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Date: October 22, 2023 Body of Water: Lake Sebago Boat: amybaby22 With: Alone Target: Lake Trout (Togue) Time: 9:30 AM - 4 PM Moon Phase: Full minus six days; waxing gibbous moon Conditions: Rain, overcast with a few patches of sun, and then fully cloudy with more rain starting at 2 PM and getting heavier; northwesterly wind to about 10 mph, 50 degrees. Water temperatures 57 degrees F (+/-) The weather (and especially the wind) was not nearly as bad as had been forecast. A lot of my gear was still pretty wet, so I grabbed my vintage neoprene waders, my modern StormR neoprene jacket, and headed out to Sebago again. I figured that Full Neoprene Mode would keep me warm and dry; and with the day's cooler air temperatures, such a drastic move was not out of bounds. Clearly, the full core (ten colors of lead) had earned a slot in the spread; and I complemented this with a dark spoon off two colors. My first spot was the submerged bar extending southwest from the channel into 120 feet of stare or more. I'd seen a kayak fisherman jigging the end the previous day, and it looked fishy on the map and on the graph! But when nothing materialized here, I continued along the break towards the northwest portion of the lake, bouncing between about 55 and 100 feet along the way. I'd made it all the way to the north bar off Outer Island before my first contact for the day. My deepest spoon got eaten by perhaps my smallest lake trout, ever, over about 50 feet of water or so. Once again, I was fortunate to have seen the strike, because it would have been all too easy to simply drag this parr-marked sub-footer until I eventually checked lines. I set up for another pass, but now with seven colors in addition to the full core. I traced my way around the edge of Outer Island and continued down the bar extending to the southwest, through a couple of waypoints from previous trips. It had been a slow morning; I had to make a decision. Should I be happy with what I knew, or should I try to force the issue and look for something better? It was still very calm, and I'd heard (somewhere, sometime), that the north end of Frye Island is a spawning/congregation area for togue. Six miles and 15 minutes later, I was resetting lines in 120 feet of water while I approached this new-to-me area for the season. I found the break and turned north. The map showed an extended sloping point from the island, eventually dropping to 110 feet of water before plunging into the depths. It looked appealing, as did the bait and the occasional suspended fish on the graph. I had just come through some bait at High Noon when the full core got tight in 75 feet; this felt like a pretty good fish, too! Unfortunately, I farmed this fish out, sight unseen, just ten feet below the surface. Perhaps I had played it too cautiously, but I'd missed a pretty good chance! I motored back upwind and reset lines for another pass. There were still plenty of active targets in this area. I'd gone through the 75-foot waypoint and was over 88 feet of water when the same line tightened again. As I played this fish, bumping the boat in and out of gear, another fish hammered the white "Easter Egg" spoon presented off the seven-color line. After a long hiatus, this unexpected double turned the day. The togue were only 21 and 22 inches, but each was fit and pretty. With three hits in half an hour or so, I convinced myself to stay and explore this general area. I probably stayed too long, though, as the wind picked up and took advantage of the long fetch. I was losing control of the boat and suffered a couple of minor tangles. I knew I was being inefficient, so by 2 PM I had relocated to the more protected northern shoreline. I set the same spread in 100 feet of water off the rocky point just east of the state park and took a moment to enjoy the calm waters here. I really wanted another fish (or two, or three), if only to push the boundary on my expectations for a day on this lake. Plus, I was on no specific time schedule, and I will always hold out for the possibility (even if remote!) of a big fish. There was plenty of life on the graph and pretty quickly, another togue grabbed the deep, white spoon over 75 feet of water. Once again, I flubbed the fish close to the boat; it seemed as if the hooks simply pulled after a long and slow fight. Ugh! I had drifted out over deeper water during the fight and quickly reset lines to repeat this pass. Boom! Another quick connection on the same presentation; and, unbelievably, another lost fish with the leader on the reel! WTF? I hadn't stayed in the rain to not catch fish, and so I deployed the baits once more and worked my way over to the area of the previous day's mild success. I focused on 70 - 90 feet of water (that's where they seemed to be hitting), and just as I passed a waypoint from the day before, I was on another fish. This one, a pretty 18-incher, stayed buttoned and came aboard. I worked my way south, where a broad flat with high spots extended well offshore. Right on top of one the shallowest points (about 65 feet deep), my rod dipped for the last time of the day; Togue No. 5 for the day was just under 19 inches long. What do I have to say about this? This was an excellent "bonus" day of fishing; I really had expected the weather to be much less hospitable. I am pleased to have built on my experience from the day before. I need to get additional deep options; whether it's rehabilitating a downrigger or an additional full core or Copper line; the fish really seem to be keyed on the deeper presentations. The thermocline was a little less evident on the graph this trip, and it might dissolve with the next big wind, but while it is in place, it is certainly positioning the lakers deep. I caught fish in several new spots this day (Frye Island, just east of the state park, and offshore from the northeastern islands). Three new spots revealed is a good day, as is any day one can come close to patterning the bites; full cores over 75-90 foot flats seemed to be the ticket, today. I miss the violence of Lake Michigan fishing, but if I have to tune in to subtleties and light bites, I guess I will have to do so. Pondering the questions of core essence and finding meaning in unexpected ways
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Date: October 21, 2023 Body of Water: Sebago Lake - Maine Boat: amybaby22 With: Alone Target: Lake Trout (Togue) Time: 9:45 AM - 3:15 PM Moon Phase: Waxing quarter moon Conditions: Fog, drizzle, mist and rain showers, persistent but light ENE wind, about 55 - 60 degrees. Water temperatures 57 - 58 degrees F (+/-) The State Park was mine alone on what promised to be a wet and possibly windy day. Still, conditions were comfortable enough as I left the dock in a slight mist with a gentle east wind. I cleared the channel and turned east, into the wind. Water temperatures had dropped just a degree or two from the previous trip, and I expected the thermocline to still be intact. I figured I would troll with the wind at my back while I explored the deep drop off the State Park. But structure on my mapping GPS called me further east, to the various islands in the lake's Northeast corner. This lake is full of nooks and crannies, and I was intrigued by an obvious deep gut running between two islands. This pulled me in; and the I turned around to set my spread. I stuck with the same lures that had worked previously, a plain silver spoon off ten colors of lead and the silver/red spoon off seven colors. I marked many fish when over water depths of 75 feet or greater, but the first bite came pretty quickly and over just 65 feet. It's a good thing I saw the rod tip react to the strike; I could barely sense the fish until I'd wound all 300 feet of core in and the leader was in the rod tip. There'd have been a good chance that I would have dragged this small, 16-inch laker behind the boat without knowing for a long time! Oh well, they can't all be big, and I was happy to have made first contact so quickly. The thermocline seemed to be showing on the sonar, pretty consistently at about 45 - 50 feet down. That's about where my full core was reaching (perhaps a little deeper at my slowest speeds of about 1.5 mph). I circled around and promptly lost my plain but productive silver spoon. Recalling the "bite goes white" in fall, I replaced it with a similarly sized and shaped spoon in silver back, but with a glow/white front. The new spoon quickly proved itself with a 19-incher just adjacent to the waypoint from the first fish. This new area showed some promise! The last fish ate the same spoon and from the same general area; but I may have dragged it a bit, so I don't know exactly where it ate. What do I have to say about this? The southwest points of islands on Casco Bay are always a good place to start looking for fish, so why shouldn't the same be true for Sebago? I'm sure the land was subjected to the same glacial striations, and there are certainly plenty of boulders strewn about. I do seem to be a bit more productive when exploring significant structures on this lake, so I'll keep trying. I'm not proud to have lost some time today to a dragged fish and a lost lure (I continued to troll without checking, each time). The skiff gets squirrelly on the troll in the wind, and it is difficult to leave the helm and maintain two deep cores at the same time under such circumstances. I'm not as efficient as I remember from my Lake Michigan days! I feel like I am making a little progress; I was able to pattern the fish a little bit with all action being on the full, ten colors of lead and between 65 and 90 feet of water. I might as well recognize that this was my first three-trout day on Sebago. I stayed 15 minutes too long. While I'd stayed reasonably dry and comfortable all day, but a stinging rain caught me as I motored in. All in all, this was a pretty relaxing and satisfying day. This fishing isn't exactly exciting, but I still get a kick out of each bite and each fish. And this is filling the "between" season quite nicely as I wait for waters to cool enough to bring other trout to the shallows. Pondering the questions of core essence and finding meaning in unexpected ways Date: October 15, 2023 Body of Water: Sebago Lake Boat: amybaby22 With: Alone Target: Lake Trout (Togue) Time: 9:45 AM - 2:15 PM Moon Phase: New plus one day; waxing crescent moon Conditions: Clear, persistent northwesterly wind increasing to about 15 mph, about 50 - 60 degrees. Water temperatures 59 - 60 degrees F (+/-) With amybaby22 off her mooring for the season, I was in trailer mode and with a hankering for some freshwater fishing. Based on wind (pretty strong and from the north!), thermocline (expected to still be present), access (good!) and reputation, I decided to try Sebago Lake for a shot at lake trout, known locally as "togue". The launch from the State Park at the lake's north end went fine, even if the water got awfully skinny for a section in the channel out to the main lake. I knew the northwest wind would keep me reasonably close. Based on a smidge of 2021 success and some interesting structure, I decided to head over to the mouth of the Muddy River and the Inner and Outer Islands that guard its mouth. I would have to rely on lead cores to attain any depth, but I had rods rigged with 2, 7 and 10 colors. These have all caught plenty of Lake Michigan Lake Trout. Still, I hedged my bets a little bit by staying "shallow", i.e., less than 120 feet of water or so, and I especially focused on about 60 to 110 feet while I scouted for potential fish to vertically jig. Setting up along the western shoreline, I started marking targets and bait almost immediately, so I was filled with some hope for an active session. By 10 AM, I had spoons behind the "full" 10-color line (with a very basic silver spoon in typical Lake Michigan "alewife" shape and size) and a shorter and shallower, 2- to 4-color presentation (with a smaller Michigan Stinger Scorpion spoon in copper and red). I trolled as slowly as able, which into the slight headwind at this location, kept me at about 1.5 mph. Despite a couple of adjustments, I hadn't contacted a single fish by the time I had passed through the gut between the two islands. As I passed over the saddle connecting these and slid into deeper water, I marked some interesting targets near the bottom in about 110 feet. I pulled lines, readied the trolling motor, re-positioned, and set up Spot-Lock. I was able to feel, control, and see my baits (a 2-ounce bucktail jig with a Gulp! trailer, or a 3/4-ounce jigging spoon) to my total satisfaction, but the marks were unresponsive to any of my presentations. Soon, I was back on the troll, which was okay because the wind was really freshening at this point. Now, I trolled south alongside Outer Island and past the reef off its southwest tip. I knew this area held interesting structure and cover in the form of huge boulders based on 2021 downrigger issues here. I had to bump-troll and cut across the wind to maintain a slow speed, and the boat was crab-walking across the surface of the lake. My lines were at an odd angle, but the full core was especially odd and the rod holder was suddenly strained. Fish! In 110 feet of water, I grabbed the rod, confirmed a decently heavy head-shake, and very carefully wound the fish in. I slipped the net under a pretty, 23-inch togue; I hate to say it, but this is my largest Maine trout, ever, and the largest trout I've landed since I left Michigan in 2019. I continued to work this area, and replaced the silent, shallower presentation with a full 7 colors of lead. On this I placed another very basic Lake Michigan Lake Trout spoon in silver with some orange/red tape. Nothing else happened here, and so I changed gears and worked the drop along the north shore. An expansive sand flat here drops from 7 to well over 100 feet of water in a steep but erratic wall. After a couple of flubbed attempts (in which I ended up too shallow and snagged bottom), I managed to set up a pass in over 45 feet of water. I had just set the second line (7 colors of lead) when it bent over in about 60 feet of water. This shallow-water trout fought better than the first, and matched it in length (if not girth). I thought I was on to something good; but I didn't convert this into any more action. Still, it was good to catch some fish in new-to-me areas and with trusted, old techniques that I just haven't used here in Maine. I'll be back! What do I have to say about this? While these lakers would never have warranted a second glance on Lake Michigan (although I would have welcomed them in just about any tournament!), any day one catches two local Personal Bests is a good one. And each was pretty and seemingly fit! I will gladly build upon this small success. Catching smallish fish on the heavier tackle required for long lead core presentations isn't the most fun, but it is relaxing. My joy in fishing cores is detecting the strike by the awakening of the reel's drag system. Neither fish was able to announce themselves in this manner; I'll have to wait for the next opportunity to re-live that experience. Internet intel indicates "the bite goes white" during Sebago's fall season, so I will mix in some white offerings too. I guess the forage is both tiny smelt and full-sized alewives, so I will continue to mix in different sized spoons. That's why I just purchased two separate vertical jig kits, one advertised as the "small bait" option, and the other for "large bait" situations. There's so much to learn! Pondering the questions of core essence and finding meaning in unexpected ways Date: October 14, 2023 Body of Water: Casco Bay - Maine Boat: None; shore fishing from landing float With: Alone Target: Striped Bass Time: 4 PM - 5:45 PM Moon Phase: New Moon Tide: Low tide at 5:45 PM Conditions: Mostly sunshine but with some clouds, decreasing winds to calm, about 55 - 60 degrees. Quadrant II. Clear water, temperatures 55 - 58 degrees F (+/-) I had this tide marked on the calendar. I really didn't want to miss one of the major (and perhaps the last) Moon Tides of the season. The evening was open, I had frozen mackerel for bait, the rods were freshly rigged, and there really was no better use of my time. I headed down to the landing float to see if any stripers lingered. After completing a couple of quick chores, I was in place at 4 PM with my spread; a choice tail section free-lined to the bottom, and a mid-section chunk suspended under a float. The dock's cross-bar was just appearing at the water's surface, and so I knew I had the best portion of Quadrant II (second half of the falling tide) ahead of me. Almost immediately, my float jiggled and slipped under. I missed the fish and my bait seemed pristine, so I sent it back, wondering if I'd missed my last chance for the season. I had not; the float submerged again and I wound down to a small fish. It was a large mackerel that I had luckily hooked, and this improved my bait situation; frozen baits were quickly replaced with the freshest possible chunks. At 4:15, my float slipped under for real, and I connected with a small striper in the low-20s. Success! For the day, for the season, and as redemption for ending the previous session with a broken-off fish. I repeated this almost immediately with a similar fish, but then things went quiet. Still, I was more than happy with the session's outcome. There was still bait to be used and conditions were so pleasant, I stayed until slack low tide (and almost sunset). Floated chunks produced two more bites and resulted in two more bass of about 26 inches. The last one even came on a frozen bait! Meanwhile chunks and heads sent to the bottom attracted nothing but crabs. I hadn't deployed the float rod in quite a while, but this had been a perfect opportunity to do so! What do I have to say about this? With the boat out of the water, work schedules, impending fall weather, etc., this could certainly have been the end of my local striper season. But I'll continue to maintain some level of readiness, because... one never knows. I spent a portion of the evening rigging gear for freshwater trolling. Trout will have to replace stripers, at least at the margins of our open-water season. And I'll be pleased to catch any local trout that pulls drag like even today's smallest bass. Pondering the questions of core essence and finding meaning in unexpected ways Date: October 9, 2023 Body of Water: Casco Bay - Maine Boat: amybaby22 With: Alone Target: Striped Bass Time: 9:30 AM - 1:45 PM Moon Phase: New moon minus five days; waning crescent moon Tide: Low tide at 2:18 PM Conditions: Clear sunshine, persistent southwesterly wind increasing to over 10 mph, about 55 degrees. Water temperatures 57 - 58 degrees F (+/-) Tropical storm Philippe must have scattered the mackerel, because it took 45 minutes for me to land a dozen off Clapboard - East. These came in singles and doubles, and I never got a frenzied school beneath the boat. Still, I had plenty of bait to start the day. I thought Cow Island deserved a shot, even if I'd missed the highest part of the tide. If it didn't work out, I could easily slide over to Crow. As I approached Cow and prepared to deploy a bait, I noticed what I thought to be mackerel about 10 or 15 feet down. After my first pass along Cow went unnoticed, I returned for a second pass through the choicest spot. But first, I dropped my Sabiki and instantly hooked up. Soon enough, I had another dozen or so live macks in the well. Even though conditions at Cow seemed prime (nice current to the east and wind and swell into the face of the rocks), I raised nothing and so motored over to Crow. I'd fished the north and then the west sides of Crow with nothing to show, when finally a bass showed itself. At Crow's southwest corner, this bass chased my mack as if in slow motion, finally crashing the bait on top, but somehow missing. I loitered here for a bit with a fresh bait before moving on. Having now fished all the way around Crow without a true bite, I decided to return to the southwest corner before leaving the area. I managed to finesse my bait right along the rocks plunging into deeper water and got bit! Finally, I was connected to a striper! It was just another 23-incher, but the day's goal had been completed. After another pass, I moved to Clapboard's west end. After an unsuccessful pass, I relocated to the Falmouth shoreline to end the day (and possibly, the saltwater boating season) with a Spot-Lock and chunk session. I was in position with chum bits flowing by 12:30 PM, with the best part of Quadrant II ahead of me. I had time to build the bite before making a decision on when to pull the plug; on both the day and the season. "Spot-Lock and Chunk" has been a very reliable technique for me in the second half of 2023, and I was surprised that I hadn't;y made contact with a bass by 1 PM. I decided to stay and stick it out, as opposed to relocating, based on the tide. I was even more surprised when I still hadn't a touch by 1:30. With the wind building, I decided to call it at 1:45 PM, unless something good had developed. All the while, I was dead-drifting my bait while introducing a steady rain of mackerel bits. At 1:45, I started cleaning the boat, storing extra macks for potential future use, and generally putting things away. Meanwhile, I left two baits resting on the bottom with the reels in free-spool. Everything was stowed and I was reaching for the last rod when the line jumped and raced away. I wound down and got tight to this last-second fish! What a way to end the season! But the bass was dogging towards a mooring and I put some additional pressure on it to turn it away. My line parted at the leader! Ugh; what a way to end the season! I returned to the ramp, a bit befuddled about what I thought about this turn of events. I can say, 18 hours later, that it's just another story to add to a fine 2023 season and overall experience. What do I have to say about this? While I didn't exactly execute well on my last few trips, I can certainly say that I tried to squeeze what I could out of the season's end. There are still some stripers to be caught; just not too many in my local waters. I can choose to trailer elsewhere, or I can move inland and target some trout in fresh water. And the landing's float is still in, and I kept some mackerel for cut bait... so another striped bass encounter is at least still possible, if I so choose. Pondering the questions of core essence and finding meaning in unexpected ways Date: October 7, 2023 Body of Water: Casco Bay - Maine Boat: amybaby22 With: Alone Target: Striped Bass Time: 8:30 AM - 11:30 AM Moon Phase: Quarter Moon (waning) Tide: Low tide at 12:13 PM Conditions: Tropical Storm Philippe on the way; heavy clouds with showers and squalls, persistent ESE wind >10 mph, about 60 degrees. Water temperatures 59 - 60 degrees F (+/-) Mackerel remained abundant in the top 20 feet of water over 60-foot depths off the east end of Clapboard Island. Fifteen minutes of drifting and jigging secured a couple of dozen in just 15 minutes, and I started the real fishing by live-lining a fresh bait off the rocks of Clapboard's southeast corner. Within minutes, my bait was chased to the surface and eaten in about 14 feet of water. What a great start! But as I wound tight, the leader parted even before I felt the full weight of the fish. I did NOT want to end the season on a lost opportunity go my own making! I continued my exploration here without raising another fish. I wandered around the corner to the northeast portion of the island, where another bass revealed itself by chasing my mack as I retrieved it. Still, subsequent drifts with livies and a casted fluke were not met with any enthusiasm. I ran to the west end of Clapboard, and I still could not find any fish. I'd thought to Spot-Lock and chunk here, but without any sign of fish, I decided to return to the area where I'd received the first and only hit of the day. When this proved futile, I decided to take advantage of the tidal stage (Quadrant II) and try some Spot-Lock and chunking along the Falmouth shoreline. By 10:30 AM I was positioned near the Bauman/Brown mooring buoys that have long been a marker of a fishy area (at least for me), with plenty of baitfish in the well to allow a steady dribble of fish bits to generate some local interest. The tide was weak, but the wind was strengthening. My drift wasn't great, but I was reaching bottom, based on the crabs! It seemed a little hopeless, but I also knew from this year's experience that if often takes 15 or more minutes for this activity to build before the fish start biting. And at 11 AM, my line jumped and I tightened up on the day's only striper. It wasn't a lunker (at just 23 inches), but it beat the day's skunk, and I have to admit; it could be the last of my Maine season. So I was happy to have landed this fish! I fished for another half hour without a bite. The wind was steadily increasing; Philippe was clearly on his way. What do I have to say about this? I don't tolerate break-offs very well, but am happy to have gotten another chance for another striper. And with a holiday on Monday, I might get even another chance or two. I am also thankful for avoiding disaster at the dock. As I pushed off the float to return to the mooring, my left Croc got snagged by the cleat. My right Croc was on deck, and my body was in-between. The wind was pushing amybaby22 into the dock (no real danger there), but also under the connecting gangway. I finally shrugged my left Croc off and centered myself in the boat. I was happy to avoid the dock, but then I heard several rod tips scraping the underside of the gangway. I could have broken all six rods standing in the rod holders, but quick action and a lot of luck enabled me to lay each rod down before it was broken. A couple were under a lot of stress (including a pair of my favorites), but I seem to have escaped this unharmed. I guess I really won't know until each rod gets stressed by the next fish or two. Pondering the questions of core essence and finding meaning in unexpected ways Date: October 1, 2023 Body of Water: Casco Bay - Maine Boat: amybaby22 With: Alone Target: Striped Bass Time: 1:15 PM - 3:45 PM Moon Phase: Full plus one day; waning gibbous moon Tide: High tide at 1:03 PM Conditions: Brighter but still hazy sunshine, very little wind, about 70 degrees. Water temperatures 57 - 58 degrees F (+/-). The water is markedly clearer. Mackerel remained readily available right near the surface over 60 feet of water off the east end of Clapboard, and I had 20 in the well in very quick order. With a little more time available to me and the extreme full moon high tide, I went directly to my favorite stretch of Cow Island's southern face. Moving as slowly as possible with the current and just starting to fret about the lack of action, my first mackerel got smacked hard without warning, and immediately over a favorite waypoint. I was relieved to connect and enjoyed a nice fight over deep water. A few minutes later, I slipped the net under my 250th Striper of 2023. I repeated this pass and even threw a fluke along the wave-swept concrete wall. This looked and felt prime, but I moved no other fish, and so I motored over to Crow Island. I missed another hard strike on a live mack off the steep southern face, and that was it. The outgoing tide was hitting the north face of the island, hard, before deflecting over an historically productive waypoint into deep water. As I prepared to position myself for a chunking session here, I discovered my battery was spent; neither the trolling motor nor the bait well pump was running. So much for the chunking session! Knowing my bait would not last long without recirculation, I ran over to the Long Island shoreline near College Island. I drifted a quarter mile or so without a touch or a hint of action. Things are really slowing down; I returned back to the dock a bit earlier than I had anticipated. What do I have to say about this? It's been a fantastic season, and I hope to keep it going. If I can continue to make bait, I'll try to hit a chunking home run. If I can catch any low tides, I may search the shallows for some crustacean-seeking bass. And then, it will be time to go trout fishing! Pondering the questions of core essence and finding meaning in unexpected ways Date: September 30, 2023 Body of Water: Casco Bay - Maine Boat: amybaby22 With: Alone Target: Striped Bass Time: 2:45 PM - 4:45 PM Moon Phase: Full moon Tide: Low tide at 6:28 PM Conditions: Hazy sunshine, very calm, persistent but light southwesterly wind, about 55 degrees. Water temperatures 58 - 59 degrees F (+/-) The hunt for macks was easy, and by 4 PM I was drifting along Clapboard Island's east end. My lively mack was chased to the surface at a northeastern nook and race below the boat. I retrieved the slack line and tossed the bait out with a "splat" in the area of disturbance. The bass was on it quickly and captured the mack from the surface. Perhaps I wound down too quickly, but the hook pulled after a brief slip of the drag. I missed my only real chance of the session. This quick start belied a very slow trip. I circled through this same area and raised a fish on a popper, and I closed the time with a lackluster surface chase of my mack right in front of the landing float. All in all, things were eerily quiet under smoke-dampened skies. In addition to Clapboard - East, I also fished Clapboard - West pretty carefully. I ended along the Falmouth shoreline as I awaited the arrival of my nephew and his family for a quick Seal Tour. (There were piles on Sturdivant Ledge.) What do I have to say about this? I'll continue looking for No. 250 of 2023, but it certainly seems as if the number of hunting bass has declined. This is not necessarily unexpected, but perhaps is a bit sooner than expected. Perhaps the big northeasterly winds of Lee spurred the annual migration and got the stripers moving. And perhaps I am incorrect and will stumble on a nice concentration of fish or two in coming sessions. Regardless, I've got two weeks (tops) left in my moored-boat season, and so I'll keep looking and enjoying myself while I can! Pondering the questions of core essence and finding meaning in unexpected ways Date: September 29, 2023 Body of Water: Casco Bay - Maine Boat: amybaby22 With: Nephew, J Target: Striped Bass Time: 9 AM - 11 AM Moon Phase: Full moon Tide: Low tide at 5:14 AM Conditions: High haze and wood smoke, persistent but light easterly wind, about 55 degrees. Water temperatures 58 - 59 degrees F (+/-) After scoring eight or nine prime mackerel off the east end of Clapboard Island pretty quickly, my nephew J and I began our search for his first striped bass. We had just a short window to fish, but were determined to make it work; we hadn't fished together since approximately 1996, when small bluegills and bullhead were are targets. Our first stop was Clapboard Island - East. The tide was building and our macks were nervous, but with our available time dwindling, having not had a single contact, we ran to Clapboard - West. A prime rocky shelf provided a single, last-minute chance, and J made the most of it, hooking and landing a 25-inch striper, just in time! What do I have to say about this? The biting mackerel remain near the surface, a good thing for me to remember for the season's remainder and latter portions of future seasons. We spent the rest of the day doing the requisite local Maine Tourist stuff and enjoying the company of J's wife and toddler daughter. Important stuff, sure! But sharing some time on Casco Bay for the first time and encountering seals, loons, macks and bass is pretty important, too! Pondering the questions of core essence and finding meaning in unexpected ways |
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