NUMENON |
PONDERING CORE ESSENCE
NUMENON |
On June 4, 2024, I became Maine's newest Registered Guide! Something of a daydream of mine for many years, this became my 2024 Winter's Quest when the long-term forecast in December looked bleak for ice-fishing prospects. Rather than frustrate myself with uncertain conditions, I decided to dedicate my efforts and time to capture some desired credentials and build a potentially interesting future. I enrolled in courses with the Maine Outdoor Learning Center (for Registered Maine Guide certification prep) and the Atlantic Captain's Academy (for required U.S. Coast Guard endorsement as a Six-Pack Captain/Operator of an Uninspected Passenger Vessel (OUPV)). I enjoyed the course-work, have passed all the tests, and now am free-and-clear to charter clients for freshwater adventures in Maine! Meanwhile, my OUPV application is basically complete (one more simple box to check); when that is submitted and approved, I will return to Maine's Department of Inland Fisheries and Wildlife to sit for Tidewater examinations. Then, I'll have accomplished my true goal of being a guide for stripers on Casco Bay. In the meantime, I will simply enjoy my time out there fishing! Pondering the questions of core essence and finding meaning in unexpected ways
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What a three day stretch! I kind of miss Lake St. Clair! Pondering the questions of core essence and finding meaning in unexpected ways Christmas gifts this year included new books in all my favorite subjects; baseball, science, philosophy, and of course, fishing. My loved ones know me well, and I thank them! I was quickly drawn into "The Optimist (A Case for the Fly Fishing Life)" by David Coggins , Scribner 2021. This is exactly my kind of book; thoughtful, tangentially familiar to my experiences, written in digestible chapters for consumption on my own schedule. Pretty quickly, even from scanning the Table of Contents, I suspected I would enjoy it; I recognized many of the locales and fish highlighted. But I hadn't even made it out of the Introduction before I realized I needed to pay attention. This book offered a potential gift for me, and for any other reader, if one could accept certain ideas. Here are some lines that caught me from the book's beginning sections. I'm sure there's more to be learned from the rest of the book, but I can only type so much. And, I've already reserved my right to expand this at some later date. "Beneath the (water's) surface are mysteries we can barely make out, so we study and speculate and remember every detail we can. This is fishing." (p. 2) I can't say for sure when my fascination with the mysteries of life under water started, but they'd certainly taken a strong hold of me by the time I was eight years old or so. I was fortunate in that one life-changing day in second grade, a bulldozer arrived and started digging a hole a few hundred yards away from my house. By the next spring, the muddy hole had filled with water, and there was life! Tadpoles became frogs, and occasionally I'd glimpse an unknown creature crawling along the bottom. Somewhere in this timeframe, I joined others on roaming excursions to The Duck Pond, a mile away and at the end of our road. We used worms or bread under floats and caught tiny bluegills, horned pout, and a very occasional (and very small) largemouth bass. I recall fashioning bobbers from discarded thread spools (why did we have so many of these in the house?), and even catching a bass all by myself (although I sought assistance from an older pal to get the hook out.) It probably took an additional year or two for me to realize there were fish in The Pond next door. I'm not sure I had permission to be using my Dad's equipment, but I was swimming a red and white Dardevl through the murky water when I felt the electric jolt of a strike on an artificial lure for the first time. After so many accumulated, fruitless casts, I'd not expected this, but quickly, excitedly and luckily landed the largest bass of my life; all 12 inches of it (maybe.) I was alone, and the fish was thrashing and spikey! I'd never encountered such a beast. After a period of simply gazing at my magnificent catch. I sought help from the local hay farmer (maybe I wanted to show off, too, for the first time in my angling career?), taking his lunch break nearby. He did help, but with some disgust and agitation directed my way, and somehow I realized I would have to face these situations for myself in the future. There was much to be learned! But the fear and the shame were instantly overshadowed by the excitement and the mystery. What else was in The Pond? I was hooked; happily for life, as it turned out. And it wasn't just The Pond; it was The Piggery, Abbott's Run, Lincoln Woods, The Hollow and whatever other waters my young legs could get me to. I didn't know it at the time, but I'd started down a path of wonder, armed only with curiosity and the desire to figure things out. I tried to observe, remember, and understand. I am still trying. "I began fishing as a boy... because I loved it. If anything, it felt natural." (p. 3) "When people ask me about the attraction to fishing,... I tell them it's an outdoor sport. This is obvious of course, but it's the basic truth. You're in the natural world, usually in a beautiful place." (p. 5) This was fun! For a young boy, that's enough of a reason to continue the pursuit. The rest of my life at the time was school, hockey and baseball. School was an imposition on everything else, and hardly worth thinking or worrying about. Hockey and baseball were fun, too, but even at that age I realized that somehow I couldn't control the entire game. A few too many determinative pucks and balls had already taken stray bounces, and my first season of Little League ended (painfully) with me on deck. I was helpless, unable to do anything; I didn't like it. Somehow, I saw myself as in control with my fishing. I often fished alone, I chose the waters and the presentations, and I was doing it for myself. I liked that. I also liked that my Dad encouraged me and quickly started to defer to me in matters fishing. I rigged the rods, I baited the hooks, I pioneered (for us) new places and presentations. I was growing up. Baseball and bikes and street hockey are all outside, and I was outside as much as a kid could probably safely be. All the fun things were outside, and I only stayed inside because of weather or illness. But fishing was my introduction to the outdoors, which is deeper and more meaningful than simply being outside, and I started paying attention to the conditions around me. What's more natural than that? Embracing something fun that enabled my true presence/awareness in the outdoors; and learning to insert myself into the setting at hand. My approaches became quieter and more informed; I noticed and experienced more life around me. My family started camping, we got a canoe and then a boat; all, I think, very much to nurture this part of me. I yearned for more, devoured any "learning" I could find, picked my college in large part based on geographic location and physical setting, and became an aquatic ecologist. All while fishing local waters as much as possible. Sometimes these settings were beautiful, but they were more likely to be humble. We might notice and have an opinion; but the resident fish don't. They are equally wild, regardless; as wild, in fact, as anything depicted in a documentary on the Serengeti Plains or Okavango Delta. My local stripers are as every bit engaged in their struggle to survive and reproduce in their short, difficult lives as wolves ranging the Arctic. The bass in The Pond were, too, and my familiarity with them introduced me to a more expansive world view, one that at the very least included awareness of the fleeting, precious nature of life and the workings of a healthy ecosystem. And not in national parks or other continents, but in everybody's neighborhood, too. "Fishing requires skill and experience, but it also requires an act of faith. By definition we control only part of the equation. The fish has to complete the loop. That means living with the knowledge that success, as it's traditionally defined, requires something out of your control. That's why an angler must, at some level, be an optimist." (p.11) "The Optimist makes the case for ideals beyond angling, for a set of skills that are practiced, improved upon, and measured over time. Taken together they lead to a stronger connection to the natural world and to the enduring belief that something good might happen on the next cast and if not then certainly the one after that." (p. 12) Ah, the accumulation of skills. This might be where most of our attention and effort is spent; we know we need good casting, boat control, knot-tying, equipment maintenance, and boat launching skills. We keep buying new lures, rods and reels. And beyond; we also need to know about our targeted quarry and how they live, how the water we've chosen provides an array of options for the quarry and how this all interacts in determining and executing a presentation that has a chance of fooling the fish of our choice at the given moment, under the given conditions. There's a lifetime of exploration to discuss here, but for the purposes of this essay, I am going to say, "Enough said." Let's move on to the question of faith. Because even with perfect knowledge, conditions, equipment, and execution, there's still a chance that the fish will choose to not participate. And I'd thought I had control; I couldn't have been more wrong. The fish have to play, too. They often don't, but one has to sustain belief that the fish might engage with our efforts. Moreover, the odds of a bite only decrease as our realization of "perfection" erodes. Perfection is after all, unattainable, and whatever I am actually equipped with is a poor subset of a possible substitution for the ideal. I am fooling myself when I think I have everything under control. I also know the psychiatric dangers of being content with nothing short of perfection. So, I do believe that I can fool a fish into eating. If not on this one cast, then probably the next. If not this lure, then another. And if not on this trip, then certainly the one following. If I don't experience something I desire this year, then in 2025 or 2026. Or 2045. It'll happen. And if I can believe that, then I can certainly believe that there are co-benefits and other good things will happen along the way. Some of these will be fishing-related, but I expect most of them will affect other parts of a full life. Good scenery, good food, shared laughter and funny incidents are almost assured; other items of goodness that I cannot even imagine, likely. I'd best be aware and wise enough to recognize these along the way. I'll tip my hat to "fishing" when I encounter these events, but that feels like thanking your vehicle's transmission for delivering you safely to a destination. It's important, yes, but not the whole story. And so is fishing, to me. Important, even highly important. But just part of my story, an enabling part of my whole being, and I am simply thankful for what it has provided, and continues to provide to my well-being. And, I suspect, the well-being of those immediately around me, and a positive influence on what I am leaving in my wake. "One man represented reason, the other emotion." (p. 16) "(C) brought clarity to a mysterious process. The only other option was chaos, which was close at hand but unacceptable. We would observe our surroundings, recognize what we knew to be true, and in the end, we should triumph. If we did not carry the day, then it was because the universe had conspired to undermine us. We had done all we could and, as a result, could bear no blame." (p. 17) "Nearly every meaningful thing I've ever learned was only clear in retrospect." (p. 30) These statements are describing the author's primary mentors, what they brought to his understanding and growth in the sport of fly fishing, and a truism that certainly rings true for me. I'm a bit jealous of their collective experience; I am not sure I am mentorable. I certainly learned from my Dad. It would be easy to say that I quickly and most easily learned what NOT to do from him, at least when it came to fishing. What I did learn, all too late, is that relaxing and enjoying oneself is as valid a pursuit as actually catching fish; and that he really did invest himself in supporting my growth. As a teenager, I thought I was riding the coattails of his boat ownership and fishing trips; now I realize that he was along for the ride while he gave me the opportunity to figure things out. Thanks, Dad. I've had various fishing partners and buddies along the way, and I hope we learned from each other. In fact, I know we did, but what we learned and shared was largely technical, procedural, and logistical. I thank each and every one of them, and I look forward to future trips as a few of these relationships rekindle. I'd have embraced C as a mentor, because his scientific approach to solving the problem at hand resonates with me. That's my basic approach, and what's all this learning, observing and remembering for if not to impose order and sense; and then to apply this knowledge towards a desired resolution. Pay attention, think, apply the right tool in the right manner, and viola - success! So much of what I've learned, whether from others or by myself, has come from this approach. It's so natural to me! But I also recognize (now) that with limited time, resources and imperfect understanding, this will only get one so far. There's room for fantasy and quixotic thought in fishing, too. Sometimes these fanciful approaches will succeed and fish will be caught. My scientific self can still observe, learn and remember, even if I do not understand. And perhaps I might even enjoy and choose a method that is not the most successful at a given time; I've finally learned that's an okay use of my time, too. Perhaps it has taken too long for me to realize these things. Perhaps I've missed out on lost opportunities for other types of success. But I am glad that I can choose to embrace these findings as equally legitimate, and I still have time in front of me. Maybe even enough time to experience, recognize, and share currently unimagined, but wonderful outcomes in fishing, in the natural world order, in life. The least I can expect of myself (and others around me) for 2024 is that I remember these lessons and live them to the maximum extant I am able. I shall do my best! 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 Happy New Year! In no particular order, may I offer my modest 2022 Goals and Daydreams: 1. 250 Stripers for the season 2. Catch my biggest ever striper 3. Catch a false albacore! 4. Catch a 4-pound "bass" (green, brown or sea-) 5. Catch a 20-inch trout! 6. Successfully fish new water 7. Successfully implement a new technique 8. Somebody new in the boat 9. Fishing Travel - Maine 10. Fishing Travel - Elsewhere *** 250 Stripers for the season This is my revised benchmark for a season of chasing stripers. Given enough time on the water, it's doable. Plus, if I've landed 250 stripers, I have certainly experienced many more strikes, splashes, follows and misses. I'll probably have enjoyed considerable by-catch along the way. And, I know I'll have had a lot of fun! Catch my biggest ever striper This is a standing goal for every trip and every season. If I catch it while actually hunting big fish, something I hope to do more of in 2022, that will be even more satisfying. Catch a false albacore! There's no magic to this; it's a matter of patience and opportunity. But, I will gladly accept a little good luck, too. If I stumble into good fishing for other species along the way, I am fine with that. I am seriously considering a change to my timing/calendar in this pursuit to help hedge my luck. Catch a 4-pound "bass" (green, brown or sea-) I've had to revise this goal to account for reality; time is limited, and I have no local edge. Still, a 4-pounder for any of these, while not necessarily a true trophy, is a really nice, day-capping fish. I'd like to think that I might chase freshwater bass on some quality water this season, but if I am unable to do so, the idea of landing a trophy Cape Cod sea bass (on purpose) is an appealing alternative. Catch a 20-inch trout! Whether caught through the ice, from the sea, casting or trolling, any 20-inch trout is a beautiful, worthy goal. Successfully fish new water Kaizen! The pursuit of continuous improvement and growth in my collective fishing endeavors is one reason why I like it so much. A quality experience on unfamiliar water pulls it all together and validates the effort; but it also unlocks unknown potential for the future. This positive feedback loop can be a powerful agent of beneficial change. I know I'll build on previous seasons, while staging myself for success in future seasons. Successfully implement a new technique This is always a worthwhile goal for the same arguments as presented above. Plus, it might involve fun new stuff or shiney new things, for which I am sometimes a bit of a sucker. In many ways it offers a chance to practice my model of Anticipation! Participation! and Elaboration! repeatedly, so whatever success I might encounter, I can enjoy it many times over. Plus, keeping flexible on the water can open one's eyes to potential opportunities, and sometimes these even get actualized into tangible success! Somebody new in the boat For many reasons, too much of my New England fishing has been solitary. I enjoy the freedom and flexibility of this, and I likely fish best alone, but I miss my Michigan friends and hosting others on my boat(s). It's always nice to share a good experience, and it can be a nice reminder to see familiar things through new eyes. Plus, I've got a bunch of possibilities here, it's really just a matter of execution. Fishing Travel - Maine My new home state offers unique and diverse opportunities. The Royal River is almost at my doorstep and might have fishable sea-run browns. Landlocked salmon and brook trout should be readily available, and up to true trophy size if I put in the effort and miles. Trophy trout, togue and bass are here too; I just have to carve out the time and keep trying! Fishing Travel - Elsewhere We're already talking about a Winter trip to Florida; New Jersey in the spring or fall sounds good; and maybe I should try a trip to the Connecticut River or Little Rhody. Of course, there will likely be some Cape Cod activity, but I am thinking about something beyond the familiar. Let's see how the year pans out along these lines... *** Of course, I continue to reserve the right to amend or append; I always have a number of ideas rattling around in the back of my subconscious. Regardless, here's to an Excellent 2022! Pondering the questions of core essence and finding meaning in unexpected ways Back on January 1 (which seems like several lifetimes ago), I offered my modest Fishing Goals for 2021. You can find them at www.numenonfunfishing.com/numenon-home/2021-fishing-goals. So, How'd I do? (First, please accept my apologies for the rampant font issues within this post!) 1. 200 Stripers for the season. In short, I crushed it. I ended up with 284 stripers landed, from three states. I missed a few along the way, too! While my best fish typically came aboard the Maritime skiff, the numbers from shore added up to just about half of my fish landed. My biggest striper of the year came from shore, too, so I have to keep plugging away, regardless of the platform. 2. Share a fresh fish meal with Uncle M This certainly could have happened, and probably should have. But pandemic visitation protocols, logistical preparation, and coordination all interfered with this. When my brief time on Cape Cod in the Spring ran out, I had to look to the Fall Run. But with just a single Woods Hole session and three hours together, this didn't materialize. I did, however, catch a pile of legal keepers this year, so it could have happened. Plus, we both prefer steak or chicken to fish, so maybe it's time to drop this idea. 3. Catch my biggest ever striper. Nope. But, did I encounter a qualifying fish? Perhaps; I sighted a single trophy in Duxbury. That bass got beaten to my bait by a quicker blue. I lost a very nice fish to seals by Clapboard Island. And I vividly recall a couple of isolated, exceptionally violent topwater, bait-stealing smashes. My largest striper was 33 inches or so, my biggest in several seasons. That's got to be big enough for 2021! Still, some truly large fish were caught in Maine this year, and perhaps I should spend more time with big(ger) fish tactics and settings. 4. Catch a false albacore! I failed in my single, short, late-September attempt at Woods Hole. I think I need to execute a late-August/early-September trip next year to change my luck. Of course, it could be difficult to leave Maine at that time of the season... 5. Catch a 6-pound "bass" (green, brown or sea-). Ugh... I didn't even try. I do need to integrate myself in some way into Maine bass fishing. The cold-water pre-spawn period might provide my most feasible window into this local fishery. 6. Catch a 20-inch trout! Yes! a beautiful brown from Cape Cod fulfilled this desire. A nice rainbow (19 inches) from Maine's Upper Range Pond capped off my fall freshwater efforts. I miss the Great Lakes trout and salmon, but fish like these, on light tackle and in uncrowded settings, still provide a lot of satisfaction. 7. Successfully fish new water. In certain ways, this was the defining aspect of my 2021 season. From my early Spring Cape Cod explorations through the end of my season in New Jersey's surf, much of my time was spent in new-to-me water. Sometimes I was on a new body of water; and sometimes I was simply stretching my boundaries on more familiar waters. I found a lot of new spots, and I caught my share of fish along the way; all without any real problems on the water. That sounds like success to me! 8. Successfully implement a new technique I did nothing radically different, but I did incorporate many variations on existing themes. Presenting a popper to stripers with the fly rod and swimming a Danny in November's New Jersey surf both qualify, and I hope to incorporate such experiences into future seasons. But I also deployed tiny spoons on very light lead-core setups for inland trout, I slow-trolled mackerel for many miles, I stemmed the tide in Vineyard Sound, and I presented a tube-and-worm on braided line in very shallow water. Finding fish on any local Maine fishery was also new-to-me, and I know I'll be confronted with the need to continue and expand such efforts in all future seasons. 9. Somebody new in the boat Again, I'll have to incorporate variations on themes, but I did lead M to her first striper aboard amybaby22. It was quick and easy, too! What a pic! That was a seasonal highlight. M was "there' , too, via live-stream for one of the last Maritime keepers of the season! 10. Launch Numenon. YES! After a couple of faltering attempts in which maintenance issues were revealed, I finally got her back afloat for a few freshwater sessions. She's aged mightily in the last couple of years, for which I feel badly, but she's certainly worth more to me than anybody else... so I guess we're stuck with each other. Informally Append as invoked on January 1 I hung my mounted walleye and brown trout in my new Maine home office and realized that any right-facing 30-incher (bass, blue, togue... whatever!) would be a cool addition. I caught that fish several times over this season, but all were released. I'll probably just save the money for other, more sensible purposes, but I'll keep half an eye out for the right combination of fish, meaning of experience, aesthetics and opportunity. By my estimation, I had a 60% achievement rate for my stated 2021 Fishing Goals. That's satisfying enough while still providing legitimate challenge. At least with fishing, I'll hereby declare 2021 to have been a success. Now, it's time to start dreaming about 2022! Pondering the questions of core essence and finding meaning in unexpected ways Almost exactly 11 years ago, we welcomed a puppy into our home. A mix of Shih Tzu and Japanese Chin breeds, Oliver was the original "Shitty Chin". He was overly territorial and stubborn, had a lot of warts, crooked teeth and bad hair days, and he certainly could be a pest underfoot. Of course, his schedule became our schedule. Despite the flaws, he ingratiated his way into our hearts, and most especially, mine. He lived to eat, sleep and walk. When awake, his primary adopted duty was to scavenge the outdoors for discarded food. He specialized in fast food, and he amazed me with his ability to (fairly consistently) find entire wild burgers and pizza slices in addition to the usual assortment of crusts and crumbs. Walk, we did. I was more than two years into my state of chronic back and leg pain, and almost a year post-surgery when he arrived. He needed to walk, and about all I could do was walk - and so we did. Thrice daily (becoming only twice a day in recent years, but for much longer, paced walks), regardless of weather; we walked. While he became King of his territory (wherever we happened to be), at least in his mind, I walked myself back into a reasonably good, functional state of health. And we continued to walk. I'll dare anybody to watch the short clip below without cracking a smile: Ollie greeted me enthusiastically every time I came home. He would remind me when it was time to walk or go to bed. He loved going out in the truck. He was just as happy to stay home and cuddle on the couch or sleep at my feet. He could be a real butt, but he could, on occasion, be adorably playful. He was really kind of unkempt and ugly, but somehow got by on his looks. He was seemingly always smiling, and that could make me truly smile. This past weekend was beautiful. It included perfect weather, unique family visits and boat rides, a concert and an actual date with A, and a comfortable and productive saltwater fishing excursion. Unfortunately, it suddenly and unexpectedly concluded with me having to choose to have Oliver euthanized. His period of pain was short; his life was long and comfortable. He was calm, and we were together, at the end. Thanks, Ollie. You really were a good boy! You did so much for me! Don't worry; I went for my walk this morning! 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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