conditions were just too good to pass up. The wind had finally chilled out, the bay was like glass, and the temps were warm enough that I didn’t need three layers of thermals. I hit up my buddy Vince, and he was game. Destination? Good ol’ R62. Let’s see what’s biting!

I launched with high hopes, rods rigged, coffee hot. Got to R62 and jackpot on the sonar! Tons of bait balls everywhere, and big marks lurking below them. Fish galore! I was thinking, “This is gonna be epic.”

Reality check: Those fish were playing hard to get. Deep, sulky, and absolutely refusing to come up for my lures. We trolled near, we trolled far, we covered every inch around R62. Crickets. Nada. Zilch. The stripers were down there throwing a party, but we weren’t invited.

Vince and I split up at one point (he stayed persistent at the hotspot), but as usual, I couldn’t call it quits without my classic “troll back home” move. You know the one, that stubborn last-ditch effort where you drag your lures all the way to the ramp, just in case.

I’m cruising along in calm waters, daydreaming about hot cocoa, when I’m nearing the old spot where 1GW used to be (before it was relocated). Out of nowhere, BAM! Rod doubles over, reel screaming like it’s on fire. This wasn’t a schoolie. This was a beast!

Solo on the boat, it was a full-on epic battle. Head shakes, runs, dives, the works. My heart was pounding, but after a fantastic fight, I netted this beauty: a thick, healthy 36-inch striped bass! What a tank. She fought like a champ and looked even better.

Quick hero shots (because of course), and back she went with a strong swim-off. No regrets. That’s the beauty of catch-and-release on these big breeders.

With renewed optimism (and a huge grin), I trolled the area for another 30 minutes. Nothing else wanted to play, but who cares? That one fish turned a potential skunk into a memorable day.

Moral of the story: Never quit early. That “troll home” tactic has saved me more times than I can count. The bay gave us a post-holiday gift today, proof that persistence pays off, even when the fish are being total jerks most of the day.

Tight lines, everyone! If you’re out there chasing winter stripers, keep grinding. You never know when that one big bite will make it all worthwhile.

Dec 27th

Sometimes the best fishing stories aren’t about limits and monster hauls. They’re about beating the odds, making memories, and watching the next generation light up with excitement. That’s precisely what happened on my recent trip with my buddy Scott, his son Bubba, and his grandson Cody. Three generations on the boat! I joined granddad and the gang for breakfast before we shoved off. It was one of those outings that remind you why we love this sport.

We kicked things off bright and early. The plan? Beat the wind and get out into the bay before it turns into a washing machine. Mother Nature had other ideas. We left the dock on time, but the breeze was already cranking. We poked our noses into the bay, and nope. Waves hitting the hull, whitecaps everywhere. It just wasn’t safe or fun.

Scott and I just knew: “This might be a bust.” But with young Cody on board, wide-eyed and ready to fish, there was no way we were heading straight home. We went into sheltered mode near the 200 bridge. Honestly, neither of us thought we’d see a thing. The sonar was blank. Still, we dropped the rigs anyway. Hey, you don’t catch fish with lines in the box, right?

We trolled around for about 20 minutes, chatting and enjoying the company. Then, bam! We drifted over a lone school hiding out. First hit! Cody grabs the rod like a pro, cranks it in, and up comes a beautiful 20-inch striper. Grins all around!

No sooner had we boxed that one and reset (literally 15 seconds later), another rod doubles over. Cody’s at it again. This time a chunky 24-incher! The kid was on fire. We gave it another solid try, but the fish had spoken: two and done.

We thought about pushing over to the Cockerells Creek area, but even the river was kicking up too much chop. So we pointed the bow home with two keepers in the box and a boatload of smiles.

What made the day special wasn’t the fish count. It was having the young crew aboard. Cody’s enthusiasm is contagious, and I love how he chats with us “old timers” like he’s one of the guys. That’s the mark of great parenting from Bubba. Days like this hook kids on fishing for life, passing down the tradition from granddad to dad to son to grandson.

Today was supposed to be all about scouting, but luck was definitely on my side. Scott and I have a group coming out on Saturday, the 20th, and with the forecast calling for too much wind on the 19th, I decided to get ahead of the game and find the fish today, the 18th. Scott was working, and the weather was perfect with calm conditions and almost no wind, so I headed out solo to locate a few spots for Saturday.

I started in shallow water just south of the Smith Point Lighthouse, around 30 feet deep. That was a complete bust. If there were any fish there, they were hiding well. Still south of the lighthouse, near the channel in about 50 feet of water, I finally found what I was looking for: a bunch of marks on the bottom. Judging by the size of the marks, these were big fish. I circled back and hooked a beautiful 39-inch striper on my trusty chartreuse rig. After that, I picked up a few more in the 22- to 23-inch range, but I still wanted another solid spot.

I planned to head north of the lighthouse, figuring if they were south, they might also be north. I made my way toward NNK, but about a mile north of the reef, there was nothing. The reef itself was dead, too. I called my neighbor Dave to let him know it was calm and suggested he head to the lighthouse. While checking in on him later, I realized that the area had slowed down. Just as I was about to head back, I noticed a few boats south of R62, so I decided to give it a shot.

That move paid off. There were plenty of marks, and I landed a solid 24-inch fish, the one you see in the box. With a container ship in the distance and my scouting mission complete, I decided to call it a day long before Dave could make it over.

Mission accomplished, and a little bonus action to make it even sweeter.

Dec 13th

What a day on the water! We had a surprise guest join the crew. Brenda hopped aboard with her husband, Roger, along with Scott and me. I knew the conditions were going to be a little rougher than I had hoped, so we started out at R62 and the NNK reef to see if anything was happening. Well, nothing was happening at all. So, we decided to head up to the same spot in the Potomac where Roger and I had great success before.

We ended up on the Virginia side of the river, in the same general area as my last report. It was fantastic having Brenda on board. She is the most avid angler I know, and her enthusiasm is contagious. When the bite is on, she lights up like it is Christmas morning. She and Scott make a great team. Scott gets excited just catching spot for bait, so you can imagine his energy when we are in full-on sportfishing mode.

The day turned out even better than the last trip with Roger. Boats were everywhere, but we knew we were on the fish. Brenda kept calling for “all rods down at once,” and while that did not quite happen, we did have three rods go down several times. Then she set the goal: “Let’s hit 30!” We came close with 29 fish before we finally called it a day. Honestly, we probably could have hit 30 if we stayed longer, but after a full day of action, we were all worn out and ready to head home.

The ride back was smooth as the waves settled down, and we could not have asked for a better ending. For those curious about the tackle: umbrella rigs were the ticket, with chartreuse heads and swimbaits leading the way, followed closely by purple heads with clear speckled tails.

What a day to be on the water. Great company, great fishing, and memories that will stick with us for a long time.

Chasing Striped Bass on the Potomac: A Day to Remember

There’s nothing quite like getting that call from a buddy who’s already on the water and says, “They’re in good fish.” That was Vince yesterday, out on the Potomac, and his report was enough to get me moving fast. I grabbed my gear, called up my friend Roger, and we headed out to join the action.

Finding Vince wasn’t easy,he was somewhere among a sea of birds working the water. And let me tell you, there were birds everywhere. It was one of those magical days where nature gives you all the signs: diving gulls, rippling water, and the promise of fish beneath. But here’s the twist, unlike the usual pattern, the fish weren’t sitting directly under the birds. You had to cast just outside their circle to find the sweet spot. Once we figured that out, it was game on.

For the next hour and a half, it felt like the Potomac was alive. We caught about 25 fish in that short window, and most of them were right around 23.5 inches,perfect for the legal slot limit. Roger even landed a beauty at 27 inches, which we had to release, and I pulled in a smaller one around 19. But the rest? Solid, healthy fish in that 23-inch range. After a while, you don’t even need a tape measure, you just know.

We ended up keeping two fish, the ones that had swallowed the lure too deep and wouldn’t have survived if released. That’s always my rule: if a fish can’t make it, it comes home with me. By then, the chill on the water was starting to bite, and with our limit met, we decided to call it a day.

Cold fingers aside, it was an incredible trip, great company, nonstop action, and a reminder of why we love these waters. If you’re thinking about heading out, now’s the time. The Potomac is hot, the birds are working, and the stripers are everywhere.

Until next time, tight lines!

I finally went fishing—a big deal for me after overcoming more challenges than I’d like to admit. I’m mostly in the clear now, especially when it comes to hitting the water.

I missed my usual group’s early May flounder trip to Chincoteague due to work (why does it always interfere?). Determined, I convinced my friend Scott for a weekend getaway. The boat was a story in itself: Scott bought an old metal flat-bottom specifically for this (and maybe some creek fishing). We spent weekends prepping it—meeting Coast Guard safety standards, adding a trolling motor and chart plotter. After some effort, we were ready.

We kicked off by grabbing weekend parking tags at the Police Department, chuckling at voluntarily visiting the PD. We launched from the Veterans Memorial Ramp, a great spot, especially for fishing the Assateague canal area.

The fishing? We caught nine flounder, with five keepers, the biggest measuring 22 inches—not bad for novices. I forgot photos, so you’ll have to take my word for it. We used various flounder rigs with minnows, finger mullet slices, and squid. No rig clearly outperformed the others.

Day two’s wind was brutal, borderline unfishable, but we gave it a shot. Day three was cut short by a home emergency, but we’re already planning next year’s trip.

It has been a trying year and a half with my health, but I am mostly back. At least I’m back to the level I can fish.

My hope as soon as Spring Striper season starts, I am back out there and making new blog entries.