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Date: September 24, 2023 Body of Water: Casco Bay - Maine Boat: amybaby22 With: Alone Target: Striped Bass Time: 6:30 AM - 11:30 AM Moon Phase: Full minus six days; waxing gibbous moon Tide: High tide at 6:38 AM, low tide at 12:33 PM Conditions: Overcast, NE wind about 10 mph, about 55 - 65 degrees. Water temperatures 59 - 60 degrees F (+/-) My first thought was to try some high-tide popper fish along the local shoreline. Not a bad idea; sunrise, slack tide and my first misses of the day coincided after just a few casts. This fish came in hot; it missed explosively, twice. This was all visible, and this was a much larger than average fish. I continued down the shoreline, with hope but not moving much. I did raise another bass a few hundred yards down the shoreline, but this one also missed, badly. After 50 minutes of skunk, I decided to make bait and look locally for some more stripers. Mackerel were still home, in the upper 15 feet of water over 60 foot depths off Clapboard Island's eastern end. It wasn't quite as easy as the previous day, but soon enough and by 7:45 AM, I was presenting a lively mack along Clapboard's steep and rocky eastern shore. In what was threatening to become a theme for the day, a bass soon crashed on my bait twice without finding it. I quickly flipped my scared mack back out, and after another miss, finally it was taken with a confident surface swirl. This fish fought deep and well, and it took some maneuvering to keep it out of a lobster pot. When I finally turned this fish and slipped the net under it, I was surprised to find that it was only a 30-incher. I continued down the shore, with the wind-born current, and slid around the corner. I extended my pass a little bit because my mackerel was acting scared; this paid off with a solid strike. I wound down, but this fish didn't even know it was hooked. It swam below the boat before suddenly taking off on a nice run. I plunged my rod into the water to keep the line off the hull, but still, the hook popped free. I returned to repeat this entire pass and flipped my bait along the steep, rocky, weedy shoreline. My bait raced away but got intercepted by another nice bass; this was a super fit 29-incher that also fought above its size class. After a couple of unsuccessful passes through this same water, I turned my attention to the northeast corner of Clapboard. Here, I scored a feisty 27-incher before I ran to Clapboard's west end. After a long swim but as if on cue, a bass hit my mackerel over an existing waypoint at the very western extent of this reefy complex. It was almost nice to see a "small" 23-incher. It was now about 9:45 AM, and I had planned to finish the session by chunking. I decided to return to Clapboard's east end. By 10, I was set up with Spot-lock and dribbling bits of fresh mackerel to drift into a cluster of waypoints. But I was in 24 feet of water and losing touch with my bait before I knew it reached bottom. After 15 minutes or so, I allowed the boat to drift about 30 feet with the existing chum slick and locked down again. Now I was in more familiar depths (12 feet or so), and my first presentation with a fresh chunk was taken enthusiastically by a nice 26-incher. I kept the rain of free food going while drifting hooked choice tail cuts. Ten minutes later, a 24-incher came to hand. As the wind and current decreased, I had a final bite, and enjoyed the fight of an angry 28-incher. This fish bought me another 10 minutes, but I was about out of time and with things to do. That was okay, I'd lost the current and depth, and it certainly had been a better-than-average day! What do I have to say about this? I know this, but hadn't prepared; have a follow-up bait (fluke, small swim-bait, etc.) ready to go when top-water fishing! I might have been able to convert my misses into hooked fish had I been adequately prepared. But when I am throwing top-waters, I tend to be stubborn. I want to to throw them. I'll even go almost an hour without a fish, happily, if conditions are right and I've had a hint of a fish's interest. I couldn't have asked much more from the rest of the morning; seven bass, including three "keepers" over 28 inches, from my eight chances. Pondering the questions of core essence and finding meaning in unexpected ways
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Date: September 23, 2023 Body of Water: Casco Bay - Maine Boat: amybaby22 With: Alone Target: Striped Bass Time: 7:45 AM - 2 PM Moon Phase: Waxing quarter moon Tide: Low tide at 11:28 AM Conditions: Hazy sunshine giving way to clouds, persistent but light southerly wind, about 50 - 60 degrees. Water temperatures 58 - 61 degrees F (+/-) Hurricane/Tropical Storm Lee paused my season, but we suffered no real harm and were back in business this following weekend. Conditions had changed mightily since my last trip. Summer was gone and Fall had arrived! I was starting from scratch, but with the hunch that once I found the proper conditions, the fishing would be good! And I thought I'd landed on my feet almost immediately. Leave the dock at 7:45, fill the well with fresh mackerel by 8, and miss the first bass of the day at 8:12 AM. Things were looking, and feeling, good! That first, clean miss along Crow Island's northern shoreline was almost immediately followed by another due to a turned hook. After fishing around the entire island without another chance, I relocated to Peaks Island. I had a surface chase in some serious white water, but that was it. I went looking for more concentrated bass; I was curious about Broad Cove at low tide, but decided to stop at Clapboard (west) along the way. I found nothing there, and arrived at Broad Cove just before predicted dead low tide. There was bait here; it looked like mackerel. A couple of seals harassed these schools. I drifted and bumped along in the deep channel, waiting for some active fish but also constantly scanning for active birds or bait. These didn't materialize, and so at 12:15 or so, I made the decision to return to the Falmouth shoreline and fish Quadrant III, the beginning of the flood. I had a well of lively baits, and I figured I would Spot-Lock and chunk. I selected my location based on just a little extra depth at the inside of the mooring line. The wind and a little current would (theoretically) take my chum and bait towards an historically productive rock ledge. There wasn't a lot of current, but I countered that with a generous supply of mackerel bits behind the boat. It took over half an hour to build the action and get the first bite, but just before 1 PM, I hooked up and landed a very athletic and determined 25-inch striper. Whew, I'd avoided the skunk! The next hour was busy; I landed an additional seven stripers to 28 inches and lost an apparently big fish to a nearby mooring. Most came on tail chunks, but a meaty head produced several bites, too. All were great fun on the selected light tackle, and all showed themselves to be in prime condition for their fall run. The secret seemed to be the steady rain of free bits, and I would always surround my bait with a couple of freebies when I started a new drift. I enjoyed one of the cooler bites of the season when a 26-inch bass appeared behind the boat, chasing down and eating these drifting bits. I immediately presented a hooked bait to it and watched it dart towards and eat my bait a few feet below the surface. I tightened up and the fight was on, all in view. This bass might as well have been a mahi or a big snapper or jack in a Florida chum slick. It was a neat experience to see it play out behind the stern. The bite slowed down as the tide moved out of the favorable portion of Quadrant III. I was close to the landing and called it (another, good) day! What do I have to say about this? Another win for Spot-Lock! But I'll give an assist to my growing awareness of conditions and options. Especially when confronted with tough conditions, the Falmouth shoreline, the first two-thirds of Quadrant III, and an abundance of fresh bait can be a favorable equation. What a Fall day! With our first overnight temperatures in the mid-40s in quite a while, I encountered more seals, loons and osprey than I did boats. And since it appears that the vast majority of lobster pots have been pulled, it looks like it will stay that way for the season's remainder. Now, if I can just continue to locate active fish each trip, I know they'll eat! Pondering the questions of core essence and finding meaning in unexpected ways Date: September 10, 2023 Body of Water: Casco Bay - Maine Boat: amybaby22 With: Alone Target: Striped Bass Time: 10:15 AM - 1:15 PM Moon Phase: New minus four days; waning crescent moon Tide: High tide at 8:54 AM Conditions: Overcast, light easterly wind, about 65 degrees. Water temperatures 62 degrees F (+/-) I stopped directly over a school active mackerel in Hussey Sound, seemingly right where I left them the previous day. My first drop got intercepted on the way down, and I pulled a nearly full string into the boat, with many others following. Just a few drops later, the well was full and I was heading to Peaks Island with a lot of confidence! That confidence was based on the cool temps and gray skies, as well as the easterly wind pushing into the rocks. My efforts were impeded to a minor degree by floating and loose weed, and the quarter-moon tidal currents were weak, but I was still very surprised when I'd fished just about all of my favorite stretch without a chase or a touch. I carefully probed the "Washing Machine" area from multiple directions and I tossed baits into likely nooks and crevices, but still moved nothing. Crow Island also produced nothing; not even a sign of a bass. It was eerily quiet on the water. By 12:30 or so, I was starting to watch the weather with more intent. Thunderstorms were predicted, and the skies over the Falmouth shoreline were darkening. My original thoughts had included chunking and/or a visit to Broad Cove, but each of these efforts required time that I wasn't sure I had. Instead, I chose to revisit Clapboard Island (West). Going with the wind and current on my initial pass, my mack got smacked on top (finally!) over about 10 feet of water, right about where the last fish of the previous day had been caught. It was a shiny and bright 24-incher, and so much better than a skunk! I could have stayed and tried for another, but I really did not want to get caught in a thunderstorm, so I talked myself into heading in. The rain was slow to develop, and I probably could have safely stayed for another 90 minutes, but I was satisfied with the weekend's experiences. What do I have to say about this? Always better to be safe, than sorry; even if that decision is based, in part, on simply not wanting to deal with rain gear and wet belongings. I may have left a fish or two "on the table" with my early departure, but I also arrived home in a functional state. Yesterday, the striper fishing had been so easy; today, nearly impossible. I don't really know why (I'd have predicted the opposite), but at least I can accept that these changes do occur, and that I will never fully understand this environment or these fish. These unexpected developments help make this pursuit all the more interesting. And of course a day like today will likely be countered with one like yesterday. And with a little luck, like my next outing? Pondering the questions of core essence and finding meaning in unexpected ways Date: September 9, 2023 Body of Water: Casco Bay - Maine Boat: amybaby22 With: A Target: Striped Bass Time: 9 AM - Noon Moon Phase: New minus five days; waning crescent moon Tide: High tide at 7:54 AM Conditions: Hazy sunshine, persistent but very light southwesterly wind, about 65 - 80 degrees. Water temperatures 63 - 66 degrees F (+/-) We found no macks at our first, convenient stop, but had barely trolled a minute with the current in Hussey Sound when I loaded a string and pulled the school directly beneath the boat. A few additional drops over 100 feet of water secured more than enough lively mackerel for the morning's fishing. By 9:30, we were deploying baits along Cow Island's southern shoreline. This rocky edge tumbles quickly into 30 or more feet of water and is a "higher" tide fave for me. I was retying my rig when A announced that she had a fish on. A few minutes later, we netted her striper, a nice mid-20s fish. The fishing here had some legs. A relaxed with a book while I worked this shoreline hard. I landed three similar bass and missed a fourth take. A pretty active morning was taking shape. After a final pass with no reveals, we moved over to Crow Island with confidence. I didn't hook up here, although one bait was harassed to death in an eddy behind a rocky, current-swept point. We finished the fishing session with a stop at Clapboard Island's west end. Here, I had an immediate take from the edge of the bar extending from the complex' extremities and into deeper water. I was fighting this fish and complaining to A that I didn't like fighting fish with monofilament anymore (I was using my chunking outfit at the time) when the hook pulled. No more complaining from me, mid-fish! Fortunately, I was able to redeem myself with another quick fish here, and another to cap the morning around the corner and over an historic waypoint. All these fish were similarly sized, between about 23 and 26 inches. There was stuff to be done! We were back at the dock at about Noon with a beautiful day still ahead. What do I have to say about this? We were fortunate to make bait quickly, and then things proceeded as if on cue. The Cow-Crow-Clapboard (West) sequence can be reliable when starting from a higher tidal situation, and each of these has produced big fish, so is always worth a try. "Taking' it easy" and enjoying the day is always a viable strategy, and an especially good one with A aboard! Pondering the questions of core essence and finding meaning in unexpected ways Date: September 7, 2023 Body of Water: Casco Bay - Maine Boat: amybaby22 With: PP Target: Striped Bass Time: 5 PM - 7:15 PM Moon Phase: Waning quarter moon Tide: High tide at 6:01 PM Conditions: Hazy sunshine, persistent but light southwesterly wind, about 75 - 85 degrees. Water temperatures have risen dramatically to 66 - 70 degrees F (+/-) with the recent hot spell. PP and I finally got together for another trip, albeit a quick, post-work outing. With the earlier sunsets of the approaching equinox, we had only a short window to make something happen. We were greeted by visible schools of mackerel working the local shoreline; were they chasing peanut bunker? We were able to put a dozen or so baits into the well by awkwardly casting our Sabiki rigs to attract the schools beneath the boat, where they were relatively easy vertical pickings. Our first stop was to the northern face of Clapboard's east end, where I'd last taken a 30-incher. Clapboard fishes well at high tide, and even coughs up the occasional big fish during high slack tide, which loomed before us. PP scored quickly with a low-to-mid 20s fish from along the rocks while I dealt with a tangle with a local pot marker. The trip was off to an excellent start, and it was great to truly and properly welcome PP aboard amybaby22! The following slack conditions did not help us at all. We bump-trolled our baits around the corner and along the historically productive east-end rocks and back without a bump. Our macks were nervous, and we saw a nice surface swirl, but we never had a chance to connect. Recalling Sunday's low-light, shoreline surface action, we returned to the Falmouth coast. I deployed a live mackerel, tended by Rodney, trailing behind the boat as we slowly worked our way back towards the landing. We both (stubbornly) threw Hogy poppers. PP had a single swirl behind the bait while I raised nothing. The mosquitoes came out in vengeance, it was getting dark, and I, for one, was hungry. We were back on shore before full darkness descended. What do I have to say about this? What a beautiful night, and what a nice guy and potential fishing partner I have found. We are both super busy and it has been difficult to schedule outings, but we are both here for the long haul, so it will certainly work out in time. Perhaps I was too focused on "yesterday's fish", but I think I made the right calls for the available time we had. It's so pleasant fishing a topwater bait in such conditions that it almost didn't matter how slow the fishing was. With multiple schools of visible macks along the shoreline, it almost felt like the good old days! I suspect I could have caught a mack from the landing if I had to; something I've barely even tried over the last few years, even though that was my bread-and-butter approach to striper fishing for about 15 years. Hooks help! While PP made hay with the macks, I barely contributed at all. Inspection of my worn-out Sabiki revealed a 50% or greater attrition rate of the hooks. Fortunately, PP reminded me where I can get a good deal on Sabiki rigs and other tackle! Pondering the questions of core essence and finding meaning in unexpected ways Date: September 4, 2023 Body of Water: Casco Bay - Maine Boat: amybaby22 With: Alone Target: Striped Bass Time: 6 AM - 1 PM Moon Phase: Full plus six days; waning gibbous moon Tide: Low tide at 8:53 AM Conditions: Mostly clear, light southwesterly wind, about 60 - 75 degrees. Water temperatures 62 - 64 degrees F (+/-) The alarm was set for "early", but somehow I arrived 10 or 15 minutes "late" for my plan. I called the first audible of the day, and chose to stay close for any potential early morning/low light bite instead of traveling to Littlejohn Island in search of a big fish. It was a good call, too, because my second popper cast of the day along the local Falmouth shoreline was engulfed by a 25-inch striper! This was my first top-water Maine striper of the year!?! Moving down the shoreline in eight or ten feet of water, I continued fan-casting with the Hogy popper and spot-locking whenever I found fish. I found plenty in the couple of hundred yards I fished, landing a total of seven to 27 inches, and enjoying many misses and chases. I observed a couple of Cape Cod-style mini-blitzes, too, when a half-dozen or so fish would come to the top at once. These were ephemeral, though, lasting only a few seconds, and usually occurring when I was already hooked up or handling a hooked fish. The strikes became misses, the misses became swirls and the swirls dissolved into follows and silence. Everything happened on the Hogy popper while a Rebel Jumpin' Minnow was universally ignored. By 7 AM, having not raised a fish in ten or so minutes (I am getting very impatient) and with the sun climbing higher in the sky, I headed toward Hussey Sound. I expected to pass through and go straight to Red Marker No. 2 in search of bait, but I made another audible just outside the anchorage. I'd noticed a seal and a surface swirl between the anchorage and the west end of Clapboard Island. Idling down, I found two distinct schools of baitfish on the slick calm surface. I thought they were pogies and so I tied on a snagging hook, but after a few fruitless casts, realized they were mackerel. I soon had 20 in the well; these were easy targets and came aboard four to six at a time. Since I was so close to Clapboard, I tried the west end. After an unproductive pass, I motored directly to Littlejohn Island. I moved nothing in the water that had produced some action two days earlier, and followed that with a pass around Chebeague's east end at about slack low tide. Once again, I moved nothing, and so I decided to explore some new water. I visited Bustins and Little Bustins Islands for the first time. Focusing on their southwesterly ends, I still found no biters, but the current was picking up and a breeze was forming from the south. I headed down the bay towards Moshier Island. I thought I'd try the steep and rocky southern shoreline for the first time, but a couple of boats were anchored on prime rock formations. Instead, I continued west and deployed a bait as I approached the southwestern point. Wind-exposed rocks here plunged into decent depths, and there was a little current pushing me along. All the necessary elements were present! I had almost completed my first pass here when finally, at about 10:30 AM, I got another bite. This bass pulled drag like crazy when it felt the sting of my hook, and I was surprised that this fish measured only 28 inches when I finally landed it. My next pass produced a 26, and my third pass enticed an undetected slicing drive-by by a bluefish. But after a fourth pass without a touch, and then unproductively continuing through previous waypoints at the next point, I was off to Littlejohn. Perhaps the ongoing flood would be more conducive to finding some fish here? And, how could I not continue to try the spot that had produced my largest ever striper? I was right over the waypoint for that fish when my mackerel was swiped from the surface and I connected with what I that was small bass. But the fish jumped, and I realized I was connected to a smallish bluefish. After another couple of jumps and shorts runs from the net, I landed my second Maine Blue of 2023. It wasn't the "gator" I've seen reports about, but it was still a fun diversion from the norm. ![]() After another pass without action, I was off to Clapboard Island's east end. The incoming tide was advanced enough to make this area attractive. Could I pull off another High Noon Lunker? I attracted no attention off the steep rocky walls, but some wind-driven current pushed me around the island's tip and into the quiet water of it's north side. This stretch has historically produced for me at higher tidal stages, so I kept my bait in the water. I missed two bites here before circling back with a fresh mackerel. On cue, it was hit hard. When I tightened, the fish ran long and hard for a pair of lobster pots. Fortunately, I was able to stop the fish short. Once again, I was surprised how "small" a fish could fight so hard. This one measured 30 inches and took the prize for biggest of the day. Even though I still had plenty of bait and time, I headed back in. I was hot and tired, and it had been a good day all around! What do I have to say about this? What a nice day! It was a welcome change to catch the early bite, have active bass on top, make unexpectedly easy bait, reveal a couple of new spots, find a couple of blues, and land double-digit stripers! Grilled burgers, ice cream and a comeback win on the road for the Sox just added to it! Finally, I saw my local fly-fishing guide coming and going through the straights between Littlejohn and Chebeague Islands, right on cue as he chased the low tide from Yarmouth. I suspect he went to Broad Cove, I need to return there and check it out for the fall! Pondering the questions of core essence and finding meaning in unexpected ways Date: September 3, 2023 Body of Water: Casco Bay - Maine Boat: amybaby22 With: A Target: Striped Bass Time: 9:30 AM - 12:30 PM Moon Phase: New plus five days; waning gibbous moon Tide: Low tide at 8:03 AM Conditions: Totally clear, very light to negligible wind, about 60 - 75 degrees. Water temperatures 58 - 62 degrees F (+/-), and the water is markedly clearing with shorter days. A joined me after a late start to the morning. With chores complete and the full day ahead of us, we looked forward to a pleasant session. We started our search for mackerel off Clapboard's east end, and within a couple of minutes, I had a double coming into the boat. I delayed reeling them in to allow A some time to deploy a Sabiki, just in case there were followers. That delay and a clumsy flub allowed both to escape the well, there were no followers, and after another 15 fruitless minutes, we were off to Hussey Sound. The flood tide was roaring in, and I found no bait in my primary corridor along College Island. I was lucky to land a single mack well down-current of the island. I decided to deploy the bait on College's northern, rocky shoreline, and worked my way along the steep edge of Long Island. Maybe it was a mismatch in size between the bass and the bait, perhaps it was the super-charged activity of the scared bait, or perhaps it was just an unathletic bass, but it took multiple swipes before the bait was finally engulfed. As the bass moved away, I wound tight, and the bait pulled free. The hook had turned and buried into the mack's side. It was still alive, though, and so I repositioned the hook and casted it back with a high arc to where I thought the bass might be. The splashing entry caught the bass' attention, and soon I was hooked up, again! One bait, two bites, and one 26-inch bass. At least the skunked was avoided! We crossed the sound to the red marker and looked for bait there. Again, I was fortunate to find a single bait. The flood continued, but the tide was not high enough for Cow Island, so I chose to visit Crow Island. I had fished almost all the way around the island without a touch. I was loitering in a protected eddy between rocky points at High Noon when my bait was positively slammed without warning. But once again, I reeled in just a bait with a buried hook. I tossed it back quickly and it raced toward the bottom in about 15 feet of water, but it was quickly intercepted. This was clearly a big fish, and it fought extremely stubbornly and deep. I never glimpsed the fish until it finally rolled boat side, exhausted, and passively slid into the net. At 35 inches, it's my largest to date on my medium-power Avid rod, but just another very nice fish from Crow. Two baits, four bites, two bass! With an empty livewell and now K on the phone, we puttered our way back to the landing. I'd secured my Striper Cup Limit for the week, we'd both had enough sun, and there was plenty ahead of us for the day. What do I have to say about this? I was very fortunate to complete two Hail Mary's on the same trip. But I have learned that it's always worth flipping a bait out quickly to a missed fish, if only because sometimes good things happen! The lack of reliable inshore bait had me thinking about the next day's effort. An offshore trip to Red Marker No. 2 and perhaps an early start to try a popper both seemed like good ideas. Pondering the questions of core essence and finding meaning in unexpected ways Date: September 2, 2023 Body of Water: Casco Bay - Maine Boat: amybaby22 With: Alone Target: Striped Bass Time: 7:45 AM - 1:15 PM Moon Phase: Full plus three days; waning gibbous moon Tide: Low tide at 7:15 AM Conditions: Hazy sunshine, persistent but light southwesterly wind, about 55 - 70 degrees. Water temperatures 59 - 62 degrees F (+/-) After scoring eight prime mackerel off the east end of Clapboard Island pretty quickly, I began my search for bass. Still in early flood, I decided to visit Sturdivant Island for the first time in quite a while. My bait was nervous, but was never attacked, and with big bass in mind, I motored to Littlejohn Island. I stopped short of the usual shoreline stretch and started my drift at the 12-foot break into deeper (30+ feet) water. Almost immediately, my mack was pushed to the surface, chased, and eaten with surety. With equal confidence, I wound down, tightened up, fought and landed this nice 25-incher. It was good to find a fish in a new-ish spot! As the flood continued, I bump-trolled macks along likely shorelines and breaks. But my catching was done for the day, as I missed my next five chances (two hooks turned into the baits, one pulled hook, one chafed leader, and a quick "pluck" off the hook). I revealed fish along Littlejohn, a new beach along the south face of Chebeague, and the east end of Clapboard while totally striking out at Moshier. By my count, that put me at just One for Six for the day! I definitely missed some shots this day. What do I have to say about this? For whatever reason, one's luck sometimes runs hot and cold. Maybe it's all random, and one simply notices the extremes. While I don't like a 0.167 average, I do know that this "slump" is likely short-lived. It was good to find some mackerel in close, nice to expand a productive area, and always fine to find bass in a new location. Things could have gone better, but it was still a good day on the water. Pondering the questions of core essence and finding meaning in unexpected ways Date: August 27, 2023 Body of Water: Casco Bay (Hussey Sound) - Maine Boat: amybaby22 With: Alone Target: Striped Bass Time: 8 AM - 1 PM Moon Phase: Full minus six days; waxing gibbous moon Tide: High tide at 8:02 AM Conditions: Mixed sun and clouds, light northerly wind, about 65 - 75 degrees. Water temperatures 59 - 61 degrees F (+/-) The run from the anchorage to Red Marker No. 2 took 18 minutes, but it turned out to be the right call. I immediately found mackerel here, right on the surface, and by 8:35, I was enroute to Vaill Island with a well full of prime baits. Conditions at Vaill looked automatic for some striped bass. High Tide, clouds, swell, moving water and lively baits all pointed to success. But the bass had different ideas, and I spent almost an hour here without raising a single fish, as far as I could tell. I ran across the mouth of Hussey Sound to a prominent point on Peaks Island. I deployed a bait while I tried to interpret the sweep, current and wind. Pretty quickly, that bait was eaten. After a nice run, this fish popped loose. I was still spinning my wheels, but this was encouraging. I turned the point's corner and entered The Washing Machine, where ocean swells and outgoing tide collide with ledge and boulders. The water here is always confused, and this day, especially so. But it's a productive location, and I'd recently done quite well with pollock here, right against the rocks. My first flip of a mack into the confusion resulted in an instantaneous hookup! I landed that striper (low-20-incher) and then two more (25 and 26 inches) on successive passes. Each successful bait was tossed right into whitewater next to rock edges; the bass were there to take advantage. When the next pass went unmolested, I moved out of this treacherous and stressful area and moved down the shoreline. I ended up bouncing around rocky points looking for additional fish, missing a couple of chances along the way. Eventually striper number four for the day came from a small pocket of wash behind a boulder; this 26-inch bass pounced immediately when I lobbed my bait in. Moving down the shoreline, I lingered in a promising-looking washy area. Sure enough, my bait woke up and was popped right off the hook. I re-baited and sent another bait in. I'd drifted away from this specific location, but my bait remained super nervous and active. I continued the drift, using the motor only to stay away from submerged boulders. Finally, at High Noon, I hooked up; this feisty 30-incher provided quite the fight on light tackle and with the rock and lobster-pot hazards. I was spent; the toll of maneuvering the boat in such tight quarters was wearing on me. I decided to relax a bit and fish more casually around Crow Island. I was unable to raise anything here. I'm not sure I've ever been shut out at both Crow and Vaill on the same day (when fish were caught elsewhere). Every day out here is different, and I've come to expect the unexpected. What do I have to say about this? This was my last fishing adventure of my 50s. I'm glad it ended with a really nice fish! Pondering the questions of core essence and finding meaning in unexpected ways Date: August 26, 2023 Body of Water: Casco Bay - Maine Boat: amybaby22 With: Alone Target: Striped Bass Time: 8 AM - Noon Moon Phase: Waxing quarter moon Tide: High tide at 6:55 AM; ebb throughout Conditions: Fog at first but becoming mostly clear, light wind, about 60 - 75 degrees. Water temperatures 60 - 63 degrees F (+/-) With a small Striper Cup Limit for the week in hand and an entire weekend ahead of me, a goal for the day was to upgrade my entry with some larger fish. Once again, Crow Island produced as the outgoing current pushing along her north face concentrated a group of fish for me. But first, there was bait to make! With the fog still pretty heavy, I tried a pass or two near Clapboard's east end; I saw a surface ripple to two and a seal working here, but found no macks. The fog was lifting, and so I headed toward Hussey Sound. I encountered several seals and a pod of porpoise along the way. I always take these as encouraging signs. There were more seals and porpoise in Hussey, and I trolled my Sabiki with the current, north of College Island. I scratched a couple of singles, and thought I'd found the motherload when I pulled a triple from just up-current of the submerged bar. But then it got tough and I found no more, so by 9:30 AM, I was setting up along Crow. I started along the southern exposure, as the swell was moving lots of whitewater here. Just as I set up, another boat pulled in front and grabbed the best spot; they caught a fish on casted lures before moving off. Meanwhile, I drifted and bump-trolled a lively mack about half-way around the island without a touch. I repositioned to the northeast corner, where I found exactly the conditions I wanted. The strong outgoing current swept along the face until sweeping past a steep, rocky point tumbling into deep water. Recalling how productive this spot had been in the past helped my confidence, too. I landed stripers on three consecutive passes through this water. These measured 29, 31 and 23 inches, and so I'd added quite a few inches to my potential Striper Cup entry. I was surprised at how hard these fish fought, too, but perhaps they were simply taking full advantage of the invigorating 60-degree water, the current, and access to 40-foot depths as they struggled to avoid the boat. I got hit on pass number four, too, but the hook turned and I reeled in just a dead mackerel. With my only remaining bait consisting of two dead-but-sizable macks, I decided to try to supplement my supply. But I also decided to not invest too much time; I knew I could return to this area and perhaps chunk up a bass or two. I returned to College and trolled across and over the likely bar and adjacent deeper areas. Once again, I found nothing and so I quickly returned to Crow and set up in about 12 feet of water with Spot-Lock. From here, I estimated my chunks would drift with the diminishing current into 17 or 20 feet of water, and with a little luck, land right next to the end of the boulder pile. Retaining the choice tail sections as my hook baits, I supplied a slow but steady trickle of chum bits behind the boat while repeatedly drifting my hooked chunks through the same water. I was just out of chum and down to my last bait when a bass arrived after about 30 minutes of effort here. A nice 26-inch bass came to the net and provided a secondary upgrade for the day. I chose to keep myself fresh and called it a day. I was off the water by Noon, even though it was a beautiful (and productive) day. What do I have to say about this? I don't know if I am getting smart, content, or exhausted, but a late start and an early finish just made sense, and how could I really ask for more from a few simple hours of effort? I can always choose to hit it harder and/or longer the next day, which will be my last fishing session of my 50s. Pondering the questions of core essence and finding meaning in unexpected ways |
Steve LachanceRI --> NH --> MI-->MA-->ME Archives
June 2024
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