NUMENON |
PONDERING CORE ESSENCE
NUMENON |
Like millions of others, I've recently had cause to hunker down at home. I've used this time to take on some chores that would have otherwise been left undone, and this has produced some beneficial results. For instance, unlike previous moves, I've culled some nonessential objects, and I've (nearly) hyper-organized the remaining goods. I've actually cleaned the extra stall in the garage, and one can walk about most of the cellar without fear of tripping or toppling a pile of precious cargo. One of the specific (but minor) benefits of these activities was finding a variety of old maps and files, including variations of my fishing journals dating back as far as 1988. I've thumbed through these, and I thought I'd commemorate some of the more meaningful sessions that were contemporaneously documented. So, here it goes; but please forgive the photography, these are pictures of old pictures! January 11, 1988 Gull Lake - Richland, Michigan For Christmas of 1987, I received the gift of an 8-inch Mora ice auger. I'm still using it today, but I used it a ton in that first ice season of 1987-1988. Prior, I had relied on the kindness of others with augers, had used old holes, or had chopped my way through the ice with a chisel or spud. In 1988, I was in West Michigan for graduate school, and I had convenient access to Gull Lake in Kalamazoo County. It's a beautiful lake with big fish potential (especially for pike and bluegills), and at the time was being used as a potential brood stock lake for Atlantic Salmon. Needless to say, I spent more than my fair share of time on Gull's ice that winter. My notes indicate that January 10, 1988 was cold, sunny, and productive (for others) for pike on the "Bible Bay" portion of Gull. I lost a running pike on a tip-up; it had eaten a dead, headless supermarket smelt near the bottom. Otherwise, I went fishless, but apparently I noticed somebody catching an Atlantic; and I gleaned the fact that it had eaten a gold teardrop jig tipped with a waxworm intended for bluegills. I also learned that it had eaten about 15 feet below the ice; we were standing over about 35 feet of water. I spent the afternoon of January 11, 1988 on that same ice, in somewhat warmer (27-30 degrees F), but cloudier, conditions. The pike fishing was slower, and I moved about with a jigging Rapala targeting pike and/or with a white/orange teardrop with wax-worm targeting deep 'gills. About mid-afternoon, I moved my small jig up to 12-feet below the ice (I had marked the distance on my line prior to leaving the house) and kept it in constant motion. In the next hour, I went 2-for-3 on Atlantic Salmon between 15 and 22 inches. These were tremendous fish for me at that time, and any ice fishing success was welcomed. Using a 4.5-foot ultralight rod with 4-pound test baited with various jigs, spoons, waxies and minnows at various locations around Gull Lake produced 22 salmon to about 26 inches over the duration of the season. That reliable fishery continued for several years, and I expanded my chase to the open waters of spring and fall. Unfortunately, a hatchery disease terminated this experimental fishery. The good news is that Atlantics took hold as a result of this program in the St. Mary's River at the outlet of Lake Superior as well as at other isolated locations around Lakes Michigan and Huron. I was even fortunate to catch (and recognize) several Atlantic Salmon in later years while trolling for Great Lakes salmon and trout. Interestingly enough, each of these was caught in Grand Haven, despite the fact that I fished up and down the West Michigan coast every season. February 10, 1988 Gull Lake - Richland, Michigan Fishing that same bay in the afternoon, with an approaching snow storm that would dump about 12 inches of snow overnight, I pulled 10 bluegills from the same hole in the hour before darkness. All were within a foot of the bottom in about 35 feet of water. What was remarkable; their size. I recorded one over 10 inches and a pair over 9. I remember tracing the outline of the 10-incher in my notebook; all that remains are the traces of paper that cling to the wire binder when one rips out a page. Oh well, those were among the last gills that I kept and cleaned for myself; and among the last BIG bluegills I've encountered in Michigan. Gull Lake taught me to respect bluegills and those who pursue them. I just got too busy chasing larger fish! December 6, 1995 Grand River - downtown Grand Rapids, Michigan I'd been in Michigan for about a decade by this point, and I still had a bad case of Trout and Salmon Fever. But I'd become dismayed with local steelheading; the prevailing methods of long rods, light line and bait (roe) had produced only sporadic success for me, and I'd had too many fish escape via missed hooksets or broken lines. But when an older co-worker finally invited me to join him for an afternoon on the river (I had faithfully and selflessly helped him launch his boat a dozen times or more during my lunch break), I was quick to say Yes!. Fred offered a different way of targeting these fish, swinging homemade French spinners on stout gear with 17-pound line. I wanted to give that a try. Plus, from his boat, I didn't have to worry so much about water levels and wading; this is a treacherous stretch of river bottom, and I only confidently waded during lower water flows. Let me state this; December 6, 1995 was bright and sunny in Grand Rapids, but brutally cold and windy. I expected that Fred would cancel and reschedule; but I guess I really didn't know him at that point. Not only would we be going, but because he had blocked off 4 hours of vacation time for the trip, we would be fishing for a minimum of four hours. (Travel, launch, gear prep, etc. were all in addition to the fishing.) I'll be damned; at our first spot near the top of the Center Run below the 6th Street dam, my quietly swinging size-4 spinner hesitated. I set the hook, and instead of a snag, it was a fish! It turned out to be a 9-pound hen, and it was my biggest river trout to date. Apparently, I missed another, and Fred took two for a combined 17 pounds during our inaugural session together. Good action on nice fish! I don't necessarily recall those details, but this day changed the way I fish for river trout. I've rarely fished for steelies or trout with bait, since. I love swinging spinners, streamers and plugs for trout of any type! My relationship with Fred continued for a few more years, until he retired. He seriously outfished me in our time together (he landed 13 steelies, while I only landed 8 while together in his boat), but the records clearly indicate that I had a better landing percentage than he did, and while I netted a whopping 13.5-pounder on January 19, 1997 for him, I caught an even larger steelie approaching 15 pounds while wading with Fred in early April of that year. So, I held my own with my Steelhead Mentor in our time together. July 25, 1999 Lake Michigan - Manistee, Michigan In the late 1990's, most of my fishing time was spent chasing Trout and Salmon on Lake Michigan. I'd experienced Spring Brown Trout from shore and started chasing them in earnest from my original boat, Mrs. Paul, in April 1990. Other friends had slightly bigger boats, and I'd join them whenever possible; and in August 1996, I added a downrigger to my boat. Each trip was an adventure. At first, catching a fish from Lake Michigan's empty vastness seemed miraculous. But, as I learned more about the fish and the habitat, I was able to eliminate water and focus on areas with higher probability of success. As I gained experience and confidence, I added tools and perspective, reaching a point, at about this time, where I'd developed opinions and methods that built on my success and failures. And so on this beautiful morning, I headed out with good friend, DC, aboard his 18-foot Lund Pro-V. Equipped with two (!) down riggers and six (!!) rod holders, we steamed out of port and headed south. It was a Tournament Day out of Manistee, and most boats headed north. We wanted some quiet water for ourselves. The first thing I did when we settled into out patch of water in depths of about 100 feet was to develop a temperature profile with my new, hand-held thermometer/pressure transducer gadget. I sent it down on a downrigger and slowly retrieved it; I then, for the first time, recorded the temperature for my own purposes on Lake Michigan in my trusty, waterproof notebook. The resulting profile was not encouraging; the water was 70 degrees down to 60 feet; 60 degrees down to 85 feet; and 52 degrees at the end of our cable and recording capability, 100 feet below the surface. And while not encouraging, this did eliminate a lot of water, and so we set our lines deep. We quickly caught two fish on green glow spoons, 80 to 105 feet down on downriggers. The first was a 4-pound lake trout, but the second was a hyper-aggressive, giant King Salmon. This beast later scaled out at 26 pounds on the DNR scale. A fish like that made our day, if not our season! Later in the morning, we found another pod of deep fish over about 120 feet of water. These all ate spoons, too, off our deepest rigger set at 105 feet. These included a bigger, 6-pound lake trout and King Salmon of 2 and 10 pounds. The moral of this story, as embraced by me in my subsequent salmon fishing efforts, was to eliminate water via data and then utilize the best available, remaining option. In this case, by fishing much deeper than we were used to at the time, we were producing some quality action. And we knew why! But the corollary to the moral tale is that one never knows; and since we were allowed two rods a piece, we'd been trailing a magnum Green Dolphin Dreamweaver spoon, presented on a full 10 colors of lead core line, off the back of our spread. It was out of the way and fishing for us throughout; why not leave it out there, even if we thought it might not be reaching the desired depth and temperature? Because it was what we had for gear and options at the time, but this lure was also swimming in a zone where we were marking a lot of baitfish. We knew salmon would feed "out of temperature" for short periods. Maybe they were feeding on the bait visible on our sonar? At about 8:30 AM that morning, the full core rod jumped to life for the only time that session. After an epic battle, 32 pounds, 9 ounces of King Salmon hit the deck; only 38 inches long, it was in prime shape. This is the largest documented salmon that I have ever caught. This fish just about broke the heart of the guy at the tackle shop where we weighed in. He knew we'd caught it out of temperature; he knew we were not in the tournament and that we'd missed out on several thousand dollars; and he, himself, aspired to catching a 30-pounder, but had not. It probably hurt him a bit to see two rubes catching such a fish; but there was clearly more to the catch than he believed. We'd eliminated water; we'd believed the data we were given; we'd maximized our ability to execute; and we'd slightly hedged our bets. Seasonality; temperature; bait; and presentation. That's "all" there is to Great Lakes Salmon fishing success! From this date on, I was a Salmon Addict and a Data Junkie. My confidence and success both soared; and other than vacation-time stripers, I pursued little else for the next decade or so. August 13 and 14, 2006 Casco Bay, Maine My striper fishing experiences started in 2001, but my access to them was limited by time and geography. For the first decade of the new Millennium, virtually all of my striper fishing was limited to the quiet waters of Maine's Casco Bay, and virtually all of that experience was based from the float at the end of our property association's landing. I enjoyed my time down there (I still do!), and I spent virtually every possible extended dawn and dusk on the float, trying to coax some stripers to bite. By 2006, I'd made most of the mistakes that were available to me in this pursuit, and had settled into a pattern of presenting available live baits on appropriately light tackle. I expected success, and I had caught more stripers than I'd ever imagined. I still believed in fishing at dawn and dusk, but I'd started paying more attention to other conditions, such as tide cycle and water temperature. Everything I suspected I'd learned came together on the evenings of August 13 and 14, 2006. In two, three-hour sessions over these two evenings, I fooled 60 stripers into biting and landed 43 of them. These were not large, topping out at a recorded 25.5 inches, but they kept me busy from 7 PM into full darkness each night. Sandworms under lighted slip floats did the trick. The conditions I'd keyed in on included the second half of the falling tide at this location; current flowing to the east; and water temperatures in the very low 60s. I was learning and confirming that "Quadrant II" on the Tide Clock rules at this location, and I've paid extra special attention to specific tide stages at specific locations ever since; I've learned that any spot can turn totally "on" or "off" based on the the very specific conditions at any given spot at any given tidal stage. Developing a Milk Run of successful spots based on tide cycle is a primary strategy of mine, now. As if to prove my point, the next evening, as the timing of the favorable tide and light conditions started to diverge, I caught only three small stripers. The biters had moved through and were undoubtedly wreaking havoc somewhere else! And I was stuck on the dock! Pondering the questions of core essence and finding meaning in unexpected ways
0 Comments
The excruciating details of the fishing portion of the trip are available in NumenonFunFishing, above, and specifically at www.numenonfunfishing.com/numenonfunfishing . That's just a part of the value of the trip, though, as I spent lots of time with family (near and extended) and local friends. Unmarred by even a single problem, it was a great trip! Other than acknowledging my good fortune - I have sufficient means and am surrounded by supportive people - I cannot express what such shared time and experience mean to me. So'll just leave that up to a few of my favorite pictures of the trip. Enjoy! Pondering the questions of core essence and finding meaning in unexpected ways What a month! Well, at least for my fishing. Each and every trip produced fine fishing for the targeted quarry, whether it was trophy smallmouth bass on Lake St. Clair or the early-season stripers of Cape Cod. I caught fish in new water and with new techniques. I netted a 6-pound smallie for my best friend and another day's Big Bass earned me a cold beverage from another. I wore my hands and thumbs out with dozens of stripers in a few days. I scored bonus fishing days on the water with loved ones. I planned, adjusted, persevered and executed. I launched a new boat! I enjoyed (pretty much) every minute on the water. I am at least willing to consider the nomination of May 2019 as my Best Fishing Month, ever. In terms of consistency, quality of experience, big fish, action and fulfillment, I cannot recall a better 30-day stretch. I'll do my best to develop future nominees, but I will also recall this past month's efforts with gratification and satisfaction. Pondering the questions of core essence and finding meaning in unexpected ways I'd not gone 15 miles into the trip when a deer appeared at the edge of my headlight's illumination and we collided. After 34 years in Michigan, I'd finally claimed my deer. I had no chance to react, and I was lucky that it was a somewhat glancing blow that spun her off my left front fender and into my left passenger door. Not an auspicious start to this long-anticipated trip; but I pulled my old truck over to the side of the highway. She seemed to be drivable; the damage was mostly cosmetic. After a day-stop at Lake St. Clair for some more smallmouth bass with good friend BL, my destination was Falmouth, Massachusetts on Cape Cod. My new Maritime skiff awaited me there, and I suspected there were a number of stripers and sea bass available for my long weekend visit. The day's bass fishing on Lake St. Clair was good (feel free to check out the details at www.numenonfunfishing.com/numenonfunfishing/lsc_201905-guided-trip ), and the rest of my travels were trouble-free. By Friday evening, I had the skiff rigged and ready! While the persistent wind kept me inshore and limited my options, I found fish almost immediately; and I relied on this group of fish for most of my fishing action over the course of the next several days. These stripers were just about always willing to eat a jig/fluke combination, and sometimes even preferred a topwater popper. While this wasn't the grand, adventurous fishing for 30-pounders that I'd envisioned, it certainly was calm, peaceful and relaxing. And, I did get a taste of other places and other fisheries (Buzzards Bay bottom fishing, tracking down birds and bait in Vineyard Sound, and targeting the salt pond outlets) to spice things up over the course of my stay. Details are available under the NumenonFunFishing header, above. The Maritime Skiff 1480 proved seaworthy and stable. She exceeded my expectations. With 107 stripers over her gunnels for the trip, she earned her first striper decal. I expect I'll be able to festoon her with many more in the future. She's fishy, for sure! I was fortunate to have acquired this new boat and to have taken this trip. I was hosted very nicely by my Uncle M and his wife, N. We caught some fish and shared several fine meals. I got a bonus visit from my Boston daughter, K! I caught piles of fish with fine, well-matched tackle. Even with the ill-gotten beginning, this was a fine trip! Pondering the questions of core essence and finding meaning in unexpected ways So much has changed since my Rhode Island youth. To the point, striped bass returned! While they never truly or totally disappeared, they were simply not part of my world. If they existed to any fishable extent in Rhode Island's waters during the late 1970's or early 1980's, nobody talked about them; at least not anybody I knew. I was introduced to stripers in Casco Bay, Maine in August of 2000. I've been fortunate to fish for them just about every season this Century, and I've probably caught close to 2,000 of them. Ninety-seven percent of these have been caught within a few hundred yards of our "float" at the end of our communal landing. I'm fortunate to have had this access, and I'm fortunate to have encountered so many fish on my intermittent trips. I love fishing there, but I have to admit, I've been frustrated by lack of consistent access to other striper grounds within the bay. Sometimes the fish aren't present in front of me. Even if I'm on fish from the float, perhaps the stripers would be bigger elsewhere? Perhaps they'd be more likely to take a topwater lure? Perhaps I could sabiki some macks and live-line them for some real bruisers? And if I were to hook a cow, perhaps I could chase it down instead of simply watching line melt off my reel? With the recent acquisition of the Maritime 148, I've taken some steps to remedy this frustration. And while I purchased this boat with plans for a long-term future on Casco Bay, I'll be honest; the boat is on the Cape, and I'm currently day-dreaming about black sea bass! It's probably been more than 40 years, but I have caught black sea bass in the past. On very occasional summer-time head-boat half-day trips from southern Rhode Island or Martha's Vineyard in the mid-to-late 1970's, the quarry was scup and sea bass. I caught both on the heavy tackle provided. I have specific memories of the take and dogged pull of a single, outstandingly nice scup, and I remember a particularly bounteous day with my father out of Martha's Vineyard. While I remember having caught sea bass, I haven't retained the specifics of any particular fish. I recall them as having been black, ugly and small; really nothing beyond that, and I know that these memories do not do them justice. Apparently, this species has been aggressively expanding to the north. While I remember them as small, summer fish and a subordinate, incidental by-catch to scup, their numbers and average size around Rhode Island Sound and Buzzards Bay have exploded! Moreover, they are available for a longer part of the season, and advances in tackle and tactics have made them a more sporting quarry. In short, black sea bass are now a "thing" for the southern New England saltwater fisherman. The peak of their availability in Buzzards Bay likely coincides with my ability to pick my new boat up; let's say mid-May. The bigger stripers and bluefish might not have arrived by then, and so it only makes sense that I am dreaming of black sea bass. I was wrong about them being ugly, too. The males, especially, are decorated with beautifully iridescent blue highlights, and they all feature interesting fins and filaments. They are heavily scaled and will make a fantastic subject for some gyotaku! I understand they taste very good, and I suspect they can pull just fine, especially if my bait or jig is presented on light spinning gear. If my timing is right, their seasonal abundance will provide lots of action. If my timing is really on, then they will provide a fun, day-time break from pursuing shy, shallow-water stripers during low-light periods. So, much has changed since my Rhode Island youth! It's kind of cool to be reminded that change is not necessarily a bad thing! Pondering the questions of core essence and finding meaning in unexpected ways For well over a year, I had planned to take an autumn vacation in New England. Now free from the constraints of the public school calendar and having cleared my work schedule, I could claim a week or ten days in late September without negative effects. Of course, I planned on fishing; but the additional bonuses of seeing and sharing time with loved ones, experiencing favored spots with less competition and finding new spots all appealed. Then again, there was the chance to chase some of fall's "funny fish"; and maybe I'd win the beautiful boat at On the Water's Striperfest 2018! Whatever "plans" I had developed were still pretty ill-formed by the time A and I hit the road on the first day of autumn. Even A's participation was something of a late addition to the trip. There were specific, stated milestones (a couple of days at the Maine homestead, a ballgame in Boston on Tuesday, utilize Uncle M's generosity as host on The Cape for a few days of chasing albacore and be present when my Golden Ticket was pulled for the boat), but the details around these were still a bit fuzzy. Plus, in my mind, these same goals sounded more like "get to Portland on time to get bait and catch Saturday evening's tide, explore Plum Island and find some fish in the surf, recover and rest in Boston with K and A, incur and cure a case of Albie Fever and be present when my Golden Ticket is pulled for the boat!" As for the other logistics, I'd adopted Eisenhower's philosophy along the lines of "Planning is indispensable; but Plans are worthless." That is, I'd thought this all through and I had the gear and means to execute my plan; but I was more than willing to scrap the specifics and adjust along the way, as necessary. There is little in my life that I find more relaxing than my time in Falmouth, Maine. But when there, I am always burning the candle from both ends; I try to catch every dawn and dusk (and that means, in practice, every pre-dawn and post-dusk) since that's when the crepuscular striped bass are vulnerable. In June or July, that can be awfully wearing. I found it to be much more manageable during the shortened days of September. I even had a little time and energy to be mildly sociable, post-fishing, in the evenings! My biggest source of "stress" is often obtaining sufficient bait; but The Tackle Shop's 2018 relocation has reduced that, and they always have taken care of my local bait and tackle needs. And so our first stop upon arriving in Portland was The Tackle Shop. There, Dana reported that there were plenty of bass still available; but obtaining live mackerel might be difficult. I left the shop with some frozen mackerel and a couple of dozen sand-worms, as well as a Smack-it popper and reinforced confidence. Within a couple of hours, I proved to myself that the bass were still available; the fishing details are here at www.numenonfunfishing.com/numenonfunfishing/maine-2018-part-ii. I was fortunate to have arrived during a favorable tide schedule, and the fishing during our stay was decently good. Over the course of the couple of days, I landed 20 stripers. And while the stripers here are rarely large specimens, during 18-plus years of experience on the float, I have refined my tackle to the point that each and every bass I encounter can give a good account for itself, while still providing me the edge in landing them. Like good home cooking, I find this fishing to be familiar, satisfying and satiating. Yet somehow, I never seem to get enough! Now with 36 hours or so to enjoy before the scheduled First Pitch at Fenway, and having caught some fish in the familiar comfort of our New England "home", it was time to explore! A and I casually worked our way down to Newburyport, Massachusetts. The east wind was building and a Nor'easter was in the forecast. The next day's ballgame was certainly in doubt, but so was this day's fishing! Driving down the coast, I assumed it would simply be too rough to fish the east-facing surf of Plum Island. But "Metal Mike" at Surfland Bait and Tackle set me straight. I turned out to be productively happy in the surf (see www.numenonfunfishing.com/numenonfunfishing/massachusetts-north-shore-surf-fishing), while both A and I were super happy with our overnight cottage accommodations at The Blue hotel. While the next day was a fishless, rained-out mess, this was an awesome mini-vacation within our vacation. Who's one to argue with striped bass success, the company of your best friend, watching the Full Moon rise into clear skies over the Atlantic from a hot tub, and breakfast delivered to your doorstep? The Red Sox - Orioles game for September 25 was rained out. That was okay; it gave us more time to spend with our Boston Daughter, K. We enjoyed her company and hospitality and shared some local delicacies. I was momentarily conflicted; the game was rescheduled for the next afternoon. I could stay the extra half-day; but that would be at the cost of my timely arrival in Falmouth, Massachusetts. That lost time would threaten a full day of lost fishing; and my Cape Cod Albie Chase was one of the primary motivations for the trip itself. It turned out to be an easy group decision; I'd skip the game and proceed to The Cape while the girls would attend the game. A and I would somehow re-unite in time for Saturday's Striperfest 2018 festivities. I'll skip right to it; I did not catch a false albacore during my time on The Cape, despite being steered straight by Todd and Christian at Falmouth Bait and Tackle. The specifics are here: (www.numenonfunfishing.com/numenonfunfishing/cape-cod-albie-chase). Much of my available fishing time was very windy and/or rainy, and the locations and tactics were all new to me. Tides were crazily mixed with the full moon and crazy wind. The quarry is highly migratory and their presence is ephemeral. Odds were stacked against my fishing success. In the end, despite not landing my small tuna, I'm not sure I could have had more fun. Let's face it, in my "failure" to land a tunnie, I was outside for long periods of time in bracing conditions. I was fully engaged with the tasks immediately at hand. I witnessed seals, gulls, tuna, bass and blues foraging and at their wildest. I shared time with my interesting uncle; some of my passion might have even rubbed off on him. I befriended strangers on similar quests. I learned a lot. I accumulated a lot of information for current and future utilization. I enjoyed my gear. I didn't have a single, meaningful tackle failure. I had everything I really needed, including waders and top-quality rain gear. I caught drag-pulling fish on top-waters! I had some near misses and I even had my chance; my tuna was defeated and at my feet! I simply didn't hold it. This was no failure! Any one of these three areas offers a lifetime of fishing possibility. I'd tried to cram it all into a week; and I'd done pretty well doing so. The week had been filled with modest fishing success and a bunch of new experiences. These were all modest (striper on a Diawa SP Minnow; striper from heavy surf; bass and blues on Hogy epoxy jigs; repeated albacore refusals), but in the long run, they are all meaningful. I'd been legitimately in the game for the entire week; and all these learning moments, if remembered, would help me stay in the game on future trips. All of this had been executed without any real problems! Any of the things that could have gone wrong (car failure, gear failure, slips, trips and falls, minor viruses) simply did not; and for that I am grateful. Meanwhile, there were many tangible things that went right! My gear selection (and my ability to supplement this gear smartly, courtesy of local expertise) was spot on. I found the right shops to dispense pertinent advice. I had fish in front of me during every session. Heck, the food was good throughout the trip, and I even enjoyed all the driving. I was very pleased with the performance of this LL Bean Travel Series rod paired with my Shimano Stradic 4000 reel. Filled with 15-pound Spiderwire Stealth Braid, I could launch my Hogy epoxy jigs (here, shown supplemented with a few Crippled Herring, Deadly Dicks and surface tension lures) as far as anybody on the pier. Reaching the fish was NOT my problem! Finally; I did not win the boat at Striperfest! I am still, somehow, mildly surprised at this outcome (at least in my heart, if not fully in my brain.) I did win a beautiful pair of Costa sunglasses, and I left with a couple of new lures in my bag. It was a fun, unique experience, and I suspect that I shall return. And, I am somehow filled with hope that the family who did win the boat will enjoy it and use it wisely. The winning family had a young, teenaged boy; and I remember how my life was changed for the better when my father came home with a shiny new boat. If it works out half as well for that young boy as it has for me (40 years or more, later!), then he's going to be all right! Pondering the questions of core essence and finding meaning in unexpected ways In my previous post, I declared the "Good News" that striped bass populations were on the upswing in Maine waters. I'll admit that declaration was, at least in part, self-serving; I want to catch more fish when I am there! But the Bangor Daily News followed up with another story about an even greater striper population increase in New Brunswick, Canada's Miramichi River. And perhaps that is not such good news. bangordailynews.com/2018/07/24/outdoors/fishing/stripers-are-taking-over-a-world-famous-atlantic-salmon-river-camp-owners-say/ Same fish, different outcome? Same fish, different perspective? Same coin, flip side? My fishing for stripers takes place within the known and natural range of the striper. It's proper and natural to catch these bass in Southern Maine. But, the Miramichi should be pumping Atlantic Salmon smolts into the sea. These should face predators; but probably not a thick phalanx of striped bass. And while stripers might be native, they don't belong there in great numbers; this should be marginal habitat for the bass, and prime for the salmon. Given time, these dynamics will likely balance out. But there is some risk that the true numenon of the Mirimichi, the Atlantic Salmon, might be lessened. And while I'd like to welcome the categorical growth of stripers, that is too great a cost for this ecosystem. Context matters; perspective counts. Pondering the questions of core essence and finding meaning in unexpected ways The Bangor Daily News recently published an article about factors affecting the apparent resurgence of striped bass in Maine. I can't seem to find the article on-line at this time, but the overall gist was that the unified recreational catch-and-keep regulation (1 fish per day, over 28 inches) for East Coast stripers was protecting many of the fish summering in Maine. Combined with a recent local abundance of preferred bait (herring and pogies, to which I can attest), striped bass seem to be doing quite well at this time. This was made especially apparent in the article, as demonstrated by catches and fishing effort way up the rivers. These echoed a separate article I had read in the local paper during my recent trip, in which a business executive scored an early-July, keeper striper from the Penobscot River during his lunch hour in Old Town! The graph above, from www.maine.gov/dmr/recreational-fishing/landings/stripedbasslandings.html accompanied the BDN article. The map below pin-points Old Town. In my (limited and only local) experience, that Old Town striper was far away from home! But, I know that they historically belong there; and I'm glad to hear that such things are going on! And, especially so since stripers were absent from my Rhode Island childhood! They should have been part of it; but, they were literally absent. Fortunately, two other factors (not mentioned in the articles above) facilitated the striper's future resurgence. Long-term improvements in water quality enabled improved recruitment from Chesapeake Bay and the Hudson River; and restrictions on commercial fisheries enabled realistic numbers of fish to become available to recreational fishermen. Twenty years or so ago, I encountered my first striper and realized their seasonal presence at my feet. That story is at numenon.blogspot.com/2012/07/stripers.html Let's just say, striped bass have been a favorite target ever since. I'd like to think that their presence is normal and assured for the future. That these are not irrational thoughts is very Good News! Pondering the questions of core essence and finding meaning in unexpected ways Once again, I was fortunate to have shared the week of July 4 with family in Maine. It was a beautiful week filled with good food, celebrations and fishing. My fishing approach here remains simple; throw spoons for mackerel and provide some bait options for striped bass. Most importantly, be there when the fish are! Secondarily, be persistent! I continue to be amazed at how many bass there must be; I will have a good number of chances while basically standing in a single spot; and this, a spot selected based on access, not necessarily on what the fish might demand. 2018 was no exception. There were many bass to be caught. Perhaps not as many as in previous years (it was super hot and water temperatures skyrocketed through the bass' preferred range), but still enough to keep me more than interested. Mackerel were completely absent (it got to a point where I no longer even threw a spoon), and the average bass was on the smaller side. But, I've accepted that I can't really control those factors; all I can do is capitalize on the chances that are available. Hopefully I do so while enjoying and appreciating the setting, scenery and wildlife. I could choose to chase these fish elsewhere during my stay; but our landing always seduces me into staying and settling in. A detailed log of the actual fishing can be found above under NumenonFunFishing, but with this post, I would simply like to celebrate the week. 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
|