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Date: April 20, 2020 Body of Water: Mystic River and Walden Pond Moon Phase: New Moon minus two days Boat: None, Shore fishing with waders With: Alone Target: Stripers and Stocked Trout Time: 9 AM - 2 PM Conditions: Generally overcast; 45 - 50 degrees F, with light winds from the north and east. High Tide for Boston Harbor was predicted at about 10:30 AM. The water remains very clear. Patriots' Day was a noted marker on my mental calendar throughout my recent move and the past winter. I was going to take advantage of this unique holiday and enjoy Spring! The boats would be ready, the stripers would be arriving, it would be warm and calm, and the Sox would win their morning game at Fenway. Oh well, not this year. Instead, I decided to take a break from trout and check out the local herring conditions on the Mystic River. The gray skies, cool temperatures and morning start all worked against me, and of course, there were no signs of active fish at either the Amelia Earhart Dam or at the base of the dam between Upper and Lower Mystic Lakes. A dozen or so mostly idle cormorants, the resident eagle and at least one osprey were all indications that herring were not out of bounds; and so, stripers were a possibility. Still, swim-baits, slow jerk-baits and grubs elicited no action at all. After such a slow start, casting for trout seemed more appealing and so I relocated to Walden Pond. This time, I waded to a prominent point on the north side, where I could reach deeper water with my casts. But, in over two hours of effort with an expanding array of lures and Powerbait, I did not raise a single fish. What do I have to say about this? Patriots' Day must also be the unofficial start of the local boating season, as I observed a half dozen craft at Walden, having not seen a single one in previous visits. Their fishing seemed slow, too, but one boat passing by indicated two strikes and a single rainbow. His fish had hit a Rapala off a down-rigger, 20 feet down over deep water. The only insect life I noted was a sparse hatch of small midges. Sporadic rises, mostly over deep water, indicated some feeding action. Perhaps imitating these is the key to unlocking these fish, but fly-fishing from Walden's shoreline is out of the question. I'll keep thinking about this, undoubtedly. Still, when uncrowded, Walden does present itself well, and it is a peaceful, scenic place to try for a beautiful fish. Pondering the questions of core essence and finding meaning in unexpected ways
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Date: April 19, 2020 Body of Water: Fresh Pond - Plymouth, MA Moon Phase: New Moon - minus three days Boat: None, Shore fishing with waders With: Fishing alone, but accompanied by A and O Target: Stocked Trout Time: 1 PM - 3 PM Conditions: Too nice; clear skies and about 60 degrees, with a blustery south wind. A, O and I combined a little careful reconnaissance and sight-seeing with a couple of hours of fishing in Plymouth, Massachusetts' Fresh Pond. I'd picked this destination off the map by cross-referencing the list of trout-stocked ponds with a little Google-flying to confirm some public access. It was a successful formula! While I didn't tempt any trout with my Powerbait and lure (spoons, grubs and stick-baits) presentations, this was a scenic and restful spot to find and explore. The access at the south end of the pond does not seemingly facilitate casting into the lake's deepest waters, but the water is still cool, I was casting into over 10 feet of water, and I could have intercepted a trout. I'd prefer to return with my belly boat, and I may add this to my list of potential ice-fishing spots. It's not too far away, has reasonable access, and was peacefully quiet. From here, we continued by exploring nearby Russell Mill Pond and going to the Plymouth waterfront. This was all new to us, and we ended up having a nice day, even if I'd gone fishless once again! What do I have to say about this? So, What's up with NSCDA? The National Society of Colonial Dames of America, according to Wikipedia, is "composed of women who are descended from an ancestor 'who came to reside in an American Colony before 1776.'" Them dames might be redundant, but they sure know how to erect a memorial! Pondering the questions of core essence and finding meaning in unexpected ways Date: April 18, 2020 Body of Water: Walden Pond - Concord, MA Moon Phase: New Moon minus four days Boat: None, Shore fishing with waders With: Alone Target: Stocked Trout Time: Noon - 3 PM Conditions: Snow tapering to sporadic sprinkles; overcast; 35 - 40 degrees F. Mild wind from all directions. The water remains very clear. I was mildly surprised to find that all access to my destination of choice (White Pond) had been closed by local authorities, ostensibly due to lack of social distancing practices. While the backside access wasn't totally closed, somehow two vehicles had managed to occupy the four existing parking spots. I'd been shut out! I figured I'd go to Old Lexington Reservoir, not because I wanted to, but rather to save the session. As an afterthought, I decided to at least look at Walden Pond. It was closer, and potentially provides a better fishing experience, but I certainly expected that it, too, would be closed. I was pleasantly surprised to find the State Park "open", and it was remarkably uncrowded because of the crappy, unappealing-to-most weather conditions. By Noon, I was set up on the prominent point to the left of the boat access point, with not another fisherman (other than a bald eagle) within a couple of hundred yards. I decided to set a Carolina rig on bottom with Powerbait while wading the nearby shoreline and casting a variety of lures. To get right to it; most of the session was spent contemplating how to describe the drive-by, swing-and-miss hit that I received in the first 15 minutes. Had it been a legitimate "thunk", or more of a solid "tick"? Despite the fact that the only other signs of fish I observed were sporadic, timid offshore rises over deep water at the end of my casting reach, the fish I'd missed had hit near the break just a couple of rod lengths away from my feet. The fish had tried to eat a gold-and-black DC5 Rapala that I'd allowed to sink for a count of 10 or 12 and had retrieved painfully slowly. That partial second of "action" was the extent of my fishing "success" until about two-and-a-half hours in. I worked hard on my fishing throughout, though. While soaking a variety of baits off bottom, at various depths and locations, I continued to cast lures and vary retrieves. I threw at least a dozen different lures in a range of sizes and colors, including spoons, grubs and count-down Rapala stick baits. Finally, using a deep and slow, subdued yo-yo retrieve with a green-and-silver CD7 Rapala, I instinctively swung on a perceived hesitation in the lure's vibration. This hit, too, was just off the break, and I quickly had my first Massachusetts brook trout in hand. I fished for another half hour or so, but nothing else happened. What do I have to say about this? This would have been my father's 85th birthday, and I owe a good chunk of my love of fishing (and more!) to him. It was fitting that, as I left for the day, I observed a dude just to the right of the boat ramp land two bass in succession (one brown, one green, and both of decent size) using shiners under a float. That was about the only way my dad wanted to fish, and while he wouldn't have tolerated the cold and wet conditions, he would have embraced the calm conditions and smooth water. I need to pay homage, too, to my good gear! Thick neoprene Orvis waders have turned into one of my most important accessories this season, and when combined with my StormR StrykR jacket, I've been able to comfortably "weather" all the conditions thrown at me. This, to the extent that I prefer the less crowded, uncomfortable days to the beautiful, comfortable days (such as the one I'm experiencing while I write this) for my local fishing. Finally, what a fine line divides confidence and uncertainty. Although when one is fishing Thoreau's pond, one should maintain clarity of thought and continue the pursuit of what is correct and best for the situation. Armed only with that thought, supplemented by the knowledge that this really was the best use of my time on this particular day and in this particular situation, I was motivated to keep on casting and to try to trigger that nuanced bite! Pondering the questions of core essence and finding meaning in unexpected ways Date: April 12, 2020 Body of Water: Ashland Reservoir Moon Phase: New Moon + 5 days Boat: None, Shore fishing With: Fishing alone, but accompanied by A Target: Stocked Trout Time: 10:30 AM - 1 PM Conditions: Nice day; mostly sunny with increasing cloudiness, 55 - 60 degrees F. Increasingly windy from the west, water was pretty clear but stained brown from tannins. The gates to the State Park were locked due to the current Coronavirus situation, but there was plenty of parking just outside, and there was plenty of room to maintain required social distancing measures. A and I walked in to the parking lot area, past the beach, and then cut through the woods to a prominent, rocky point. Not much fishing pressure was evident; a couple of small boats were at this end of the lake, and I encountered only a couple of shore fishermen during the day. Between rocks and trees, the shoreline was generally not friendly for shore fishing, but we bounced around the northern part of the lake, stopping and casting at likely, fishable openings. I stuck with lures (spoons, grubs and a CD5 Rapala) until my last spot (which was across the lake from where we started), when I also soaked a Carolina-rigged crawler/marshmallow combo. I never had a touch or follow, but I did see an aggressive troller take a small trout on what what appeared to be a stick bait. Before we left the area, we scouted the boat ramp at the southeast end of the lake. It's unimproved and with limited parking, but many folks were gathered here to shore fish. This might be a spot better geared for success on these fish (inflowing stream, access, likely stocking location, etc.), but certainly not on a beautiful Spring day; it was way too crowded here at this time for my taste. What do I have to say about this? Well, the highlight of my life with respect to Ashland, Massachusetts continues to be a two-assist, 3-2 victory against Ashland's squirt hockey team when I was 10 years old; it was likely January or February, 1974. Coach Waterman came through with his promise of ice cream for the entire team if we defeated them on their home ice. This was another pretty pleasant spot, and I will likely return. Maybe an 18-inch tiger trout or similar catch could supplant my memory of local highlights. The day was a decent investment in learning about my new home environment and the various options at my convenient disposal. Plus, A and I enjoyed exploring these new places together! She reportedly had a super-good day! Pondering the questions of core essence and finding meaning in unexpected ways Date: April 7, 2020 Body of Water: White Lake - Concord, MA Moon Phase: Full Moon - a few hours (Pink Super-Moon) Boat: None, Shore fishing with waders With: Alone Target: Stocked Trout Time: 4:15 PM - 7:00 PM Conditions: Too nice; low 60s, clouding up after a sunny day and inconsequential wind from all points of the compass. The water remains very clear. Substantial fishing pressure, both from accessible shoreline positions and about a dozen kayaks. I accessed the furthest point of the far end of the lake, and I had a couple of hundred feet of shoreline to myself for the evening. It really was a pleasant evening. I started with the green-and-silver Cleo spoon, but eventually expanded my presentations to include Count-Down Rapalas, grubs, tubes, a variety of spoons and a Rooster Tail French spinner. I fished slow and fast, shallow and deep. Other than two faint "ticks" on the far end of consecutive casts with a slowly tumbling, small white spoon, I had no indication that there were any fish in the lake. The bite was simply "off". A single kayak fisherman caught a small rainbow on a trolled golden spoon. That was the extent of action that I could observe for all the other fishermen, combined. Even the resident bald eagle spent more time scouting than fishing. Despite the flat, clear water, it spent all flight time soaring, and never attempted to dive on a fish. What do I have to say about this? For a few hours, I was able to concentrate on fishing. Little else mattered. The rest of the day's worries disappeared. I'll accept a skunk under such circumstances. Pondering the questions of core essence and finding meaning in unexpected ways Date: April 5, 2020 Body of Water: White Pond - Concord, MA Moon Phase: Full Moon minus two days Boat: None, Shore fishing with waders With: Alone Target: Trout Time: 1 PM - 4:30 PM Conditions: Generally overcast, about 55 degrees F, calm; water very clear, plenty of people out fishing Chores complete, I was able to hit the water earlier than I'd anticipated. That was fortunate, too, because the fish were active for the first hour or so after my arrival, but that gradually ground to a halt in the last hour. I left, quite chilled from wading in the cold water, before the anticipated "prime" time even started. The previous day, I'd learned that there were trails leading to the other end of the White Pond. I decided to check this out; I'd felt a bit cramped on Saturday. Not knowing what to expect from the hike in, I brought only a couple of rods to toss lures with and a light selection of tackle. Bait and bait rods stayed at home. It turned out to be only a few hundred easy yards to the lake. And, unfortunately, those using bait (Powerbait) on the bottom seemed to be getting the most bites. One of my first casts with the Little Cleo got bumped and chased by a trout. The other lure caster across the way hooked up, and another shore fisherman scored on both rods at about the same time. The fish were active, and it seemed certain that it was going to be a productive day! But the trout were either fussy, mobile or simply didn't know what to do with lures. I witnessed several follows and experienced several light bumps. I rotated through various spoons, spinners, Rapalas and grubs, and each presentation at least got touched. It seemed as though "low and slow" provided the most "action", and a little after 2 PM, I finally hooked a solid fish on a 2-inch Powerbait grub rigged on a legal, titanium jig head. I felt as though I was on my way to a solid session. ![]() But that was it for the day! What do I have to say about this? A beautiful fish from super clear water on a pleasant day; good enough for me. Pondering the questions of core essence and finding meaning in unexpected ways Date: April 4, 2020 Body of Water: Old Lexington Reservoir and White Pond Moon Phase: Full Moon minus 3 days Boat: None, Shore fishing with waders With: Alone Target: Stocked Trout Time: 9 AM - 2 PM Conditions: The last few days leading up to this have been cool (mid-40s), wet (approaching an inch of rain) and windy (consistently northerly and in the high teens with gusts well into the 20s). This day was cloudy to mostly cloudy, 40 - 50 degrees F, with inconsequential winds. It was clearing and pretty darn nice by the time I left White Pond. It's pretty clear; the smart and correct thing to do right now is to stay local and stay socially isolated. So, I chose to check out a couple of local options I'd not yet fished, in the hopes of possibly contacting some fish while avoiding contact with other folks. I hit the "Old Lexington Reservoir" in Lexington first; and then re-located to Concord's White Pond. My time on the Old Reservoir (9 - 11 AM) was pleasant enough. This is just a pothole of a couple of acres. About a half dozen adult men were fishing from various points around its perimeter as I arrived. I fished on the dam end, hoping for some depth or current. It appeared to be rather shallow, and the bottom had some green filamentous algal growth. The water was dark and likely warmer than other local trout lakes. I had one half-hearted pulldown on a Gulp!-and-worm combo pretty early on. Soon thereafter, I lost a Panther Martin spinner to some snagged monofilament, and then a slip-float combo to a submerged tree. I'd casted in that direction because I thought I'd seen some evidence of fish milling about. Once I'd re-rigged, I positioned myself on the other side of the snaggy tree (it was pretty visible from up on the dam, less so from the water). I spent a frustrating half hour trying to get these fish to hit (and they were fish; I suspected rainbow trout.) They ignored small grubs, spoons and tiny cranks; nor would they eat crawlers. Finally, my float went under in slow motion, and I finally connected with a freshwater fish in Massachusetts! What a moment! It turned out to be a 9-inch crappie that ate my green and orange Powerbait "Mice Tail" adorned with a wax-worm. It wasn't the rainbow trout I'd expected or hoped for; but it was a fish! I casted for another half hour or so without any additional action. I suspect I could have worked over the crappies had I wanted to or tried, but I had aspirations of trout. Plus, I saw no evidence of anybody catching anything (although one guy said he'd done well on rainbows last weekend). It was time to try something else. I was off to White Pond. I'd checked out White Pond a couple of times over the winter, and it's a picturesque and less-crowded alternative to nearby Walden Pond. About a dozen folks were already fishing from the beach and small craft, but since I'd brought my waders, I was able to avoid the extant shallows and slid into the crystal clear to the left of the beach. A fellow wader reported good success off the breakline for browns during a recent trip. I alternated small Gulp! grubs on Titanium Ned Heads, various spoons and a crawler/Gulp! combo under a slip float for a couple of hours without success. I was just about ready to call it a day when I got hit almost immediately at the end of a long cast. I very carefully played, landed, photographed and released my first Massachusetts trout. A little perseverance combined with a little good luck to finally break my Massachusetts Skunk. Of course, this fish kept me at it for another 45 minutes, during which nothing good happened. But the birds were singing, the water was beautifully clear, and the sun was starting to peak out. It had been a good day. What do I have to say about this? I'd probably hit that brown on the head with my cast; that's about the only difference between that cast and getting a solid hit, compared to all my other efforts so far this season. Oh well, so be it. I did manage to snap off three favored trout lures (a 1/8-ounce blue/silver Kastmaster, a 1/6-ounce Thomas Cyclone spoon in rainbow trout, and a CD5 Rapala in gold-and-black). A faulty bail spring on an old LL Bean spinning reel cost me each lure, and so this reel has been (finally and belatedly; I'd lost several cranks a few years ago to the same malfunction) retired. I lost more gear this day than in most of last season, cumulative. Perhaps the loss of those lures magnified the kick I got out of catching the trout on my nearly-ancient Little Cleo spoon. I suspect I purchased that spoon in 1985 or 1986, and it has often served me well for trout. It will keep swimming for me until I lose it; I hope in a manner with with a little more dignity than because of a known faulty bail! Pondering the questions of core essence and finding meaning in unexpected ways |
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