Years ago, while fishing a back-bay spot not too far from the inlet, I was into a good pick of fish. Thanksgiving was a week away, and the reality had set in that any good night of fishing might be the last one of the season. I was just happy to be out there catching with a few buddies who doubled as coaches since they had many more seasons of knowledge than I did. As the steady pick turned into a slow one, they both put their soft plastics away and clipped on darters. I had one in my bag, which was basically for show. I’d thrown it, but I didn’t trust or catch on it, maybe because I didn’t understand its action or potential. Within a few casts, my buddy landed a solid fish, at least double the size of what I had been catching on soft plastics. After that, my darter finally made it out of my bag, and I threw it, almost exclusively, with no success, until packing things up for the season.
While darters work well “out front” on ocean beaches, I’ve found they really shine in the bays and inlets. I caught my first few fish on a darter in the surf, but among the breaking waves, the catches felt more like dumb luck. With the relative lack of commotion in backwaters, it was easier to get a feel for the darter’s deadly, slow-moving presentation. One night, as the cold, gin-clear water began ebbing under a bright full moon, I saw the plug’s gorgeous dance at the end of my retrieve, and I realized not feeling it was the feel.
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I didn’t catch a fish on darters after that pre-Thanksgiving outing, but I picked up more info and feedback cast after cast—faint and very quiet feedback on the benefits of this classic plug. All the while, I was reaffirming my preference for fishing the darter in backwaters with their even currents and lack of breakers. Fishing a darter there as opposed to the surf felt like the difference between driving a sportscar on the highway at rush hour, with the lane changes and stops, and opening it up on an empty stretch of a country road.
The casting distances achievable with the darter surprised me, and I discovered that a slight tug and a touch more pressure let the darter dig its nose in and punch its timecard to start working. The ideal retrieve speed with a darter depends on how fast the water is moving. Generally, I’ve found that the slower retrieve is, the better. Anglers who have mastered the touch for fishing darters may even stop reeling entirely and let the current do the work under certain circumstances. By doing this, they can get the darter to a desired point in the water column where it hangs, working side to side.
A large, slow profile like a darter appeals to a big, hungry bass. When the fish hits, it’s not the solid thud typically felt when fishing bucktails or soft plastics. The fish thinks its swallowing larger baitfish like a bunker rather than a spearing or sand eel. Hits on darters aren’t as “clean” as with jigs, and sometimes feel like a glancing blow. I initially made the mistake of assuming a fish would hook itself on a darter and had some heartache as a result. I quickly learned to set the hook and mean it when I got a bump.
Last fall, in my neighborhood of the South Shore on eastern Long Island, fishing was as good as it gets. I caught more big fish than I had ever caught in past seasons and, on those crisp fall nights, I was throwing darters more than anything else in my bag. Crowds, winds, waves, and curiosity had me fishing more in the bay than the ocean in the latter part of the season. My go-to darter was the sleek, streamlined, and dependable Super Strike Zig-Zag, but when the super moon brought exceptionally fast currents, its productivity waned for me. Knowing by then just how effective a darter can be, I knew fishing another style of plug wasn’t the answer. I needed to find a different darter—one that could dig in and work in stronger tides.
I’d purchased 6½- and 4-inch darters from Steve Castelli the previous winter at a buddy’s recommendation. Through most of the season, they remained on my garage wall until a friend urged me to fish them in stronger tides when I struggled to catch with other plugs. I took his advice and caught fish.
After that, I reached out to Steve to share my success with his plugs, and this past winter, when the surf rods were racked, I met up with him to learn more about his darters and how he likes to fish them.
A mechanic by trade, Steve made his first plug at age 15, a popper carved from a cedar block. Today, he’s the founder of SC Outfitting, and is an avid surfcaster and newly licensed fishing guide in the Northport area of Long Island.
The countless peninsulas, coves, and estuaries that make up the North Shore coastline create a variety of tidal conditions that have helped Steve master how to fish the darter, and how to perfect the design, function, and performance of his own lures. Perhaps the most unique feature of his darter is the absence of the small secondary lip traditionally found on darters. He stumbled on this design from a small error in production, and instead of scrapping the block of maple, completed the plug and saw how it swam. The absence of that small ridge didn’t affect the darting of the plug, but actually added to the action, giving it a Daiwa SP Minnow-like swimming action.
Among the features that made the plug my go-to for large, fast-moving tides was Steve’s use of inlaid eyes versus raised ones. The inlaid eyes account for less wood, which reduces the buoyancy of the plug and helps it dig harder.
As you’d expect from someone who makes darters, Steve has a few tricks for getting the most out of his plugs. One tip he shared—that I would love to have known last fall—was that in shallower, slower-moving water, make the plug dig hard to “plant it” in the sandy bottom, and then let it sit. That presentation has fooled some large fish for him.
As we wrapped things up, I knew I’d have to deal with the harsh reality of being months away from working a darter on an outgoing tide. Since becoming a licensed NY State fishing guide late last fall, my anticipation to put his plugs to work on a trip with him was a welcome reprieve to the offseason blues of February. Hearing his passion and how it led to the tools I use to chase mine was a high point on my fishing journey, and one I’m never going to forget.
» Follow Steve Castelli on Instagram @sc.outfitting
