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Date: September 24 and 25, 2022 Body of Water: Woods Hole - Falmouth, Massachusetts Moon Phase: New Moon Boat: None, shore fishing from stubby pier With: Alone Target: False Albacore Time: 6 AM - 11 AM both days Conditions: High tides at 8-9 AM. Super clear and NNW wind in excess of 25 mph on Saturday; Overcast and westerly wind about 10-15 mph on Sunday. A fish could have made a mistake on either day; both were fishy in their own rights. Bait, birds and moving water were all evident and in abundance. The chop favored a fish making a mistake as opposed to shunning a presentation. But catching a false albacore from land is a difficult proposition! Saturday was slow, with just a single, fleeting chance at some passing fish. The bird activity stayed a few hundred yards away, and waters within casting reach seemed devoid of predators, despite the clouds of silversides and rivers of peanut bunker. Still, I worked hard with epoxy jigs, metal spoons (Clark and Crippled Herring), Albie Snax and a Popper-and-Fly. Other than snagging silversides and peanuts from the dense schools of bait, I didn't touch a single fish. A few other casters joined me to get similarly skunked. Sunday seemed even fishier with overcast skies, a more moderate westerly breeze and moderating temperatures. And it was, for super-selective stripers! I got distracted by these blitzing fish, and slowed down for them. Still, I got no positive response as I changed through baits and colors to include a Hogy Slow-tail and ultimately a white Hogy worm on a jig-head. Sporadic feeds popped up, again usually outside casting range, but with at least a few being reachable. I know at lies a few funny fish saw my lure during these, but to no good avail. Sunday's winner was the guy on the end of the pier. He was there upon my arrival in the dark, and he took advantage of this superior position. He scored a few stripers from the blitzes on a 3-inch white Al Gags swim-bait. This same lure attracted a few shots at albies, too. Even the bass preferred this bait raced just under the surface. I may have learned a couple of other things, too. Fishing here was better on the falling tide? I didn't see this, but I heard it a few times. Afternoons? Maybe, but my schedule didn't allow for me to try. Go Big instead of small and natural? Perhaps, but the one guy catching was using a small bait. The Popper-and-Fly (or Egg- or Float-) is real! I saw a few variations on this and a local fishing celebrity scored a striper on this while blind casting. I was in the game when I was casting this. Once again, I left Woods Hole in a humbled and demoralized state. Once again, I am already thinking about next year. Pondering the questions of core essence and finding meaning in unexpected ways
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Date: September 18, 2022 Body of Water: Casco Bay - Hussey Sound and Peaks Island, Maine Moon Phase: Waning Quarter Moon Boat: amybaby22 With: Alone Target: Striped Bass Time: 11 AM - 4 PM Conditions: Low tide at 11:50 AM. Hazy to cloudy; SW wind in excess of 10 mph and 75 degrees. A pending cold front came through at 4 PM with a sudden switch in wind direction to NNE and a 10-degree drop in temperatures. Water temperatures 59 - 61 degrees (+/-). Conditions couldn't have been much different than the previous day. It was unexpectedly warm, breezy, clouding up fast, and I would be targeting the incoming tide for bass. The difference at Hussey was noticeable immediately; arriving at Hussey at about slack low, the mackerel were scattered and offered just a slow pick to trolled Sabiki rigs. Still, by the time the tide had turned sufficiently to start looking for bass, I had close to 20 baits in the live-well. With the southerly breeze and incoming current, I picked up the shoreline of Peaks Island outside of Hussey and rode the current in, the opposite direction from the previous, successful day. Still, this let me explore some new, boulder-strewn water, and with a decent Striper Cup limit of photographed fish already in the can, I didn't mind a slow bite if the fish offered more potential, size-wise. I'd fished for almost an hour into the tide before I got my first hit of the day. An aggressive 28-incher ate my largest mack. This fish had eaten right up against the rocks at a prominent point, establishing something of a pattern for the day. After missing so many fish the previous day, I was happy to execute my chances well. The second fish of the day (from about the same water) registered 26 inches, but swallowed the hook. I replaced it with the recently purchased Gamakatsu 5/0; and proceeded to go 10 for 11 for the day on hooked fish. (I still had a couple of dropped runs and a single bait simply plucked off the hook by a forceful hit.) I'd landed three nice bass by the time I entered familiar water. I planned to fish all the way through this stretch to near The Pumpkin. As I approached the rocky point guarding the southern portion of Elm Tree Cove, I encountered a group of fish that kept me busy. I kept circling through and re-connecting. These were nice fish, too, ranging from an athletic 25 through 27 inches. I finally made it past this point and approached the rocky point guarding the north part of Elm Tree Cove's mouth. I connected with a strong fish after a savage surface hit. This fish found a lobster pot line during a long run against a heavy drag. Fortunately, I was able to keep tight, troll back and weave my rod through the line. I turned the fish in more open water and landed a fine 32. After another fish, I circled through again, and another 32 pinned my bait against the rocks. This one didn't fight as well, but was my fourth "keeper" of the day greater than 28 inches. I don't think I've ever done that before in my boat. Double digit catch, the smallest of which is a nice, plump 25 inches; four "keepahs" (all of which were released) for the day, two fish over 30, good execution and the smarts to get off the water before the weather really fell apart; that's a good day! What do I have to say about this? I didn't really think that the boat had buzzed up to me to compliment me on my hat; still, that was the excuse for the Maine Guide and client to approach me for some chit-chat on the mackerel situation as I put another one into the well. But they were not prepared to troll and relied on chumming; and this water was too deep (80-100 feet for the most part) to anchor. So they bombed away through Diamond Pass, leaving the macks to me. I don't know if they found their chumming spot or not. I continued to expand my Peaks Island range, and in the calm seas, I was able to maneuver my baits close to the rocks. That made a difference this day, for sure. The boulder field near the Hussey Sound outlet did not produce, but I think it might in the future. And just about the entire shoreline offers plentiful ambush spots, so I think I might even be able to toss lures around here with at least the chance for success. Repeating what works and minimizing efforts and time on things that aren't seems to be producing for me. The fish aren't the hugest and the numbers aren't outlandish, but I do believe I am making good with what's available. Now, to make hay while the season lasts! Pondering the questions of core essence and finding meaning in unexpected ways Date: September 17, 2022 Body of Water: Casco Bay - Peaks Island, Maine Moon Phase: Waning Quarter Moon Boat: amybaby22 With: Alone but bonus hour with A Target: Striped Bass Time: 8:30 AM - 2:30 PM Conditions: Low tide at 10:52 AM. Super clear after the coldest night of the season to date; mild wind and warming to about 65 degrees. Water temperatures 59 - 61 degrees (+/-) everywhere. One of the risks of not capturing details before the next trip is that they might be lost. That is certainly the case, here. Regardless, I do remember that it was one of the most surprisingly productive trips of the 2022 season! With the Quarter Moon, the dawn tide was not conducive to float fishing and so I chose to sleep in and had a leisurely start to the day. Some local fishers at the dock were excited about splashing bait within the harbor, but had otherwise had no luck. When I finally arrived in Hussey Sound to make bait, I targeted an obvious seam over about 100 feet of water and dropped my Sabiki rig right into a school of active mackerel. Within a half hour, I had two dozen prime baits in the live-well. The macks were high in the column (top 25 feet), and I jigged them instead of trolling. It was fast and efficient! The wind and waters were calm, so I decided to try structure-heavy ambush points for any willing stripers. I picked up the rocky shore of Peaks Island and drifted along with the outgoing tidal current. I had started near The Pumpkin, and it wasn't until I had reached my original "hot" spot that I finally got a run. It had been a slow start, but another beautiful striper came over amybaby22's gunwales. I was already pretty happy with the day! By slack low tide at 11 AM, I'd landed seven really nice fish. One was only 20 inches or so, but all the rest were between 25 and 28 inches, fat and spunky! There was a definite lull during slack low tide, but an hour after or so, having reversed directions to drift with the incoming flood, I quickly located another group of bass. Unfortunately, I didn't land any more. After a run of good execution, I started having some missed fish. Dropped runs, plucks, missed blow-ups and dropped fish were the only stain on the day. Certain of these, I can't do much about. But the dropped fish were most bothersome; a solidly hooked fish just shouldn't come unbuttoned part-way to the boat. I do think that the "extreme" circle hooks I was using had a role to play here; I picked up some trusted Gamakatsu Size 5/0 circles later that night. Just after I found the group of post-slack fish, I returned to the dock to pick up A. We tried both ends of Clapboard in a quick search for a fish for her. Guess what, our only chance ended when a decent fish dropped off the hook about 20 feet from the boat. What do I have to say about this? The crisp air, active bait and day-time biting bass all make me think that The Fall Run is gelling, as it should! One of the cool sights I hope to remember involved the smallest fish of the day. It had taken a half-dozen surface explosions before this bass finally took the bait. As I fought this little guy to the boat, I could see he was accompanied by a larger bass, which was chasing the mackerel that slid up the line. When the mack dropped off, I saw this bigger bass turn and eat it. How many bites could one mackerel get? Even better, I re-baited and circled through this water again, only to entice and catch the second 28-incher of the day. Maybe it's the one I had seen, or perhaps there were just quite a few active bass here. Many of the bites today were on the surface, and most were decisive. It was a good day, despite more than a few lost chances. But even those were fun! Pondering the questions of core essence and finding meaning in unexpected ways Date: September 12, 2022 Body of Water: Casco Bay - Falmouth, Maine Moon Phase: Waning Gibbous Moon; Full plus two days Boat: None, shore-fishing from landing float With: Alone Target: Striped Bass Time: 6 PM - 7:30 PM Conditions: Low tide at 7:20 PM; mostly Quadrant II and Low Slack Tide. Clear; mild E wind in excess of 15 mph and 75 degrees. Water was still and weedy; very quiet; water temperature 67 degrees (+/-). This was a post-work and post-chore bonus session. It was simply a beautiful night, if only too weedy and still. I landed the two bites I encountered; a 19-incher on a suspended blood-worm and a 22 on a suspended chunk of mackerel. This was my first chunk fish of the season; the preferred head and tail sections of the same mack went ignored while free-lined to the bottom. One thing to note, there were quite a few peanut bunker in the area for the first time that I've noticed this season. They've sure been thick in other years! Pics below are from the new GoPro. Six series beyond my original action camera, this one is user-friendly and capturing a still from a short video clip is a much-streamlined process. Pondering the questions of core essence and finding meaning in unexpected ways Date: September 11, 2022 Body of Water: Casco Bay - Falmouth, Maine Moon Phase: Waxing Crescent Moon; Full Moon plus one day Boat: Shore fishing from landing float and then amybaby22 With: Alone Target: Striped Bass Time: 5:10 AM - 10 AM Conditions: Low tide at 6:13 AM. Overcast and calm; 65 - 75 degrees. Water temperatures 60 - 63 degrees (+/-). I started from the float, hoping to make productive use of Quadrant II before daylight. After two quick worm-eating bass in the 20-inch range landed, there was a short lull. But at 5:45 (one-half hour before predicted low tide), I connected with a much heavier and stronger fish. A 29-incher hit the deck; it was nice to see a bigger fish in the mix. Another 20-incher soon followed. I'd now converted 11 consecutive chances into landed fish, but would soon start to pay the price for this run of recent success. My next bite came unbuttoned halfway to the float, and the morning's action suddenly ceased. I stayed on the float for another half-hour or so, but convinced myself to leave and look for greener pastures, even though Quad III lay ahead. By 6:45 I was in amybaby22, happily fly-casting a foam popper along the Falmouth shoreline. I was hoping to take advantage of the gray skies, but it was pretty obviously "dead" here, and so after about 20 minutes of casting practice, I stored the long wand and headed out to Hussey. The tide was starting to flood, and I rode the current along historically productive seams and edges, searching for mackerel with my Sabiki-and-spoon. After several re-locations, I finally found a pod in the deep water below Soldiers Ledge, and I put a dozen prime baits into the well in pretty short order. My first stop was the "new", favored stretch of rocky shoreline on Peaks. There was quite a bit of whitewash from the ocean swell, and with the wash, plenty of weeds. I moved through my "prime" stretch and continued with the current. Moving just past the eddy that had first attracted me here, I maneuvered my bait close to the rocks and finally got crunched. (It had been perhaps 15 minutes of fishing without any action, something I had not yet experienced here). Striper No. 5 of the morning was a real nice 26-incher. Continuing and focusing close to rocks with active wash, I had the chance to expand my known productive range along this shoreline. I missed a run or two and then had the hook simply pull from a good fish. This was still fun and informative, if not exactly productive. By now I'd worked almost all they way down to The Pumpkin, and I was tempted to move over to the rip forming along its upstream edge when another boat pulled in to fish there. (I would later see this same boat working Cow Island, albeit at the wrong tidal stage in my opinion). I decided to try some additional new-to-me water; there was plenty of whitewater along Peaks Island to explore. I moved to near the end of Hussey and picked up the rocky and battered shoreline. Priority One was to stay off the rocks. Priority Two was to keep my mackerel close to these rocks. I quickly had a savage hit; after a pretty good run, the hook pulled. Oh well, I re-baited and hooked up again just a bit further down. The 24-incher was quickly landed and released. I was in a hurry to get my next bait out! I ran through the last of my bait, landing another 24 but pulling hooks from a couple of others. It had been a good day! But with a little better luck, it could have been better! What do I have to say about this? I'm doing bad science again. During today's run of pulled hooks, I was using some different hooks while also dealing with boat control along the rocks. The hooks were extreme circles. I like the way they hold the baits, they seem to hook the bass reliably in the jaw, but... were they involved in the dropped fish? Meanwhile, the conditions along the rocks were pretty extreme, too. Boat control was always in my mind, even when fighting fish, and I was actively engaged in handling the boat when at least a couple of the fish dropped off. Hooks or distraction? Or simply bad luck? I don't know. I'll have to try to figure this out. Pondering the questions of core essence and finding meaning in unexpected ways Date: September 10, 2022 Body of Water: Casco Bay - Falmouth, Maine Moon Phase: Full Harvest Moon Boat: Shore fishing from landing float and then amybaby22 With: Alone Target: Striped Bass Time: 5:20 AM - 9:15 AM Conditions: Low tide at 5:25 AM. Clear; inconsequential NE wind and 60 - 70 degrees. Water temperatures 62 degrees (+/-). Best during Quad III and slack low tide. A had graciously picked up some blood-worms for me the previous evening and so I was able to capitalize on a prime tide. I was greeted at the float by obvious but unidentified, active bait, and things went pretty much according to plan. My float got pulled down on the first drift, and I landed my first bass of the day (22 inches) in the darkness. I landed three more similar fish in the next 15 minutes, and a couple more over the next 20. I had six stripers in hand before sunrise. All were between 20 and 22 inches in size and had sipped blood-worms suspended beneath my lighted slip-float. Even though the bite slowed down I persisted, as I now expected the prime portion of Quadrant III to kick in. But the skies continued to brighten, the bait disappeared, and even the current dropped off to nothing. At 7 AM I pulled the plug, and started some maintenance on amybaby22. That went well, and I decided to go out but stay close and check the local bait scene. I found only a single pod of small mackerel between Clapboard and Basket Islands, but with a few in the live-well, I decided to try favorite sections of Sturdivant and Clapboard. Nothing happened in an hour, so I gassed up and headed home in order to save some energy for later in the day. What do I have to say about this? Thanks to A for making the extra effort to keep me in worms! The active pile of bait-fish is a promising development. The morning's dock fish were small, but welcomed. It felt good to bend a rod from the landing again, and this was a pleasant morning! But the day got even better! While I was able to score only a single mackerel from Hussey in a quick afternoon scouting trip, I converted this bait into a fine, 29-inch bass from my rocky stretch of Peaks Island. This capped my fishing day, but a picnic and beautiful moonrise with A capped my day as a whole. Pondering the questions of core essence and finding meaning in unexpected ways Date: September 5, 2022 Body of Water: Casco Bay - Falmouth, Maine Moon Phase: Waxing Gibbous Moon; Full Moon minus five days Boat: amybaby22 With: Alone Target: Striped Bass Time: 6:15 AM - 10:30 AM Conditions: High tide at 6:36 AM. Clouds, drizzle and rain; ENE wind in excess of 10 mph and 60 degrees. Fishy! Water is clearing; water temperatures 60 degrees (+/-). I didn't want to fish in the rain, but that's what the weather gave me for the day. At least the great skies and low light conditions might help the bite. I headed straight to Hussey in pretty rough seas. I hoped to make quick work of bait and capitalize before the weather totally fell apart. Ninety-five feet in Hussey provided a steady supply of single macks, so long as I moved with the wind and kept the Sabiki moving through the 25 - 30 feet depths. By 7 AM, I was set up along the Long Island shoreline, drifting with the wind towards the College Island saddle. The first bite came quickly; too quickly, because I was arranging tools and cameras, with the rod in the holder. I missed this fish, but re-positioned along the deep grass line in about 20 feet of water and re-baited. Soon enough, I was tight to the first fish of the day, a 28-inch "keeper". The next drift resulted in a fat 27-incher. I expanded my range with each drift, and the next encounter was along the north side of College Island. The boat was in about 8 feet of water adjacent to the rocks, but my bait was frantically swimming in 15 feet or more, directly over a previous waypoint. This fish ate confidently and went on a long run. I thought I had this fish under control; but underestimated how far away it had gotten. Unfortunately and for the second straight trip, I lost a big fish to a lobster pot. Ouch! I continued drifting along the College Island contour, and after a prolonged period with a very nervous mackerel, I circled back around and hooked up with a fat 24-incher at the island's south-west corner. There are some sweet rocks here and I wasn't surprised they coughed up a bass. With my Striper Cup limit already photographed, the rest of the morning would be gravy. It was only about 8 AM and the weather was holding with a steady drizzle/sprinkle. I wanted to go across Hussey to Peaks Island, but thought the better of it with the strong easterly wind. Plus, I was on some fish; did it make sense to leave them? Probably not; but I fished all the way around College Island and through the saddle area and south to the secondary reef without raising another fish. It was time to move. My first stop was Cow Island. This produces best on the highest tides and with an easterly drift. The tide was now dropping fast and the strong easterly wind provided a nice drift along the south face, but in the wrong direction. I still marked some interesting fish, and my mack was just about scared to death; but still no bites. Recalling that Cow Island fishes well during the dropping tide, I relocated there. I noticed some pretty rough chop (for Casco Bay) at the island's northwest corner, where the strong wind and maximum tidal current opposed each other. Starting in about 30 feet of water and stepping my way up the rocks to the prominent point, my mack was thumped. Another big fish; after a nice fight and dance in which I luckily avoided both rocks and buoy lines, I finally lipped the fish of the day, a 32-incher. This busy water quickly yielded two more bass, a 20 and a 24. But the rough chop dissipated and moved into deeper water and I lost touch with any more fish here. I continued tracing Crow and finally got eaten for the last time of the day at the island's opposite corner (which also features a rocky ledge tumbling into deep water). This last bass taped out at 25 inches. I was down to my last mackerel, and I couldn't give it away. After a bit more time at Crow, I took it to Clapboard, where it went untouched despite an excellent drift over known bass residences. Oh well, it had been a very good morning, and there were chores to be done. By 10:30 AM, I was headed in. What do I have to say about this? The gray skies and unsettled weather had the bass biting! Despite the brevity, this was one of the most productive boat sessions of the season, and the stripers were taking the baits with certainty! I sometimes wonder if I am making the most of my opportunities or whether I am depending too much on the bait itself. Without piles of bait and the right conditions to safely control the boat while fishing, I have done precious little of casting the macks to specific suspected rocky lairs. But I am also doing less bump-trolling than last year, and I am trying to linger and milk specific spots in which I have confidence. I will say, I am choosing my locations with deliberate purpose, and my approach is not hap-hazard. Whether it is specific structure, cover, moving water or other observation, or simply historical on-the-water experience, I am trying to present my baits to high-percentage spots with vulnerable bass. By using a single hand-held rod I am also much more efficient in converting strikes into landed fish than with the "two-rods-in-holders" approach I'd become used to over the last couple of seasons. Pondering the questions of core essence and finding meaning in unexpected ways Date: September 3, 2022 Body of Water: Casco Bay - Falmouth, Maine Moon Phase: Waxing Quarter Moon Boat: amybaby22 With: Alone Target: Striped Bass and Bluefish Time: 7:30 AM - 1:30 PM Conditions: Low tide at 10:33 AM. Mostly sunny; S wind to about 10 mph and 60 - 70 degrees. Water was dramatically clearer after a few cold nights; water temperatures 61 degrees (+/-). Even though making bait was the easiest it had been all season, this session was a bit of a struggle. I was distracted by the possibility of finding some bluefish, the bass bite was relatively slow and I missed a shot at perhaps my biggest striper of the season. I skipped the early float fishing and headed directly out to Hussey Sound. The ebb was evident, and I stopped short of College Island in some deep (100 feet) water. I luckily had stopped over a school of macks, because I spent the next half hour drifting and jigging instead of trolling. Most of the macks were in the upper 25 feet of the column, and I put a couple of dozen into the well in less than half an hour. After an unsuccessful circum-navi-fish of College Island, I headed across the Sound to Peaks Island, where I picked up the stretch of shoreline I had fished the previous week. The wind was working against the tidal current, and it took a bit to settle in, but when I finally set up a good drift along this rocky shore, it didn't take long for my first bass hit of the day. And quite a hit it was! The bass took my mack with an unannounced, swift, precise and horizontal surface strike. I tightened up quickly and the bass pulled line from the substantial drag with apparent ease. I worked the fish around the single visible lobster pot, but the fish became entangled with something. I could feel the line rubbing against it. I was positioning the boat upwind of the unknown obstacle when I felt a final head shake and my line went slack. My braid had been worn through. I'm pretty sure this strong fish would have been my biggest of the season to date. Even though I lost... this was a good experience. But this was about it, and as slack low approached, my mind wandered to the pursuit of bluefish. I've seen no evidence of any this season to date, but I know they are around (more-so mid-coast). I decided to blind-troll deeper water outside the Sound with cranks. Using deep-diving sticks from Rapala and Yo-zuri, 60 - 120 back, I ended up trolling from the mouth of Hussey Sound all the way to Portland Head and into the mouth of Casco Bay without a hit or sign of the blues. At about 11:30 and with some current evident, I switched to live-baiting bass along the rocks. This was first time around Portland this season, and it was busy with boat traffic on this pleasant Labor Day Saturday. I picked up the shoreline of House Island. I got hit at the edge of a prominent rock pile. Finally, the skunk was avoided. This bass was a nice 26-incher, but was a bit deformed from an injury and didn't fight to its size. I selectively fished my way back along Great Diamond Island; many of these spots look better for high tide. I finally tried the west end of Clapboard without any luck. Before I headed in, I had to release about 18 live macks. WTF? What do I have to say about this? This had been quite the effort, and I covered a lot of water! Perhaps I'd have done better with a single persistent focus, but perhaps not. My lack of intel was obvious in my futile, blind search for blues. Let's just say, I don't like blind trolling, but I felt like I had to try to find them instead of waiting for them to find me. Conditions have changed! The increase in water clarity was startling. Let's hope the food chain remains intact for another six weeks or so! I'd have liked to have glimpsed that first large bass, but I am only left to wonder. Oh well, that's part of what keeps me going. Pondering the questions of core essence and finding meaning in unexpected ways Date: August 30, 2022 Body of Water: Casco Bay - Falmouth, Maine Moon Phase: Waxing Crescent Moon; New Moon plus 3 days Boat: amybaby22 With: Alone Target: Striped Bass Time: 6 AM - 8 AM Conditions: Low tide at 7:39 AM. Clear; SW wind about 10 mph and 70 - 80 degrees. Water was green; water temperatures 66 degrees (+/-). What better way to celebrate the start of my 60th year than to go fishing? And what more peaceful way to fish than explore some quiet shoreline with a surface popper? That was the plan, at least for a couple of hours before reporting to work. It was a good plan, too, as three of the first five casts yielded strikes on my squid-colored Hogy popper, resulting in bass of 21 and 23 inches. A few minutes later, a following swirl revealed another group of fish and I caught two more of similar size on three explosive strikes. But when the sun cleared the fog and cloud layer by 6:45 AM, this bite evaporated. But I was already happy with this day. I switched to my 9-weight fly rod with a white foam popper and relaxed. I worked through the same water without raising another fish (heck, I knew fish were present, and on most days, I'd have been fishing from my nearby float during this tide cycle, anyway), but then relocated to Clapboard Island's reef complex at the west end. When I raised nothing here, I simply called it a (good!) day, and then headed in. What do I have to say about this? This is exactly what I wanted. I hadn't caught a topwater fish yet this season (?!?!???!). The sunrise was colorful, I might have been first on the water for the entire bay as far as I could tell, and I recognized that working the popper on the fly rod really maintained my presence. This was good physical and mental practice, and that might pay off when the conditions are a little better for a sustained surface bite. So, here's to Year 60! It's off to an excellent start! Now, as far as the bass are concerned, all my bites came during Quadrant II and away from the shoreline, but oriented to objects in 8 or 10 feet of water. These objects included floats, mooring balls and moored boats. Open water and shoreline edges did not produce any fish. Pondering the questions of core essence and finding meaning in unexpected ways |
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