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Date: October 24, 2020 Body of Water: Barnstable Harbor - Barnstable, Massachusetts Moon Phase: Waxing Quarter Moon; Full - seven days Tides: Just about High at first, falling throughout, beginning of flood at end Boat: amybaby22 With: Alone Target: Striped Bass Time: 7:45 AM - 2:30 PM Conditions: 55 - 65 degrees F; water was 57 - 60 degrees and clear. Skies were clear at first with light wind, but clouds and westerly breeze built after Noon. Other than thousands of migratory sea ducks, little bird or bait activity was evident. With predicted winds from the southwest, I thought Barnstable might offer protection and options both within the harbor and out on Cape Cod Bay. Plus, I'd really enjoyed my only previous visit to this picturesque port. Predicted High Tide was about 6:33 AM; I thought to catch the outgoing tide at the harbor's mouth. On my way there, I scanned for birds or bait, but none showed. Still, I scouted a few sandbars and current seams with poppers and jigs. Nothing reacted, though. This was my first trip to this port with a sonar; and I was surprised at the depth of portions of the channel. Several spots reached over 40 feet deep, and there was a lot of water over 20 feet. Reviewing areas that had produced fish in my previous visit, there were both bait and marks with some regularity, but just on bottom. I decided to drift with the building current and jigged with a variety of jigs and spoons without a bite. At 9 AM, I decided push my search further down the channel. To cover more water, more quickly, I switched to trolling. I quickly had a spread of two deep-diving stick-baits as I trolled with the current. I had just settled into a speed of about 3.5 mph, two mph over current speed, when the rod with my Rapala X-Rap Magnum 15 went off; I'd avoided the skunk with a pretty 24-incher! This fish had hit in about 30 feet of water, but right on the channel edge that went quickly into less than 20 feet. I continued further down the channel, almost to the end of the markers; but without any further action, ran back up-current to set up another trolling pass. This pass produced two additional fish of similar size. Both ate the same presentation, which by now I had determined was running about 19 feet deep, 100 feet behind the boat. Both hits came in 23 - 25 feet of water, slightly down current from the first; both ate between 10 and 10:30 AM; and so all three of my hits occurred within an hour of peak tidal current flow. These fish, under such beautiful conditions, made my day, but also kept me occupied for another hour. As Noon approached and I had seemingly lost touch with my fish, I decided to explore Cape Cod Bay, hoping to find birds, bait and bass. In short, despite going all the way west to Scorton Ledge, I found none. I scouted marked wrecks to find nothing of interest. I completed two circuits of Scorton Ledge itself and covered an additional 45-minutes of blind trolling with my stick-baits in 18 - 30 feet of water. I returned to Barnstable to catch the beginning of the flood. I trolled my way in, but encountered more "Nothing" as I entered the harbor itself. The weather was turning; skies were gray to forbidding, and the wind was both strengthening but also swinging more to the west. I was back at the dock by 2:30 or so, wondering if I'd caught my last striped bass of my boating season. What do I have to say about this? Of course, I'd like to contact more than three fish a trip, but this was still a quality experience. I appreciate the validation these fish gave me for my use of precision trolling tactics; I had placed and adjusted my baits with purpose, as if I were targeting Great Lakes salmon and trout, Muskegon Lake walleye, or Reeds Lake pike. I now have confidence in trolling stick-baits for stripers when conditions dictate. After the fact, I received a report of schoolies and small blues chasing peanut bunker well up the harbor, a couple of days prior. Maybe this was still going on; but I didn't see any evidence of such activity. I'll just need to return some day and acquaint myself with the inshore fishing of Barnstable Harbor. Both of my trips so far have featured a falling tide, and so I've been drawn to the harbor mouth. There's still so much to learn and explore! Pondering the questions of core essence and finding meaning in unexpected ways
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Date: October 18, 2020 Body of Water: Great Pond and environs - Falmouth, Massachusetts Moon Phase: Waxing crescent; New + one day Tides: Low Tide at 7:18 AM; no problem launching from Green Pond; flooding tide throughout the session Boat: amybaby22 With: Alone Target: Striped Bass Time: 7:30 AM - 12:15 PM Conditions: Clear blue skies with high haze; 35 - 60 degrees F; Easterly wind building to 15 mph or more; water temperatures from 55 degrees (inside, early) to 59 degrees (Vineyard Sound) I chose to launch at Green Pond because I thought it would give me the best access to the greatest diversity of water. Given the calm forecast and the flooding tide, I thought that false albacore in Vineyard Sound might come into play for perhaps the last chance this season, while Green Pond and any of the other accessible salt ponds could provide shelter and a chance at finding stripers. As I edged out of Green Pond just at the start of flood tide, I was greeted by a mild easterly wind. I knew to be wary, though, of how this wind could build over the course of the morning (whether forecast or not). Plus, the current was sweeping to the east (against the wind), a formula for heaving seas. I decided against heading to the west (Nobska) for concern of a slow and tiresome return trip. Rather, I chose to head east, which would offer a smooth ride off the bat, as well as a return trip with the wind at my back. I scanned the horizon as I headed east, hoping to find some birds or sign of fish. When I reached the main outlet of Waquoit, there was still no overt sign of life, but a nice rip was forming to the southeast of the outlet. I decided to concentrate my initial efforts here. Maybe I could wait out the arrival of any albies. A couple of other boats posted positions and blind casted; I decided to troll stick baits and cover some water while searching and waiting. The rip was formed as the eastern current flow rode over the outlet's deposits in 8 or 10 feet of water, dropping off to 20 or more feet. I marked some bait and some fish, but in over an hour of effort, trolling both slowly into the 1.4 knot current and briskly with it, I didn't connect with any fish. Suspended weeds fouling my baits were a bit of a problem. Before I left this area, I vertically jigged over marks with a Hogy Squinnow jig. Nothing responded in 20 minutes or so of effort. I decided to look for some bass. As I entered Great Pond about two hours into the flood, the inlet was a washing machine of confused seas, and the initial set of channel markers was submerged by the rushing current. I worked myself into the pond, scanning for working birds or bait. When I got to the mid-lake "No Wake" marker, I noticed how clear the water was, with well over six feet of visibility. I loitered here for a bit, casting a popper and a swim-bait. As I decided to move to the east to fish a grass edge, I noticed some birds working, and as I approached, I could both see and hear bass crashing on bait in less than three feet of water. My initial casts with the Hogy Popper moved some fish, but they rejected this bait. I picked up my light rod with a white fluke rigged on a 1/8-ounce swim-bait hook, and the fish showed immediate interest. I missed a couple of taps on my initial casts as I found my cadence, but then a 30-plus-incher confidently crushed the bait with a cool, slashing shallow-water take. It had taken a couple of hours to find the right situation, or maybe it had found me. In the next 20 minutes or so, I enjoyed tricking three more fish into eating the fluke. All were in three feet of water or less, where they provided fiesty, visual fights in the clear water. All in all, two were in the low 20's, but two were solid "keepers" of 30 or 31 inches. By 10 AM, this activity was over. I worked farther up into Great Pond, and even into Perch Pond, without finding any more birds or bass. Approaching Noon, I thought I might find some fish inside Waquoit Bay at the end of the flood. However, when I reached Vineyard Sound, conditions were considerably rougher than I had left them earlier. I certainly could have worked my way to the Menauhant entrance to Waquoit, and then up the bay to other fishable spots of interest. But, I have been fighting the wind all season; and I was suddenly tired of doing so. I cut the day "short" and returned to Green Pond. I was "tricked" into investigating two groups of active gulls on my way in, but in both cases they seemed to be harassing each other and not chasing bait. I was done catching fish for the day. What do I have to say about this? If this proves to be the end of my striper season, I am pleased to have my 2020 striper pursuits conclude with such quality light-tackle fish in such an enjoyable setting. But if the weather and bait hold, perhaps I'll be able to chase them again over the next couple of weeks. One thing I noticed and filed away for future benefit, while the stripers ignored my popper, they did jump on a fellow kayak fisherman's dog-walking bait. I've pretty much had my Jumpin' Minnow tied on all season, but I'd replaced it with a Hogy epoxy jig in preparation for any albies I might encounter. No real harm this time, but it is always good to be able to provide some quick options for these fish, before they disappear for the moment, the day, or the season. Finally, what will it take for me to switch from stripers to trout? I guess I'll recognize it when it happens, but I hope it's not ambiguous. I neither want to give up too soon on the bass, nor chase them in folly. Pondering the questions of core essence and finding meaning in unexpected ways Date: October 11, 2020 Body of Water: Great River/Waquoit Bay - Falmouth/Mashpee, Massachusetts Moon Phase: Waxing gibbous; New moon - five days Tides: Predicted High Tide at 8:52 AM Boat: amybaby22 With: Alone Target: Striped Bass Time: 7:30 AM - 1:30 PM Conditions: About 60 degrees F and clear; persistent and stiff Northerly wind around 20 mph; water temperature 60-61 F As I launched, I was pleased to see that the water had maintained a favorable temperature for stripers over the last couple of weeks. I was not pleased to feel the brisk wind or see the flags stiff on their poles. But, I'd chosen this location knowing full well from my last trip that it would be fishable under these conditions. With the tide rising for a bit, I thought I'd be able to find some active bass along the flooding sod banks of upper Great River or Jehu Pond. It took all of three casts for the stripers to let me know they were still present. A chunky teenager ate my chugging Hogy popper right along the bank. I continued along the bank, chosen for its combination of orientation to the wind and my subsequent drift, but also for the fine memories of previous catches that it provided. I thought the wind and the first fish of the day dictated that I continue to throw the popper, but I was starting to wonder after a hundred yards or more of fruitless casting. On my first cast to the bank with a white fluke rigged on a 1/8-ounce weighted swim-bait hook, I thought I felt a tap. I fired off another cast to the same location and worked the bait with an extra measure of frantic energy; and a nice 20- or 21-inch striper crushed the bait. With two spunky fish landed for the first half hour of effort, I was feeling good. Especially so, since my next striper landed would be Number 200 for the season! I am not going to say I struggled for the next hour, but I did go fishless! I was spending as much time and effort on controlling the boat as I was fishing, so I moved further up the marsh to minimize the wind's fetch. My new location afforded only slightly more control of the boat, but I quickly revealed a few fish with follows and bulges on both the popper and the soft jerk. I flat out missed a nice fish from just a few inches of water that crushed the fluke, ripped out a few yards of drag and tore up the water's surface as it somehow escaped. And then I experienced a period where the fish repeatedly rejected my offerings at close range, or I spooked them away from the bank. I wasn't struggling, but the first niggling thoughts of being stuck on 199 entered my head. And, the tide just didn't seem to be building! I don't know if it was just a weak, mid-moon tide, or if the persistent northerly wind was keeping the water out of the bay, but the water seemed at least a foot lower than I'd expected or hoped for. Much of the sod bank was flanked in only inches of water, which didn't offer much security for any local bass. Still, I was encountering fish, including a couple of nice ones, and I was in a physical location where I'd never developed a backup plan. I had the choice of grinding it out, or moving; and moving about to a different location where I could expect to find fish on another pattern seemed daunting. I chose to stay. I did relocate to another stretch of grass, though, and I started concentrating with more earnest on key points and cuts. With renewed focus on location and technique, I converted my next strike into the nicest fish of the day, and my 200th striped bass of 2020. This particular fish came from a prominent sod point guarding the mouth of Jehu Pond. It looked like such a prime location that I peppered it with multiple casts before moving on. I dead-sticked the fluke in place on my last cast, just hoping to keep the bait in the sweet spot for as long as possible, when my line jumped. This healthy 23- or 24-incher gave a fine fight on my light fluke rod. Now having secured Number 200, I moved into Jehu Pond for the first time. I found some depth (8 - 10 feet, in contrast to Hamblin Pond) as well as several concentrations of apparent baitfish. I casted a jig-and-eel through these areas, and made a couple of trolling passes with a Yozuri swimmer and the Rapala Sliver. All for naught, though. From here, I moved down Great River, selectively hitting a few sod points and banks. The tide was certainly going out, now, but water levels were still surprisingly low. Finding nothing, I moved into Waquoit Bay, proper. I hoped to find some birds on the north end, but nothing showed; and so I moved over to the Child River branch and fished my familiar water there. I found a nice concentration of marks in the deepest available water (12 feet). After missing a solid strike on a Hogy Heavy Jig, I switched to a white bucktail jig tipped with a pink Gulp! mullet. I dredged the final striper of the day off bottom; this was another fish in the low-20-inch range. Surprisingly, my group of fish broke up, and I couldn't hook up again. I had a difficult time giving up, though, and so added another fishless half hour or so to my day before calling it a day. What do I have to say about this? This was some of the toughest fishing I've had on the Cape this year. But, I will admit, I enjoyed the struggle, if only because I got there. While it would be tough to choose a day like this over a hot bite/slugfest, the pursuit of No. 200 and the known presence of fish kept me focused. There was no "sloppy" fishing this day; I believe I squeezed as much out as I could expect. Was this the end of my season? Possibly; we'll see how weather and schedule intertwine. I've already scouted a couple of trout ponds with boat ramps on the Cape as a backup, just in case the weather falls apart before I can return. Finally, the fourth fish of the day, No. 201, fell for a bucktail jig that I tied last winter. It was tipped with a Gulp! mullet, so perhaps that should get the credit, and this wasn't as satisfying as tricking a bass on my own hand-tied fly; but is still a notable occurrence, worthy of a satisfied reflection on time well spent in the gloom of off-season. Pondering the questions of core essence and finding meaning in unexpected ways Date: October 4, 2020 Body of Water: Plum Island - Newbury, Massachusetts Moon Phase: Waning gibbous; Full + three days Tides: High tide at 1:33 PM Boat: None, surf fishing With: Alone Target: Striped Bass Time: 11:45 AM - 4:30 PM Conditions: Clear and bright; 60 degrees or so; calm winds from NW switching to SE; tons of bunker; light surf and very clear water The bright skies and light surf were likely against me; but I had the timing of high tide and the switch of tides in my favor. I hit the beach from Parker River National Wildlife Refuge's Parking Lot Number 1 and walked north until I hit some "structure". Here, a subtle point coincided with a deep hole and a cut in the sandbar. I'd caught fish very nearby a couple of years ago. Conditions were certainly pleasant. Things were looking good! I gave a rotation of baits 10 or 12 casts each; 1-ounce Kastmaster, Gibb's Pencil Popper, Hogy soft sand eel, 1-ounce Crippled Herring, Diawa SP Minnow. I was casting into about 10 feet of water, and the beach offered a deep lip right at my feet. Other than a follow from a very small bass on the SP Minnow, I got off to a slow start. A series of small pops on the surface had me casting the Gibb's popper again, but nothing materialized. Now, the lighting revealed a purple ribbon stretching up the beach, just within casting reach and coinciding with the mild surface activity. I dug out a snagging hook and quickly confirmed that these were bunker. I switched my snagged bait to a circle hook and swam it for a half hour or more, without any action. All the while, the river of bait passed by, unharrassed by birds or fish. Despite the lack of action, I was cemented to this area by the amount of bait. I knew that big bass or bluefish could show up at any time; I wouldn't want to miss that. Having lost some time to live-lining the pogy, I resumed my casting. It was almost impossible to run a lure through the school of menhaden without snagging one. When I was able to do so, my Kastmaster got eaten by the bunker multiple times. I eventually switched to the Crippled Herring jig with a single hook, worked slowly beneath the mass of bait. This worked, too, as I landed three small stripers in the 20 minutes surrounding high tide. I may have missed a couple, too, because I'd become shy about setting the hook with so much contact with the bunker. I didn't want to lose any more time to fighting and handling them. All three stripers came from the stretch of water between the river of bait and shore. The last one was accompanied by a bigger (still low-20-inch-range) companion. That was a a neat sight in the crystal clear water. After that flurry of action, the bass vanished; and the pogies continued their journey to the south. At about 2:30, an hour after high tide, I decided to relocate and try to find some more fish. I took the slow drive to Parking Lot Number 6. Surveying the beach, I decided to go south, because I could see the beach draining into some white water. By the time I got there, the water was too shallow for my liking. After a few casts, I continued my walk south (just about to the Parking Lot Number 7 access point) until I could cast around some rock structure being revealed by the receding tide. I alternated between the Gibbs pencil popper and bottom lures; they worked equally well (producing nothing.) I hit a couple of cuts on my way back to Lot 6, but only succeeded in losing my Crippled Herring to an unexpected spot of sticky bottom. This stretch of beach was quite a bit shallower and less steep than my initial location; I suspect they fish differently and produce under varying conditions. I may have to figure all that out. What do I have to say about this? Besides enjoying a throughly beautiful day, I was able to halve the difference to my current goal of landing 200 Stripers this season. With three more to go, I might even get there, although I understand and appreciate Xeno's Paradox... Twenty dollars for a year of access to Plum Island (and other federal lands) seems like an excellent deal, too. I'll be back, with or without fishing gear! Pondering the questions of core essence and finding meaning in unexpected ways |
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