Fishing

Doing things the same way you did years ago is a dead end. You have to bob, weave and change up the process to continue to be a successful angler.

The Cape Cod Canal’s strong currents and abundant bait make it one of the most productive fishing spots for striped bass on the East Coast.

Do hours of fruitless trolling for prize gamefish have you down? The next time you’re pulling lines offshore, target this underrated species: the blueline tilefish.

Striped bass are on the move up East Coast tributaries with romance on their minds, so start trolling.

No matter where you live on the East Coast, springtime offers endless opportunities for great fishing. Lenny Rudow lists his favorite spring fisheries.

Learn which tackle you should keep and what you should toss as you perform wintertime maintenance.

Seabirds hovering over a striped-bass blitz can mean a hook-up is imminent; that is, if you know how to work the feeding frenzy efficiently.

Offshore fishing requires jumping through a lot of hoops, spending a lot of hard-earned dough and dedicating a lot of time.

The handwriting is familiar, but I have a harder time picturing the boy who wrote the words.

Some of my fondest childhood memories are the days my father and I spent crabbing on Chesapeake Bay each summer.

Late spring brings a chance for Chesapeake Bay anglers to tangle with behemoth black drum

Back at the dock after a morning fishing trip, it’s the first question I get from my daughter, Lily: “Papa, did you catch anything?” On a good day — and there are lots of good days on the Maine coast in summer — the answer is yes.

Without overgeneralizing, Florida’s citizenry and I generally don’t mix well.

A popular target among anglers, the swordfish is a solitary billfish that can be found as deep as 1,800 feet below the surface. Equipped with huge, softball-size eyes that allow it to see in the darkness of the abyss, swordfish use their broad, sword-like bills to slash and stun prey. This NOAA video shows a swordfish at 1,739 feet doing just that.

It’s nice to have a place to return to year after year, through thick and thin, from childhood and the teenage years to your single-minded, hard-fishing adult decades and into whatever lies beyond.

Somewhere along the Maine coast, a man trudges through thick mud as the tide forces the river to retreat toward the ocean.

I’d known Noah since we were kids, part of a gang of feral boys who spearfished in the lighthouse cove where Fred kept his lobster skiff on a ramp that sloped down to the sea.

A dead calm settles across Chesapeake Bay, and a blazing September sun hangs low in the sky as we motor slowly around the grass-lined fringes of Goose Island. The location may be only a short cruise from Tangier Island, Virginia, but it feels as if we’re a million miles from nowhere.

In Maine, a new season is just getting underway. But I’m still thinking about the last.

Cobia — also known as blackfish, ling and lemonfish, among other names — are lean, brown, streamlined gamefish that can top 130 pounds and exhibit Mr. Universe strength when hooked.