Tuna Fishing at “The Dump” – On The Water

The dumping grounds, known as “The Dump,” lies approximately 30 nautical miles southeast of Block Island and 30 nautical miles south of Martha’s Vineyard. It is approximately a 10-nautical-mile by 10-nautical-mile square that lies in the heart of the offshore fishing grounds for fishermen departing from eastern New York, Connecticut, Rhode Island, and Massachusetts. 

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Growing up, I fished primarily from Montauk, New York, and I now run a charter operation from Watch Hill, Rhode Island.  I learned that the Dump is not a close destination. In nautical miles, it’s closer than the canyons, but it’s safe to say most anglers can count on an hour-and-a-half run at a minimum in fair seas. I have taken my share of beatings over the last two decades, making runs on marginal forecasts to chase epic bites in that area. There have been more than a few slow rides home, enduring hours of pounding into the sea. So, the first step of any trip to The Dump is to understand your boat’s limitations and keep yourself, your crew, and those who may put their lives on the line to come rescue you, safe.

Why The Dump?

The area that surrounds The Dump is what makes it such an incredible place. The Dump itself does not have much structure, but there is plenty of structure nearby. From contour lines to fishing gear to developing weed lines—it can all be found right in that area. But why? 

Structure and sharp depth changes run throughout the surrounding area, where a variety of bait, bottom dwellers, and even predators such as bluefish concentrate all season long. This creates a perfect opportunity for migrating tunas and sharks.  

If you watch the area over the course of the season, you will see drastic changes to the water temperatures. Many of these are driven by the strong currents pushing from the northeast and south. Over the past few seasons, steady streams of water flowed in from West Atlantis and Atlantis canyons during the early summer months. This created a pipeline for pelagic fish moving to the midshore grounds from the Gulf Stream in the canyons.

But it’s not just warm-water eddies that help move the fish. The Labrador Current pushing water from east of Cape Cod moved (and kept) bluefin tuna in the area over the course of an entire season. On several occasions, these fish migrated to the east, and after a midsummer storm, pushed right back to our doorstep. The contour lines and currents helped create large temperature breaks and some of the best weed lines you could find in all of the Northeast midshore grounds. 

The area is also peppered with manmade structure in the form of high-fliers marking fishing gear. Before 2023, we had access to the midshore weather-buoy trail, which has been removed. On many occasions, this structure was the savior on a slow day, quickly becoming an epic day offshore. On countless trips when the fish were not cooperating, we ran just south of The Dump into the lanes and to the buoys, finding a smorgasbord of fish. 

All of this structure, contour changes, and varying currents load The Dump with massive amounts of bait. Whether on bottom or at the surface, it sustains some of the largest creatures of the marine ecosystem. My charters have been spoiled with mahi of all sizes, giant and recreational-sized bluefin, feisty yellowfin, longfin, massive schools of wahoo, monster sharks and a variety of marine mammals gorging themselves. The area is notorious for setting the stage for what National Geographic-level trips are made of. 

The Dump and the surrounding area have a rich history among offshore anglers in the Northeast. Captains on the way to or from the canyons often came across “acres of life” and found excellent fishing much closer to port. 

As I sit and think about my past trips and memories, look through pictures and read my logs, there are a few that stand out and really take me back to specific days on the water—memories so vivid that I can still place myself right back in the moment. These include a massive white shark skying out just like during Shark Week, giant bluefin tuna surface feeds, and a day that inspired this log entry scrawled when my wife was due to have a baby within a couple of weeks: “a quick run to yft and bft popper mayhem on porpoises.” Each day was completely different, yet special in its own way, and all were within a few miles of each other. 

A Season at the Dump

April really starts to get the fishing season underway for me and most charter outfits. As I finish off boat projects and my anxiety about getting it in the water increases, I can only wait. Much of the talk among the network of captains I work with is when and where we going to take our first shot offshore, which is important to us because the majority of our clients are “tuna guys.” 

I am fortunate to be able to take a ride from the South Shore of Long Island on one of the One More Cast boats with a bunch of sushi-driven clients who want that first Northeast fish just as much as I do. Some years, I’m a hero and some years I come up empty, but these early May trips help to get into the tuna mindset. Combined with the time on the water physically seeing what is going on out there and keeping my ear to the ground for any detail on how tunas are being hooked, I gain a distinct advantage. Regardless of the outcome, I’m always learning and preparing as the fish head toward Montauk Point. 

In a smoky haze from the crazy wildfires in Canada, a group of us made our first 2023 run to the canyons in late May from Watch Hill. On the way to the edge, we saw massive schools of bait and mammal life but only marked a few tuna. When we reached the eastern edge of Block Canyon, we worked our way west to a several-degree temperature break and were greeted with an aquarium of micro-sized bluefin tuna. Looking down, I saw thousands of tuna darting every which way. We had massive marks beneath them, but nothing could get through the frenzy. Trolling, jigging, and popping were all producing fish up to a whopping 30 inches. 

While the day was full of catching, it was frustrating not to get the “right” bite. The optimist in me (which can be hard to find at times) knew those fish were coming. Once the water made a push north, the fish would be right on the bait schools we had passed on the way to the canyon. 

A couple of weeks later, in pea-soup fog, it all came together. Brian Bacon from Big Game Sportfishing called me on the radio.  “I have a single bird hanging around here, so we are going to pound the area for a few.” Little did we know that one shearwater would be the start of an incredible season off the coast of Rhode Island. 

Starting On The Troll

That one shearwater was on it and we both started our first midshore tuna season with double-digit landings of quality bluefin tuna. We didn’t know it at the time, but we would be fishing the same grounds for the next 5 months, day after day. 

The first few weeks of the bite were full of mixed emotions. The fog was thick, really thick—can’t-see-beyond-your-pulpit thick—yet it allowed us to remain hidden among a massive school of 50- to 65-inch bluefin and a flat-out incredible bite with nobody around for weeks.

The Chatter Lures Calamari Wingman bar was absolutely crushing it. On June 29, the fishing was so good that we trolled only two calamari bars and nothing else. That kind of fishing makes waking up at 2 a.m., fishing all day, and doing it again the next day quite enjoyable. 

These early troll bites are common. The migrating fish are spread out as they come up and feed on migrating schools of bait or get in the mix of whale feeds. Covering ground at 6 knots with a simple spread in an area with some life—bird, mammal, or bait—is by far the easiest way to locate early-season tuna. Though the jig and pop may be the focus, trolling helps dial in the area and see what the fish are doing at certain times of the day.  We can focus our efforts without burning out our clients by blind-casting all day. Once we see the solid feed on the troll, we switch gears and break out the light tackle. 

Poppers and Stick Baits

When fish are coming up on the spreader bars, there is the opportunity to get some bites by blind-casting with poppers and stickbaits; light boat traffic will increase the odds of success. There is nothing that compares to a raging fish exploding on a popper, though patience and variety are key in these scenarios. We throw multiple-sized baits, employing different retrieves, until we see what works. 

By the first week of July, we were catching just as many fish on poppers as on the troll. The water temperatures were pushing the upper 60-degree mark and a large mass of fish had set up in the area. The tactic was simple: Get to the grounds early, toss out two side trackers, and locate the mass of fish. First light brought a steady pick of large-class bluefin on the troll. Once we located them, we moved to the poppers and were greeted with a steady mix of yellowfin and a handful of school bluefin. Some days had us switching to single hooks on the poppers to avoid fatally wounding striking fish and facilitate in-water releases. 

The Jig Bite

As the water warms, the bait and fish will be deeper in the water column. Use electronics to dial in the bite as it moves from the troll to topwater to jig. Increased fleets also drive the fish down deep into the water column.

Understanding what your sonar is telling you and paying close attention to how the fish are feeding will drastically increase your hook-up numbers. Simply put, are the fish chasing bait up from the bottom or digging sand eels from the mud? 

By the second week in July, we had a steady jig bite and a growing fleet on the grounds. The fish were loading up on sand eels that whales were also gorging on. The majority of the fish were in the top half of the water column—both speed jigging and slow-pitch jigging were equally effective. 

As the fleet increased, the fish became more finicky, and tactics needed to change. The fish started to feed on the sand eels coming out of the mud and could be seen hugging the bottom on the fishfinder. A dead-sticked RonZ was by far the most effective and easiest way to hook these fish. 

Dead-sticking is when the rod is simply left in the rod holder as if you were fishing bait. I prefer a Shimano Talica 16 loaded with Power Pro Depth Hunter braided line, which changes color every 25 feet, so I can easily deploy the RonZ right to where we are marking fish. While the RonZ does its thing, gently rising, falling, and undulating as the boat rocks, everyone deploys jigs (and sometimes poppers), creating noise and attention-getting activity. 

On August 7, the bluefin were so focused on sand eels in the mud that a 200-gram ChatterLures sand-eel jig dropped straight into the bottom and moved ever so slightly enticed bites. The fish would bite when the jig was barely moving, making plumes of sand as it dragged bottom, mimicking a sand eel. 

Closing by Chunking

As fishing pressure increases, anglers often switch to bait. Schools of bluefin and yellowfin can be brought to the surface using chunks (butterfish) and live bait (peanut bunker), especially late in the offshore season. 

While some anglers scale down their leader material to fool finicky, line-shy fish, I prefer to use longer leaders, 20-foot sections of 60-pound fluorocarbon that’s regularly refreshed and wiped down with alcohol.  This helps add stealth without sacrificing strength.  

Hook sizes vary depending on the bait you’re using and the fish you’re after, but the main thing to be conscious of is presentation and hiding the hook. Poor presentation and shortcuts will severely hinder your success bait-fishing for pelagic fish. 

Last year, September and October around The Dump was a sight to see. On several occasions, we marked tuna schools up to 125 feet thick! Dozens of whales were rounding up bait balls with bubble feeds and tuna emerged from below the surface. There were several first-light, first-drop double and triple hook-ups. It was flat-out mayhem! 

Battling The Fleet

Last summer, when word of such good fishing got out, the fleet showed up in full force. Combined with the early-season fog, things were setting up for disaster. Boats running offshore without radar, proper safety gear, or experience led to vessel collisions on the tuna grounds. Thankfully, all injuries were minor. 

Fortunately, the best part about fishing around The Dump is the ability to move away from the fleet and truly have a chance at success. Don’t be afraid to pick up and chase some of those contours, temperature breaks, and structure to go after specific species. You can always return to the fleet later in the day. 

The Future of The Dump

With the ongoing construction of windfarms in the area, I can only hope that we continue to see such incredible fishing at the Dump, especially over the last few years. It is truly something special, and similar to nowhere else in the Northeast. It’s the place where I landed my first giant bluefin off the coast of Rhode Island, where my wife caught her first yellowfin on a popper, and where my daughter reeled in her first bluefin by herself. I try to stay optimistic that this opportunity will continue to exist for my other children and for future generations of anglers, but only time will tell.

» Book a trip with Capt. Kevin Albohn of Blue Line Charters in Watch Hill, RI

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