NUMENON |
PONDERING CORE ESSENCE
NUMENON |
The strike was sharp and sudden, but my line just went slack; there was no run. I cautiously wound down and came tight to a fish. Did I? Or had the bait pulled it's mouth? No, there it was again; seemingly just a small bass. But there was a sudden frenetic energy to the fight, even from this smallish fish. And my first sighting wasn't of the expected solitary bass, but rather a small school of bluefish. I quickly landed the fish and threw a top-water bait for a few casts, but there was no evidence that they had remained anywhere close. It's been over 15 years since I've landed a blue in Maine. This little guy was a welcomed addition to the day's catch, and I guess it's time to keep a popper rigged on a stout rod with a heavy leader. Will I come across them, again? Or will I have another 15-year wait? Pondering the questions of core essence and finding meaning in unexpected ways
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Saturday, May 22, 2021 offered a bit of a roller coaster experience. I expected good fishing, but things got off to a surprisingly slow start. My pick of inshore fish were small, and I left these only to find vast emptiness. Despite the persistent wind, I resorted to exploring choppy Vineyard Sound to find some quality stripers. I did, too, by focusing on subtle observations and interpreting the huge amount of information available to me via the Garmin GPS/Sonar unit. The fish were on the up-current side of an incipient rip, and my first pass through the sweet spot with my Rapala deep diver connected with a solid drag-puller! It wasn't the 25-pounder I'd hoped for, but at a chunky 25 inches, this was my biggest striper of the year! On my first pass with a new-to-me-here technique! I promptly knocked the bass off the lure with the net; there would be no pictures of this one. And when I looked up, a guide boat had slid into the sweet spot, and now sat there, stemming the tide. Over the next half hour or so, I saw his fly-rodding clients land a half dozen or more fish. I recognized the onset of sea sickness. Instead of fighting it, I yielded to it; got it over and done with (or so I hoped.) Mung now made trolling virtually impossible (I was lucky to have gotten that first pass in), and attempting to stem the tide while casting worsened my illness. It robbed me of my sea legs, too. I was ineffective and downright feeble; I knew I had to retreat inshore. But first, there was that business of being sick again! Returning via the main Waquoit outlet, I hit a few spots to see if any bass were home. I continued my inshore struggles. I finally returned to where I'd started at least six hours before. The tide had literally turned, and a small seam had formed with the ebb. My first cast with a small swim-bait was lightly touched. The next was confidently eaten. For the next hour or so, I entertained myself with these small (18 inches and less) bass. On what I thought would be my last drift, I switched baits to a pink fluke, if only to show any remaining bass something different and to gain some experience/confidence with this color. My first and only bite on the pink fluke was my best striper of this young season, a very respectable inshore fish of 28 inches! Against the odds on this pretty tough day, I'd caught my first "Keeper" of the season; my earliest ever (calendar-wise) and inshore, to boot. I stayed a bit longer and caught another bass or two after switching back to a white fluke. A tough bite had been countered by landing 17 stripers. Sickness made my offshore find that much sweeter. Persevering through some slow times yielded a surprisingly nice fish. Pondering the questions of core essence and finding meaning in unexpected ways Most would admit; 2020 was quite the year! It was my first year "back" in New England, and things didn't go according to my plan, or anybody else's plan, either. However, I could socially distance from others while on the ice, in my waders, or on the deck of my skiff, the amybaby22. We'd all been given lemons. I tried to make as much lemonade as possible. My fishing year unfolded slowly, with iffy ice conditions (at best) and an uncertain and unproductive start to my pursuit of stocked trout. Having not fished at all in the last few months of 2019, I was getting truly antsy by the time I finally landed a few trout at late ice (February) and in local ponds in April. Striped bass occupied most of my thoughts and effort. From May through October I fished for little else. While "keepers" between 28 and 35 inches were pretty darn scarce for me, I caught a lot of really nice fish on light tackle. These included my biggest striper in seven years (37 inches), a surprising saltwater brown trout, and an array of other by-catch including bluefish, menhaden, hickory shad, scup, sea bass, sea robins, flounder and mackerel. With no real issues encountered for the season, the occasional company of a loved one, and a bunch of beautiful sunrises observed, I'd have to call it a successful season... despite the underlying circumstances. And, as of today, November 8, the amybaby22 still is available to serve; and an unseasonably nice stretch of weather lies ahead. I choose the right to amend and amend to this post should anything good happen in the remaining days of 2020. Enjoy! Pondering the questions of core essence and finding meaning in unexpected ways The venerable Acme Kastmaster has been just about my most productive lure for stripers from our landing on Casco Bay, Maine. In this quiet water, typical striper offerings like poppers, dog-walkers and swim-baits just don't seem to produce with any consistency. The Kastmaster has the additional benefit of being my favorite mackerel lure (and indeed, mackerel are my favorite striper bait), plus in my preferred 1/8-ounce version, this spoon mimics the tiny bait that is sometimes so prevalent here. Suffice it to say, if mackerel are thick, I've got a Kastmaster tied on. If mackerel are AWOL, I've still probably got a Kastmaster tied on in the hopes of simply lucking into one. And, if bait's an issue and the stripers just aren't biting, I will probably be throwing a Kastmaster, at least intermittently, and especially if swim-baits aren't producing. After six or more hours spread over two recent pre-dawn sessions, I'd certainly established that mackerel were absent. Moreover, sand-worms were producing just sporadic action after complete darkness lifted. Top-waters, swim-baits and epoxy jigs had yet to entice a strike. So, the Kastmaster got a good workout, and a chartreuse-over-silver version, while not exactly on fire, produced a slow pick of a half-dozen strikes, follows and stripers to 21 inches. On my preferred light tackle, each of these fish was fun, and throwing this lure about doubled my action! I was just about ready to give up on my second, soggy morning session when my spoon was intercepted right near the surface at the end of a long cast. When I set the hook, the surface erupted and a couple of pounds of fish flew through the air. Odd behavior for a striper; I assumed I'd hooked into a bluefish. When my "blue" exhibited some brown coloration, I though perhaps I had another Hickory Shad; but then I saw the spots. What the heck? A dozen feet away, I realized I had a Salmo. Even when this fish was in hand, I couldn't tell if it were Salmo trutta (Brown Trout) or Salmo salar (Atlantic Salmon). I still don't know for sure, although I'd lean towards Atlantic Salmon based on the conical head and x-shaped spots. Regardless, this was an unforeseen catch. I noticed no clipped fins, and so it could have been a wild fish; it could have been an escaped farm salmon, or it could have been a lost brown. I just know that I never expected to encounter such a fish from this spot; nor do I expect to catch another one, here. I handled her gently, and she swam away; off to who knows where. This is just another example of why I love fishing so much. You just never really know what might happen! 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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