Bluefish Smokefest (September 2018)

I'd been looking forward to this trip all year.  Matt, my salt-sensei and author of the excellent blog anywaterwilldo.com, booked a week on Virginia's Eastern Shore.  I was planning to join for three days of serious fishing.  Our primary target was cobia (more on that later), but in retrospect, my bluefish adventure was almost as thrilling. 

Matt and I set out from the Patuxent River in his sleek Parker early Saturday morning.  Two other fishing pals were meeting us on the Eastern Shore, while Matt and I boated down with the rods, coolers and beer.  With a 3-4 hour ride ahead of us, we were glad to see calm waters and bluebird skies.  Along the way, Matt schooled me in spotting cobia on the surface. 

Heading to the Eastern Shore, stoked! 

Once we arrived and picked up our friends, we were off to fish a rubble pile Matt knew of.  For bluefish, my tackle included colorful streamers (tied by Matt), an 8-wt flyrod, and sinking line.  I cast and let the current take out my line as we drifted.  I stripped back aggressively.  WHACK!  First bluefish to the boat.  

Provided we were over the rubble, almost every cast yielded a blue.  They put up an exciting fight, especially on a fly rod.  Blues are notorious for their sharp teeth, and the flies were quickly damaged by the aggressive fish.  Nevertheless, ragged looking flies kept producing.  

 Bluefish Snacks

Ready for the next drift

 My new friend helping me out!

Many other adventures were had Saturday, but enough foreshadowing.  With a boat full of fresh bluefish, we headed home for the filet table and glasses of whiskey. 

 Heading home, but the bluefish adventure was just beginning...

Step 1 was filleting 15 bluefish...which took awhile.  No complaints, though.  Filleting fresh fish has become one of my favorite parts of saltwater fishing.  With pounds of bluefish in the freezer, we tossed a few fresh cuts on the grill with garlic and butter.  Delicious. 

Bluefish has oily meat and can sometimes have a strong "fishy flavor".  For this reason, many people don't cook them.  However, I'd been tipped off that smoked bluefish was the way to go...and smoked bluefish pate was the pinnacle.  My fishing buddies weren't too interested in the freezer bags of bluefish (which had recently been joined by cobia steaks), so I happily loaded my cooler at the end of the weekend and trekked the fish back to Arlington. 

I faced an initial challenge to smoking bluefish.  I don't own a smoker.  After failing to enlist a friend's smoker (he's allergic to fish), I got desperate and began researching alternatives.  Somewhere in the interwebs, I happened across instructions for turning a normal propane grill into a smoker.  With my fillets beginning to stink up the freezer, I leapt at the idea.  I invited over a buddy, Alex, with prior smoking experience (though only meat), and the experiment began.

First, I soaked the fillets overnight in a brine of soy sauce, saltwater, mustard seed and peppercorn.  This adds moisture (important for the smoking process) and flavor.

The next morning, I dried the fish on a metal rack.  After four hours, the fish was dry and tacky/sticky ...you want a dry surface for the smoke to stick to.  At the same time, we soaked cherry woodchips, chosen to give the fish a medium-light smoke, and a touch of sweetness.  We were ready for the grill!

 Filets in brine

Soaking cherry chips

Turning the grill into a functional smoker was the hardest part, by far.  The idea is to wrap soaked woodchips in tinfoil pouches, and punch a few holes through each.  The pouches go under the grill grates, in the back corner, where the grill is hottest.  We put the woodchips in and turned the grill to high.  Before long, our chips started to smolder and produce smoke.  Once smoke was visible, we turned off all grill burners but one, and put on the fillets. 

The strategy now was to keep the grill at a low temperature (between 150-250) for several hours.  This is where a real smoker is handy.  We agonized over keeping the grill in the correct temperature range.  Too hot, and the fish would cook before soaking up smoke.  Too low, and the woodchips wouldn't produce smoke.  I'd guess we averaged 225-250 degrees for several hours. 

Sometime in the afternoon, without much precision, we decided to sample a filet.  It was amazing!  The cherry smoke was rich and sweet, and our bootleg smoker had left a crispy golden layer atop each filet.  The four of us devoured the first piece, barely speaking.  As Alex and I finished the thicker filets, A and Kara turned the first batch into smoked bluefish pate and bagel toppings.  By the time I turned off the grill...a feast awaited.

Smoke Squad

Golden brown, cherry smoked 

 Smoked bluefish pate! 

See you at Bluefish Smokefest 2019

 Recipe Credit: http://davescupboard.blogspot.com/2008/08/smoked-bluefish.html

Spruce Knob/Seneca Creek Backcountry (August 2018)

Just a week following our big Montana trip, we repacked gear and set out for an overnight backpack of Spruce Knob and Seneca Creek.  After an amazing and long summer of adventuring, our packing process was a well-oiled machine.  Most exciting of all, we were taking A's sister on her first backpacking trip!

West Virginia's Seneca Creek Backcountry is located in the Monongahela National Forest, which by now is our go-to adventure spot.  While not far from Dolly Sods, Seneca is a completely different ecosystem.  Rather than an alpine bog, Seneca features nearly 60 miles of trails winding through red spruce, hardwoods, open meadows, and fast-moving brook trout streams.

Our adventure began at the parking lot atop Spruce Knob, the highest point in West Virginia (4,863 ft.).  Our plan was to descend Spruce Knob to Seneca Creek, some 6.5 miles below, camp for the night, and then hike out the next morning.  

Our newest backpacker was a natural!

 Wildflowers atop Spruce Knob 

Under overcast skies, we set out through shady groves of red spruce and dense moss gardens.  The trail descended gradually at first, then steeply as the spruce gave way to hardwoods.  The coolest part of this hike was the changing flora.  With such significant altitude change, we passed from wind-stunted conifers, into the quiet hardwoods, down through wildflower meadows, and finally into a river valley.  Along the way, we uncovered fields of wild blackberries, deliciously tart. 

Hardwood forest as we descended into the valley

After several hours of hiking nearly straight down, we began to hear the creek churning gently in the distance.  The trail suddenly spilled into a stunning meadow, with sweeping views of the valley. We were getting close.

After another mile, we hit the creek.  It being late afternoon, we wasted no time in claiming the first campsite we saw.  Seneca Creek is famous for beautiful campsites, and for good reason.  Most sites are right along the water...close enough that you could cast to trout from your sleeping bag.  The only challenge is finding dry firewood.  We didn't, and the result was a long and arduous process keeping our campfire burning.

Time for a well-earned rest 

View from my tent

While setting up my tent, I noticed trout rising under a log across from our site.  I rigged up my St. Croix 2wt rod (perfect for small stream fishing) and tied on a small Adams.  Within three casts, I landed the first of many native brookies.  Rumor has it rainbows swim in Seneca, but I only encountered brookies.  They were beautiful with their dark features and pink spots.

Fish #1 of infinity

Next it was A's turn.  Despite not having cast in years, A was soon making productive casts...and trout began rising to her fly.  Unfortunately, by the time A remembered how to set the hook, the trout in that particular spot figured out feathers didn't taste great.  Determined, A moved to a hole downstream, which required a technical cast under a low-lying tree.  She cast. BAM!  Fish on.  Just like that, she landed her first brookie of the year!  Had you any doubt? 

The Determined Angler

I stole the rod back and spent an hour fishing downstream.  Quite simply, it was the best hour of brook trout fishing in my life.  Without exaggeration, every cast yielded a rise.  I landed two, three, four fish out of the same run...then would cast once more out of sheer curiosity, and to my astonishment, land another fish.  I quickly lost count.  The fishing was so good, I barely made it two turns away from my campsite. It was paradise. 

Eventually (this has never happened to me before), I began to feel as though I'd taken enough trout from the creek.  It didn't feel fair.  I wandered back to our campsite, where A and her sister were working on dinner.  As the sky grew darker, we snacked, drank and chatted beside the fire.  I fell asleep, exhausted, listening to the stream outside...and dreamt of brook trout.

Sunday morning was considerably less relaxing.  We awoke and set out early, in order to get Liv to the airport that afternoon.  After a Clifbar breakfast, we began the long, steep climb out of the valley, up to Spruce Knob.  Before the pain really set in, we stopped at our favorite meadow for one last look.

And then we were off.  We climbed all morning.  Apparently, there is a way to access Seneca Creek without hiking off Spruce Knob.  Next time.  Although our hike out was beautiful, we were totally gased at the top.  Driving home, we grabbed meatball subs under the shadow of Seneca Rocks.  Overall, I think we showed Liv a pretty sweet (if somewhat intense) first backpacking adventure.