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Date: June 19, 2023 Body of Water: Casco Bay Boat: amybaby22 With: Alone Target: Striped Bass Time: 4:40 AM - 2:30 PM Moon Phase: New plus two days Tide: Low at 6:50 AM; High at 1:04 PM Conditions: Alternating clouds and sun; totally still but then a breeze to 10 mph developing and swinging from east to south over the day; 55 - 65 degrees. Water temperatures 57 - 58 degrees (+/-) just about everywhere. Given a day totally off work, I'd had plans to "Go Big" and try to put something consistent together. If not for myself, then for the pending parade of visitors and guests. With my regular weekend efforts curtailed by wind and rain, it was nice to be greeted by a calm and clear(-ish) pre-dawn. Between 5 and 5:15, I was busy catching fish from the landing's float on suspended blood-worms. With three 20-inchers captured by the camera, my Striper Cup obligations for the week were already fulfilled, but with a lot of potential for upgrade! After that, it was a series of pulled hooks and missed pull-downs. Setting a tone for the day, it seemed like I missed a couple of the bigger-fish opportunities I'd been provided. By 5:45 AM, I was down to dregs for bait and the boat was calling. After a single pass down the Falmouth shoreline with a tube-and-worm (one violent strike missed), I ran to Broad Cove to check out the turn of tide there. Perhaps I spent too much time in Broad Cove. In a couple of hours of effort, I did land a single fish on the tube-and-worm in the cove's channel/gut, and another (23-inch) bass on a 3-inch swim-bait violently retrieved in about four feet of water. I also spent too much time chasing terns over shallow/non-navigable water, as well as tube-and-worming. Clearly (based on sonar), there were fish in the gut, and I had at least five additional violent swings-and-misses. One bent the rod over double and pulled substantial drag before letting go. I am not quite sure how these fish don't find the hook, but it does seem to be part of this technique. This action was generally in 12 feet of water (+/-) and going as slowly as possible with about 65 feet of line off the rod tip. Most of the bites occurred when the boat was coasting in neutral. After a single pass along Sturdivant with the last of my remnant worms (stolen by yet another passer-by), by 9 AM I was scouting for mackerel around Basket Island. There was really no sign of them, but I did find a scattering of them by aggressively changing depths on the Sabiki while I trolled slowly. Whether reeling in fast or dropping the spoon in free-spool, it seems that these changes attract the mackerel's attention. I penned nine prime baits in about 45 minutes, and I felt like that was enough to give the middle-of-tide bass a fair chance to show themselves. I chose Sturdivant as my first destination. Setting up for my first pass in about 20 feet of water, I noted a couple of marks on the screen as I let my first mac back. It was almost instantly engaged, and after a few bumps and chases, was confidently slurped from the surface in a no-doubts take. This was a nice fish, which ultimately taped out at 32 inches. I had eight baits left for Sturdivant, and they were all either plucked, killed and crushed, or converted into four additional landed striped bass. I never even made it to my usual area at the southwest corner. These fish kept me busy further up the shoreline and greatly expanded my area of confidence. These were nice fish, too, including a tagged 28 and a 33. But the story here might have been the aftermath of retiring my old friend, a 2000-vintage Shimano Baitrunner 3500B. This reel has served me well in travels all over the East Coast, but she's developed some gremlins despite professional servicing. After landing the 33, I decided she was no longer up to the task; she was flexing under load and I no longer fully trusted her. So I switched to my Calcutta outfit. After landing the tagged fish, I re-deployed my bait and got hit again. This fish ran hard and long. I turned her, adjusted my grip and lost control of the rod. It sailed across the gunnel without touching a thing and zoomed to the distance as it depended out of sight. Maybe my hands were wet and slimy from re-baiting, maybe I'm just getting old and arthritic, or maybe this was a fish in a different class. Ugh. Well, at least I did it to myself and didn't watch somebody else do it with my gear. And there was plenty of replacement gear on board! At about 11:45 and now out of bait, I went to Clapboard Island's east end to look for mackerel there. (This is my most convenient bait store when it is stocked.) Fortunately, I made quick work of loading the well, and soon had my 20th mackerel of the day on board. With the new limit, that meant I was done! Except not on bass. The east end of Clapboard is a good higher tide spot for me. It produced two smaller (low 20-inch range) bass and several lost baits. Revisiting the best spot without another touch, I tried the west end. My baits were nervous here, but not eaten. Now at just about high tide, I went to Cow Island, looking for my own cow. This was my first visit of the season, and it looked fishy with the tide and the southern breeze pounding into the island's face. I contacted bass along the way, but failed to convert any of the chases and turned hooks into a landed fish. Still, it was good to know they were there, and they revealed themselves on productive waypoints from the past. Those are good spots! I took the short ride to all-tide Crow Island. I didn't elicit any action along the east side, but now the tide was moving out and there was some nice current along the south side. After another missed fish, I finally connected with the last fish of the day. It was a beautiful and fat 26-incher, and I didn't even bother with a picture. It had been a productive day, despite so many missed opportunities. What do I have to say about this? I did go big (10 hours straight on the water and many miles covered), and I had plenty of opportunities. I caught fish with four techniques, I landed plenty including some really nice ones, but was so close to having an epic day. Maybe that will be saved for later. My success ebbs and floods, but without real explanation. Sometimes this is dopey easy, and sometimes it seems impossible. I can execute flawlessly for an extent and then go dry or even inept. And every time I encounter a fish, I get a rush and an associated tingle. I am totally focused, and not much else matters at that moment. No wonder I keep at it. Pondering the questions of core essence and finding meaning in unexpected ways
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