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Date: September 26, 2018 Body of Water: Buzzards Bay and Cape Cod Canal Boat: Shore fishing only With: Alone Target: False Albacore (blues and stripers, too) Time: Noon - 6:40 PM Conditions: Strong southerly wind (>15 mph); big surf made the south-facing beaches unfishable. The morning drive from Boston to Falmouth, Massachusetts was pleasant but wet. I was a few minutes early for my planned arrival, and unbelievably, I'd not yet been to Dunkin' Donuts during the trip; that was remedied easily enough. I arrived at Uncle M's house at 10 AM and checked in. We discussed my plans for the coming days (I was there to find and catch false albacore!), and then I was off to Falmouth Bait and Tackle, where I purchased a few lures and sought advice. Todd and Christian there admitted that a tuna from shore in such conditions (strong wind, heavy seas and confused tides) was a tall order; but they directed me to Woods Hole and/or Old Silver Beach. Since neither of these locations were on my radar, I was grateful to them for getting me going, hopefully down a productive path. Woods Hole was just a few miles down the road. By now, it was almost lunch time, conditions were drying out, and the little town was busy. I drove up and down the waterfront several times, but I couldn't identify a place to fish that looked to be publicly accessible. I parked and walked; same result. There were several piers, but they appeared to be behind and associated with the Woods Hole Institute; and certainly, nobody was fishing. It was so tantalizing, though! A small boat with a couple of fly-rodders launched into the wind and motored across the harbor; I could sea a pile of birds tracking bait across the way. I silently wished them good luck, but also for their safety. I'd have not wanted to fly-fish with a partner in a tiny boat under such conditions. Meanwhile, my clock was ticking! I decided to abandon Woods Hole, and drove up to Old Silver Beach. Here, I found plenty of beachside parking, a small outlet from a salt pond, a few fishermen hanging out, and fishable conditions! The fishermen had encountered nothing this day, but had reports of both albies and bass from earlier in the week. The water was clear and weed-free, and there was some bait (peanut bunker) about. I fished from the surf and then from the stubby rock pier for over an hour. I threw the Kastmaster, skipped a Hogy epoxy jig, tried a couple of top-waters and swam the Diawa SP baits. Nothing happened. This was pleasant enough, but was not producing what I'd hoped for. One of the local fisherman had mentioned encountering a large school of albacore (that reportedly wouldn't eat) near the railroad bridge over the Cape Cod Canal the previous day. Off I went! The Cape Cod Canal is a truly specialized fishery, but I figured I could identify these funny fish if they were present. The tide was flowing from Cape Cod Bay to Buzzards Bay, and there were some other fishermen about. Here, I mostly threw the Diawa SP Bullet in mackerel pattern; I fished as if the Canal were a river, and as if I were targeting steelhead. Despite my efforts to identify and fish current obstructions, seams and eddies, I encountered no fish. Now on my way to the West Falmouth Harbor mouth, I saw a sign for Monument Beach. I scouted it out, but once again, public access was a little confusing and the small portion that I could access seemed constricted and lifeless. I didn't even fish here. The public beach at West Falmouth showed promise. While nobody was fishing, the beach was abuzz with kite surfers. The wind was still over 15 mph, the waves were still pretty big, and I thought these folks might be crazy; they were certainly crazed. Admittedly, so was I; just in a different manner. To each, their own. I hiked down the beach to get away from the activity, only to find a fair amount of mung in the water. It was fishable, but not efficiently. After just a dozen casts or so with the Kastmaster, I decided to cut my losses, go back to the fishable conditions at Old Silver Beach, and do my best there until dark. Exiting my vehicle at about 5:10 PM, I noticed a small group of birds hovering close to shore on the other side of the small channel. These were the closest active birds of the day! As I positioned myself on the short jetty, I convinced myself that there was dark mass of baitfish pinned against shore across the channel and just within casting distance. I casted my pink, 7/8-ounce Hogy epoxy jig to the edge of the imagined mass (landing no more than 15 feet from shore), engaged my reel, and before the jig reached the surface, I received a jolting strike. When I tightened up, the fish turned to sea and took a screaming run. Albie On! As I fought the fish, a truck crossing the outlet notice my bent rod and raced to park. The fisherman rushed out and waded into the school of bait while I continued fighting the tuna. When it was within a few yards of my feet, the line suddenly slackened; concerned with how to safely and carefully land the fish with the rising tide, already imagining the picture I'd send to my girls, I'd pulled the hooks. I'd lost my albie! I stayed for another hour or more. The bait had scattered, the birds had flown, and no other fish showed themselves. But I'd at least gotten a whiff of success, and I knew that my tactics and gear were up to the task at hand. My uncle and his wife were incredulous when I returned to their home. I was hot, messy and tired, fishless and yet still somehow satisfied with the day. *** Date: September 27, 2018 Body of Water: Falmouth Harbor outlet and Woods Hole Boat: Shore fishing only With: Alone Target: False Albacore (blues and stripers, too) Time: 6 - 9 AM and 11 AM - 5 PM Conditions: Winds had shifted to NNE and were less strong and persistent; clouds gave way to clearing skies Energized by the marginal success of the previous day, and gifted with more fishable conditions and the prospect of finding new water, I positioned myself by 6 AM on the short, eastern jetty at the south-facing mouth of Falmouth Harbor. As the morning awakened, I scanned the skies and water for signs of fish as I casted my now-favored pink Hogy epoxy jig. I was pleased to note flow from the harbor; I figured the outgoing tide offered the best chance to attract oceanic fish to this location. Conditions were generally slow; but over the course of the session I did have a chance to cast to four pods of albacore within casting range. One hyper-motivated but uncoordinated (or half-blind?) tuna crashed my skipping lure six or eight times on a single cast without touching the lure; this experience made my morning. I raised no other interest from the other pods; refusal was about to become another theme of the trip. Most of the action and visible fish (including several groups well out of casting distance) occurred between 7:45 and 8:30 AM; the published low tide for this location was 7:10 AM. The morning also produced one of my more quintessential Massachusetts Moments, ever, when a dude in the parking lot behind me yelled in his heavy local accent, in response to a seal swimming by, "Did you see that? Was that a f****ng whale?" Despite my lack of success, I noted the presence of some peanut bunker, the bottom-fishing success of a couple of fishermen across the outlet, the flowing water and the occurrence of a couple of half-hearted top-water swirls (bass? bluefish?) behind my skipping jig. Given fishable conditions, there was success to be had here. However, at 9 AM, having not even seen a fish in quite a while and with the outlet flow stagnant, I decided to go scouting for better, again. I checked out the other south-facing Falmouth beaches and Menauhant Beach to the east. These looked good, but for another time or day; there didn't seem to be any fish or fisherman activity at this time. I decided to try Nobska Point, where Woods Hole and Buzzards Bay meet Vineyard Sound. There were plenty of boats working this area, and plenty of moving water; but the sole parking area was full. After a few drive-by passes, I proceeded to Woods Hole, proper, to try to find a spot to fish, per the previous day's advice. It was now about 10:30 AM, and the town was sleepy. I parked the car and started to walk the waterfront. And there it was, in plain sight; behind one of the Institute's buildings and parking lots, in an area I'd assumed to be "off-limits" the previous day, was a rock jetty with a few fishermen. As I walked out to verify access, I noticed fresh blood on the rocks; one gent had just landed a 10-pound albie! I assembled my gear and quickly joined my new friends. For the next six hours, I happily casted to albies, bass and blues. Folks came and went; I stayed, ultimately working my way to the end of the jetty, where I could cast over the greatest area. The albie fishing was slow; the pier was only a collective 2 for 4 on albies during my visit. However, a dozen or more pods of fish showed within casting range. I think I had my chances; these fish were fussy, though. There were bass and blues to be caught, too. At Noon or so I caught a pair of Harbor Blues (3-pounders or so) on near-consecutive casts. These had both given chase to my pink, skipping Hogy jig. I forced them to bite by slowing down, just a scooch. These were fun and welcome on my light travel setup. But Albie Fever had taken hold of all of us; nobody was too interested in blues. Meanwhile, bass occasionally blew up on bait, usually along the seawall behind us. I spent some time with top-water plugs when these were most evident, and I had a nice blow-up on a new surface tension lure. I didn't hook up, and the albies returned behind me; we were all pretty committed to throwing skipping jigs and tins to the albies. The bass and blues just did not receive their due on this particular day. The early afternoon was very slow, but after 3 PM the fish activity really picked up. (Published Low Tide was about 5:30 PM for Woods Hole on this date.) After several more refusals on the pink Hogy, I down-sized to a smaller, 5/8-ounce olive Hogy, and quickly landed three more blues between 3:45 and 4 PM. Silversides and peanut bunker were thick at this time, and tuna were more frequently visible. I kept feverishly casting and retrieving! I had a dinner obligation; I kept trying to squeeze in another cast. It was tough to leave while tuna were showing. Near the end of my time for the day, a local seeking his first albie hooked up. His phone was out of juice; I was glad to take his picture and text it to him. But now, I really had to leave. It had been another good day, and I'd even caught some fish! After dinner, I prepped my gear for another day-long assault. Uncle M was going to join me; we'd never fished together! *** Date: September 28, 2018 Body of Water: Falmouth Harbor outlet and Woods Hole Boat: Shore fishing only With: Uncle M Target: False Albacore (blues and stripers, too) Time: 6:30 - 8 AM and 9:30 AM - 5 PM Conditions: Winds swung to the south and were generally mild; clouds became rain by 8 AM; heavy rain continued intermittently throughout the day ![]() My strategy for the day was to get Uncle M oriented with the tackle in the low-stress atmosphere of the Falmouth Harbor, and then utilize the predicted crummy weather to secure a spot on the Woods Hole jetty. Predicted Low Tide for Falmouth was about 7:50 AM; and the day's storms were predicted to start at about that time. The harbor was flowing out during our stay, but fish activity was minimal. I may have seen a single albie crash the surface well out of casting range; but I may not have seen this. It was a fleeting glimpse, at best. When it started to rain, we shifted gears. After a pastry and coffee at a local bakery, we re-visited Falmouth Bait and Tackle. A few themes emerged. These fish were currently finicky; if color mattered, blue was the current favorite; they could be on silversides, bunker or other bait; don't be afraid to go "big" with lures in the face of refusal; subsurface retrieves work, and if something isn't working, simply change it. Finally, luck matters! The empty peg hooks confirmed these thoughts as customers clearly hedged their bets against bad luck, but I still managed to find a suitable blue Deadly Dick and a pair of blue Crippled Herring-type lures that had the thicker profile of a peanut bunker. At about 9:30 AM, Uncle M and I joined the six or eight soaked fishermen on the pier. By 10 AM, the pier was engaged in a full-on tuna blitz. The catching was not fast and furious, but the tuna certainly were! Our lures remained untouched, but I noted that many of the pier's hookups were at the very end of casts and subsurface. The biters weren't chasing, they were reacting to the sudden presence of the bait. I also observed the contrasting styles of the fishermen. Many would wait for the appearance of fish on the surface before making the cast; others (like myself) were casting blindly, covering water, in the periods between appearances. I decided my best chance to catch one (especially with the increasingly noticeable pressure of my diminishing time) was to keep a lure in the water; but also recognizing that several pods appeared at our feet while my lure fished 50 or more yards out of position. I also dedicated myself to trying a greater variety of lures and retrieves, and so Deadly Dick, Crippled Herring, Kastmaster, Pencil Poppers, small and large surface tension lures and Hogy swim baits joined my Hogy epoxy jigs (both large and small) for both surface and subsurface presentations. The best action seemed to be just shy of predicted High Tide (which was about 11:10 AM). The mid-section of the pier was underwater for an hour or more; it seemed to be an extraordinarily high tide, and there was lots of moving water. The navigation buoys surrounding the offshore reef were variously tilted. The bait and tuna seemed to enjoy these conditions. Deluges of rain and fishermen came and went. Uncle M stuck with it until about 1 PM; we were still fishless for the day. We arranged for me to be picked up at 5 PM or so; I changed out my rain gear; he left and I continued my efforts. Skies were now clearing and soon after Uncle M left, a school of bass exploded on bait along the wall behind me. I tossed my 7/8-ounce Chicken Scratch (pink and green) Hogy epoxy jig into the fray. I retrieved it with twitches and slow falls, and for a few casts, the bass could not resist it! I quickly landed three, 20-inch bass; these were my first on these epoxy jigs (one of the local sharpies later told me that these jigs are killer for bass whenever sand eels, spearing or silversides are the primary bait.) Action then slowed until about 3:45 PM, but from then until I left at 5 PM, things really picked up. Low Tide was predicted for about 6:15 PM, so this represented the last half of the falling tide. Regardless, the bait had condensed, and bass, blues and tuna were busy harassing it. Several schools of tuna rushed along the pier at our feet, but nobody touched them. Meanwhile, I plucked two more bass and a couple of blues from the fray. These were all about 20 inches. They weren't the glamour fish I sought, but they were fun and they all pulled drag. A couple even smacked the Hogy on the surface when conditions were most frenetic. One blue, in particular, had me initially convinced with its airborne attack that I'd finally hooked my tuna. When the sizzling run never materialized, I knew better. What do I have to say about this? I'd worked hard and done my best. I was certainly engaged and having fun. The fact that I hadn't hooked my tuna was ameliorated by everything I'd learned. My approach was diversified and I was certainly in this game. Tangible success might come down to my last available session the next morning, but I knew that this had been a very successful trip already. *** Date: September 29, 2018 Body of Water: Woods Hole Boat: Shore fishing only With: Alone, but now with an assortment of local friends, all of whom shared the same Fever Target: False Albacore (blues and stripers, too) Time: 8:20 - 11 AM Conditions: Clear and bright; inconsequential wind from the north After a bit of a leisurely start, I was pleased to see that I could secure a place on the pier on what I expected to be a busy Saturday morning. Almost immediately, it was evident that the bait was in, thick. And between 8:45 and 9:30 AM, the action was full throttle. (This was about mid flood tide.) This turned out to be, by far, the best day for pier and kayak fisherman to catch these funny fish, but the tunnies were also at their showiest. While I never got touched (?!?!?!?!?!), it was still an inspiring morning. Most of the actual hooking still took place subsurface, and often by blind casters. But the tuna (and later, blues) were simply fun to observe. Sometimes, they were out of casting range, but often they were at our feet or against the seawall. These fish proved to be almost impossible to entice into eating a lure, but their energy certainly got one's heart pumping. I tried to ignore potential bass or blues during this session, as my time was now precious. I mostly threw Hogy epoxy jigs (large, small; bright, natural; skipping or subsurface; fast or faster), but I also mixed in blue Deadly Dicks and Crippled Herrings. I announced my last cast several times; and as I walked to the car, another round of tuna crashed the bait within reach. I fired off several casts from my new, shore-bound position and retrieved the Hogy through and across a massive school of peanut bunker. I saw several blues patrolling underneath. I couldn't trick anything with this abundance of bait. And so concluded my Inaugural Albie Chase. I can't say I was successful. But I can't say that I wasn't, either. What do I have to say about this? Given my concern with casting distance, time pressures, trusting my knots and available gear, I know I over-looked a couple of presentations. I really should have tried a subtle RonZ, Savage Sand Eel or Sluggo-type presentation. My casting distance would have suffered, but clearly, often these fish were right there and within easy reach. Next time, I'll have a broader perspective and be prepared for the finicky nature of these fish. My biggest concern for this trip had simply been their location, presence and availability; I'll continue to build my experience with proper presentation. I hope that experience continues to build in 2019! Pondering the questions of core essence and finding meaning in unexpected ways
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Date: September 24, 2018 Body of Water: Plum Island, Massachusetts Surf Boat: None With: Alone Target: Striped Bass Time: 2:30 - 6 PM Conditions: Clear and bright, with steady easterly winds in excess of 15 mph. The surf was up! As we arrived on Plum Island and I caught my first glimpse of the ocean, I concluded it was simply too rough to try the ocean side; I figured I'd try to find some calm, quiet water in the estuary behind the island. But "Metal Mike" at Surfland Bait and Tackle (www.surflandbt.com) claimed that it was not too rough; and anyways, the bass were on the ocean side! In exchange for the advice, I picked up a couple of recommended top-waters, as well as a bucktail jig and a Diawa SP Bullet swimmer. I still didn't have a ton of confidence when we arrived at our ocean-side hotel. During a brief walk down the beach I encountered a lone angler. I noticed that he was throwing a Kastmaster, and not even that far into the surf. As I walked back, I saw that his rod was bent; he landed a small school bass. When he almost immediately hooked up again, my confidence grew, and I was soon ready to hit the beach and try the heavy surf, myself. Just a few casts in, my 1.5-ounce Kastmaster got eaten by a school striper. It wasn't a big one, but this was my first striper from such heavy surf. For the next hour and a half, I intercepted another 9 or 10 fish, landing a total of 7. They were all school bass of 20 inches or less, but I was pleased to have such action. The bites came from the back side of waves cresting over the furthest reachable bar; from the front side of waves about to crash; and from the wild whitewater resulting from the solid 5-footers crashing into the beach and filling the troughs. Rips through the bar were fairly obvious, and several of these provided better than average action. My goal was to simply stay in contact with the tin; reeling fast when I lost contact and allowing it to tumble along the bottom when I was tight. All the hits were obvious! The action cooled off after 4 PM; I only got one additional hit in my last couple of hours of effort. The tide had been falling throughout. I called it quite at 6 PM; given the clear skies, it was time to get in position to watch the full moon rise over the ocean. Date: September 25, 2018 Body of Water: Plum Island, Massachusetts Surf Boat: None With: Alone Target: Striped Bass Time: 6 - 8 AM; and again, further down the island, from 10:45 to 1 PM Conditions: Overcast, with steady southeasterly winds in excess of 15 mph. The surf was still up! Confronted with a rising tide and lots of mung weed in the water, I couldn't raise a bite. I alternated in other lures to fight the weeds, but the only lure I could really fish weed-free was a bottle plug on top; this looked enticing in the white froth, but provoked no action. After breakfast, I visited Surfland again. I picked up another tin and exchanged stories. I then got dropped off at Lot 6 in the Parker River National Wildlife Refuge (www.fws.gov/refuge/Parker_River/visit/visitor_activities.html). Conditions were very much the same (but, now, with added precipitation), and the weed situation was more manageable. The tide seemed to still be rising. Despite the rain, east wind and gray skies, I found no willing bass. There were plenty of obvious rips, cuts and bars, and I covered a fair amount of water. I had the most confidence in the Kastmaster, but I mixed in various top-waters and swimming baits. It just didn't seem to matter. I know there were fish nearby, though; a seal prowled just outside the furthest breaking waves, eventually drifting away to the north. What do I have to say about this? New place, new water, new techniques; and some success! I enjoyed encountering the bass in this surf, even if they were smallish; I'll take what I can get! I certainly plan on returning to this area. This was a good addition to our trip; but now, it was off to Boston, even if it was already clear that the night's BoSox game would be rained out. Pondering the questions of core essence and finding meaning in unexpected ways Date: September 22, 23 and 24, 2018 Body of Water: Casco Bay, Maine Boat: Shore fishing from the landing's float With: Generally alone Target: Striped Bass Time: Generally dawn and dusk, but for this short trip; whenever I could! Conditions: Variable. Water was still in the 60s and bass were present. Peanut Bunker were obvious baits and mackerel were totally absent. For these reports, please consider an approximated 12-hour Tide Clock, with each High Tide at 12 o'clock, and each Low Tide at 6 o'clock. This will divide each complete cycle into four quadrants, with mid-tides at 3 and 9 o'clock. Let's call Quadrant I the period from High Tide to mid-ebbing tide; Quadrant II from mid-ebbing tide to Low Tide; Quadrant III as predicted Low-Tide to mid-flooding tide; and Quadrant IV from mid-flood to predicted High Tide. From past experience, I know that the best fishing at my spot on the landing is during the lower portions of the tide, i.e., in Quadrants II and III, with the very best action usually occurring about 1.5 hours before or after the predicted Low Tide. Quadrant IV is better than Quadrant I; but a worthwhile fish can happen at any time or tide, especially if bait (usually in the form of mackerel) is available for the fish. Here is a link to a pretty comprehensive site for Portland, Maine tidal information. *** Saturday, 9/22/18 4 - 7 PM Low Tide at about 4:16 PM; predominantly Quadrant III and incorporating dusk Water Temperature = 65 degrees F (guesstimate; no instrumentation available) 4 for 5 It's a decently long drive from Michigan to Maine, and my goal was to arrive in Portland before my local bait supplier, The Tackle Shop, closed for the day. We arrived in town at about 3 PM to the news that bass were still available in strong numbers. I quickly purchased two dozen sand-worms and a few frozen mackerel. Arriving at The Landing, I assembled my gear as quickly as I was able. I was presenting my first bait by 4 PM. Conditions seemed to be just about perfect; a bit overcast and reasonably calm with favorable tide conditions, too. Still, I'd never fished here for stripers so late in the season. They should still be present, but the strength of their remaining numbers was unknown. Peanuts were visibly abundant while I awaited my first bite. Otherwise, my mackerel spoon was ignored and conditions were quiet. The first flurry of activity arrived at about 5:20 PM (low tide plus one hour), when I landed a sub-20-inch school bass that ate a sand-worm suspended under a slip float. It was great to have broken the ice! Meanwhile, my mackerel chunk rod remained quiet. I fish these chunks with a bait-runner reel. The presentation is unweighted, drifting or lying on the bottom. I'd started with my preferred head chunk (seemingly always better for bigger fish, and certainly less attractive to the crabs), had reverted to a meaty tail chunk, and seeing the size of my first bass, rebaited with a much smaller chunk (about the size of a nickel.) At 5:40 PM, this rod awakened, and the biggest bass of the night (23 inches or so) hit the deck. Another flurry of activity occurred between 6:30 and 6:45 PM. I landed a pair of 20-inchers and missed another bite; this action was all on sand-worms. I'd learned a lot! Bass were present; mackerel were not; I'd encountered a favorable tide schedule; worms would produce bites; small mackerel chunks would produce fewer bites, but from bigger fish. These factors proved to be true for the duration of my short stay. *** Sunday, 9/23/18 5:30 - 7:45 AM Low Tide at about 4:45 AM; Quadrant III and incorporating dawn Water Temperature = 65 degrees F (guesstimate; no instrumentation available) 3 for 3 I missed a solid "thunk" on the Kastmaster intended for any local mackerel, but otherwise all the morning's action was on bait. Things got off to a nice and fast start with a 20-incher eating a suspended sand-worm at 5:40 AM, and a solid, 29-incher (and the fish of the trip) on another small mackerel chunk at 6 AM. But then the action slowed, and the final bite came at 7 AM, when another typical 20-incher ate a sand-worm. 9:30 - 11 AM High Tide at about 10:55 AM; Quadrant IV, bright and clear Water Temperature = 65 degrees F (guesstimate; no instrumentation available) 0 for 0 As the tide approached high conditions, I continued casting tins and swim-baits while also chunking with my remaining mackerel. With no mackerel around, conditions were quiet, and I didn't get bitten. At 11 AM, I decided it was time for another bait run. A couple of local sandwiches came home with me in addition to some more mackerel and a couple of dozen fresh sand-worms. I expected the evening tide to be a good one, and I wanted to be fully prepared for any remaining chances I might have. Sunday, 9/23/18 1 - 7 PM Low Tide at about 4:55 PM; Quadrant I, II and III and incorporating dusk Water Temperature = 65 degrees F (guesstimate; no instrumentation available) 7 for 8 Conditions were clear and bright, but a strong southerly wind broke up the water's surface. I endured several tentative pull-downs on the worm-and-float combo before I finally got a real bite at 2:30 PM; the mackerel chunk reel awakened with a scream. This turned out to be a nice 23-incher, and once again, a chunk had taken the largest fish of the session. ![]() But sand-worms were worthwhile, too, because all my remaining bites were on these worms. I briefly connected with one before it got off, but otherwise they were all 18-20 inch schoolies. The best action was between 5:30 and 6:30 PM, when I landed four fish. *** Monday, 9/24/18 5:30 - 8 AM Low Tide at about 5:20 AM; Quadrant III and incorporating dawn Water Temperature = 65 degrees F (guesstimate; no instrumentation available) 6 for 7 This would be my last session for this segment of the trip. Conditions were clear, but there was an extraordinarily strong (>15 mph) and steady wind from the east. The bite was fast and steady until 6:30 AM; I was 5 for 6 in this hour. A chunk produced a 23-incher, sand-worms produced three schoolies, and I caught my first striper on a Diawa SP Minnow. This was a small guy, too, and it ate on a faster-than-expected retrieve. This fish was all my first on my new, LL Bean travel rod; paired with my Shimano Stradic 4000, this combo was a joy to fish with throughout the trip. I missed another fish on the SP Minnow and waited out one last bite; at 7:45 AM, my float went down for the last time, and a sand-worm produced another school bass. What do I have to say about this? This was a short and very pleasant portion of the trip; Maine stripers are just about always good to me. I loved the September experience; compared to summer, there was less boat traffic, reduced ancillary use of the float for other recreational purposes, the days were cooler and shorter, and the bass were still there to be had. This was relaxing, rewarding, and a good tune-up for the rest of the trip. This fishing had been very familiar; the remaining portions of my trip would all be new-to-me. I believe the Maine season had provided 69 stripers to me during my two visits in 2018. Three were greater than 28 inches. But, they were all fun, and I'd like to think that my light tackle affords the best experience in this setting. I left Maine in good spirits, not knowing what I might encounter at our next stop, Massachusetts' North Shore. We were going to Plum Island off Newburyport. What I did know was this; it was going to be rough! Pondering the questions of core essence and finding meaning in unexpected ways |
Steve LachanceRI --> NH --> MI-->MA-->ME Archives
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