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Date: September 24 and 25, 2022 Body of Water: Woods Hole - Falmouth, Massachusetts Moon Phase: New Moon Boat: None, shore fishing from stubby pier With: Alone Target: False Albacore Time: 6 AM - 11 AM both days Conditions: High tides at 8-9 AM. Super clear and NNW wind in excess of 25 mph on Saturday; Overcast and westerly wind about 10-15 mph on Sunday. A fish could have made a mistake on either day; both were fishy in their own rights. Bait, birds and moving water were all evident and in abundance. The chop favored a fish making a mistake as opposed to shunning a presentation. But catching a false albacore from land is a difficult proposition! Saturday was slow, with just a single, fleeting chance at some passing fish. The bird activity stayed a few hundred yards away, and waters within casting reach seemed devoid of predators, despite the clouds of silversides and rivers of peanut bunker. Still, I worked hard with epoxy jigs, metal spoons (Clark and Crippled Herring), Albie Snax and a Popper-and-Fly. Other than snagging silversides and peanuts from the dense schools of bait, I didn't touch a single fish. A few other casters joined me to get similarly skunked. Sunday seemed even fishier with overcast skies, a more moderate westerly breeze and moderating temperatures. And it was, for super-selective stripers! I got distracted by these blitzing fish, and slowed down for them. Still, I got no positive response as I changed through baits and colors to include a Hogy Slow-tail and ultimately a white Hogy worm on a jig-head. Sporadic feeds popped up, again usually outside casting range, but with at least a few being reachable. I know at lies a few funny fish saw my lure during these, but to no good avail. Sunday's winner was the guy on the end of the pier. He was there upon my arrival in the dark, and he took advantage of this superior position. He scored a few stripers from the blitzes on a 3-inch white Al Gags swim-bait. This same lure attracted a few shots at albies, too. Even the bass preferred this bait raced just under the surface. I may have learned a couple of other things, too. Fishing here was better on the falling tide? I didn't see this, but I heard it a few times. Afternoons? Maybe, but my schedule didn't allow for me to try. Go Big instead of small and natural? Perhaps, but the one guy catching was using a small bait. The Popper-and-Fly (or Egg- or Float-) is real! I saw a few variations on this and a local fishing celebrity scored a striper on this while blind casting. I was in the game when I was casting this. Once again, I left Woods Hole in a humbled and demoralized state. Once again, I am already thinking about next year. Pondering the questions of core essence and finding meaning in unexpected ways
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Date: September 26, 2021 Body of Water: Woods Hole - Falmouth, Massachusetts Moon Phase: Full Moon plus six days; waning gibbous moon Tides: Low Tide at 5:50 AM Boat: Shore fishing from short rock jetty With: Alone Target: False Albacore Time: 6:00 AM - 9:30 AM Conditions: Rain at first, but then begrudgingly giving way to clearing skies; about 60 degrees F; brisk Northerly wind; evident bait This was my first and only chance to catch an Albie for the season; I was first on the pier for the morning and staked out the prime real estate at its end. I carried four rods, rigged and ready with different presentations. I was hoping to make the most of any chances that came my way. Snapper blues really seemed to like the peanut bunker-shaped Clark spoon. Small sea bass, too, as this lure probably accounted for a dozen, combined, over the first part of the morning. They also seemed to like the Patrick Sebile Hyper-lastic Spin-Dart on a 1/4-ounce jig head; these were ultimately torn apart by small blues. A small Hogy epoxy jig (green) garnered little attention, and a white Albie Snax plastic stick-bait was a double mouthful for the blues. Two pods of crashing Albies presented themselves within casting distance. The first, at 7:30 AM and with just a few fish evident, was at great distance, but I managed at least one prime cast into their zone. The second, at 8 AM and with many more fish obviously present, came to within 30 feet. This pod looked like a sure thing, but there was no indication of interest in my epoxy jig (or the presentations of others). I switched to the Albie Snax for my next cast, but got halved by a blue almost immediately. And then the albies were apparently gone for the day. Even the blues and sea bass quit biting. By 9:30, when I had to leave, my other pier-mates had already given up. Quite a few kayaks and center consoles remained on post throughout Great Harbor, but all seemed quiet; even quieter than the rest of the morning in which I'd seen zero albies hooked. What do I have to say about this? I got at least two casts in front of Albies, and that's more than I could have done from home. My baits were ignored, as were the presentations of my two companions on the pier. Perhaps the funny fish were simply in super-selective mode, or perhaps there simply weren't enough around to have one make a mistake... Regardless, it was nice to try for these again, and it was good to know that I least had a chance of connecting with one of these elusive fish. Pondering the questions of core essence and finding meaning in unexpected ways As a change of pace to the daily slog of 2020, we rented a house on post-season Cape Cod for the week. Equipped with Internet access, this allowed all of us to continue our teleworking, but from a refreshing location and with amybaby22 docked at our doorstep. All of Waquoit Bay, the south-facing salt ponds, Nobska Light, Vineyard Sound and various shoals and rips were within theoretical reach, and with funny fish presumably around, I had more fishing opportunities than I could avail myself to in our limited time. I can see this becoming an annual event! Saturday - Doubly Pleasant Date: September 19, 2020 Body of Water: Waquoit Bay - Falmouth, Massachusetts Moon Phase: Waxing gibbous; New Moon plus two days Tides: Pretty much falling from Slack High Tide throughout Boat: amybaby22 With: Alone, but joined by A for the evening Target: Striped Bass, False Albacore Time: 2:30 PM - 7 PM Conditions: Clear, about 60 degrees F with strong NE wind, diminishing for a beautiful evening; water about 64 degrees I picked up amybaby22 from her resting spot in Maine, quickly turned around, and was launching into Waquoit Bay by 2:30 PM. My Old Friend, Strong Wind, had joined me on the Cape, again, but I suspected that I'd be able to find some fish and navigate to our rental home for the week in the protected waters offered by Waquoit. Old habits die hard, and so my first spot to try was at the confluence of the two "rivers" just down from the launch. After a few scouting casts with a top-water lure, I moved to the deepest available water and switched to a white Yum soft jerk-bait on a 1/4-ounce lead head. It didn't take long to confirm the presence of stripers in this deeper water, and my sonar indicated a lot of them! It was fun to be back on some fish, and I took about equal numbers on the soft jerk, a Crippled Herring jigging spoon, and a 6-inch plastic eel on a jig head. I landed a dozen bass into the low 20s (inches, that is) and two bonus scup before I headed further down the bay. I trolled a stick-bait to the outlet by Menauhant Yacht Club with only a single swing-and-miss. I beached the boat at the outlet and expected good things in the strong outgoing tidal flow; but nothing happened here, and so I got back in the boat and continued out. Despite the strong northerly winds, Vineyard Sound was flat and navigable; and as I passed the jetty, I saw some surface explosions in shallow water a few hundred yards to the west. Three other boats surrounded these apparent Albies (!!!) as I skirted the edges, casting blind. After 15 minutes or so, nothing had happened, the fish were seemingly gone, and everybody involved dispersed. I motored over to the main Waquoit Bay outlet. After scouting here with no sign of fish, I pushed against the current and into the Bay; then crossed the Bay to the Great River Channel. From there, I turned up the Little River and into Hamblin Pond, where my girls flagged me down and oriented me to our dock-for-the-week. It was now about 6 PM and I urgently pointed out the frantic birds across the pond. A jumped in to join me, and a few minutes later she was casting a Hogy popper under the dipping birds. I threw the jig-and-jerk, but A confirmed that there were bass here with multiple missed strikes. I soon had a Jumpin' Minnow tied on, and a moment later we doubled up on bass between 20 and 23 inches. It was an awesome start to an awesome evening, as we enjoyed a couple more doubles and lots of action as the wind subsided. The biggest fish got away, and we missed more than we caught, but it had been a long time since we had enjoyed fun, productive and pleasant fishing together. Our week of telework was off to a good start! With the tally for the day stuck on 21 bass as the sky continued to darken, we called it a day. Note, I've been using using www.tideschart.com/United-States/Massachusetts/Dukes-County/Waquoit-Bay-entrance/Weekly/. (excerpted, below) to track local tides and make my plans. It's not 100% reflective of actual conditions in any particular spot at a given time, but it's been a valuable resource for envisioning what to expect. Sunday - Doubly Windy Date: September 20, 2020 Body of Water: Hamblin Pond - Mashpee, Massachusetts Moon Phase: Waxing gibbous; New Moon plus three days Tides: Pretty much falling throughout to Slack Low Boat: amybaby22 With: Alone Target: Striped Bass Time: 6:20 AM - 8:30 AM Conditions: Clear, about 50 degrees F with strong NE wind, increasing sharply at 8 AM; water cooled down to about 59 degrees overnight I hit the water before sunrise, but I still felt as if I were late. And I was, but not totally; I enjoyed a solid hour of active bass chasing top-waters. Bites got scarce after 7:15 AM or so, but until that time, the Jumpin' Minnow worked along steep sod banks (especially points on these) drew out a number of aggressive bass. My first cast of the morning produced a solid bass of about 24 inches, and the largest of the morning challenged 26 inches. Once again, I moved a great number of fish compared to what I hooked, but each splashy show just increased the morning's enjoyment. By 8 AM, the wind was picking up from the north, and I resorted to a swim-bait for my fifth bass of the morning. With the entire day and week ahead of me, I called it quits at about 8:30; the wind was already sapping my energy! Date: September 20, 2020 Body of Water: Hamblin Pond - Mashpee, Massachusetts Moon Phase: Waxing gibbous; New Moon plus three days Tides: High and falling Boat: amybaby22 With: Alone Target: Striped Bass Time: 3:30 PM - 5:30 PM; and again at 6:45 PM - 7:30 PM Conditions: Northerly wind continues at 20 (+) mph; clear and bright; calming after dinner to simply breezy Despite the strong wind and intense sun, I hit the water and set up a long drift. Although a small bass missed my Hogy popper on my first cast, it seemed as though my bait was lost in the wind-tossed water. I switched to swimming the swim-bait, and I caught a couple of 20-inch bass. But the highlight of this session was a nice 26-inch bass that ate a nose-hooked Original Hogy, slow-twitched over the same flat that had produced so much action the night before. I've not had a ton of experience or success with these plastic baits, but I know they have a tremendous reputation and a lot of upside (for me). It's alway's gratifying to catch fish on new baits or with new rigging techniques. After a dinner break, I hit the water again. The wind was diminishing, and I returned to this same flat to drift slowly with the breeze. Four stripers to 26 inches ate my Hogy popper and/or Rebel Jumpin' Minnow. The action died before full dark, as if a switch had been flipped. I'd had to work hard for them, but the day had produced a dozen stripers, 10 of which had eaten top-water baits. I think that's a pretty good day! Monday - Telework! Date: September 21, 2020 Body of Water: Hamblin Pond - Mashpee, Massachusetts Moon Phase: Waxing gibbous; New Moon plus four days Tides: Pretty much falling throughout Boat: amybaby22 With: Alone Target: Striped Bass Time: 6 AM - 7:45 AM Conditions: Work day; clear and bright; surprisingly mild wind (almost calm) from the north; Air temp 50, water temp 58 degrees F I returned to the same central flat. Conditions were surprisingly calm, and there was a good amount of small bait visible. A bass exploded on my first cast with the Jumpin' Minnow and knocked it into the air. When it landed, another bass pounced on the bait, somehow missing the hooks. By the time I'd retrieved the lure back to the boat, I'd already missed five strikes! Strike Number 8 got converted into the first bass of the morning; this was my first pre-work fish since moving to Massachusetts. It was about time! The next hour was more of the same. Concentrating on sod points and current sweeps, I probably had 30 strikes (as well as a number of visible follows) to convert into three landed stripers. I was able to add a fourth on the Hogy Original; this fish provided a cool, visual sub-surface strike right at boat-side. At my "desk" at 8 AM, I noticed the wind was really picking up. I kept my head down for the work day, but it was still uncomfortably windy by late afternoon. I gave the water a rest and pursued other, familial, activities for the remainder of the evening. Tuesday - ALMOST Hookless Date: September 22, 2020 Body of Water: Hamblin Pond - Mashpee, Massachusetts Moon Phase: Waxing gibbous; New Moon plus five days Tides: High at 4:25 AM; falling throughout Boat: amybaby22 With: Alone Target: Striped Bass Time: 6 AM - 7:45 AM Conditions: Overcast and still a 10+ mph breeze from the north; about 48 degrees F, water temp 56 - 57 degrees F. Wind subsided, swung slightly more westerly, and started to crank by 7:45 AM; sustained over 20 mph with gusts likely beyond 40 mph throughout the day Things started slowly, with only a couple of small, half-hearted swirls on my Jumpin' Minnow in the first half hour or so. Then, I either found a pod of fish along a sod bank, or they woke up, because between 6:30 and 7 AM, I enjoyed fast top-water action. Many casts resulted in multiple, frenzied strikes, but still and for whatever reason, most attacks missed the hooks! It took 11 strikes to finally hook up, and I only landed three bass to the low 20s in my first 25 (or more) strikes. While this wasn't super-productive, and the fish weren't large, this was fun, and that made it difficult to change gears. But I did; after having an explosive, nuclear bass miss my lure at least five times on a retrieve, I decided to switch baits; perhaps they would eat a fly trailing behind a popper? A few of them would; the pace of the action slowed, but my hooking percentage and rate increased. In the next twenty minutes I landed three stripers, including a nice, approximate 24-incher. All of these ate the fly (not the popper), and all bit on a pause or extended pause. Live and learn; this might be a good technique for less experienced guests when confronted with finicky fish. And I have to admit, it was pretty cool to see the popper get sucked under as if I were fishing for bluegills! With a six-fish morning under my belt, I was once again at my desk by 8 AM. This is not a bad way to live! Wednesday - AM - Change in the Air? Date: September 23, 2020 Body of Water: Hamblin Pond - Mashpee, Massachusetts Moon Phase: Waxing gibbous; New Moon plus six days Tides: High at 5:25 AM Boat: amybaby22 With: Alone Target: Striped Bass Time: 6 AM - 8 AM Conditions: Mostly clear, about 50 degrees, and quite a bit calmer; winds still 10-12 mph, but more westerly. An expected stretch of good weather predicted, ahead. Water temperatures were down to 55 - 56 degrees F. Things started tough and slow, and they stayed that way; although I am spoiled if I think anything other than it was another great morning on the water. Sure, things were slower; there was little bird, bait or bass activity compared to previous days. In the first half hour, I only raised a single, tiny bass that took a wimpy swipe at my popper. At about 6:30 AM the first aggressive fish of the day chased my Jumpin' Minnow and crashed it several times without hooking up. I followed up with the popper-and-fly, but that, too, was ignored. Around the sod point, the same thing happened; but this fish ate my first follow-up cast with the fly. It was only a 20-incher, but I was on the board, just before sunrise. The next half hour produced decent action. A few fish ate the walking minnow, and another ate the fly. I farmed out one of the walker fish, so I ended with a total of four stripers for the morning. All were between 20 and 22 inches, big enough to keep me interested. Confronted with the first tough fishing of the trip (at least where boat control was not the primary issue), I thought long and hard about everything that had changed, and what the fish might be reacting to. The water had cooled (down to 55 degrees), the tide was higher, the wind direction had changed, the water was calmer, etc. I worked hard for my strikes, and I'd like to think that these fish won't "Fall Run" away from me during the rest of my stay. And did I convince myself that they were tucked a bit closer to the sod, and further into the cuts? Had I really encountered more fish on secondary point areas than the primary ambush points offered by the sod banks? I don't know. It will take a lot more time and experience for me to convince myself that I really know anything about these fish. Wednesday - PM - New Water with a Better Quality of Bass Date: September 23, 2020 Body of Water: Great River - Mashpee, Massachusetts Moon Phase: Waxing gibbous; New Moon plus six days Tides: High at 5:45 PM Boat: amybaby22 With: Alone Target: Striped Bass Time: 4 PM - 7:30 PM Conditions: Much milder and still sunny, still breezy to windy (15 mph) from the southwest. 60 degree F water. I decided to forego the known conditions of Hamblin Pond and expand my radius of experience into the adjacent Great River and its confluence with the Little River and Waquoit Bay. My first stop was the grass-lined point at the junction of the two rivers, and my second cast with an aggressively retrieved Hogy popper was intercepted by a confident take. The fish pulled quite a bit of drag, and I maintained contact for several minutes without catching a good sight of what was clearly a good fish. Unfortunately, this spot was very exposed to the wind and I was blowing into a dock system; I was simultaneously running the boat, fighting the fish and powering up the GoPro. This was too much, and the hook pulled. This was a good, if still disappointing, start. I motored across the mouth of Great River and set up a drift along another grass-lined bank. I continued working the Hogy popper loud and quick, and a fat 25-incher provided a stunning strike within a few feet of the boat. My disappointment waned! After a lull, the bass really started biting as I worked my way upriver. I continued to focus on points and breaks in sod banks; these provided a plenitude of ambush points. Unlike the morning, for the most part these fish were feeding aggressively and with purpose. Between 5:30 and 6 PM or so, I added four more bass, all between 24 and 25.5 inches. They all ate next to the grass or visibly chased the bait out from the bank before committing to it. At about 6 PM, the action continued, but I started to encounter many more slaps and misses. The two fish I caught after 6 were also smaller, in the 20-inch range. But, overall, this area provided a quality experience for quality, light-tackle bass. Once again, the bite petered out and was done by sunset. As the wind died down, I started using the Jumpin' Minnow and popper-and-fly, only to be teased and taunted by fish that no longer seemed to want to really eat. With plenty of action and some bigger fish, I knew I had made a good decision to try some new water! Thursday - Calm...Too Calm? Date: September 24, 2020 Body of Water: Great River - Mashpee, Massachusetts Moon Phase: Waxing gibbous; Quarter Moon Tides: Empirically, end of Flood and Slack High Tide Boat: amybaby22 With: Alone Target: Striped Bass Time: 6 AM - 8 AM Conditions: Too nice! Clear and 60 degrees F, warming and dead calm. Water temperatures between 58 and 59 degrees. I chose to continue to explore some new water, concentrating at the mouth of Great River below the confluence with Little River. I concentrated on sod and rock banks, and mostly threw the Jumpin' Minnow since it was so quiet and calm. When unwilling bass revealed themselves, I followed up with the popper-and-fly. Conditions were surprisingly quiet, with no birds and little bait visibly present. There were bass around, for sure, as once again the Jumpin' Minnow betrayed their positions, but most only slapped or chased, and only three fish ate all morning. Each contact was between 7 and 7:30 AM. I lost one after a long run (getting to be something of a bad habit), but was pleased to avoid a skunk and land two, one each on the Jumpin' Minnow and the other on the popper-and-fly as a follow-up presentation. Both fish were in the low 20-inch range. It really was a beautiful morning; but GoPro battery issues prevented me from taking any pictures. I guess I'll just have to remember it. Thursday - Seduced and Swindled? Date: September 24, 2020 Body of Water: Waquoit Bay, outlet, and Great River - Mashpee, Massachusetts Moon Phase: Waxing gibbous; Quarter Moon Tides: High Tide forecast for 6:45 PM; Flooding tide to Slack High Boat: amybaby22 With: Alone Target: Striped Bass Time: 3:30 PM - 7:30 PM Conditions: Overcast, SW wind 10-12 mph, 70 degrees. Water temperatures increased to 62-63 degrees. The slow morning, calm day and allure of encountering some false albacore seduced me to try to get outside Waquoit Bay. But over the course of the afternoon, as clouds increased, so did the southwest wind. While it wasn't windy, it was ruffled and brisk; and by the time I made it outside the outlet, it was less than pleasant, and there were no signs of birds, fish or boats. After trolling a Yozuri swimming plug around the pier-heads for a couple of passes, I trolled into the bay and headed for Sage Lot Pond. Even though the tide was flooding, I didn't feel comfortable entering this pond; the clearance was too slim, and with the western wind blowing into this area, I had little room for error. So, I simply motored back to Great River. I thought I'd been swindled out of my time, but the bite inside was tough and slow to develop. I'd likely not missed much at all with my outside adventure. By 5:30, a subdued bite developed, and I missed or farmed out an epic number of consecutive bites (I was using the Jumpin' Minnow along sod banks in the more protected water, here). By 6:30, I'd landed just three bass (all 20 inches or smaller), two on this bait and one on the popper-and-fly. The bite dwindled thereafter, and so by 7 PM, I was motoring back home. Friday - "Offshore" Success Date: September 25, 2020 Body of Water: Hamblin Pond - Mashpee, Massachusetts Moon Phase: Waxing gibbous; Full Moon minus six days Tides: High at 7:35 AM Boat: amybaby22 With: Alone Target: Striped Bass Time: 6 AM - 8 AM Conditions: Clear but then thin fog settled in. About 60 degrees, water was 61-62 degrees. Mild breeze from southwest. I stayed in Hamblin Pond for a short session, if only to save some energy for the week's final push! With the tide flooding, I tried the sod bank at the north of the pond, and immediately moved a fish with the Jumpin' Minnow. After a hot and splashy chase, it showed no interest in my popper-and-fly as a follow-up presentation. And so the stage was set for a good chunk of the morning. At about 7 AM, a bird and bass ruckus halfway across the pond caught my attention. I motored over gingerly, and immediately connected with my first striper (20") of the day. It had plucked the plug off the surface with certainty in the energetic, but short-lived, feeding session. I moved from that feed directly to another and repeated these results, but this time with several misses, too. Returning to the sod banks, I endured another series of follows and misses. Again, all the fish I moved subsequently ignored the popper-and-fly. At about 7:30, a third feed across the way attracted my attention. It was slightly windier now and the surface was more ruffled; I switched to the Hogy popper. In about 10 minutes, I converted six strikes into five stripers to 23 inches. When this action died, I moved to the central flat that had produced so many fish earlier in the week. I drifted, casting my popper, but nothing moved. No birds; no bass; it was time to go to work! All seven fish came on the top-water plugs, away from the bank. All were betrayed by their surface activity and birds. My hooking rate was way up in these "offshore" locations (it's a pond and the water was never much deeper than five feet). I love it when the birds can lead me to the fish! Friday - Rest and Relaxation Date: September 25, 2020 Body of Water: Hamblin Pond - Mashpee, Massachusetts Moon Phase: Waxing gibbous; Full Moon minus six days Tides: High just before 8 PM and so incoming tide for the duration Boat: amybaby22 With: Alone at first, but joined by A and K Target: Striped Bass Time: 3:30 PM - 6:30 PM Conditions: 80 degrees, clear and just about calm; water temperature 64-65 degrees I changed things up, at least a little bit, by replacing the popper-and-fly with a five-inch, white fluke on a weighted swim-bait hook, and preparing to replace the Jumpin' Minnow with a slightly smaller walking popper. Perhaps these would be more edible from the stripers' perspective. I never got the chance to throw the smaller popper (which had been so good for me in the last couple of years with Cape Cod estuary bass). Under sunny, clear skies, I quickly scored two very nice bass (24 and 26 inches) on the weighted fluke. Why had it taken me so long to even try this presentation? I have long loved soft plastic jerks, and this is such a common rigging method. Why had I not gone there previously? Regardless, the weighted fluke stayed tied on for the remainder of the trip. I liked the popper-and-fly, but I liked the higher quality fish, the faster pace of fishing and the hooking-and-holding power of the fluke more. At about 4:30, I picked the girls up at the dock and proceeded down river. After a couple of unsuccessful stops, I found a group of active fish along a sod bank. A pair of small bass crushed the Jumpin' Minnow and were landed; a few others missed it. For whatever reason, by 5:30 PM, the bite was off; and by 6:30 PM, we were headed back to the dock. I'd cut the session short (by my standards), but why push an evening where everything had gone so beautifully? Saturday - Super Grand Slam Date: September 26, 2020 Body of Water: Little River and Vineyard Sound - Mashpee, Massachusetts Moon Phase: Waxing gibbous; Full Moon minus five days Tides: High at 8:43 AM Boat: amybaby22 With: Alone Target: Striped Bass and False Albacore Time: 6 AM - 2:30 PM Conditions: Calm, with generally southerly (SE to SW) winds 7 mph or less; alternately clear and foggy; water temperatures 63 - 65 degrees F Even though the previous evening had been pretty slow, I had all day in front of me, and I chose to start at the confluence of the Little and Great Rivers. In the calm, I started with the Jumpin' Minnow and immediately moved a fish at the same grassy point where I'd lost the good one a few days prior. But conditions remained slow, regardless of the bank I fished. A single 22-incher came aboard, and a few others swirled and missed. None showed any further interest in the fluke, either. Meanwhile, a parade of boats went out, into Waquoit and beyond, likely looking to scratch their Albie Itch. At 7:15, it was DEAD calm and getting bright and too warm for my comfort. The striper fishing was off and likely to get tougher. I had my own albie dreams, and it only made sense to take advantage of the conditions and make a concerted effort to find some funny fish. With nothing evident at the outlet and no concentration of boats, and with calm seas to sail into, I went in search of rips, birds, boils, busts or anything else of interest that I could find. I arrived at Bardow's Shoal at just about slack tide; again, nothing was evident. I decided to use my slack time to travel the several miles to the east end of Succonnessett Shoal. By now it was foggy, with about 1/4-mile visibility. No rips, birds or fish were evident, but I decided to troll with the building westerly current. I started with a Yozuri stick bait (shallower) and a Rapala X-Rap (15 foot model; deeper). I varied speed between 2 and 4 mph, but generally settled in between 2.5 and 3.5 mph. It didn't take long for the deeper bait to get smacked, but I did not hook up. Fortunately, just tens of yards later, in about 23 feet of water, this same bait got eaten again; success! Well, of a sort; it was neither the bluefish I expected nor the funny fish I wanted; it was just a very decent and aggressive Black Sea Bass. It would have been a beautiful gyotaku model, but the season is closed, and so it swam off. Since the deeper bait had now been hit multiple times while the Yozuri was silent, I switched the Yozuri out for a very old-school Rapala Sliver in a Wonder Bread coloration. It looked like a sand eel to me, and I knew it would get a few feet deeper than the Yozuri had been swimming. I don't think I've tied that lure on since 1991 or so, but it immediately sprang into action. This particular turn in the shoal, facing into the current, produced at least four similar sea bass, a 4-or-5-pound bluefish, and a giant sea robin. These were all concentrated in about 20 - 23 feet of water. By now, a rip was forming on the western portion of the shoal. I expanded my trolling pattern and emphasized the shallow and deep sides of the rip. I caught a few more sea bass, but as singles and not in a concentrated area. Both lures produced equally. By 11:30, the fog had lifted, and I expected peak flow from Waquoit outlet. I relocated, but once again, there was no evidence of fish here; I set up my trolling pattern again, focusing on the outlet and proximity. Speaking of flukes, how about catching a pair of flounder while trolling stick-baits near bottom? Yes, the lures were alternately digging or near bottom, but a pair of fluke rose up and ate them. Both were from about 19 - 20 feet of water. I continued with the current to the west, finding it difficult to call it a day. Just past Green Pond outlet, I had edged out to slightly deeper water (25-30 feet) and the Sliver went off for the last time. A spunky, drag-pulling blue came aboard. It was slightly smaller than the first, but added to the fun of the day. I continued my troll past the Great Pond outlet without another hit. Weeds were becoming an issue with the slacking tide. It had been a long day, and I had a long ride and lots of cleaning up in front of me. I saved time for one last pass by the Waquoit outlet, but I was done catching fish for the day. Sunday - Peace and Calm Date: September 27, 2020 Body of Water: Hamblin Pond - Mashpee, Massachusetts Moon Phase: Waxing gibbous; Full Moon minus four days Tides: Incoming; High Tide just before 10 AM Boat: amybaby22 With: Alone Target: Striped Bass Time: 6 AM - 8 AM Conditions: Clear and calm; about 65 degrees F; water temperature of 66 degrees What I thought might be current seams from the incoming tide, or perhaps ruffles from the very mild breeze turned out to be a River of Bait from the pond's outlet and up into the main "flat" where I'd enjoyed good fishing at the start of the week. I stopped in the pre-dawn darkness and started casting the Jumpin' Minnow. I was surprised to move no fish. I moved further into the familiar waters of the flat, surrounded by waypoints from previous encounters, and continued to cast with hope. I even mixed in the weighted Fluke and a swim-bait; but all was eerily quiet. I moved to a prominent sod point on the pond's eastern shore and moved a small bass with the first cast of the Jumpin' Minnow. I followed up with the Fluke, killed my retrieve and missed a tap; but when I resumed my retrieve, I got crushed by a nice bass. At about 24 inches, it would be the biggest of the day, but five more would follow. Unfortunately, it was too dark for the GoPro, and the pictures weren't worth saving. But I know, a 24-inch striper on light tackle, in shallow water in the dark, is a good recipe for fun. A few casts later, the same Fluke fooled a fine 21-incher with the same attitude. It was still before sunrise, and it was already a good day! I had to hunt and peck to find the next group of bass. I followed that River of Bait from the outlet to the inlet, and tried an isolated offshore island point that almost intersected the parade of baitfish. Again, the first bass missed my Jumpin' Minnow, but two 20-inchers ate the Fluke, just fine. At about 7 AM, I started looking out for "offshore" bird action. I heard, rather than saw, the first ruckus, and an aggressive bass inhaled the Jumpin' Minnow top-water bait. It was another 20, but still fun. A few minutes later, another group surface 50 yards away, and a twin ate this same bait on my first cast on the edges of the commotion. My plastic bait slid up the line, and it was a cool sight to see a second bass chase and repeatedly explode upon this hookless bait, as my hooked bass frantically fought the pressure of my rod. Shortly thereafter, the sun intensified and the remaining wind fled; with action dwindling and a house to pack, I returned to the dock at 8 AM. I'd encountered just a few fish this morning, but they had been in an agreeable, eating mood. And, other than the very first daytime session of the trip, this was the only session where a subsurface presentation out-performed one of my top-waters. And, I should recognize the multiple owls talking among themselves as I prepared the boat and headed quietly across the pond. Sunday - Bonus Session Date: September 27, 2020 Body of Water: Waquoit Bay - Mashpee, Massachusetts Moon Phase: Waxing gibbous; Full Moon minus six days Tides: Just about High Tide Boat: amybaby22 With: K and A Target: Striped Bass Time: 10 AM -10:30 AM Conditions: A bit overcast, southerly wind, mild chop; 65 degree water; birds! A and K joined me for what I thought was going to be a quiet boat ride on Waquoit Bay to end our trip. We checked a couple of outlets dumping into the Bay for future reference and investigation, and we were motoring up to the northern extent of the Bay when I noticed the birds; I quickened our pace and when we arrived, there were plenty of fish on top! We all fired off casts, and we all had a chance, but nothing came aboard before things quieted. We blind casted for a bit, and the action resumed 100 yards across. This time, the fish had bait pinned along a dropoff from 3 to about 10 feet of water. These fish seemed a little hotter, and the action was more prolonged. K was the first "in" with a Hogy popper, but seconds later, I hooked up, too, on the Jumpin' Minnow. Mine was the last striper of the trip at about 21 or 22 inches, K's was a fun and scrappy bluefish. They both hit the net at the same time, for a fun double! I caught my own bluefish a cast or two later on my Jumpin' Minnow. I'm not going to say they fight harder than stripers; but they fight different, and seem faster. I enjoyed the variety! Now, it was time to go home! What do I have to say about this? This was such a good week, from multiple perspectives. It was nice to have a change of scenery, and it was awesome to do so much fishing without having to expend any time off from work. Time with family (close and extended) was pleasant and valuable, we enjoyed many good meals together, and the fishing itself was pretty darn good! Once again, I "failed" in my Albie Quest, but I ran into some pretty good fishing along the way. The week was born from a discussion of how the Coronavirus pandemic had ironically disrupted my (now local) fall fishing desires. But, I am mostly fortunate to have a partner who can envision such measures, and who both conceived the idea of teleworking from the Cape, as well as found the house for us. This, or a close version of this, might really become an annual event! But in the meantime, I am six stripers short of 200 for the season. I can't end the season yet! ![]() Pondering the questions of core essence and finding meaning in unexpected ways Date: September 6, 2020 Body of Water: Great Harbor at Woods Hole, Massachusetts Moon Phase: Waning gibbous; Full plus four days Tides: Just about Low at first, flooding throughout and then the turn of tide Boat: None, pier fishing With: Alone Target: Little Tunny, a.k.a. False Albacore Time: 5:45 AM - 2:15 PM Conditions: Low at 5:30 AM; High at 11:45 AM; Clear and bright; 60-75 degrees F; becoming windy from the SW With a day to try to make something happen from shore, I decided to try False Albies at Woods Hole. Certainly, Cape Cod on a long weekend day marking the end of summer is a choice potentially fraught with problems, but the stubby public pier on Great Harbor was a pretty safe bet, so long as I arrived early enough. The small amount of available real estate, the limited but enforced metered parking and the known arrival of funny fish in the area made it a reasonably attractive choice, if still a long-shot for success. Plus, it seems that chasing Albies may have become my saltwater version of choosing to fish for muskellunge in Michigan. Be in the right place with the right presentation on well-cared-for gear, and good things can happen. Otherwise, be prepared for a long slog! Finally, while I am not really tuned in to the albies' behavior relative to tide and current at Woods Hole, it looked like I would be able to experience a slack-to-flooding tide corresponding with daybreak, and that sounded good to me. Woods Hole tides are available here, at www.usharbors.com/harbor/massachusetts/woods-hole-great-harbor-ma/tides/#monthly-tide-chart After the 90-minute drive, I arrived to find myself second on the pier. While I could not claim the coveted pier tip, I settled in comfortably on a flat-ish casting rock about 60% of the way out. By 6 AM, another half-dozen or so folks joined the chase. So far, my planning had paid off. I had three rods rigged with a small epoxy jig, a 7-inch amber Hogy, and a slim plastic eel on a jighead. All three offered good cast ability, could be worked at a variety of speeds, and could cover the water column from top to bottom. Early talk on the pier indicated a strong presence of finicky tunny the previous day at about 9 AM, and so things remained promising; this would correspond to the end of the strongest portion of the tidal flood currents, and I intended to be ready when the fish arrived. They seemingly arrived early, as the most showings occurred between 7 and 7:30 AM or so. Most were well out of casting distance, but the pier had a few moments of excitement when the fish got marginally close. Two small school bass and a Spanish Mackerel hit the deck collectively, but nobody hooked a tunoid. A fleet of boats and kayaks pursued the obvious fish throughout the morning, but I didn't see or hear any of them hooking up, either. By 10 AM or so, pier-bound fishers starting looking for breakfast or another spot. I chose to stay and wait out both the conditions and the fish. If the flood wasn't magic, perhaps high slack or the ebb would be (?) I continued to cast until 2:15 PM or so, when my body just couldn't take it any more. The hours between 10 AM and 2:15 PM had been exceedingly slow. It didn't make any sense to beat myself up any longer. I left the fish to a young couple who were just arriving, full of enthusiasm for their first Albie. What do I have to say about this? I can't call it a skunk, because I did catch a seven-inch snapper blue on one of my first shakedown casts with a slowly rolled epoxy jig. Such fish used to represent the entirety of my saltwater experience, which was okay at the time; but my expectations have apparently grown. Regardless, it was nice to encounter such a fish, it has been years since I've seen one this size. With bluefish stocks "down", I'll take this fish and its peers as a collective good sign. Moreover, I may have had a chance at a Spanish Mack. During the active period I did have a "thunk" almost at the base of the rocks, and my plastic eel was definitely torn. But, the day was certainly about tunny, and they were conspicuously absent, again. I fished hard! I tried a variety of epoxy jig sizes, colors and retrieves, but I also spent serious amounts of time with the plastics and a sub-surface Crippled Herring. I've learned from my previous two years of unsuccessful effort that I cannot rely on being a one-trick fisher with these fish; they simply might not be showing, and/or they might be finicky! Getting old is difficult! I seriously wrenched my shoulder while guiding myself along the pier but holding onto the cable rail. I avoided passing out and shock, but barely. And, when I recovered enough to start fishing, I managed to slip and fall on this shoulder again. At least the consultation with the surgeon is already set up! Pondering the questions of core essence and finding meaning in unexpected ways Date: October 5, 2019 Body of Water: Woods Hole Pier Boat: none With: Alone, but with several familiar folks from 2018's Albie Chase Target: False Albacore Time: 8:30 AM - 10:30 AM Conditions: Bright and windy from the North. Some tidal movement, and reports of good fishing from this spot the previous morning. In two words; Bonus! Hope! After a Gale Day of chores, a fantastic group dinner to culminate the trip and reconnecting with A., I found myself in Woods Hole with a few hours to enjoy before I began the long journey back to Michigan. Why not take a final try for tuna from the pier? As I arrived, the word was that it had been a slow morning, but that Albies had presented themselves the day before at about 9 AM. There was a little bait present, the tidal currents seemed to be increasing, and a visible foam line was approaching from the hazards of Woods Hole, center. I took my place on the pier, hedging my bets between the tip and access to the wall behind me; last year, the most active tuna had been crashing bait against this wall. I rigged an epoxy jig and a swim bait. Between 9 and 9:30 or so, a fair number of tuna showed themselves in small, loose groups. Most were out of casting range, but I did get my lure into a few groups of fish. I tried both lures and a variety of retrieves, but never got touched. Neither did anybody else on the pier, nor anybody in the boats and kayaks that were chasing each group of visible fish. The action slowed considerably thereafter, and by 10:30, I knew it was time to go. I was in the game again; but the fish were picky. Someday I'll be there when the funny fish are more abundant, accessible and vulnerable. What do I have to say about this? At least I went down swinging! This session also let me get in quite a few casts with the new Diawa rod and reel, and I expect it will be an important addition to my saltwater arsenal. The reel is super smooth, seems to have a good drag system, and has ample line capacity. The rod slots nicely into the heavier side of my tackle selection and will see action in a variety of saltwater exploits. I also left town knowing that I was on the verge of big changes for the better, and those prospects included more saltwater fishing opportunities. So while I might have lost this Albacore Battle (again), I was not really defeated. Pondering the questions of core essence and finding meaning in unexpected ways ![]() Date: October 3, 2019 Body of Water: Vineyard Sound, from Great Pond to Woods Hole Boat: Maritime Skiff 1480; now, officially named the "amybaby22" With: Alone Target: False Albacore, striped bass, blues Time: 7:30 AM - 3 PM Conditions: Overcast but sometimes clearing; about 55 degrees; anticipated North wind but with a much stronger easterly component, in the high teens for most of the day. Consequently, the Sound was quite a bit rougher than expected, but it was certainly fishable in Woods Hole and inside the ponds. My mind was on tuna, and I'd selected this port for proximity to Nobska Point in combination with an offshore wind at my back and calm, navigable seas in front of me. But even as I launched the boat in Falmouth Harbor, I could tell that the wind was more easterly than I had expected, and that could be a factor in the day's fishing. I was just about "out" of white swim baits, and so I had a pink one tied on. My first cast at a current seam just outside the outlet scored a familiar blue. It was good to know that the fish weren't overly finicky! But I was interested in tuna, and spent more time scanning the sky for active birds and the surface of the water for explosive eruptions than casting for blues. It was quite choppy, and I knew my ability to move quickly was limited; and so I cruised slowly while scanning and really focused my attention on areas within a quarter mile or so. When I noticed a group of birds change course, my interest perked; and soon they were diving on bait. I made my way to the east. The birds lingered, and I waited in the general area. Soon, the surface erupted within casting distance, and in one eruption, I clearly saw the dorsal fin and sickle tail of a tuna! I got two or three casts with my Hogy epoxy jig into the area before signs of life disappeared. I continued blind casting until well after the birds had left, too. I'd certainly been within range of my target species; but I'd been told they were finicky. Still, I knew that it really could happen! I decided to troll the Yozuri while scouting for another pod of tuna. In addition to bluefish, I saw no reason why an Albie or bonito would not eat the lure, and I was not really in a position to dictate exactly how I was going to catch my first Cape Cod tuna. The bluefish bite was pretty decent; going at speeds of 3 to 4.5 mph, I landed three more blues east and just west of the Falmouth Harbor outlet. I trolled almost all the way to Nobska Point with a couple more hits but no fish landed. It was getting a bit rough at Nobska, but with the prospect of protected seas and Albies around the corner, I proceeded to the mouth of Woods Hole's Little Harbor. ![]() Here, I sat, watching for birds and bait. Bird life was sporadic and spread out, but probably more intense than at Falmouth. I was treated to a single, very brief frenzy within casting distance; once again, my two or three casts into the zone were ignored, as were subsequent blind casts. I finally admitted to myself that it was also too rough for me to comfortable fish here; especially given the lack of chances. I proceeded in to Woods Hole's Great Harbor. Here, conditions were flat and comfortable. But, it was also slack tide; there was no moving water and no sign of fish. A single fisherman posted as a quiet sentinel on the little pier I'd fished in 2018; and the only other fishing boat scouted around without fishing. My timing was wrong, and I had a couple of choices; look elsewhere, or wait it out for better prospects with moving water. Additionally, I had legitimate concerns about the wind and waves; if the seas between Little Harbor and Falmouth got any worse, I was going to get trapped in Woods Hole. That wouldn't have been the end of the world, but it would have been a logistical pain; and so I decided to test the waters outside Nobska. The skiff proved to handle the size and direction of the waves well, but at low speeds only. At a maximum speed of 8 miles per hour, I made it to Great Pond in about 45 minutes. With some relief, I entered Great Pond for the first time and decided to look for stripers. Entering the pond, I noticed an aluminum bass boat overloaded with four fishermen and camera equipment. As I passed this group (bundled up for winter!), I realized I recognized a million-plus-subscribed YouTube personality. More on that, perhaps, later! I noticed quite a bit of bird activity in the center of the pond near a "no wake" marker. But when I arrived, all activity had dispersed, so I continued on to a convenient shoreline. Nothing happened there, but when I crossed to the pond's east side, my first cast with the popper was trailed and then sucked in by a nice striper! Once again, it was nice to find fish in new water! I scraped out another one in short order, but when I noticed birds going crazy near the same marker in the center of the pond, I slowly motored over there. Bass were forcing tiny bait to the surface and popping all around; for a few casts, they couldn't resist my popper. When things quieted, I found an even steadier bite on slow-rolled swim baits. Staying in the vicinity of the marker and a grassy point to the northeast, alternately grinding it out and following birds and splashes, I soon found myself with a new goal for the day; 22 stripers. You might recall that my new skiff's first outing resulted in a surprising 22 stripers swung over the gunnel. I thought the season might be appropriately and symmetrically packaged if I could end her 2019 efforts with a matching catch. The first 20 accumulated pretty easily, and then there was a lull. But Numbers 21 and 22 eventually ate my popper, and I was satisfied. Moreover, my skiff had finally earned her name; in honor of my best friend, she is now the "amybaby22"! I'd not caught any tuna for the trip, but I'd had some experiences; and I'd developed some quality fishing during some tough, dynamic circumstances. A Gale Warning was developing and I had to put the amybaby22 away for the winter. The fishing part of this trip was (just about) over. Just to wrap up, the water near the no-wake marker was about 6 feet deep. About half of the day's stripers were caught on the popper, about half were taken on an 1/8-ounce jig adorned with Z-Man Diezel Minnowz in pearl/blue flake shad coloration. (I was very impressed with the behavior of these in the water, and they are much more durable than some other plastic baits. They definitely earned a spot in my tackle selection!). Low tide had occurred at about 10:30 AM, and I'd experienced the fastest fishing at about 12:30 PM (low + two hours.). There's quite a bit of fishable water in Great Pond, and it is easily accessible from any of the ramps I'd used this trip; I was glad to have chosen to spend my afternoon there! What do I have to say about this? "Plans are worthless, but planning is indispensable." General Eisenhower said something along these lines with respect to D-Day. Nothing that day had gone exactly according to plan, and yet the troops were prepared to perform, and overall goals were achieved. I've adopted that philosophy for work, life and fishing, and this trip provides an excellent example of how planning, in combination with flexibility, can be combined profitably. I'd not necessarily envisioned tailor blues and topwater bass, but that's where I could make some hay, and I had the gear and attitude to make these fun, worthy targets. With about 70 bass and blues (37 bass and 31 blues, according to my records) for the trip in less than four days of fishing (and also a couple of bonus fish, too), the fishing was way better than good! And, I'd not experienced a single fishing malfunction (with the noted exception of the lost rod and reel.) The boat and trailer had performed flawlessly, and other than the lack of tuna (for my second year in a row), I'd nothing to be remotely disappointed about. Pondering the questions of core essence and finding meaning in unexpected ways Date: October 2, 2019 Body of Water: Waquoit Bay and nearby salt ponds and outlets Boat: Maritime Skiff 1480 With: Alone Target: Striped Bass and Bluefish Time: 7:30 AM - 4 PM Conditions: Just about all weather conditions. I'd expected to be held inside the bay by wind, but it was generally less than forecasted and so I was able to venture out along the Southside beaches and to other ponds. I started in the protected and familiar waters of Eel River, Waquoit Bay, targeting current seams. While a shore-bound angler was doing decently well with an aggressive topwater, I triggered more bites by slow-rolling small swimbaits. By this point, my supply had been demolished by blues, and so I was using whatever I had that was close; but all baits produced, whether they were white, natural, silver, Gulp!, shad- or fluke-style. If it was about 3.5 inches, it appealed! I quickly caught a couple of stripers and a surprise summer flounder. Things were off to a good start! The bite was not red-hot and I was losing my tide-driven current. The wind didn't seem that bad, so I headed down to the western outlet. I trolled just about the entire way without a tap. After a few casts with the popper in the area that had produced the previous day's blues, I headed out into Vineyard Sound. The water was absolutely fishable, and so I headed over to the main, eastern outlet of Waquoit Bay. I set the Yozuri plug out for a swim on the way there and scored a couple of blues before I reached the outlet. I jigged and swim-baited the outlet area with unremarkable luck and then switched to drifting the outside rocks of the eastern jetty. It looked like there was plenty of opportunity for bait and/or fish to hide along these nooks and crannies, but I only had a half-hearted bite from a blue in my first pass. The second pass featured a surprise Spanish Mackerel. At about 17 inches, it wasn't a giant, and it didn't fight any better than a bass or blue, but it was my first in Massachusetts (they are only a sporadic, seasonal visitor here) and completed a unique and First-time Slam for me; striper, bluefish, flounder and Spanish. I was hoping to encounter some Albies, but there was no sign of them. After a couple of trolling passes at the outlet (producing a couple of hard hits from blues), I noticed a bird-accompanied blitz taking place within the channel. I moved inside and got a couple of casts with the epoxy jig near the fray before it disappeared as quickly as it had emerged. These might have been Albies, but were likely blues. The tide was now flooding hard, and I picked up a couple more bluefish just inside the channel as I stemmed the tide (+ about 1 mph.) It was shaping up to be a fine day, but the surface blitz had me fired up; perhaps I'd been in the game? Or at least at the stadium where the game was being played? Regardless, I still had Albies on my mind, so I headed out of the channel to look for birds or other signs. Back at the Green Pond outlet, I came across what I was looking for; and I had a fish crash (but miss) my skipping Hogy jig. That hurt, but then I could clearly see that this commotion was caused by bluefish, not tuna. The miss still hurt, but not as badly. I spent the next hour or more looking for birds and bait. I found both, but no tuna. I did pluck another couple of blues from a blitz right along shore near Great Pond outlet. The biggest school of blues of the trip had bait trapped between shore and a short jetty. It was a cool sight, and both of my casts into the zone were rewarded with instant strikes. I ended the day by tucking into Green Pond and casting the popper into shallow water. The western side of the pond produced four stripers to 26 inches (the largest of the trip.) I had to tease several of these fish into striking, and that only added to the fun. What do I have to say about this? With the unique Slam, having covered a lot of water with a variety of baits to score a combined dozen stripers and blues, and the receipt of multiple job offers while out on the water (more about that, later!), Day 3 will long be remembered as a fine day. But with only one more day likely available for fishing, I knew that I wanted to target tuna, to the extent possible, the next day. Pondering the questions of core essence and finding meaning in unexpected ways 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 |
Steve LachanceRI --> NH --> MI-->MA-->ME Archives
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