NUMENON |
PONDERING CORE ESSENCE
NUMENON |
Birds and bait were abundant, and the New Moon current was ripping. I was presented with different conditions on my two mornings, and good things could have happened. Still, false albacore action was limited and I had only a few casts over two days anywhere close to working tunoids. Another year shall likely pass without me connecting with one of Fall's funny fish. Oh well, I learned a bit and there's always 2023. Of course I knew that tangible success during this annual Albie run was something of a shot in the dark. I was dependent on fish presenting themselves to me at a given, fixed location and on my schedule. Plus, they'd have to be inclined to eat, and I'd have to execute. This just didn't pull itself entirely together, once again, for me in 2022. Still, I'll call this a good effort and I did learn a bit. I arrived, armed with three rigs in hand; the universal epoxy jig, an Albie Snax soft bait, and a Pop-and-Fly for finicky fish. This had been confirmed for me as the go-to trio by an article earlier in the week. On Saturday, all three baits swam for me quite a bit. Thick "rain" bait was obvious; snagged silversides were common, and I'd see rivers of peanut bunker later in the day. Fiona-related winds diminished over the course of the morning from well over 20 mph from the north, to a mere 15+ mph. From daylight to slack high tide, there were constant tornados of birds over bait, but always well out of reach. A single small pod of fish (7:20 AM and about half an hour before high tide) gave me hope when it chased bait on the surface within casting range for perhaps 15 seconds. I got a couple of casts in, but my smallish, natural-colored epoxy jig was ignored. I was joined on the stubby pier by a vacationer from Colorado. He reported good albie and bass action from this location before the blow. For the most part, he only would cast to visible fish, but given their prolonged absence, he made a few blind casts before searching for greener pastures on Martha's Vineyard. He also preferred the afternoon dropping tide at this location. After 300 or more minutes of casting while standing on the concrete, my body told me to pace myself. I'd not seen a shot for about four hours; I saved my luck and energy for the following day. I was a bit peeved to find a pair of anglers already in position when I returned in the dark at 5:40 the next morning. I was blocked from my preferred position at the pier's end. But conditions remained fishy (overcast and now with a more manageable westerly breeze) and there was plenty of room. Plus, the water was moving hard and there was still lot of bait around. Things got very fishy at about 6:45 AM. Bass blitzed bait trapped against the rocks and nearby seawalls for about 20 minutes. Amazingly, I never got touched. I knew these fish were on peanuts, but they were selective! They ignored my Albie Snax, Hogy Slow-tails, Crippled Herring, and even the Popper-and-Fly. I did note, however, the guy at the end scoring a few bass on a small white swim-bait retrieved at Albie Speed through the mayhem. I'd later learn that this was a 3-inch Al Gags', and he was hoping to find an Albie mixed in with the feeding bass. Lesson learned! Once these feeds thinned out, this same tactic produced three Albies for that same gentleman. I'd switched to my closest approximation, a 4-inch thin Hogy on a jig-head. This never got touched, the albacore seemed to need that thumping Al Gags tail. Another lesson learned! A few local fishing celebrities showed up, and one caught a decent bass on a float-and-fly. Another interesting rig I noticed was a large hookless epoxy jig with a RonZ sand eel trailer. Folks were getting more creative at imitating the small bait in place. I got knocked out of the action for a couple of hours with sudden onset stomach illness, but when I returned later in the morning, the crowd had thinned and the rest were giving up. The fish were still feeding, but very sporadically and usually out of reach. Only a single small bluefish had been landed by my new friend from Colorado. He'd been totally skunked on the Vineyard the previous day; it had just been a tough day for fishing. I casted for another fruitless hour before heading home. I couldn't help but feel dejected, and I was angry about not being able to make my best sustained effort. But I'm already thinking about 2023. Pondering the questions of core essence and finding meaning in unexpected ways
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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 I am too tired to write; I've got a lot going on! But, I do want to celebrate this fishing season. Here's a picture from each month of 2021 (so far; I may choose to update for November and December if anything noteworthy happens). It was difficult to choose a single "best" picture to represent a given month. I tried to balance the quality of the fish, picture composition and sharpness of the memory invoked. Others might have chosen differently. Oh, well. And, it's obvious to me that too many of my pictures look too similar, and that I need to get more people out there! It was a good season; while I didn't catch any truly large fish, I did catch piles of quality fish. Much of my time was spent on new-to-me water or learning new spots and techniques. I was outside a lot, and I had many encounters with wild creatures beyond fish; seals, eagles, dolphins, coyotes, foxes and more. Thank goodness for my ability to do so; and for those who support these efforts! Pondering the questions of core essence and finding meaning in unexpected ways From my new home waters in Falmouth Foreside, Maine down to new water in Duxbury, Massachusetts, I enjoyed my four-day weekend! In addition to Labor Day, I'd long ago scheduled myself to be "off" on Tuesday, with my mind on catching some more stripers! Each day treated me well and had its highlights. I encountered good numbers of fish with a variety of techniques, and scored my biggest striper and bluefish of the season. I caught my largest ever fly-rod striper, and enjoyed beautiful scenery and affable company. What else could I ask for? Of course, the details for each day are available (or soon will be!) under the "NumenonFunFishing" tab, above. Enjoy! Pondering the questions of core essence and finding meaning in unexpected ways 2021 has been a season of recovery... from the pandemic, the associated isolation, the generally "down" nature of 2020 and more. While virtually all of my 2021 fishing has been solo, I have gotten out a fair amount, and my recent relocation to Maine has reunited me with extended family, both boats and all my gear. I can be fishing within 15 minutes from my desk or bed; and that fishing has a lot of potential for me to unlock. I couldn't ask for more. Here, I'm just taking a breather and collecting some photos. Nothing outrageous (either good or bad) has happened in my 2021 fishing season so far, but I've had a lot of pleasant success. I've enjoyed just about every moment on the water and each and every fish I've encountered. Who knows what the second half of the season will bring; bigger stripers? Blues? Thirty-inch togue? An albie? I look forward to finding out! Enjoy! Pondering the questions of core essence and finding meaning in unexpected ways The entire family just spent a week or so in Maine. Folks converged from England, the Pacific Northwest, the mid-Atlantic and the Mountain West to re-unite for the first time in a couple of years or more. A new grand-niece was introduced to all for the first time, many meals were shared, and there was a fair amount of local beer and Casco Bay-side relaxation. A yellow Portland Pudgy tender ( portlandpudgy.com ) joined my fleet, and the Maritime skiff was finally moored at its very own location. Each performed their respective duties flawlessly. Nature was abundant, fishing for striped bass was better than decent, and the average fish landed (24 inches or so) was an excellent match to my light tackle. I was smart enough to pace myself, and I didn't unnecessarily burn myself out by fishing day and night. I took advantage of my easy access to the water when it made sense, and I made extra effort to invest my time in new methods, locations and techniques. I truly enjoyed my time on the water, and didn't feel as if I were trying to win an ephemeral race with access to Casco Bay stripers. With mackerel abundant for the first time in years, and these livies generally selecting for larger fish, I live-lined these baits more than I expected. My lure fishing suffered, and I was less efficient than usual. But the anticipation with each bait deployed was high, the majority of my mackerel were eaten, many of the strikes were visually dramatic, and I found success in several new areas. This was fun! Somehow, we managed to move into our new home during this same week. Since that new home is in Yarmouth, ten minutes from my mooring, I guess I'll have to get used to this. Pondering the questions of core essence and finding meaning in unexpected ways As my Maritime 1480 skiff, the amybaby22, moves to Maine for the height of the season (and perhaps longer), I wanted to take just a moment to reflect on my experiences in Barnstable, Massachusetts. Over the last couple of seasons, this might have become my favorite Bay State port. I didn't visit it much (four trips in two years; not nearly enough), but it treated me well each time. Given my lack of local experience, each trip presented new challenges and experiences. The port offers a variety of accessible habitats from estuarine to open water in Cape Cod Bay. I found my own way to fish each time. I know I've only scratched the local potential, but I've still encountered some fine fish! While I never scored a truly large striper during my limited time there, my average bass encountered was certainly fat, healthy and spunky; and probably pushing 24 inches. These fish are excellent targets on light tackle, and I caught them from the surface to 30 or more feet down. Plus, the clear water offered many additional sightings and close calls, and the port threw in several bonus bluefish of nice size, too. Perhaps because I tend to gravitate to Barnstable during a period of southerly wind, each day the skies were clear and the sun was bright. And yet, I still found feeding stripers! Because each trip here poses a new set of conditions (tide, season, water temperature, etc.), I've been open to exploring new waters and trying new techniques. On a given trip, bouncing epoxy jigs along bottom with current, ripping Ben Parker Magnum Flutter Spoons, trolling deep-diving sticks, chasing birds or simply covering water with poppers and flukes could be my answer. Of course, each of these pursuits has opportunity costs and so I've barely explored live-lining Macks, open-water trolling with big baits in deep water, sight-fishing the flats, or tube-and-worming along Sandy Neck. I know that any of these techniques could be my best answer on any given day, including my next trip. I was quick to realize (actualize?) the potential for Barnstable to offer a quality experience. I simply hit the nail on the head after my first visit: "... other than the rude boating, crowds at navigation pinch points and the rather dysfunctional ramp, this was a very high-quality experience." I've learned to manage the negatives mentioned above, leaving myself open to just the positives of this port. I am not quite sure when..., but I will be back! Pondering the questions of core essence and finding meaning in unexpected ways May 7, 2021 12:30 PM Waquoit Bay, Falmouth/Mashpee Massachusetts Here's my earliest-ever saltwater striper, a 16-incher that I fooled with a small swimbait in about seven feet of water: I had to work hard for this fish. I'll maintain that size doesn't matter for the first of the season. Still, this guy and two others of similar stature were fun enough on my light tackle, and three small (No, tiny!) stripers really can make for a fine, successful day! There's plenty of season ahead in which to catch some slightly bigger ones! Pondering the questions of core essence and finding meaning in unexpected ways As Winter (hopefully) quietly wanes to a close, I got truly antsy this past weekend. Not feeling quite comfortable with either local ice conditions or traveling north for trout, and being clueless about holdover stripers, I intensely puttered. On Sunday, I hit the local bait shop and grabbed a dozen or so jig heads. Shortly thereafter, my tying equipment was out. I fell into a groove and churned out some bucktails, all the while imagining the stripers and sea bass that might fall to them, and the scenes in which these encounters might occur. That was a small, but welcomed, first antidote to my restlessness and I quickly followed up with the recommended second dose. On Tuesday afternoon, a box of hooks, jig heads and assorted plastic baits finally arrived from Bass Pro Shops. These too, had provided some distraction while I ordered them. They were fodder for further verbal daydreaming during a pleasant dinner with my oldest daughter. By the time the dirty dishes were put away, this new gear had paid for itself in pleasantries. ![]() Four new baits for shallow, clear-water stripers, with new-to-me rigging. NOT PICTURED and my inspiration for these, an amber Hogy 6-inch Skinny Bait similarly rigged, my take on their classic nose-hooked (but substantially larger) baits. I think these will be productive under the proper conditions. Summarizing this and sharing my thoughts and pictures has helped me resist the outgoing Winter. And, when a friend questioned whether I was simply fishing for compliments for my bucktails, I did have to admit; at this point, I'll fish for anything! Pondering the questions of core essence and finding meaning in unexpected ways After almost 35 years in The Great Lakes State (Michigan), in late 2019 I moved back "home" to New England. Born, raised and schooled here, I'd taken my nascent fishing skills out west in 1985. Now, I had the opportunity to bring my full-grown passion for fishing and accumulated experience to bear on New England's fish in both fresh and salt water! The landscape looked different and more promising to me upon my return. First and foremost, I now had more resources available to me than I'd had as a teenager; but I also had new perspectives on geography and the opportunities available to me. It had taken several decades, but the colloquialism of my Rhode Island youth had given way to a broader view of possibility. It's now okay to choose to travel three or four hours each way for a day's fishing; even longer for a weekend. It's reasonable to hold licenses from multiple states. It's acceptable to "Go Big", try something new, and come home skunked. And it's easier to be aware of all this, simply because of the internet! The resources seemed to have improved in my absence, too. Clean air and water regulations have been effective, in the main, in restoring and protecting the environment. Public access to many waters has been enhanced. Five-pound largemouth bass are legitimately possible as opposed to being an object of dreams. Black sea bass and scup have been recognized as sporting fish, and appear to be more available and much larger than I recall. Northern pike have extended their range. Quality catches in pleasant settings are no longer a simple matter of luck, but can be planned for and executed. And now there are stripers! Numbers may be down compared to a decade or two ago, and their presence should not ever again be taken for granted, but stripers are way more numerous and accessible than they were when I left. In fact, I had never encountered one before I left New England in 1985. Big, gator blues were the saltwater sportfish of my youth. True to their mysterious and nomadic ways, large bluefish are currently locally scarce and unpredictable. That's a current loss compared to 35 years ago, but there's at least hope that this is part of a natural cycle and that big bluefish will be part of the future. So, I arrived back "home" (albeit now as a resident of The Bay State) to a better place, and armed with the knowledge, equipment and motivation to make my 2020 Fishing Season truly epic. From trout to false albacore, I had big plans for 2020. And then, of course, everything changed with the arrival of Coronavirus. This is my first Pandemic, and so I doubt that I've done everything exactly correctly or with complete grace. But, I've managed to keep myself healthy and employed, as has my family circle. So, I am lucky, and in The Pandemic Sense of Things, very well off! But the situation has put various crimps in my plans and dreams, including my 2020 fishing. I never launched my Lund freshwater boat; she remains in extended hibernation on her trailer. Other than casting for stocked trout, I didn't even fish in freshwater in 2020. In my opinion, a freshwater season without bass is not even a season. I'll not write further of my season's freshwater exploits; let's just say I am thankful that I had access to the salt in 2020. While I didn't moor my Maritime saltwater skiff in Maine, as planned, I was able to responsibly access her on a frequent-enough basis without interacting with others outside my bubble. From May through October, I was able to explore a good chunk of Cape Cod and Maine's Casco Bay with her. This 14-foot platform became something like a therapist's couch for me in 2020. With frequent visits to her, I was able to effectively (?) deal with the other aspects of my life. But this is about the fishing and the gifts it bestowed upon me in 2020. There were many, and just about all of them involved stripers or their pursuit. The sunrises, sunsets and solitude might have been enough solace by themselves; but the fishing was pretty darn good, too. While I landed no monstrously large fish in 2020 (my biggest striped bass measured in at 37 inches; I am still seeking a verified 40-incher), I did set a few Personal Bests along the way. But these were either incidental or accidental, and so were more or less just part of the enjoyment, and not meaningful in the long run. Still, it's fun to recognize your largest Hickory Shad, Sea Robin and sea-run Brown Trout. Each fish should be appreciated for what it has to offer, and these provided exclamation points on three different sessions that might otherwise have been forgotten. I visited several new ports and navigated many new waters. I pushed my Casco Bay explorations further east and north, found some new bait stops, productive rocks, and I placed piles of new waypoints on the new Garmin GPS. I live-lined, tube-and-wormed and raised fish on topwater baits from more new spots on Casco Bay than I had accumulated in the previous, mostly shore-bound, 19 years. I was fortunate to spend the July 4th Weekend and a week's respite from work here, not only exploring, but catching! I was doubly fortunate to not only land a beautiful sea-run brown on a small Kastmaster intended for mackerel, but to also catch, photograph and release a 2020 Striper Cup-winning striper on this same bait. I was triply fortunate to have done so from my retirement property! I've got a lot to look forward to, here! On the Cape, I added Upper Buzzards Bay, Sandwich, Barnstable, the entirety of Waquoit Bay's watershed and some of the Vineyard Sound shoals to my list of familiar waters. I was able to employ tactics both trusted and new. The stripers just about always found me, and in the newness of it all, I learned from just about each one. I am more prepared for future seasons than ever before, and if I choose to be the only person in the fleet utilizing Ben Parker Magnum Flutter Spoons, so be it! The best part of the Pandemic for me has been telecommuting. And if one is telecommuting, why not choose to do so from a rented house on the shores of Waquoit Bay? We did so for a week in September, during which I was blessed with the best, consistent topwater action of the year, as well as my rediscovery of fluke-style baits. Despite the persistent and powerful wind, the fishing and on-the-water experience was so good that week, I almost didn't mind having to work during the day! I expect to do the same in 2021, and possibly beyond! Almost 200 stripers came over the Maritime's gunwales, and another couple dozen or so were landed from shore. Of course, I missed and flubbed many other opportunities, but I don't think I lost any truly large stripers. Additionally, a bunch of sea bass, scup and blues, and even a few fluke visited me, too. I experienced no real on-the-water problems, and sometimes I was even able to forget about my lack of freshwater opportunities or the other, real problems posed by 2020. As I write this in January of 2021, the Coronavirus situation remains dark. I don't know what to realistically expect for 2021. I don't know what I can plan for, I don't even know if I dare dream about certain things. But I do know that I will (at least and likely) find safe harbor with my skiff, my light tackle and the striped bass of New England's coastal waters. This comfort is enough, for now. It's good to be home. 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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