NUMENON |
PONDERING CORE ESSENCE
NUMENON |
On January 8, 2002, I offered my modest 2022 Goals and Daydreams. It's all about fishing and as such, inconsequential in the bigger scheme of things, but you can find them at (link) if of interest. At year's end, here's my assessment for my modest 2022 fishing endeavors. 1. 250 Stripers for the season. (1/2) I struggled with numbers for much of the season, but quality prevailed over quantity with over 30 "keepers" (between 28 and 35 inches) and a pair of over-slot fish measuring 36 inches. For me, that's a lot of nice fish! But once again, I missed out on catching a truly large striper. Perhaps I am too committed to daylight fishing, and perhaps the stock numbers really are down. Still, I am looking forward to 2023. I've been watching the same year-class of fish grow over the last few years, and next year they will be high-slot sized and bigger. These fish offer great sport on my favored light tackle. With some additional good fortune, there will be a recruitment of smaller fish to provide action and secure the future. At season's end, I'd landed 203 stripers, a bit short of my stated goal. But I am not going to complain; the abundance of "keepers" easily offset my somewhat arbitrary numeric goal. And, I barely fished on Cape Cod, where high landings and quick catch rates are common for me. Let's face it, I was just a couple of sessions of hot schoolie fishing away from landing 250, and I'll gladly forgo those fish in exchange for quality. I'll consider this goal to be one-half accomplished, and I'll carry this goal over to 2023. It's a realistic reach for me, and it frames a fun, year-long quest, whether I get there or not. 2. Catch my biggest ever striper (1/2) While I had no encounters with confirmed big fish (well, I did lose a couple of very strong fish to a lobster pot along Peaks Island, and there was that single gargantuan crash on a live pogy at Clapboard...), I landed plenty of very nice stripers, with two taping out at a confirmed 36 inches. I didn't achieve the explicitly stated goal, but I certainly exceeded my overall expectations for the season with consistent action from very nice fish. And these 36-inchers represented the largest stripers ever landed on amybaby22, so I made progress of a sort. What do I have to do if I really want to catch a big, local striper (let's say 40 inches or larger)? Do I need to simply Fish More, or do I need to Fish Different? Should I be casting plugs and Hogy's along the rocks? Should I rely more on live bunkers? Reports from friends and social media do indicate a lot of big fish locally; regardless of presentation, these were generally caught at night. I placed my faith in macks as bait, and I didn't explore too many other presentations as the clock ran out on my season. Perhaps next season I will deviate from this plan and Go Big in certain ways or under certain circumstances. And recall, I did land friend DV's mid-day June hog for him with a well-timed, firm lip grasp. I was taking a break from painting the porch while he was worm fishing from the float. It's the biggest striper I've ever touched! I'll say this; the tide was right, even if it was the middle of a bright day! Congrats, D! I'll consider this goal to be one-half accomplished, and of course I will carry it over to 2023. 3. Catch a false albacore! (0) For much of the season, the question was "Will I even try?" It's so difficult to leave Maine in the late summer and fall; it's such a seductive place. Still, I shared a Cape Cod Weekend with A, and that gave me portions of two September mornings for my 2022 shore-based Albie Effort. The first day was cursed with wind and sun and offered just a shot or two, but the second was gray and fishy. The bass and albies were active, but they sure were finicky. Despite their obvious presence, all my presentations were ignored (even by the bass). That happens, but with my limited attempts, this obliterated my entire Albie season. In the future, should I heed my own advice and Go Early? The first funny fish of the year are reportedly a bit more reckless when you find them. With a boat and less windy weather, given some time I could probably generate a few productive shots in late August or early September. Or, in a season such as this year, Go Late?!? Cape Cod fish were still biting into November 2022. Or, thinking outside the box, Go Elsewhere? The albies are brutes in the Carolinas in November, and these same Little Tunny are considered to be pesky bait fish in Florida... I could simply find another way to target these fast tunoids. Probably, the real cure for my fever would be to Go Often! I'll try to remember that, while also remembering to add the following to my repertoire with confidence; more Egg/fly (and/or Egg/bucktail?) and burning a 3-inch Al Gags Whip-it! The former appeals, while I witnessed the effectiveness of that latter when a single angler (out of a dozen or more anglers) caught all the albies for the Woods Hole pier for the day. I fell short here in 2022; no credit given. But I look forward to physically holding an Albie in 2023. 4. Catch a 4-pound "bass" (green, brown or sea-) (0) Did I EVEN TRY? NO! Trailer problems and my inability to pull the trigger on any solution kept Numenon off the water for the entire season. And I don't really know what I'll do next year. But someday, I'll have a stable casting platform under my feet, precisely controlled with an electric motor. Then, I will start bass fishing again! I fell embarrassingly short here; absolutely no credit earned. At least I have all the upside of future explorations in this arena to look forward to. 5. Catch a 20-inch trout! (1) I am simply going to declare my late April Mousam Lake Brown to be "Close enough!" I ran into decent numbers of trout during my Spring and late Fall efforts, just no bigger ones. These shoulder-of-the-season efforts enhanced my overall experience this year. This may be overly generous (I didn't measure this fish), but it was a nice enough fish and I am giving myself this one. 6. Successfully fish new water (1) With my "recent" relocation to Maine, just about every trip forces me to expand in this area. Certainly, I am confronted with this for every ice-fishing trip, but I especially enjoyed Little Sebago Lake and a beautiful pickerel. I also explored and revisited a variety of new trout ponds including Trickey, Megunticook, Mousam, Worthley, Crystal and Middle Range. These were variously generous, but all offered quality experiences and I caught enough trout. Meanwhile in the salt, I expanded my range in Casco Bay, adding Sturdivant and Basket Islands to my local Milk Runs. I explored and caught good numbers of fish seasonally in Broad Cove. I also worked hard while increasing my understanding and success by expanding my range in previously known areas such as College and Clapboard Islands. However, the clear find of season for me was the Hussey Sound shoreline of Peaks Island. Initially drawn here by some white water under otherwise tough conditions, I immediately found a productive eddy and some nice fish, and they were present every time I went back. I kept expanding my stretch of shoreline while learning the nuances of newfound, productive spots. It was all live bait fishing (mackerel), but there's certainly potential for lures or flies in the future. I look forward to sharing this productive and scenic stretch with others, even if it's with bait under floats. My week in Florida was all new-to-me water. Whether I can claim success here is debatable, but pretty much everything I tried worked to a certain extent and I enjoyed some good experiences and pleasant times. Details for this trip are available at (www.numenonfunfishing.com/numenonfunfishing/florida-2022-middle-keys), but note beforehand that I landed only small fish, and all the big ones got away. I think these successful explorations were the most satisfying aspect of the season, and I earned full credit towards this goal! 7. Successfully implement a new technique (1) New Hampshire cusk fishing with simple baited traps set for overnight soaks was a fun, new and satisfying experience, even if it's a super old technique. I also added the long wand to my arsenal from amybaby22 and caught some nice stripers to 28 inches on flies in clear, shallow water. And while using short sections of lead-core line with small spoons for trout isn't entirely new to me either, downsizing to super-light tackle is! All of these "new" approaches turned out to be productive in their own times. Perhaps the most significant "new" approach that I implemented was shoulder-hooking my macks and carefully tending a single, hand-held rod when swimming them. Last year I had fallen into the habit of running two lines from rod holders at once. In 2022, my conversion rate from strikes to landed stripers sky-rocketed! I had a lot fewer frustrating tangles, too. Florida fly-fishing brought a half dozen barracudas to hand, and a live-lined pinfish was inhaled by a probable shark. While I didn't incorporate anything "cutting-edge" new or glamorous, I am still claiming complete success in this category. 8. Somebody new in the boat (1) I put my daughter's friend, D, on his first fish ever, even if they were just mackerel. My good friend from graduate school, Dr. C, with whom I had not fished in 13 years or so, joined me for an extended weekend during the toughest stretch of the season and caught several very nice fish on a variety of presentations. To celebrate, we harvested one 32-inch striper and shared a meal. It was good, but I have to admit, I still prefer steak or chicken! But the treat of the year was sharing a few hours with my niece and her young twins. We saw seals, porpoises, and lots of mackerel! They did great, we all had a good time, and I was proud to share my little skiff with them. I hope they want to join me again in 2023, and beyond! Finally, I'll mention an afternoon session with K and her new husband, A. It was A's first fishing experience, and he got hooked quickly. His action was fast and furious behind a chum bag and he kept me in a steady supply of bait (pinfish and blue runners) while sorting through juvenile snappers and trying to land the elusive needlefish. This was a truly satisfying experience as I got to experience the simple joy of fishing through another set of eyes. I claim full, satisfying credit towards this goal! 9. Fishing Travel - Maine (1) Pretty much everywhere I go still represents travel, because everything local is still pretty new to me. Whether ice fishing or just poking around for trout on the shoulders of striper season, simply being out there looking for some fish applied to fulfillment of this goal. A and I stole a couple of days to day-visit some more distant destinations in the Moosehead and Rangeley Lakes regions. Both have plenty of potential for when I get Numenon's situation figured out. I wish I had more time! But meanwhile, I'll take a point for everything that I learned this year. 10. Fishing Travel - Elsewhere (1) A and I shared a long winter weekend in New Hampshire. Our destination, Newfound Lake, was not exactly new to us, but our cusk experience certainly was. It was a little bit like Christmas as I approached each hole after a long night's soak and wondered what I might find. Other destinations included Cape Cod for a weekend; Yosemite National Park, which was an absolutely awesome experience, albeit offering very tough fishing conditions; and the Florida Keys, from which I just returned. Wind and weather were the challenge there, but I still put together some good experiences, even if I did lose all the big fish I hooked. With licenses from five states, I'll have to admit that these travels gave me just enough of a taste of something different to scratch this itch. *** So, my Preliminary Total of 7/10 rates as a firm PASS for the season! Some points were obviously stronger than others, but this was a solid and satisfying effort with corresponding results. I've no real complaints for my 2022 fishing season. I have a lot to build from, and areas in which to look forward to improvement. That's a powerful combination of circumstances; one that is worth appreciation and celebration! Specific Thoughts from the Season Despite limitations on my time, I was on the water as much a feasible and I tried to make the most of it. The season did lack diversity of effort; with the exception of my week in Florida, I really only targeted trout and stripers. Whether it was the pressure of limited time and trying to squeeze the most out of it, or just the arrival of some overdue seasoning with age and finally getting a bit smarter, here are some worthwhile themes that emerged from 2022. Simplicity and Flexibility This is something I noticed long ago, even if it took me quite a while to fully appreciate; the most prolific fishermen I've been exposed to have a consistently simple approach to their craft. Pro Guides: they keep their systems simple! I thought it was because they were gearing towards their customers' abilities and familiarity, but it's actually about efficiencies and faith in what they know produces results. Guides I have fished with have consistently relied heavily on their local expertise while avoiding anything too complicated in their presentations:
This is certainly overly simplified, but it's a good start to just about any new situation. One has to key in on specifically important details, maintain boat control, and to know what to do with the gear and presentation. But with things simplified, a lack of distractions and a committed focus on a proven approach, full of confidence and with faith in one's experience... good things are likely to happen. But the counterbalance to simplicity is flexibility. If the current approach is not working, something has to change! With the clock ticking and available time the most valuable, non-renewable commodity, knowing when to change things up is the other key to consistent success. The change might be a small tweak, a grand reconstruction, or something in-between, but I think the combination of not losing time to simple waste while efficiently using productive windows when they open is a powerful approach. With Dr. C aboard, I couldn't help but think that our weekend's quest was just our current version of Optimal Foraging. We had to keep our intake of fish at or above the average rate afforded by the local environment. And if that was too low to keep us going, we had to change and/or move! Being in tune with the local environment allowed us to have established an expected catch rate; and when our results threatened to fall below expectations, it was time to make a change. Believe me, we did, several times over the weekend, and all ended well, despite the tough, mid-summer conditions. Plans vs. Planning How does one cultivate flexibility? I am thinking about some aspect of fishing all the time, whether it is reviewing my experiences and considering alternative approaches, preparing and fine-tuning equipment, or actively targeting a specific quarry/equipment/time/location. This all can be categorized as "Planning", and I always have a "Plan" in mind when I approach the water. That "Plan" is my best starting guide to success under the given circumstances. But per above, an important aspect of success is reacting to conditions and changing accordingly, and in a timely fashion, too! Having Planned, one has to be willing to scrap the current Plan. Rarely have I correctly anticipated the full path for the day. But having planned thoroughly, I've been able to scrap or tweak initial plans, recognize available options, make better decisions, and ultimately create better outings. Of course, these outings then inform my plans for future sessions. Executing Smart This is certainly related, because decisions should rely on the best use of available information. The better the info, and the better the utilization of that information, the better the likely outcome. A couple of changes I made this season that turned out to be "smart" were simply fishing one rod in hand (efficiently) vs. deploying two baits in holders and trying to maximize my offerings; and maximizing my bite:landing ratio by shoulder-hooking my live macks. While these were prompted by periodic scarcity of bait relative to other seasons, these changes certainly produced better overall results. But there are other, less tangible ways to be smart. By simply accepting each session for what it has to offer and not forcing my expectations (dreams?) onto the conditions, I've been able to relax, enjoy myself, and appreciate each day. Occasionally, I may specifically choose to force my desires onto the conditions. I may elect to restrict myself to fly fishing, or perhaps top-water or vertical jigging presentations when other options might be more productive. But it's my choice after all, and I guarantee you I am learning when I force these restrictions upon my time. I may be giving up a few fish, but I am enjoying the moment while also cultivating future flexibility. I was once deeply into the perfect execution of a planned technique for a specific target (jigging walleye, offshore steelhead, precision trolling, etc.) I would make it work or just about die trying to do so in the allotted timeframe! Now, you're more likely to find me enjoying what's in front of me with a simplified approach for the conditions at hand... and constantly reacting and changing. Has this come about because of my increased time on salt water? After all, the salt environment has a certain, frantic urgency, and the quarry a greater sense of forgiveness in less-than-perfect presentation. Or, has this change for the better simply come with experience? *** My weekly commute allows for more than ample time to consume podcasts. My tastes for these have grown from news, true crime and comedy, to now include discussions of fishing. Fishermen talking about fishing can be tough to listen to, in all honesty, but a couple have found their way into my rotation. These particularly include Rhode Island's Saltwater Edge and Cape Cod's On the Water. I've been developing my thoughts here for a long while, but am pleased to say that these interwoven themes are not only strong, but commonly shared! They seem to be re-iterated in some form in each conversation. They must be valuable! P.S. Do I get an extra point for having NOT fallen overboard all season? I've been told that's a mandatory goal for every season. Pondering the questions of core essence and finding meaning in unexpected ways
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A was traveling for work; I could telecommute for a few days, and then we could enjoy a few days together in a new region, for us; Arizona! After a few days of making our living from Phoenix, we were able to explore the Grand Canyon, Sedona, and connecting areas. We started with an open day on Sunday. We Ubered to the local aquarium, SEA LIFE Arizona, where we also tacked on tickets to the adjacent conservatory Butterfly Wonderland. I was reasonably impressed by both, but especially enjoyed the first aquarium exhibit of Colorado River Basin native fishes. The native fishes were different and unfamiliar to me, and I have to believe that the Colorado Pikeminnows are excellent fighters if hooked! They get to nearly six feet long!?! Because of the 3-hour time difference, baseball was more accessible to me, and I watched several playoff games over the course of the week. I was happy enough in the hotel room while A tended to her conference duties. My work days began at 5 AM, and so I was "done" in the early afternoons, local time. I had plenty of time to relax and walk about. I headed straight to the water on my first walk. An aqueduct ran through town a bit to the east. I picked up the local walk and bike trail and headed upstream. I found a pile of common carp beneath a sluice gate on each visit. Further north, I was treated to a run of cichlids (?) up an ephemeral stream into a golf-course pond. A couple of days later, this stream was dry, and any fish that hadn't made it to the pond were heron fodder. There were plenty of carp in these ponds, too, and I suspect there could be some large bass present, also. On Thursday morning, we hit the road and travelled north towards the Grand Canyon. We enjoyed the changing light, landscapes and biomes as we gained elevation and eventually entered the Colorado Plateau. The Grand Canyon was literally awesome; I was stricken with scope and my insignificance. We enjoyed a pleasant afternoon walking the South Rim Trail and scoping out the geological museum. I was impressed by how our perspective changed with position and lighting. I was also surprised to catch just a couple of tiny glimpses of the Colorado River itself. From the National Park, we headed south and turned off the road for a night of glamping at Clear Sky Resorts. We were here for the clear, protected night skies and we were not disappointed. Our views of the Milky Way and visible planets were the best I've enjoyed since the late 1980's in Montana. The evening's predicted meteor shower never materialized, but that was okay. My disappointment was offset by clearly viewing Jupiter and its moons through a telescope and enjoying the choruses of multiple coyote packs at 4 AM. This place was cool and had a fun and casual ambiance. The meals from the food truck here were great, too! Friday morning found us on the road again, headed for Sedona. Turning off the highway around Scottsdale, we travelled along Oak Creek and down Oak Creek Canyon to Sedona. We enjoyed Slide Rock State Park for a different perspective of the Grand Canyon rocks. We were now beneath the capping limestone and walking along the red sandstone. Oak Creek looked fishy, too, and I found the hole housing most of the resident big trout. I was glad to see them! Sedona itself was a little too crowded and kitschy for my taste, but we enjoyed the afternoon there with a low-key bus tour. It is a beautiful landscape, but I think I'd rather live in the nearby and much quieter Village of Oak Creek to the south. We found good food and accommodations for the evening, here. Saturday was all about travel. It all went well enough for us, but take it from me; when in Phoenix, consider getting an Uber arranged for the trip from the rental car drop-off area to the flight terminals. The buses were few and far between, and I am sure quite a few folks missed their flights. "Being early for being early" paid off again, as A and I enjoyed a cool 20 minutes of relaxation between arriving at our gate and boarding our flight. With neither my side gig nor fishing concerns demanding my time and energy, I had more opportunity than usual to relax and think. While my body gladly absorbed the rare dry heat, my mind wandered. Had I grown up here, what would my interests be? Perhaps not fishing, but I know I'd still be connected to the outdoors. Would it be hiking, hunting, or lepidoptery? Photography, astronomy, or golf? I don't know, but something would have caught my attention. At this time, I can only conclude that with the sparse, open landscape and easy views without human influence, it was natural to feel small and humble here. Unlike overgrown or overdeveloped New England, I could see and feel that this was a large but tough place to make one's life, and that there would be little at hand to easily accommodate basic needs or wants. To survive here, one would have to be a part of the land. And one should best know and accept that realization. I was reminded that Aldo Leopold had written about his youthful Arizona experiences. These have not stuck with me to the same degree as his Almanac, but a quick search found a concise article at www.arizonahighways.com/classroom/aldo-leopold. Having just shot a wolf as a young man, Leopold states: "We reached the old wolf in time to watch a fierce green fire dying in her eyes. I thought that because fewer wolves meant more deer, that no wolves would mean hunters' paradise. But after seeing the green fire die, I sensed that neither the wolf nor the mountain agreed with such a view." I am certain that same green fire resides in the eyes of the coyotes I heard singing at 6000 feet. I am glad it is still out there. Finally, Sedona is famous for its supposed spiritual energy and vortices. I largely missed out on these, but am more than willing to simply attribute these phenomena to folks simply being outside with enhanced awareness. I did feel that spark of awareness, in Sedona and throughout the trip. Maybe Sedona's environs make that awareness come more easily, but I suspect it is anywhere you need it, or want it, to be. Pondering the questions of core essence and finding meaning in unexpected ways With the scheduled removal of the landing float for the season, I was forced to conclude the saltwater boating season. I pulled amybaby22 from the water on Monday, October 10, 2022. But, I made the most of my last weekend on Casco Bay! I fished earnestly and with intent on each day, and I executed pretty well. I landed 16 striped bass to 30 inches on 19 hookups, bringing my season's total to 203 stripers landed. While I didn't catch a truly large striped bass (by local measure and experience, let's say 40 inches), I sure caught a lot of really nice ones, including two 36-inchers and more "keepers" above 28 inches than I've probably handled in the rest of my life. I didn't encounter any real issues while out on the water this year, so I'd have to say my season was a success! Of course, my season is not necessarily over; I can always hit the beaches (near or far) and follow the annual run down the coast in pursuit of either big fish or numbers. I expect that amybaby22 will hit the sweet water in pursuit of trout before winter arrives, too, so there's still plenty of opportunity for good things to happen. Pondering the questions of core essence and finding meaning in unexpected ways Birds and bait were abundant, and the New Moon current was ripping. I was presented with different conditions on my two mornings, and good things could have happened. Still, false albacore action was limited and I had only a few casts over two days anywhere close to working tunoids. Another year shall likely pass without me connecting with one of Fall's funny fish. Oh well, I learned a bit and there's always 2023. Of course I knew that tangible success during this annual Albie run was something of a shot in the dark. I was dependent on fish presenting themselves to me at a given, fixed location and on my schedule. Plus, they'd have to be inclined to eat, and I'd have to execute. This just didn't pull itself entirely together, once again, for me in 2022. Still, I'll call this a good effort and I did learn a bit. I arrived, armed with three rigs in hand; the universal epoxy jig, an Albie Snax soft bait, and a Pop-and-Fly for finicky fish. This had been confirmed for me as the go-to trio by an article earlier in the week. On Saturday, all three baits swam for me quite a bit. Thick "rain" bait was obvious; snagged silversides were common, and I'd see rivers of peanut bunker later in the day. Fiona-related winds diminished over the course of the morning from well over 20 mph from the north, to a mere 15+ mph. From daylight to slack high tide, there were constant tornados of birds over bait, but always well out of reach. A single small pod of fish (7:20 AM and about half an hour before high tide) gave me hope when it chased bait on the surface within casting range for perhaps 15 seconds. I got a couple of casts in, but my smallish, natural-colored epoxy jig was ignored. I was joined on the stubby pier by a vacationer from Colorado. He reported good albie and bass action from this location before the blow. For the most part, he only would cast to visible fish, but given their prolonged absence, he made a few blind casts before searching for greener pastures on Martha's Vineyard. He also preferred the afternoon dropping tide at this location. After 300 or more minutes of casting while standing on the concrete, my body told me to pace myself. I'd not seen a shot for about four hours; I saved my luck and energy for the following day. I was a bit peeved to find a pair of anglers already in position when I returned in the dark at 5:40 the next morning. I was blocked from my preferred position at the pier's end. But conditions remained fishy (overcast and now with a more manageable westerly breeze) and there was plenty of room. Plus, the water was moving hard and there was still lot of bait around. Things got very fishy at about 6:45 AM. Bass blitzed bait trapped against the rocks and nearby seawalls for about 20 minutes. Amazingly, I never got touched. I knew these fish were on peanuts, but they were selective! They ignored my Albie Snax, Hogy Slow-tails, Crippled Herring, and even the Popper-and-Fly. I did note, however, the guy at the end scoring a few bass on a small white swim-bait retrieved at Albie Speed through the mayhem. I'd later learn that this was a 3-inch Al Gags', and he was hoping to find an Albie mixed in with the feeding bass. Lesson learned! Once these feeds thinned out, this same tactic produced three Albies for that same gentleman. I'd switched to my closest approximation, a 4-inch thin Hogy on a jig-head. This never got touched, the albacore seemed to need that thumping Al Gags tail. Another lesson learned! A few local fishing celebrities showed up, and one caught a decent bass on a float-and-fly. Another interesting rig I noticed was a large hookless epoxy jig with a RonZ sand eel trailer. Folks were getting more creative at imitating the small bait in place. I got knocked out of the action for a couple of hours with sudden onset stomach illness, but when I returned later in the morning, the crowd had thinned and the rest were giving up. The fish were still feeding, but very sporadically and usually out of reach. Only a single small bluefish had been landed by my new friend from Colorado. He'd been totally skunked on the Vineyard the previous day; it had just been a tough day for fishing. I casted for another fruitless hour before heading home. I couldn't help but feel dejected, and I was angry about not being able to make my best sustained effort. But I'm already thinking about 2023. Pondering the questions of core essence and finding meaning in unexpected ways I was sad and depressed as the one-year anniversary of Ollie's untimely death arrived. I cannot drive that stretch of East Main Street or walk around the neighborhood without missing him and feeling guilty for his pain in his last moments. I think of him daily, and almost always fondly, but this anniversary had gotten under my skin. So, on August 1, it wasn't too hot before work and I went on an Ollie Walk. His need to get outside every day, regardless of the weather, over the years had helped me recover from back ailments and had restored my health. With the heat of summer, I had gotten away from these daily walks, and I've probably added a few pounds and points to my blood pressure. It was time to take back control and continue to honor his memory. Half an hour later, I felt much better. The next day, I did the same, and I am consciously trying to get these extra walks in, at least when it's not too hot. Thanks, Ollie. I still miss you, but you're still a good boy! I think I've also decided that I need to sell Numenon (the boat). I've barely been able to use her since the fall of 2019. She is falling into disrepair on her trailer, which in itself needs to be replaced. I may be overly particular about what the right trailer for her is, and the pandemic may have created some supply chain havoc along the way, but I simply cannot find a replacement trailer. With zero trust in her current trailer, I am not going to use her without a new support system; and does it make sense to dump five grand or more into a 20-year old boat that will be only lightly used (at best) for the foreseeable future? Meanwhile, amybaby22 might be a little small for future plans on Casco Bay, but she's available for freshwater use, at which she's proven able. Numenon's current state is clearly a source of stress for me, and I don't have the time or wherewithal to address her needs, never mind actually use her. Maybe it's time to let her go. But damn, she has been good to me, and she too will be missed. Pondering the questions of core essence and finding meaning in unexpected ways (I started this entry quite a while ago and so the timing in some of the references is a bit off, but the ideas remain the same.) Right now, it's kind of difficult for me to foresee what things might be like next Tuesday. That's just the nature of these times. Looking further ahead than a few days and expecting any semblance of certainty seems insane. Still, I was recently trying to envision what life might be like in, say, ... four years. So much has changed in the last four years, and the rate of change seems to be increasing. How could I possibly anticipate aspects my life in 2026 with any accuracy? Well, to do so, I first had to look back four years. A timely reminder from Facebook prompted me to revisit the archives of my Original Blogging, above. From a fishing perspective, I was apparently on top of it four years ago, and enjoyed some of the most picturesque, varied and rewarding fishing that I can remember. Fortunately, I can look back and recreate my experiences with some accuracy because of this journaling. Feel free to check out the trip I was recalling at numenonthewater.blogspot.com/2017/09/ . The point I am trying to make is this; that particular weekend seems both incredibly remote and from several lifetimes ago, while also being just an instant ago. I can distinctly remember my Lake Bellaire quest, the giant bass silhouetted against the lilly and reed shoreline in its escaping jump, and the drag slipping from the reel as I tightened up on the Clam Lake muskie. Maybe 2026 will be here in a flash. Maybe it will seem eternally elusive. I don't know. Meanwhile, I recently made a professional life choice that solidifies (or at the very least, gels) my work expectations for this period. It wasn't necessarily the choice I wanted to make for my present self, but rather for my future with A. By early 2026, I should be able to choose to comfortably retire. That should free up some time for some more rewarding aspects of my life. Until then, I will give thanks for the benefits of my current position and recognize what they will enable for our future. A lot of fish can come over the gunwale in four years, even when I am stretched pretty thin. My current endeavors should help me appreciate each and every one, while helping me look forward to a future that I will be proud to share with A. Pondering the questions of core essence and finding meaning in unexpected ways It took a little longer than I had expected, but I recently landed my 1500th documented striper. It's not exactly Hall of Fame material like 3000 career base hits, but... Pondering the questions of core essence and finding meaning in unexpected ways It turns out that one of A's favorite things to do is just explore a new area for the day and share a good meal along the way. With a beautiful day on our hands, we recently tackled the Moosehead Lake Region (or at least a portion of it). This is about three hours from our home, and was new to both of us. My interest was largely in getting oriented to the available fishing for world-class brook trout and landlocked salmon, while A's was a bit broader and healthier to include scenery, camping, accommodations, etc. We drove straight to Greenville at the base of the lake. It was sleepy and slow before noon on a Sunday. We scoped out a potential lunch spot right on the lake, poked around the waterfront, and picked up some literature for Reel Moosehead Guide Service. I'd told A that I wanted to see a seven-pound brook trout ... and there might be one on the cover of their literature. Per their website reelmoosehead.com , a day of guided ice fishing for brook trout sounds like a good deal and certainly could happen in the future. We went up the lake's eastern shore to Lily Bay State Park. Here we found a couple of nice boat ramps and quiet tent-camping sites. It wasn't very busy, either, although we were probably in the hours between check-out and check-in. Still, it appeared to be spacious and rustic compared to other state's camping opportunities. I suspect we'll be back! From here it was about a 10 mile drive north to the Roach River and First Roach Pond. I've seen some beautiful pictures from this area, and the river seems to be about the "right" size for me. With restricted methods and seasons, as well as a big spawning push of Moosehead Lake fish in the fall, I definitely have some interest in returning here. Plus, I confirmed the First Pond boat ramp is functional, at least for amybaby22! I was a bit confused by access to the river; the lone, obvious public access point leads to a deep hole and appears to be unwadeable. But I think there might be a road/path behind the main "store" in Kokadjo on the north side of the river. We'll find out! This stretch also offered side trips to other bodies of water with some potential, including Sawyer Pond, Upper and Lower Wilson Ponds, and Prong Pond. Prong reportedly has brook trout, white perch and smallmouth bass, while Sawyer is shallow and stocked with brookies. I'm still looking for information on the Wilson chain of lakes. Maybe I'll have to rely on my own efforts to figure that out. I need to verify GPS coordinates to make sure my info is referring to this same Wilson Pond, but I found a blurb regarding the outlet, which reportedly features my style of fly fishing; swinging streamers. The source of the Kennebeck River from Moosehead's East Outlet has a mammoth reputation. The river here is broad and shallow, but with many rocks and rapids a few hundred yards downstream, moving around might be tougher than it looks. Still, this section reportedly offers room to move about and find one's own water during normal flow levels. Here, I also noted Wilson's on Moosehead Lake. Their website ( wilsonsonmooseheadlake.com ) provides a nice summary of lodging, fishing and accommodations. I've also picked up more than a few hints that the fishing in Indian Pond (downstream and fed by both the East and West Outlets) can be special, including for trophy smallmouth bass and fall-back trout. It looks like there are a couple of boat ramps on this long lake, too, that I will have to check out. West Outlet presented itself as deeper, and the braided channels form a pond not too far downstream from the access. The hole at the base of the dam is "famous" and while I'm not scaring up a lot of specific information for this access point, this area does generate a lot of attention. We proceeded north to the Rockwood boat launch facility and the view of Kineo Rock. This looked like an appealing trolling area to me! Our last stop was at the lower Moose River, near where it floes into Moosehead Lake. This was clearly boating water, but the area further upstream is a good tailwater fishery, and the trout and salmon here are described as "meat eaters". Again, that's my style; and if this stretch is wadeable, I'll have to give it a shot. In one short day, I discovered a lifetime of potential fishing. I'm sure I overlooked many opportunities, too. With the skiff, the Lund, some waders or a hired guide, I could spend any amount of time (a day or a week or more) trying to find a worthy brookie, salmon or togue. With A by my side keeping me grounded, the search will be more rewarding than any particular result. Pondering the questions of core essence and finding meaning in unexpected ways So much happened in May! This favorite month of mine passed by in a blink of the eye, but lots of good things were packed in. My oldest daughter got married in San Francisco. That is her story to tell, but it was a simple joy to be a part of her happiness. I found San Francisco to be an interesting city, we had a great time together, the food was consistently excellent, I reconnected with all my girls and I decompressed for the first time in a long while. It was a truly happy event and a great break from my daily grind. From there, A, M and I drove to Yosemite National Park. I'd never been, and it did not disappoint. Our stay was short, but I fished hard and intently. The surroundings were stunning. Work seemed very remote, and I caught many positive glimpses of what retirement might offer. Returning to Maine, it was finally time to get amybaby22 moored and start the striped bass season. While my season got off to a slow start, more fish continued to arrive in the last week of the month, and I took advantage of the long Memorial Day weekend to chase them in earnest. I caught some really nice stripers to 32 inches (which in my experience is an approximate 98th percentile specimen) and many solid fish on light tackle. I'm catching them in a variety of manners, including on the fly. They've afforded some quality experiences already, and I still have four months of season ahead! We've been in Maine for almost a year now. It's not quite "normal" for me, but I am getting used to it! Pondering the questions of core essence and finding meaning in unexpected ways I had selected Megunticook Lake near Camden, Maine for the day's explorations with A. My intel was limited, but this certainly seemed to be a promising bass lake, while also offering a potential seasonal fishery for trout. Early in the season and with water temperatures in the low-to-mid forties, we targeted trout by trolling the shoreline break. After a quick start in which A's tandem trolling fly got grabbed and dropped by a drive-by, the "action" slowed to a crawl as we expanded our range in this totally new-to-us lake. Other than the lack of productive fishing action, all had gone well for the day. Nothing had been lost or broken, and nobody had been hurt. But the southerly wind was picking up, I was starting to struggle with boat control (keeping our speed down), and I was paying close attention to my GPS mapping. I was on unfamiliar water, and this rocky lake had plenty of navigational hazards. All seemed to be marked, either on the surface with buoys or labelled on my electronic map. I was amused that the labelled hazard we were approaching also had a name. Everything else on my map simply appeared as "Hazard", but this one was "The Fang". In my amusement, I mentioned this to A, and this released her quiet insecurities. We were never within a hundred yards of The Fang, and I had no intention of exploring water in its vicinity. We were still on the break and had an island between us and The Fang. But A, quite vocally, wanted to get further away from this and any other hazards. I, on the other hand, wanted to fish where I felt both safe and confident. A moment later, I tangled lines as I tried to add a short lead-core line to our presentation. I was also struggling with boat control while acknowledging that our weather window might close unexpectedly early. I was hangry to boot, and these frustrations all came out in an expression of anger. The day had taken a sour turn, and we both knew it. I did what I could; we pulled lines and relocated to a lee shoreline to explore another part of the lake. We did so for an hour or so, and A even had another pull on her fly. But when we were approaching a structure-choked narrows as the sky darkened and a cold rain was clearly imminent, we called for a premature end to the day's fishing. The rest of the day was pretty much fine, but A and I are best friends, and any friction between us is uncomfortable. We talked the day through the next morning, and we realized we both suffered from the same affliction, but from different perspectives. Simply put, by the time we approached The Fang, neither was totally present. I was already fretting about our lack of fishing success. That displeasure was exacerbated by my realization of a likely early end to our effort. I'd waited a long time for my chance at this lake, and it wasn't going to pan out the way I wanted. In my mind, this was yet another opportunity lost, and I resented the time it was going to take to capitalize on a future chance. I was feeling my mortality more than the moment at hand, and I was missing out. I was focused on good things, but specifically on their absence. I was neglecting to enjoy what the lake and A's company currently offered. Meanwhile, A was more concerned with any bad things that might possibly happen, as opposed to the current reality. Our collective experience and equipment was trumped, in her mind, by the potential tragedies associated with The Fang and other hazards. She too was dealing with imaginary negative events instead of the secure present, and her future focus precluded her current enjoyment. Well, at least we talked it out. And I'm glad we are smart enough to recognize the source of our tension. We have at least a chance of recognizing this more contemporaneously in the future, and maybe with a little practice, we can each get better at staying in the moment. Because that's where happiness can be found. Pondering the questions of core essence and finding meaning in unexpected ways |
Steve LachanceVia Rhode Island, New Hampshire, Michigan and now, back to New England! Archives
June 2024
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