NUMENON |
PONDERING CORE ESSENCE
NUMENON |
Such a lucky guy to have a daughter like K! (For so many reasons, beyond but including the particulars of this account). She'd arranged a trip for me to visit her in the San Francisco area and share some camping and fishing. After a long Maine Winter, I was more than ready to do so! After just a bit of back and forth, we settled on an itinerary that offered convenient and pleasant fun. We could relax and enjoy each other's company for a few days within an easy drive from her Bay-area home, with the prospect of catching some nice trout! And that we did! Lodging and fishing were available at Collins Lake, and Captains CK and W at FHS.com provided a stable and comfortable platform in our quest for some trout. It was a low-stress approach all the way around, and we appreciated it! Campfires, eagles, ospreys, blacktail deer, nice gear, clean beds, hot showers, ice cream and each other's company; all enhanced by plenty of trout reaching six pounds. It was a "hella" long weekend! Such a lucky guy to have shared not just this, but several decades of shared outdoor experiences with my kids. Somehow, I thought K was all grown up and ready to serve as First Mate aboard Mrs. Paul, my first vessel, 25 years ago. I wasn't quite right about that, but we still spent plenty of time on the water and we had more than our share of fun and success. We got safely home every time, too! It was an awesome gift to share these current moments, but especially so in the reflection of our previously shared experiences. Thanks, K! Pondering the questions of core essence and finding meaning in unexpected ways
0 Comments
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 recently invested some hard-earned cash in a professionally guided, local fly-fishing trip for striped bass. While I know my local waters pretty well, catch my share of bass, am an occasional but reasonably competent fly-fisher, and have developed enough techniques to generally keep my bites coming, I thought this would be an opportunity to learn and grow. For instance: What is this professional's general approach to tackling the day? No important decisions (port, departure time) were finalized until the night before and based on the most recent intelligence. In a single word; Simplicity! The deck was clean, a few rods were rigged, and we used just three flies all day. With a foundation of experience and confidence built over the years, we didn't need much else. This captain prefers the incoming tide for shallow-feeding bass! The bass can explore new feeding areas over the course of the tide before becoming too dispersed. Existing channels and gutters provide routes for both boat and bass, and ongoing observation will help fine tune locations and presentations. In this skinny water, it is of paramount importance to keep the boat's engine and hull quiet. Don't push a wake, minimize hull slap, avoid other boats and traffic, etc. The fish are there; what are they eating? We started with a larger herring fly based on the possible presence of blueback herrings and the opportunity for offering the bass a big meal, but when that didn't work and we couldn't see the tiny bait the bass and birds were eating, we made a couple of changes. Be in a position to start the strip right away! Keep in contact with the line right from the end of the cast and get that fly moving, as many of the hits will occur right away. I missed my first fish because of this, but fortunately converted on the retrieve from this same cast. This lesson was already burned into my memory. Keep the rod tip in the water during the retrieve to maximize energy transmittal to the fly and to avoid line slap on the water's surface. I suspect this helps with strike detection and hook sets, too. This is a team effort; he could see a lot more from his vantage point than I. It was my job to listen and execute. What is his philosophy with respect to finding fish? With a few decades of chasing the stripers in this manner under his belt, he was confident that the bass were there. By carefully and quietly positioning us and then letting the birds lead the way to especially active areas, we did our best to stay over hunting fish. We used any visual cue we could; wakes, ripples, and refusals all helped shape the next cast. How did he keep the bite going over the course of the entire tide? We stayed with active fish by moving frequently! Some stops earned only a few casts before we were moving again. The captain was constantly watching for fish reactions and evaluating from there. We didn't lose much time over unproductive water, or at least water without offering the real promise of success. Based on the fish's reaction, he made some basic fly changes. We started with a big attractor, scaled down to a smaller, more subtle baitfish, and then offered a snack of a shrimp fly. What adjustments did he make and to what specific factors? I am sure I am unaware of most of these. I was focused on my casting, line control and retrievals. But this was clearly a game of reacting to the moment. First of all, we delayed our anticipated starting time by a couple of hours to avoid the ebb and maximize the flood. The early fog helped us with our late start, too. When the first attractor fly didn't work, he was quick to downsize and modify the color to something a little more muted. When this fly enjoyed some immediate success that morphed into obvious refusals, he quickly went to a shrimp pattern, especially with the increasingly sunny conditions. We ended the day with some carefree smaller bass in deeper water. These were revealed by active birds, and we fine-tuned their feeding lanes by using water seams to target likely casting areas. What was new to me? All of this took place on "new" water to me, east of the Cousins Island causeway. I'm always on the other side of that bridge. I certainly have the range to go around Cousins and explore these waters, though. My Garmin mapping will keep me in enough water to float the boat and follow the fish. Virtually all of my fly-fishing has been self-taught, and so receiving professional guidance while doing so was a positive experience. He offered a few small adjustments on the cast and for line handling. I was generally able to respond immediately and could see the benefit, and these changes quickly stuck! I was better at the end of the trip than I was at the beginning! I've always used Clousers and poppers while fly-fishing for stripers, and the shrimp pattern/presentation was new to me. I was surprised at how aggressively I was working that shrimp. Perhaps most importantly, this experience helped me build some confidence in shallow water, especially during bright conditions. We actualized our success in this scenario, and seeing/doing is believing! Plus, the captain admitted out loud, this is how he captures all his big fish. This is a certainly a technique worth learning and pursuing. What am I now equipped to become better at? My casting is fine, but my ability to consistently control the line immediately needs help; lots of fish strike at the end of the cast. I was able to work on this throughout the trip and will continue to do so. I'll get better as my ability to pickup, haul and shoot quickly improves. Again, practice will help. I apparently had a few bites where I saw and felt nothing. I need to keep in contact with the line! This will be natural outcome of better line management, in general. This trip just opened up a lot of water for me on both sides of the Cousins Island bridge! And I know I don't need to be exploring them just during low-light hours, so I can explore them whenever I choose to do so. Finally, I can do so with confidence, because I know it isn't a Wild Goose Chase; I will probably find some willing bass along the way. They might be nice ones, too! Other thoughts and tid-bits We kibitzed over the course of the trip, especially when moving from spot to spot. I learned quite a bit over the course of the morning, including the following: That Memorial Day/weekend bite on Broad Cove is an annual event that offers only a brief window of opportunity. Perhaps for three or four days, the cove is on fire, but then it switches off and many of the the bass go elsewhere. Speaking of Broad Cove, those terns over super-shallow water are picking up stranded bait and aren't worth chasing. The Presumpscot River hosts an alewife run. This is early in the season and he favors a pinch of yellow in his flies when fishing here. Alternatively, the Royal River hosts blueback herring, later (mid-June). These fish are darker, at least in this muddy water. Brit herring may or may not be Atlantic herring, but they are important, small bait. Arriving in May and staying and growing for much of the season, these are matched with simple flies from two to four inches, perhaps featuring blue backs. There's never anything wrong with olive-over-white, anytime, anywhere. A shrimp worked hard and fast over deep water produces too, as exemplified by the last few fish of the day. FYI, I was previously aware of this guide service, and I've run across him on common waters several times. In fact, we shared a local multi-day blitz a few weeks ago. My interest in this endeavor was piqued by a video I ran across this winter. He was guiding "The New Fly Fisher" out of my back yard, and I recognized many of the waters they fished over the course of a few fall days. Moreover, since they mentioned the dates of filming, I know exactly how I was fishing and what fish I was catching at that same time! I could argue that I was just doing fine for myself, but his simultaneous approach in the video was so different that I knew I was in a position to learn something and broaden my horizons. That something might prove to be useful at some point!?! Here's the service I used on this very pleasant and informative day: www.coastalflyangler.com. Captain Wallace was a pleasure to fish with and I definitely look forward to doing so again. A more detailed account of the day's specifics is located at www.numenonfunfishing.com/numenonfunfishing (June 27, 2023 entry.) Did I learn and will I grow? You bet! Oh, and so what do the pros know? They know they can do it! Pondering the questions of core essence and finding meaning in unexpected ways Somehow, I overlooked the tenth anniversary of this endeavor. But I recently realized I've been at this now for 11 years! Here's the proof: numenon.blogspot.com/2012/05/welcometo-my-new-blog-numenon.html. This is just a simple recognition of this, if only for continuity of effort! I am not really sure why this started, and I'm not really sure why I continue, other than it seems to be an appropriate and uplifting activity for me. I certainly appreciate the quiet time involved, and I do get to experience good things multiple times as I continue to Anticipate! Participate! and Elaborate! My recent donation of Numenon has completed a circle of sorts for me, and I'm ready for another revolution. I hope for an improved version of this last cycle, but I'll take whatever I get. Meanwhile, there's too much "I" in my writing, and "I" am not all that interesting. There's work to be done! Pondering the questions of core essence and finding meaning in unexpected ways All good things come to an end, and I recently said farewell to Numenon. Two homes, two jobs, two boats, too much! The last few years of lack of use and outdoor storage have been tough on her, and with no real prospect of getting her back into shape, on the road and fishing the way I want her to fish, I simply donated her to a charitable cause. It was a quiet end to an important aspect of my life, but there should be good things to move on to when I am ready. Meanwhile, amybaby22 (perhaps the second best purchase of my life) is fishy, agile and doing it for 2023! I'd like to thank all the family, friends and acquaintances that joined me on adventures over the years. From familiar, small bass ponds to the wondrous, open expanses of the Great Lakes and Lake St. Clair, we had a lot of fun and shared some beautiful experiences. I grew as an angler, but more importantly, I think I grew as a companion, and Numenon was a common thread that held us together. Pondering the questions of core essence and finding meaning in unexpected ways 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 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 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 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 |
Steve LachanceVia Rhode Island, New Hampshire, Michigan and now, back to New England! Archives
June 2024
Categories
All
|