|
Date: May 27, 2022 Body of Water: Casco Bay - Falmouth, Maine Moon Phase: New Moon minus three days; waning crescent moon Boat: None - fishing from Landing float With: Alone Target: Striped Bass Time: 4:20 AM - 6:20 AM Conditions: Low tide at 3:49 AM; Quadrant III flood tide throughout the session. Generally clear; SSW wind about 10 mph and 55 - 60 degrees. Water was clear but green; water temperatures 56 My Excel spreadsheet indicated good potential for the morning's tide, and I've been thinking about a restorative, pre-work session for a few months. If I can get up before 4 AM to catch a train for work, I can certainly do so to enjoy some bonus fishing, too! I arrived at the Landing's float just after dead low tide with a simple assortment of tackle and some lively blood-worms. I chose to use just a single rod, as it was still too dark to see anything. I'd have to feel for bites, which are sometimes surprisingly light and subtle. I was a little surprised (???) when my first drift went untouched, but I felt a slight "tick" through my line half-way through the second. I wound down, got tight, and the fight was on. Soon enough, my first shore-based striper of 2022 came to hand. It was only 17 or 18 inches, but spunky! I landed fish on three of my next four drifts, too, including a pair of 22-inchers. This was a good session already! The action did slow down to a steady pick thereafter, and dwindled to a stop by 5:45 AM (low tide plus two hours). I ended with seven stripers to 23 inches. Each encounter was a bonus on this weekday! I missed several unknown fish, too. These bites were typically super-slow-motion pull-downs. I would feel the slightest weight before the hook would come loose. I don't know if these were unseen herring or perhaps mackerel; I didn't see anything in abundance or recognizable. What do I have to say about this? My prediction for the tide was pretty much spot-on. Affirmation! I enjoyed using a new rod-reel combination. The Shimano 4000D Bait-runner pairs nicely with the Tsunami Slimwave Slow-Pitch Jigging rod. This combo is light but very powerful and looks to be suited for bait fishing (including live mackerel). But I can certainly see myself pairing this rod with another (finer) reel and tossing lures to bass, blues, or albies. Regardless, it has a nice soft tip, a powerful butt section, is light, and is a joy to fight fish with. What I really enjoyed this morning was the sound of the Downeaster Train 680 tooting its horn as it proceeded to Portland and beyond. I enjoyed knowing I was on fish, instead of commuting! But what about that "Keepah"? I returned to the float for a quick, opportunistic session after dinner. Fishing between about 5:45 and 6:45 PM, I caught the last hour of Quad III. The water seemed higher than expected, perhaps because of the continued persistent SW wind blowing at over 15 mph. My float plunged on the first drift in the choppy water. When I came tight, I knew this was a better fish. When it quickly ran beyond the first row of moorings I wondered how much better it might be. Fortunately, I was able to turn this fish and when I caught the first glimpse, I was surprised it wasn't bigger. It was simply a 29-incher in prime condition. This was certainly my earliest "keepah" (striper over 28 inches) in my Maine experience. The season is off to a good start! After a lull, I switched up to swimming a small, white, Keitech-style swim-bait. A spunky 21-incher nailed this. I hate to say it, but it's been a long time since I've caught a fish on a casted lure! Pondering the questions of core essence and finding meaning in unexpected ways
0 Comments
Date: May 22, 2022 Body of Water: Casco Bay and Presumpscot River - Falmouth, Maine Moon Phase: Full Moon plus six days; waning gibbous moon Boat: amybaby22 With: Alone Target: Striped Bass Time: 9:15 AM - 3:15 PM Conditions: Low tide at about 11:15 AM. Very thick fog burning off as the morning progressed to clear blue skies. Generally south wind < 10 mph and about 60 degrees. Water was clear but green, with visibility well over 5 feet. Water temperatures 54 - 60 (highest in Presumpscot River.) I started later than usual due to the thick fog. I didn't feel comfortable running to the Presumpscot River under those conditions, and so took advantage of an extra hour of sleep. Arriving at the landing, I was greeted by the V family, floating worms successfully for stripers. D had caught a few the previous evening, and each had some action this morning... despite my tide window just opening up. This was good news, though! It was still pretty foggy, and so once again, I decided to stay nearby, but now knowing that some fish were around. After a single pass from Mussel Cove to the landing without a bite, and with the fog thinning and clearly lifting, I ran around The Brothers, Mackworth Island and Halfway ("Seal") Rock into the Presumpscot River channel and under the Route 1 bridge. A couple of boats and a wading fisherman were working the end of the outgoing tide here, and so I poked my way upriver into unfamiliar waters. This was slow going as my mapping did not match the meandering channel. I alternately casted the white swim-bait and poked upstream, leaving a trail of waypoints in depths of 4 feet of water. I made it to the 295 bridge (a couple of fly-fisherman were working this water) before deciding to turn around. I trolled the tube-and-worm downstream as slowly as possible. I was in the more familiar water just upstream of the Route 1 bridge when my rod jumped. Once... twice... and on the third attempt, the bass finally found the hook. This was a nice fish to start the season with, a solid 25-incher! It came from about 11 feet of water, about 50 feet back from the rod tip. I'd worked hard for this fish! Of course, this fish kept me in the area. I donated a couple worms (to fish?) and my tube lure to a snaggy rock before heading back to the landing area. I made a final fish-less pass along the local shoreline before finally calling it a full day. What do I have to say about this? A single fish is so much more rewarding than a zero! This striper is my earliest-ever from Maine. It has set the bar for future seasons. This section of the Presumpscot reminded me of both Barnstable Harbor and Plymouth/Duxbury Bay. I have experienced awesome fishing in both areas, and I suspect that under the right conditions (and anytime soon), this could go off with striper action. I'll have to continue to visit and explore... as well as the areas behind The Brothers and Mackworth during higher tides. So many places to learn! Pondering the questions of core essence and finding meaning in unexpected ways Date: May 21, 2022 Body of Water: Casco Bay - Falmouth, Maine Moon Phase: Full Moon plus five days; waning gibbous moon Boat: amybaby22 With: Alone Target: Striped Bass Time: 10:15 AM - 2:15 PM Conditions: Low tide at 10:10 AM; flood tide throughout the session. Fog and high foggy ceiling; calm south wind and about 55 - 60 degrees. Water was clear but green, with visibility well over 5 feet. Water temperatures 51 - 54 Reports indicate stripers have arrived; I have good intel from rivers east and west. But with a locally favorable tide at my season's starting point, I decided to stick close and start my Maine 2022 Striper Season along the familiar Falmouth Foreside shoreline. Armed with some blood-worms, I trolled a tube-and-worm slowly while scouting for signs of fish or bait. Unfortunately, I found none, and so after a couple of passes between Handy's and the mouth of Mussel Cove, I relocated to Princes Point. I added a small white swim-bait and a white fluke to my efforts, but still struggled to find any evidence of fish. I finished my search at each end of Clapboard Island. The west end, especially, looked good with some sand/gravel beaches and current seams with the flooding tide. But when bass aren't there... they just aren't there! I was surprised to start my season with a skunk, but decided to try new water the next day. What do I have to say about this? If the bass were concentrating on river-run herring, I could understand my skunk. Still, I had expected to at least encounter some scouts. But, I also knew that conditions could change with any tide at this point of the season. And so they did, at least to a small degree. Neighbor Dave V. scored several bass from the landing later this same evening on suspended sand-worms during a locally unfavorable tide. Overall, I was still pleased to have amybaby22 moored, the Portland Pudgy dinghy launched, no known problems and the entire Maine Striper Season in front of me. I could take this skunk in stride! Pondering the questions of core essence and finding meaning in unexpected ways Date: May 15-17, 2022 Body of Water: Merced River drainage, Yosemite National Park, California Moon Phase: Full Moon on First Day; waning gibbous moon Tides: NA Boat: None; shore fishing without waders With: Alone Target: Trout - rainbows or browns Time: Early every morning, and then various Conditions: Absolutely beautiful weather and scenery. Water was high, clear and cold which made fishing very difficult. Wow! Yosemite is stunning and worthy of anybody's time. I don't even care that I didn't catch a fish; I was constantly reminded that other things are more important! It took me too long to get there. That said, fishing was tough! I had also handicapped myself with my preparations and gear. I did have a prolonged interaction with what would have been my stream trout of a lifetime, and that was enough success for me! This trip was a mere suffix to the meaningful family events of the week. The entire trip was a bonus and the ordinary metrics of success don't really matter. What does matter, is that we did it! My focus and energy were elsewhere; my preparations were less intense than usual. I expected tough fishing conditions (check!), and to seek small trout in small environments with small, natural flies. Once again, I was reminded of the value of planning as opposed to specific plans. We arrived Sunday evening, and as quickly as possible, I was rigging up alongside the Merced River, in the Happy Isles section above the campgrounds. The value of my plans was already questionable; the tributary streams I had in mind were not accessible by car, but rather only by hiking in! And, this water was high, very clear, and faster than I preferred. I hadn't targeted stream trout with a fly in almost 14 years (see numenon.blogspot.com/2012/10/out-west.html , and especially the last few paragraphs), but strangely, I still had some confidence that I might catch a small native trout or two. At first I tried a two-nymph rig, but my rate of attrition on flies was way too high! Abundant wood in the river was especially sticky, and I lost a few flies to back-casts in the tight quarters, too. The current was raging, and I thought I might be able to both conserve flies and maintain depth control to a greater degree with a drop-shot rig. Perhaps so, but I still spent the night fishless. I did, however, see a couple of small (tiny) trout tucked behind a boulder, and a very few large, dark mayflies were evident. I executed a few good casts, too. Mostly, this had been scouting and I decided to try elsewhere in the morning. I confidently crossed the meadow, only to find the bank of the Merced "closed" to preserve bank vegetation and control erosion. Thus began 17 miles of searching for the day. There would be more walking than actual fishing. Finding the proper combination of access, castability and depth (especially without waders and while fly fishing) kept me on the hoof. Most spots got 10 casts or less before I moved on. The river here was more quiet, and my rig consisted of a simple soft-hackle fly above a bead-headed caddis nymph, both suspended under an indicator. In the still morning, I saw neither bug nor fish activity. I had headed downstream, and as I approached Yosemite Village, my time for the morning was running out. I crossed the river to pick up the road/sidewalk on my way back to camp. I tried another couple of spots on my return, with more of the same results. I was pondering my approach for the rest of the trip. Luckily, however, I struck a conversation with a gentleman walking about, and he excitedly pulled out his camera to show me some pictures he'd taken of various other fisherman and their recent catches in this area. Most had been captured by wading spin fisherman, but all had been captured in slower sections. I could certainly picture this; what really surprised me was the fish he showed were mostly brown trout, and larger than I had anticipated, up to 3.5 pounds or so. I'd further handicapped myself by not having included sinking tips and streamers in my travel kit. Still, this was good information, and this provided a new horizon for me to explore in my remaining time. After breakfast, we hiked along Tenaya Creek to the head of Mirror Lake. I spotted a rising trout at the tail of the lake. Life! As I rigged a dropper/dry presentation, an ill-informed youngster chucked some rocks at the rise forms. That trout was now down, but I still got in some nice casts and drifts. Parts of Tenaya Creek beckoned, but for the most part, I kept moving, looking ahead for some slower water. We found that later in the afternoon, when we drove to the section of the Merced below Yosemite Village. I accessed the river at Swinging Bridge. The water here was smooth, clear, and in some areas, very deep. Still, I was able to spy a pair of nice rainbows on a gravel flat upstream. These were well out of reach to me, so I watched them with some satisfaction. But when I turned my gaze downstream, I found three dandy trout in a perfect position. The river's main current crashed into the (protected and off-limits) bank, creating an eddy. These fish were in the soft water just downstream of the "U" in the eddy. One of them rose steadily and predictably to unseen food; probably to emerging midges. I spent the next hour or more trying to figure these fish out. I was able to get to within 30 feet or so of their position, but surrounded by bank vegetation. Every time I tried to reach them with a cast, I would catch this on the back-cast. I resorted to establishing a short cast and then stripping line to extend my drift as my flies (Parachute Adams dry with a generic soft-hackle trailer) floated downstream. I concentrated my efforts on the single rising fish, which also was positioned closest to me. This fish fed confidently and right on schedule. Every three minutes or so, its posture would change, it would drift a bit to the side, and after a beat or two, pluck something off the surface. I began to time my casts and drifts to this fish's rhythm. I flubbed or aborted most casts base on length, drift or drag, but still fully executed multiple casts and drifts without putting this fish down. But it didn't seem interested in these flies, and so I repeated with trailing caddis and midge emerges. With still no interest, I decided to rest this fish and look for another in my remaining time. I worked all the way down to Sentinel Beach. I worked some nice water and spotted another nice rainbow trout. This one was tucked under an exposed tree root, and also ignored my presentations (from positions above and below its lie.) I started hiking again, this time going upstream of the bridge and on the other side of the river. I saw no fish, and finding suitable casting conditions to appropriate water was uncommon. I was almost back to Yosemite Village when I decided to head back. Returning to my feeding fish and with time for the day running out, I had just gotten myself into position when I was joined by two young boys. Their presence made casting impossible, but the oldest was interested in fishing and so we chatted for a bit while I pointed the fish out to him and got him accustomed to its habits. When he finally "saw" the fish, he was fairly astounded, and he stayed behind, watching the feeder, as I left to join A and M. I took A on a reconnaissance tour of the nearby fish, and truly appreciated her reaction to my problem fish; "That's a big-a$$ trout!" So, despite my best efforts, I'd been skunked for the day. But it was really the best possible skunk. That night I dreamt of these trout; I hoped to return for another shot. First thing in the morning, I tried the slower water above Yosemite Village again, but this time with a simple weighted black marabou streamer with a generic wet, soft hackle above. I re-fished the previous day's water with some confidence, and even found a few other spots worth drifting through. Still, this was difficult and my ability to reach the best-looking water was limited. But it was still a good session, as my single streamer boosted my confidence for a good fish. But mostly I was looking ahead. I felt that the root-hugging rainbow might be vulnerable to the streamer from an upstream position. Plus, who could not look forward to another crack at my large, active feeder? Arriving in the late morning with M, she was the first to notice the higher water conditions. I confirmed the location of the various "bridge" trout before heading downstream to that rainbow of interest. Unfortunately, this fish had apparently changed positions with the higher flow, and I could neither see nor catch the attention of any fish in my section of most interest. Returning to the bridge, I found that my three eddy trout were slightly re-positioned, too. Two were hugging the bank and totally inaccessible. The third (largest and still feeding) had just slightly shifted position and was now out of reach; my casting position had been slightly compromised by the higher water and I just could not get enough line in the water to execute a proper drift. I left the park defeated by the fish, but somehow still exhilarated. What do I have to say about this? Have I mentioned how large that big-a$$ trout was? At least 22 inches and possibly more. While it wouldn't have been my biggest stream trout, it certainly was the most technically difficult one, perfectly positioned in the most beautiful setting. It would have been a fish of my lifetime, but I guess that honor will go to some future fish. Walking around a national park with fly-rod in hand is apparently my natural setting. I was approached and smiled at by more strangers in my short stay than I will be in the next several months in my regular life. While all expressed interest, I only saw two other people actually fishing during my stay. One was doing so oblivious to law or fish, the other was fly-fishing from an inflatable raft. I wonder if they saw, stalked and captured "my" fish? This time, especially on the heels of some special shared events with my family, also gave me an encouraging glimpse of what retirement might be like. I hope to make the most of it. Walking around a national park, fly-rod in hand, is a pretty good gig, even if the fishing is tough! Finally, just as I was wrapping this up, I came across this article - www.hatchmag.com/articles/12-keys-becoming-great-fly-angler/7715490. I am by no means a "great" fly angler, but I really can't argue with the 12 elements listed here to become one, should on so choose. Many of these elements apply, regardless of the pursuit, and so it's worth reading and thinking about, regardless of your fly-fishing ambitions. Pondering the questions of core essence and finding meaning in unexpected ways Date: May 8, 2022 Body of Water: Trickey Pond - Naples, Maine Moon Phase: New Moon plus six days; waxing crescent moon Boat: amybaby22 With: A Target: Trout - brookies or splake Time: 7:45 AM - 11:15 AM Conditions: Cold night but sunny; about 40 - 55 degrees F; northerly wind around 10 mph; water temperatures 48 - 50 I thought I'd given beautiful Trickey enough time to warm up and get going. I may have been mistaken. Other than the cold morning, our first tolling pass along the cover-strewn shoreline felt right. Our spread (tandem fly, DB Smelt off a short core, and flat-lined S7 and J9 Rapalas) provided ample choice for any trout (or landlocked salmon) in the area, and with water temperatures in the high forties, those fish should have been active. I continually tweaked the spread and boat speed, but after a couple of passes, I pulled out to deeper water and replaced the DB Smelt with a flasher/fly combo and the J9 with a small spoon on five colors of lead. As we approached the north end without a hit, I pulled lines and simplified for a consistently shallow effort consisting of an F7 Rapala, the DB Smelt on a single color of lead, and the tandem fly. We spent some time in the interesting and quiet north end before retracing the shallows along the eastern shore. But it didn't matter; we never got anything going and had pulled lines by the time we reached the ramp. What do I have to say about this? Strike three! This was my third skunk in a row on Trickey. But it's a beautiful lake and I will likely return for another at-bat. However, I was truly disappointed with this trip. Beyond the opportunity cost (we could have gone to another lake and who knows what could have happened), this was likely my last trip of the Spring trolling season. I'd have liked to have gone out on a high note! And I'd have loved to have captured a nice brookie, splake or salmon. I'll get over it though. I will likely next wet a line in Yosemite (tough to argue with that), and amybaby22 will next splash in the salt. Stripers will be arriving soon! But first, how will I take to nymphing with tiny flies on unfamiliar water? Pondering the questions of core essence and finding meaning in unexpected ways Date: April 30, 2022 Body of Water: Mousam Pond - Shapleigh, Maine Moon Phase: New Moon Boat: amybaby22 With: Alone Target: Trout Time: 8 AM - 12:30 PM Conditions: Clear and bright, brisk NNW wind 10-15 mph (after a couple of days of even heavier winds); about 45-50 degrees F; water temperatures about 47 +/- , a degree or 2 warmer in the lower portion of the lake below the culvert I had some time constraints, and I'd enjoyed myself the previous trip. The other factor was the northerly wind. I knew Mousam would be fishable, the ramp would pose no problems, and there would be fish to be caught; so I elected to return. Upon launching, I immediately but carefully ran the 12 or 15 minutes up the wind-blown lake to the rocky reef guarding the entrance to the northernmost complex of bays. I gave the only other trout-trolling boat of the day wide berth as we each set our initial trolling spread for the day. Mine consisted of a gold/black S7 Rapala presented 100 feet back, and a DB Smelt on 45 feet of lead-core as I picked up the shoreline break in about 15 feet of water. I occasionally wandered into deeper or shallower water as I searched for the day's first trout. Once our respective trolling paths were established, I turned back to the windward side of the reef. This prominent feature stretches from a main shoreline point, a majority of the distance to the opposite shore. By now, I'd been fishing for 20 minutes or so without a strike, but as I traced the reef's edge in about 15 feet of water, I really felt confident that something good might happen. Thunk! The Rapala rod bowed over, and I felt some substantial weight bull-dogging for the bottom. I turned the boat away from the reef to keep myself out of trouble while I tended to this fish. I half expected to see a togue, but was happy to see the silvery glint of a nice brown trout! This fish pulled line several times as it neared the boat, but soon enough rested in the bottom of my landing net. I was off to a good start, and I expected more good things from the day. However, the fish behaved otherwise. Despite my efforts, including a return to last week's places and tactics as well as trying new spots and presentations, the only bite I got for the rest of the day was from a smallish yellow perch. By 12:30, the weight of the day's remaining responsibilities started to weigh upon me, and I headed to the ramp. What do I have to say about this? I'll not argue with a day including a beautiful brown trout, especially when it's my largest in Maine to date. I am starting to build on some local experience, the water temperatures are moving in the right direction, and trout fishing from amybaby22 has proven to be a pretty pleasant way to chase fish this spring. When it became apparent that the going was slow, I chose to explore new areas of the lake and incorporated some new tactics into my spread. Nothing ever materialized from this, but I did enjoy (and have considerable confidence in) running a small dodger with a trailing tandem streamer. This locally favored presentation provided a nice, visible pulse to the lead-core rod tip, and affirmed my trolling speed and weed-free presentation. The fly really danced on its short leader behind the flashy dodger. Still, I am looking for that day where it all comes together. I'll keep trying! Meanwhile, I've reports that Trickey Pond is starting to fish well, I've got several waters on my mind to try, and after an upcoming, planned, pleasant hiatus for family matters in the next couple of weeks, I expect my Casco Bay mooring to be installed and the stripers to arrive. I continue to search for a replacement trailer for Numenon, and I've got a lot of positive experiences in front of me! Which is all why I can take the loss of my rod-holders and storage crate from amybaby22 on the way home in stride. Did they bounce out, or were they filched during my pit stop? Regardless, replacements are on the way. Pondering the questions of core essence and finding meaning in unexpected ways |
Steve LachanceRI --> NH --> MI-->MA-->ME Archives
June 2024
Categories
All
|
Proudly powered by Weebly