The tide was just starting to flow east when Stuart Hunter and I skidded my nine-foot tin boat down the cliff at Pilots Landing and rowed toward Wash Rock, where terns were working over breaking bass. We dropped anchor up-current, the hook held and we were in business, casting metal into the action from our miniature craft.
Kib Bramhall
The schooner Charlotte delivers a cargo of supplies and hope.
Nat Benjamin
Lying at the southern end of Chappaquiddick’s inland waterway, Poucha was historically a freshwater pond, sealed by a dike that included sluiceways and a herring run.
Kib Bramhall
Seaweed could be the Island’s next big thing in aquaculture, depending on the results of an experiment growing the plant in Vineyard waters.
Sara Brown
Early in the morning on Katama Bay, a rosy sunrise lights the sky above Chappaquiddick as cormorants and seagulls loiter on docks and anchored boats bob on lapping waves. The Island is still mostly quiet, but at the town landing parking lot, truck after truck pulls in and gear is unloaded, waders pulled on, boats pulled in from their anchorage. Farmers rise early, after all, and despite appearances, the bay is home to one of the Island’s most thriving agricultural industries.
Sara Brown
When I arrived at the beach on November 3, 1979 this message was scratched into the dirt of the parking lot: LUCIANO WAS HERE, 22, 28, 36.
That was Luciano Rebay’s way of telling us that he had beached three large stripers on his annual Election Day pilgrimage to the Vineyard from Columbia University, where he was a brilliant and popular professor of Italian literature. On the Vineyard he was renowned by those who knew him as a skilled and dedicated surf fisherman of unbounded energy and enthusiasm.
Kib Bramhall
In honor of the seventieth Martha’s Vineyard Striped Bass and Bluefish Derby, we sent fishing legend Janet Messineo out trolling for fish tales. Then, in honor of the fortieth anniversary of Jaws, we chummed the waters ourselves for a couple of good shark stories. The result? Well, you should have been here that time when, holy crap...you wouldn’t have believed it....
You can spend more than $1,000 on a fly reel. But who needs it? Charlie Blair and I each caught derby fly-rod-record fish on reels that cost $25.
Kib Bramhall
