Hooked on fishing: Safety pin and rag bait way to go at Cape Cod

The residents of Martha's Vineyard are used to searching for loved ones lost at sea. The traditional Cape Cod house has a small, square lookout clinging to the steep roof of grey, cedar shingles where anxious wives and mothers would watch for returning sailors and whalers.

Today's cottages still have the traditional "widow's loft" on the roof, but the whaling tradition has given way to lobster fishing and a quiet sailing ambience.

The 120km-long Cape Cod protrudes into the Atlantic Ocean and the unspoiled shoreline is dotted with historic beach towns, including Sandwich, founded in 1637, and the famous Woods Hole Oceanographic Institute.

Sixty kilometres from Cape Cod are the exclusive island retreats of Nantucket and Martha's Vineyard, where restaurants, antique shops and sea captains' homes line the cobblestone streets. This is where much of the history of the United States began.

After the movie Jaws, set in a fictitious town on one of the islands, few sharks remain in these waters after hordes of hunters descended on the region.

It is also the home of New England clam chowder, and when we visited Martha's Vineyard with New Zealand-born Life magazine photographer George Silk, now a Connecticut resident, for a long weekend the famous chowder and the chance of fishing for bluefish were high on the agenda.

The bluefish is the east coast's version of New Zealand's kahawai, a slab-sided speedster and voracious predator of baitfish that easily falls for a lure. The first school was spotted from the widow's loft, signalled by a flurry of splashes as the bluefish tore into small baitfish.

The owners of the rented holiday home were not serious anglers, and a rummage around the basement turned up a short rod of solid fibreglass with half of the eyes missing, and a dilapidated egg-beater reel armed with suspect mono line. The lack of a tip ring on the rod was a problem, but after some lateral thinking combined with improvisation, a safety pin was firmly taped to the stubby stick.

There was no bait, but as the quarry were chasing small fish, a makeshift lure incorporating a large hook, with a strip of white rag bound to the shank, was the best we could offer.

The varnish on the wooden clinker dinghy resting upside down in the basement was not fresh, but it looked sound enough, and the heavy, wooden oars would provide sufficient speed to allow the rag lure to wiggle enticingly.

The boat's shadow alarmed a host of miniature scallops which spurted water from between their wrinkled shells as they darted across the sandy seabed. The bluefish school was 300m from the beach, and with the rod firmly anchored under one foot and the oars sliding smoothly into the water, it took only a few minutes before the rag lure reached the feeding zone.

Everything we had learned about bluefish from American fishing magazines suggested they were not discerning feeders and would strike at any moving lure. The writers were correct. The short rod bucked as the reel groaned, and 20m behind the dinghy a silvery shape leaped from the water.

It was not a powerful fish and the struggle was short-lived. With no landing net it was a challenge getting it into the boat, but finally a finger slipped into the gills completed the capture.

Our first North American bluefish was a handsome specimen that resembled an elongated trevally with a large mouth and head. It was a bit thin around the belly but at about 2kg it should yield some nice fillets.

Silk and the other guests were impressed with the backyard approach, but catching a hungry bluefish was not difficult, and when a second fish lay on the floorboards it was time to consider how the fillets should be treated.

"When in New England you should try the genuine clam chowder," suggested Silk.

He was right. After the owner of the seafood restaurant in a converted sea captain's house kindly provided the recipe for his chowder, we added some fresh bluefish chunks to the pot and it came out "just fine," as our hosts declared.

Clam Chowder

New England or Boston clam chowder is made by adding chopped bacon and diced onion to hot butter in a heavy iron skillet. When these have changed colour, add some pre-made stock from boiled fish bones and heads, or use the juice from the bottom of a bowl of shucked pipi, tuatua or cockles (our version of American clams) with hot water added for bulk.

Diced potatoes are then simmered in the mixture for about five minutes before the shellfish is added. Ten minutes later take the chowder off the heat and mix in some cold milk with cornflour thickening. A knob of melting butter topped with chopped parsley floats in the centre of each serving.

Manhattan or New York chowder includes tomato paste, which adds colour and flavour. Any diced fish or other shellfish like scallops and mussels can also be added to the chowder.