Chasing Late Season “Ghost” Tuna in New Jersey

Updated 11/20/2024: This article was originally published in 2018. This year, the bluefin tuna off New Jersey are anything but ghosts, as giants are smashing through bait alongside striped bass not far off the beaches. Check out the latest reports in the Northern New Jersey Fishing Report.  

Popping tuna became the late-season craze in New Jersey around 2012 when a large concentration of bluefin tuna settled into the waters 3 to 15 miles offshore. They showed up somewhat unexpectedly at the end of November, when many offshore fishermen were wrapping it up for the season, leaving captains scrambling to get out to cast lures at them.

Fishermen armed themselves with specialized rods, high-end spinning reels, and realistic stickbaits, bringing West Coast and Cape Cod tactics to our local waters. Still, it was a frustrating fishery, to say the least. Many anglers reported spotting the fish briefly, only to have them totally disappear when their boats approached casting range—before long, disappointed captains began calling the pursuit, “chasing ghosts.”

Most years, by late November, sand eels move in from offshore and take up residence on the 3- to 6-mile inshore lumps and ridges. Sea herring and squid can draw in tuna, and the Atlantic saury can really light this fishery on fire.

The productivity of the late-season tuna fishery varies from year to year. For four weeks in 2016, the tuna sat 9 to 11 miles outside Manasquan Inlet in the shipping channel. Working around notoriously fickle late-season weather, I got out five times, and each time saw tuna and had several shots at them. But, it was my fifth and final trip that was one of my most memorable fishing trips ever.

It was December 28, and it was too rough for my 28-foot Parker Sport Cabin because the hard northwest wind was creating whitecaps. Instead, I took my gear on Captain Ken Hager’s Taylor Jean, a 50-foot Viking out of Hoffman’s Marina in Brielle. Ken was happy to oblige and give it a try. Also on board was my son Tommy, my good friend Captain Jay Monteverdi, who also runs the Taylor Jean, his sons JP and Big Al, Ken’s son Ryan, and his friend Brendan. I explained the game plan to everyone – what the approach needed to be and how we were going to cast at the fish. I even had Tommy show the guys how to cast the specialized spinning rods and had them make some practice casts so they could get a feel for the tackle before it was game time. I told them one cast might be all they’d get, so it needed to be perfect.

And, the hunt was on. The rough conditions made spotting fish difficult, and time passed without much activity. I was about to take a nap when Brendan spotted birds just ahead, so Ken maneuvered the boat into a good position, and we had our shot.

In Tommy’s words, “When we saw the pod of fish up top, the three of us, JP, Brendan, and I, lined up on the starboard side of the boat and all three of us cast at the same time. I had on a black/silver Tailwalk Gunz, JP had on a Dorado Slider, and Brendan had on a Souls Hibiki. I cast, took two cranks, and felt weight, so I set the hook hard twice, and I was in.

“The fish immediately ran at us toward the stern, and the line went slack. I thought I’d lost it. I quickly reeled in the slack and came tight again. The tuna took off for a giant run that just kept going and going. At this point, I was shaking because I knew it was the biggest fish I had ever hooked on a spinning rod in my life, and I was ecstatic because I’d finally hooked a winter bluefin.”

Tommy put in a good 15 minutes on the fish and then passed the rod to me. When he gave me the rod, I immediately knew that the tuna was larger than 100 pounds. I thought I was going to get the fish, but I passed the rod off to JP after 20 minutes. He then passed it to Brendan, who then passed it to Jay. In colder water, bluefin don’t fatigue as quickly as they do in the warmer water, leading to prolonged fights that can wear out anglers.

Each time the beast came up and we had deep color, it would sound again, taking back all the line we had gained. This scenario repeated itself over and over.  We went around 4 times, passing the rod as Ken maneuvered the boat, backing down on the fish to keep us in the game. Finally, on the fourth cycle, Jay got it close enough for JP and Brendan to stick it with two gaffs and haul it onto the deck. Cheers and high fives went all around the boat. We hit the scales at Hoffman’s Marina on our way in and the tuna measured 57.5 inches and weighed 120 pounds.

To chase the late-season ghosts off New Jersey, it’s important to understand and note any bird action. Gulls, shearwaters, and Wilson’s storm petrels spot tuna from above and hover over them as they move along. It’s not the Hitchcock-esque bird action that we see above end-of-the-season bass blitzes, but rather one or two birds. If you look closely, you will see the tuna surfacing, boiling, or glimmering just below the surface. At times, they will burst clear out of the water, making them easy to spot. Sometimes, however, boaters confuse a breaking pod of dolphin as tuna when viewing them from a distance.

Once the tuna are spotted, it’s the throttle man, most likely the captain, who is hugely responsible for the success of the trip. The captain must watch the tuna to see which way it is moving and then position the boat ahead of it within casting range.

The anglers must be able to make long casts with the specialized spinning rods and reels used for tuna. The lures must be cast in front of the moving tuna and then pulled away to mimic a fleeing baitfish. Pulling the artificial toward the fish or across its path doesn’t look natural—no baitfish is going to charge right at a bluefin tuna.

End-of-the-season tuna fishing is serious business—cold weather and hardcore fish. My best catch to date was on December 4, 2011, when I had Bob Marsiglia and Captain Jimmy Gahm on board. We found the tuna only 3.5 miles out on the Alex Carlson Reef off Point Pleasant and we were chasing the schools. I got us into position and the school headed right at us. All three of us cast and Bob came tight with a sardine-colored Smith Baby Runboh. An hour and a half later, after all three of us took turns fighting the fish, we had a 74-inch giant in the boat that we estimated to be 225 pounds. It was a fight and a day each of us will never forget.

Source: https://onthewater.com/chasing-ghost-tuna

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