As fishermen, we spend a lot of time wracking our brains about the habits of the fish we chase. However, most of them tend to have a predictable annual rhythm. If you’ve put in the hours and kept your eyes open, you have definitely picked up on it. That predictability is what helps guys like me keep churning out these fishing planners each year. Tune into the patterns, replicate what works, and you’ll likely continue to encounter good or better bites as time goes on.
Deciphering those patterns is what brings us the real thrill of the chase in this game. The 2025 season stuck to the script in some spots but tossed a few curveballs in others, which kept us on our toes. At the end of the day, that’s what keeps fishing interesting. If everything were exactly the same year after year, we would probably get bored quickly and take up another hobby … like golf!
The Kickoff
I started my 2025 fishing season on my honeymoon, bonefishing in Eleuthera in February, followed by a dedicated jungle-fishing adventure in Colombia in March. Both of those trips scratched a bit of my fishing itch, which is usually unbearable by the time our striped bass spring run starts. I caught fish and had a blast on those adventures, but it was a bit to my detriment (as far as my local fishing goes). Alleviating the fishing itch early made me a little less motivated for the start of our spring run, and a non-fishing trip for a week in April certainly didn’t help the cause. I didn’t get out until May 9th, which is a little absurd for me. Alas, I was getting after it “when it really mattered,” as the old guys say. Out on the South Fork, saltwater fishing doesn’t really heat up until around mid-April, but anglers were definitely picking away at schoolies while I was in my state of dormancy and traveling abroad.
By late March, as fish began to stir from their winter haze, the far western crew was already dialing in their early schoolie striper bite. As of mid-April, Raritan and Jamaica bays (and a few western North Shore harbors) were delivering bigger fish on light tackle, leaving us eastern islanders scrolling through Instagram with some jealousy. Out my way, it was prime time for migratory bass to pile into the back bays on the right tides, just like clockwork—or so I thought. This spring, they seemed to ghost their usual haunts. Some bass were being caught locally here and there, but it was definitely a frustrating time for many anglers. When I got myself going in May, the “reliable patterns” I depend on took a hit as well. We didn’t really have consistent fishing until mid-June, and even then, it wasn’t stellar by any means.
As May rolled on, the stripers started to align with angler expectations in other areas of the island. The western Sound lit up with a solid run of larger fish, ripe for topwater plugs, plastics, and big flies. Local guides up there, like Captain Dave Flanagan of North Island Fly & Light Tackle, were on it from the get-go. The South Shore saw pulses of big schools shadowing bunker pods in June, but it wasn’t as strong a run as it should have been, as in previous years, and it didn’t last very long. Montauk also was a highlight in June, with some incredible spring sand-eel-fueled striper fishing in the rips. Bass ranging from slot size to 40-pounds-plus were the norm for several weeks. The fishing was extremely conducive to light tackle and fly casting, and diamond jigging, too. It doesn’t get any more fun than that.
The Blues
Early May typically unleashes a horde of chopper blues across the South Shore bays and inlets—those double-digit bruisers I chase relentlessly during their month-long stay. The tackle-busting, adrenaline-fueled fishing for spring bluefish is something that I look forward to every season. But in 2025, the invasion fizzled fast and thin across the island. In my eastern haunts, opportunities were slim, squeezed into a brief window of 2 weeks or so, though I managed to land a good number of big fish and enjoyed a handful of banner days amid the scarcity.
Island-wide, the feeling was more lament than triumph. Even the Sound didn’t have a great push of spring or midsummer blues. They didn’t show there reliably until the third week of September, and it was a pretty concentrated bite.
Bottom Dwellers
Summer saw the stripers dial back locally, though some areas of the island, like Montauk and the eastern Sound, dodged full-on doldrums with steady fishing through June and July. As a result, many anglers pivoted to alternatives. Fluke fishing shined in Shinnecock Bay, with bucktail bouncers pulling steady numbers and solid keepers. Similar reports echoed across the island at various points. The North Shore, from Smithtown to Mattituck, also delivered some solid light-tackle jigging opportunities.
Sea bass followed form: early keepers from local ocean reefs, then primarily shorts once the crowds thinned. Savvy folks targeting obscure wrecks and Montauk/Block Island rock piles kept the table fare coming all season.
Albie Revival
For obsessives (like me) who get tunnel vision on little tunny come fall, 2025 flipped the script from the busts of previous years. Finally, we had a legitimate albie season. Shinnecock and much of the South Shore fired up in September—the first consistent showing of albies in almost five years. The October bite held strong on fishable days (which were hard to come by) and even carried into November in the open ocean. I had several days of 10-fish-plus in my short 3- to 4-hour trips, peppered with a bunch of “good” sessions when I caught just a few. I was even lucky enough to get out to Montauk for a day to experience the madness that unfolded there.
Unlike 2024, Montauk was an absolute crush fest through September and October this season, dishing out massive numbers of fish that were all over the place. You didn’t have to join the fleet, which was nice. It was very easy to go off on your own and find fish to feed your flies to. Plus, some giants in the 10- to 15-pound-plus class were prevalent this past season—a standout for the size we normally get here on the island. The Sound had its moments but, unfortunately, fell a little short of the highs it has experienced in recent years. After lean times, this local resurgence felt like a gift, and persistence was finally rewarded with blistering runs and epic feeds full of happy albies.
Tuna Tales
The tuna game stole the show for much of the season. Bluefins dominated until the early closure, delivering consistent action for guys trolling, casting, and jigging. You could basically catch them any way you wanted. The action did continue past the closure for guys willing to catch and release, though the effort was low since many didn’t want to go out without putting meat in the box.
Post-closure, chunking for yellowfin on the draggers exploded. The action was hands-down the hottest it’s been in years which, luckily, gave offshore guys a reason to smile after all the lamenting over the bluefin closure.
The Fall Redemption
If spring and summer left stripers spotty on the South Fork—with the west and Raritan stealing the early season thunder, and east-end chances coming in dribs and drabs—the autumn surge erased the slate. October’s ocean sand eel and peanut bunker frenzy was incredible. Boat and surf crowds enjoyed waves of bass from slot size to 50 pounds cruising down the beach from Montauk to Jones. Most of the fish this year were large. It was common to see giant schools of 20 pounders (and larger) making their way west along the South Shore. Even the drone operators had opportunities to film these massive schools, which was really cool to see from above. You could easily mistake the bass rafts for bunker schools if you didn’t look closely. Tins with tubes, bucktails, flies, poppers—you name it—everything was working. Locally, there were some crazy blitzes of fish on bunker for a few days as well. The push stayed strong into November along the western South Shore, and even into December as the tail-end migrated through.
Sure, patterns held true in some spots, but the headscratchers definitely kept it real. You can’t script every outing, or month, for that matter. The uncertainty of what’s ahead keeps us hooked year in and year out. Overall, 2025 was a solid year for Long Islanders, packed with opportunities if you remained flexible and willing to explore. Cheers to the year gone by, and the one ahead! Happy New Year to you all, and good luck out there when spring 2026 rolls in.
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