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Date: February 12, 2023 Body of Water: Worthley Pond - Peru, Maine Boat: None, Ice-fishing With: Alone Target: Trout Time: 9 AM - 3 PM Conditions: Clear and generally calm with just a little bit of WSW breeze at times; 19 - 42 degrees. Over a foot of solid ice. My traps were set by 9 AM. It had been a bit of a drive, and I'd gone past many trout opportunities on my way there, but I was set up in a spot for which I had high hopes. This part of Worthley Pond (Peru) offered an inlet stream, a small point, a delta, and a sharp break into the lake's basin. Plus, I'd caught a few trout here on the troll in my late Fall efforts of 2022. Some frozen holes indicated others had thought the same, but I was alone for the day. Other groups were scattered around the lake, but especially clustered around obvious points. My first three holes were concentrated on the most obvious features, and my smelt swam about half-way to bottom in 9, 16, and 25 feet of water. I placed my last two traps to the south and west, with one in just 5 feet and the last in 42 feet. Once again, I was surprised by the lack of action by the time all traps were set. I drilled a few more holes and used the sonar to look for fish. The only sign of life was right along bottom in about 32 feet. I pulled a nearby trap, but these fish did not respond positively to my lure. My next move was to place a smelt in their face, but that never resulted in any action, either. I continued to poke around, adjust and move my traps. From 2 to 40 feet down, I had it covered. I had just moved one trap from the top of the delta to the northern edge when the flag sprang to life. Once again, an active approach on the ice paid off. I was pleased to see line steadily spooling off the trap as I approached. I knelt, grabbed the line and immediately came tight. It wasn't heavy, but I was still happy with landing my targeted quarry, even if it was only 14 inches long. I continued my adjustments and re-located a couple of traps to this area. There was a promising and steep drop-off into 30 feet of water very nearby, and I really believed a smelt hanging there would be very visible. I was visited around 1 PM by a local who was fishing across the lake and to the south. He reported that the lake was typically slow in February, and any action was good action. He'd taken a brookie in shallow water at a stream outlet in the early morning, but had otherwise skunked. He said I was in a good spot, though, as the largest brown he'd ever seen from the lake (13.5 pounds!) was caught where I was set up. (Who knows how long ago?) I wanted more action, but I was more than okay with waiting a big fish out. I made sure my smelt were large and active and let them do their work. Unfortunately, the rest of the day proved to be slow, and I didn't get another flag by the time I left. What do I have to say about this? Yes, it was slow, but that single flag from a small fish made all the difference! I finally caught a Maine trout through the ice. I hope there are many more! Plus, it was a wonderfully comfortable day to simply be outdoors. My local friend also revealed that this is a productive perch lake; that may have been the activity I saw on the sonar. He said they get to a good size, and maybe I'll add some bottom bouncers and Gulp! to the tackle bag when next I visit during the soft water season. Pondering the questions of core essence and finding meaning in unexpected ways
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Date: February 5, 2023 Body of Water: Upper Range Pond - Poland, Maine Moon Phase: Full Moon Boat: None, this was ice fishing With: P and N, local friends Target: Trout, but happy to accept anything Time: 11 AM - 3:45 PM Conditions: A day after a historic cold front, including local temperatures down to -20 degrees F or so the day before; mixed clouds and sun; generally mild southerly wind and 20 - 32 degrees. About 11 inches of ice and a fair number of folks out fishing! Winter was late to arrive this season, and other than having my gear prepped and ready to go, I hadn't really even thought of ice fishing until after the passage of this most recent cold front. I figured the two nights below zero and daily highs in single digits had firmed up the ice, and I found a solid 11 inches on Upper Range ("Rang") Pond. I've fished this attractive pond three times before from my boats, and have had some success each time. A two-story fishery with a variety of trout species and reasonable access, it's a popular choice for "early" ice. There was a vague plan that a couple of local friends, P and N, would join me. Having picked up a couple of dozen smelt at Sebago Bait, I was greeted at the access by N, his wife J, and their dog "Tek". The narrows between the lake proper and the launch was crowded with tip-ups (N and J had caught a fine brookie through the ice here in 2022), and we saw a group with kids running between flags. We continued our walk past a small island. I knew a rocky and weedy reef stretched off this structure, and I'd caught trout on the troll in this area. It seemed like a good place to start for my inaugural ice adventure here and for 2023! By the crack of 11 AM, my five traps were set. There'd been no real sense in starting earlier, it was still cold and a bit breezy! I had a couple of traps in 5 or 6 feet of water, one nearby in 16, and two others near the reef break in 10 and 21 feet. A lively smelt swam beneath each trap, and I was mildly surprised to not have experienced any action by the time these were set. Meanwhile, N and J set their allotted traps with native shiners nearby. We'd saved one hole for jigging. We set up in the local "basin" of 21 feet. I had two fish swim by, right along bottom, but these showed no interest in the flashing spoon-and-smelt-head. Unfortunately, we saw nothing suspended. Based on this, after 15 minutes, I placed my deepest trap bait right on bottom. And then we waited for a while. Nothing happened. P found us and took over jig duty. Nothing happened. All the while, Tek demanded my attention and retrieved his rubber throw toy over and over and over. At about 12:30, having drilled and scouted additional holes, checking and adjusting all baits and having moved a couple of traps to the other (inside) edge of the reef into about 12 feet of water, the work paid off. FLAG! One of these new locations had resulted in some action. Quite a bit of line had been taken off, but I was disappointed to find nobody home. As I re-set the bait, a fish ate my descending smelt out of my hand. After a brief run, it dropped the bait again. Oh well, I had plenty of bait, and a new smelt went down the hole. Shortly thereafter, the same flag popped again. This time, the spool was turning, and I came tight to a fish. Soon enough, I had color at the hole. It wasn't my desired trout, but rather a 13 or 14-inch largemouth bass. Good enough, this was my first fish of 2023, and my first ever largemouth bass on a smelt! For a while, this area was hot! I added a third trap to the vicinity to try to take the most advantage. Ultimately, I landed three largemouths between about 13 and 15 inches out of a dozen or more flags. The action was concentrated in two waves around 1 and 3 PM. Some were just simple drops, but a few took a lot of line before doing so, and I felt the weight of two other fish before they came unbuttoned. All the while, only two other traps sprang to life, and each was just a drive-by. I took some crap from the group for harassing bass when we were trout fishing, but was I really supposed to abandon this area when virtually nothing else was going on? For our group, or the others within range, too? What do I have to say about this? With a couple of new fishing buddies, solid ice, moderating temperatures and plenty of action, this was a good outing! While we didn't find the trout we'd hoped for, when that flag flies, for a few moments, one thinks it could really be ... anything! Especially when the spool was turning at a steady clip, I couldn't help but remember fine trout from the past. All the gear worked, too, with no problems. Standing on the ice and walking 15,000 steps left me a bit stiff and sore. But that's a small price for some quality time on the water. Plus, I was reminded several times; I now live in Maine. The setting was beautiful, and the "crowd" was pretty inconsequential. I've got lots of learning to do, but it should be a pleasant experience for me. Pondering the questions of core essence and finding meaning in unexpected ways Date: February 19-21, 2022 Body of Water: Newfound Lake, New Hampshire; access at Wellington State Park Moon Phase: Waning gibbous moon Boat: None - ice fishing With: A Target: Lakers (Togue) and Cusk Time: Various Conditions: Over a foot of solid ice. Polar plunge after a wet warm front, but ameliorating as the weekend progressed. In what has become something of a tradition, we hit New Hampshire's Newfound Lake on President's Day weekend. After some modest success there in 2020 (see www.numenonfunfishing.com/numenonfunfishing/newfound-lake), and having figured out the logistics of lodging, bait, access, and potentially productive structure within walking distance, I looked forward to some lake trout success. Plus, after a year of thinking about it, I was equipped to tackle a new-to-me fishing experience. I was going to target the freshwater cod variously known as cusk, ling, lawyer, burbot, eelpout and other monikers by soaking a half-dozen baits overnight, each night of our stay. Saturday, February 19 1 - 4:30 PM 22-24 degrees F and ranging from clear and sunny to white-out snow squalls. Fortunately, the wind was generally mild and conditions were quite comfortable for the temperature. After packing and enjoying the leisurely drive into the White Mountains, I struck out at Bridgewater Convenience Store; they had no bait! Fortunately, we called ahead to Bristol's Newfound Sales, which offered smelt, shiners and suckers. It was only a few miles out of our way, and I left there with 18 shiners. I'd have preferred smelt, but the available selection was way too small to be of interest to deepwater lake trout. I also picked up some affirmation that successful cusk fishing in my area of choice was not a pipe dream; rocks in 15-45 feet of water appeared to be a good starting point. A joined me for this session, and so I had my work cut out for me; four tip-ups plus my bonus set of 6 cusk sticks. I spread the tip-ups between 27 and 95 feet of water, with baits set very near bottom, looking for togue. Meanwhile, I set the cusk sticks right on bottom (as required by NH law) in depths ranging from 13 to 47 feet. Based on the shoreline, I expected there to be plenty of rocks strewn about the bottom in this area, and based on my GPS mapping, each set was placed along/at the base of a steep drop. I was trying to fish with intention! I didn't expect any action on the cusk sticks during the day, but I sure hoped to find some trout with my tip-ups. Shortly after everything was set, our shallowest tip-up sprang to life; we seemed to be off to a good start. Unfortunately, it was a drive-by. Something had grabbed the shiner from behind and pulled off just a couple of feet of line. Still, I re-set the trap with some hope and confidence. All the lakers I've caught on this lake have been in over 90 feet of water, and so my deepest trap stayed put. But I moved our mid-depth sets about, hoping to find some active fish. When this failed to work, I pulled one trap and started jigging with a shiner-tipped bucktail. I pulled a couple of fish from the bottom (over 90 feet down), but each of these just faded away instead of biting. As usual, the Newfound Lake trout were proving to be finicky. A was getting cold, and so I slowly pulled traps while she prepared to walk off the ice. I lingered behind a bit, trying to will one of my flags to fly; and when that didn't work, I dawdled my way back, but first checking each cusk bait and covering the stick and hole with fluffy ice chips for insulation. It was going to get cold overnight, and I didn't want the sticks to get totally frozen in. Sunday, February 20, 2022 8:30 AM - 3:30 PM 6 degrees F but warming to about 26 degrees; generally cloudy but with some sun, and (fortunately) minimal, inconsistent wind I started the day alone. After setting my two tip-ups, in 13 and 89 feet of water (again, with some deliberate intention of placement), I checked my cusk sticks. My primary concern for these had been having the stick itself freeze solid to the ice. This wasn't an issue at all; each came free easily after I found it under the insulating snow. However, the holes themselves were stiffly frozen; they required more chipping with a scoop than I had expected. And I certainly hadn't expected the line to freeze so strongly to the hole's edge. Extracting these was a bit more work than I had imagined. Still, it was pleasant enough work, and I had my tip-ups working for me while I focused on this. My first five sticks came up empty! Three or four of them had come back without bait, to boot. That offered some hope that there'd been some fish activity overnight. I certainly hadn't hooked my shiners, live or dead, daintily. Then again, I'm not sure I'd ever soaked a bait for 16 hours or more. I wasn't exactly confident when I approached my last (sixth) stick in about 37 feet of water. But I could tell immediately upon picking up the line that I had a fish; and quick enough, a 15-inch cusk slid through the hole, my first ever! It was just a small guy, but it was still "success"! Now I could concentrate on the lakers! By the time A joined me at about 1 PM, I'd drilled a bunch of holes. I'd scanned/jigged/fished depths from 40 to 96 feet, and I'd moved my tip-ups about, either horizontally to new locations, or adjusting depths by raising/lowering the baits. I had a couple more visible rejections on the sonar (I was now jigging a Swedish Pimple), and I'd marked an abundance of "bait" near bottom in 72 feet of water. With A now on the ice, I added a couple more tip-ups; and eventually moved a couple of traps to new, deep water areas. But nothing budged, and when the wind picked up a bit and chilled A, I again slowly started to pull traps and check cusk-bait settings. The wind had been taken out of my laker sails, but I still had hope for some success with the cod; and since the night would not be as cold, perhaps the next morning's cusk adventure would be a bit easier, at least on my hands! Monday, February 21, 2022 8:30 - 9:30 AM 24 degrees, overcast and calm It was a bit chillier than forecast, but still pleasant on the ice. I dressed and traveled lighter than usual as A joined me to check and gather the cusk sticks. I moved ahead to release the sticks and open the holes, and by the time I'd done that, A caught up to enjoy the fun. My first set was the deepest of the day at a tad over 40 feet deep. This one came up empty, and the bait appeared to be unmolested. But I instantly detected a fish on the second in about 30 feet. A witnessed all the action as I pulled my largest ever ling through the ice. At perhaps 18 inches, it was no giant, but it was certainly heavier (and darker) than the previous day's specimen. Although repulsed by the beady-eyed, squirmy, slippery 'pout, A was a good sport in documenting the action. Despite her love of cod, apparently that does not extend to the burbot; and so this fine fish was released. My shallowest trap (13 feet) was stripped of bait, as was my penultimate in about 37. But in between, my 27-foot stick yielded a smallish cusk. What a day! And, my last trip (41 feet) yielded another 18-incher. I'd batted 0.500 for the day, and 0.333 for the trip. I'm not going to say that this was a destination-worthy experience, but it had certainly added value to my otherwise fruitless efforts. Plus, how does one experience with a new species and technique? Our fishing was done, and I was bushed. I'd logged over 30,000 steps on the ice in less than 48 hours. It was time to head home. What do I have to say about this? I'll admit this; I am disappointed that I was unable to trigger any bites from lake trout! I'd like to think that my 2020 success on this pleasant lake was not a first-timers' fluke. Smelt in lieu of shiners might have helped, but there certainly wasn't a ton of activity below the ice. Having a sonar is awesome for ice fishing, and seeing fish on the screen leads to additional catches, no doubt. But not seeing fish is helpful, too. It's just a little more difficult to accept. I was just unable to expand my efforts enough to find any local fish. It's difficult, too, to learn a lake through the ice. I do appreciate the quiet scenery this lake affords, and I've got some time and effort invested in this fishery. I think I need to visit in the summer, when the lakers will be constrained to the bottom, and try some trolling. Perhaps that will reveal some of their whereabouts and habits. And if I get skunked again? I'll have had another pleasant day on the water and have added some more info for future decisions. Ah, but the cusk! New Hampshire makes these fish accessible by allowing six sticks that need to be checked only once per 24 hours. Since these are nocturnal fish, that makes an overnight soak from the comfort of a bed possible. (In Maine, each trap has to be checked every hour, and that's not happening for me at night!) And, it's an added value, bonus endeavor. Why not give it a shot? What I've learned about this fishery and my primary motivation came from these New Hampshire websites: www.wildlife.state.nh.us/fishing/cusk-fishing.html and www.wildlife.state.nh.us/pubs/documents/samples/winter-cusk.pdf. This recent event didn't hurt, either - www.onthewater.com/state-record-burbot-cusk-caught-in-new-hampshire! My initial interest in these fish was for gyotaku. I'm concerned that they are too slimy and their scales are too small to make for an interesting print. However, if I ever get a larger specimen, I shall certainly give it a try. Finally, special thanks to good friend T, who crafted my sticks to my specifications. They are way too nice to treat them the way they will be abused. But they put up some Hall of Fame numbers in their debut, and I suspect they shall be more than serviceable for quite some time! Pondering the questions of core essence and finding meaning in unexpected ways Date: February 12, 2022 Body of Water: Trickey Pond - Naples, Maine Moon Phase: Full Moon minus four days; waxing gibbous moon Boat: None - Ice fishing With: A Target: Trout or Landlocked Salmon Time: 10 AM - 1 PM Conditions: Increasing sun with some gusty southerly wind; 45-50 degrees F after a warm night; slow going with lots of sloppy slush on the ice I wanted to try this pond based on known access, the presence of splake trout, and proximity to home. At just over 300 acres, Trickey is large enough to be interesting, but small enough to potentially figure out. After grabbing some bait at Sebago Bait and Tackle, we drove north to the access point. I was surprised to find a dozen or so rigs filling the parking lot; others had the same idea, and there's clearly some interest in this fishery. I found a spot at the margins of the access and we hit the ice. About half the people were out over the deep basin; the others were spread along the shoreline to the right. Since I wanted to try a variety of depths, we went along this shoreline. Having passed a couple of groups, the snow and slush got deeper and we bogged down. I set a line of tip-ups from 6 feet of water right against shore to about 48 feet of water. I couldn't really go any deeper without infringing upon a pelagic group's set of traps. With traps set at 6, 10, 30, 40 and 48 feet, I drilled a pair of holes for jigging at 21 and 32 feet. Most were set with the smelt half-way down; for the deepest, I placed the smelt just a few feet under the ice. Other than moving the shallowest out to 14 feet about half-way through the session, this is where we stayed. I adjusted the depths on various traps and maintained lively smelts. The slush was just too much to try to move around, very much, and A's feet were already wet, so I knew we wouldn't last long. Just as I got A set for jigging in 21 feet, the 30-foot flag flew. A drive-by pulled about 10 feet of line off the spool before dropping the smelt. I tipped a horizontal jig with a lightly-hooked smelt and jigged in 32 feet. After tapping bottom a few times and raising my bait, a fish moved in almost immediately. I raised this fish to about 20 feet down before it struck. But it simply plucked the smelt off my hook and faded away. Shortly thereafter, A got hit a few cranks off the bottom. But the fish came off before she saw it. We'd struck out; we would end up leaving the ice with no further action, skunked. What do I have to say about this? The slush was a major hindrance, but the warmth and sun was the ticket to get A out. It was a great, comfortable trip, if one can overlook the debilitating slush conditions. And we had our chances; the line between a skunk and some success is pretty fine. Clearly we were not over a lot of fish and so I doubt that we had experienced the best of Trickey Pond. With a little better luck, we could have scored. Despite the skunk, I liked this pond and will return. Pondering the questions of core essence and finding meaning in unexpected ways Date: February 6, 2022 Body of Water: Sebago Lake (Station Landing at south end), Maine Moon Phase: New Moon plus five days; waxing crescent moon Boat: None, Ice-fishing With: Alone Target: Lakers (Togue) Time: 6:30 AM - 1:00 PM Conditions: Clear, calm and bright; about -1 to 20 degrees F; just over one foot of ice I confirmed at Sebago Bait and Tackle that suckers were the bait of choice for Sebago Lake togue, and that the Station Landing at the lake's south end was a decent place to try. This was the best access point for the lake, but it was still a haul out to the preferred depths (seemingly over 100 feet and well beyond). My Humminbird portable GPS led me to my water of choice; about as far out as anybody would be willing to walk, along a drop from 80 feet of water into about 140 feet to the east, at the boundary of the Portland Drinking Water District's exclusion zone. My first four holes received tip-ups stretching from 80 feet of water to 131 feet. Each had a sucker suspended about 3 feet of bottom. After these were set, I scanned each location with sonar. The two deepest sets seemed to have the "most" life, and so I drilled my fifth hole to start jigging in 117 feet. I tipped a perch-colored bucktail with a slice of sucker meat and sent it down. I was fishing to the maximum extent allowed, and I was filled with optimism. It seemed like it would be just a matter of time before something good happened. After 5 or 10 minutes, I was inclined to move to another jigging location when a market moved off bottom to inspect my bait. I toyed with this fish (or it toyed with me) for several minutes. I was able to pull the fish well off the bottom (usually a sign that it is interested in eating) before it faded off the graph. That kept me at this hole for a bit longer, but nothing came back. After checking my traps, I moved to a new jigging hole in 109 feet. I switched to a white, 4-inch swim-bait. Once again, I moved several fish on the screen, but none touched my lure. I wasn't seeing much life, and what I was seeing, was not hungry! Over the course of the next few hours, I moved my quiet traps to increasingly deep water and drilled more prospecting holes for jigging. I became somewhat constrained by too-shallow depths of water (west), crowds (north), and the exclusion zone (east). I had a few more refusals, and flags never flew. When the wind just barely picked up at about 12:30, I suddenly lost my hopeful gas; and I pulled my lines, uncharacteristically early. What do I have to say about this? I hate getting skunked, but it was a beautiful morning with plenty of fresh air and exercise. Nobody else seemed to be catching anything, either, and so maybe it wasn't my location or my presentations, but rather just the conditions and the mood of the trout. Folks are either unaware of the exclusion zone or don't care; there were a couple of dozen groups clearly fishing within. Maybe it's not enforced. Oh well, I will always choose to follow the rules. The performance of the new Ion G2 (electric) ice auger was impressive, and I now feel a bit sheepish for having not gotten one years ago. I didn't move around much this day, but it wasn't because I was exhausted by the mere prospect of cutting holes; it was the cold and extreme depths I was working that prevented efficient mobility. This lake is so big! It's going to take a lot of time and accumulated experience for me to figure out how best to spend my limited time on the ice. My next exploration is likely to be at a smaller, more manageable body of water. Trickey Pond, perhaps? Since I came off the ice a bit earlier than I expected, I scouted out access at Harmon's Beach, just north and on Sebago's west side. While I'd heard good things about this area, it does not look friendly or convenient for the ice-fisherman on foot, but rather for those with snow machines. I'll pass on this opportunity. P.S. After reading a recent article from On the Water magazine focusing on Sebago's lakers and cross-referencing with an active local Facebook group, it seems as if the lakers here can be "on" and "off" on a day-to-day basis. It also seems that perhaps I was a bit too shallow (150 - 180 feet of water specifically mentioned for alewife-chasing togue), and perhaps too focused on traps. Perhaps my next attempt here will involve more mobility, sonar scanning and jigging, and then setting up traps, including at mid-range within the water column. Pondering the questions of core essence and finding meaning in unexpected ways Date: January 23, 2022 Body of Water: Little Sebago Lake, Maine Moon Phase: Full Moon plus six days; waning gibbous moon Boat: None, Ice Fishing With: Alone Target: Trout Time: 7:15 AM - 3 PM (lines out) Conditions: A foot of ice; 4 - 28 degrees F after an even colder period; generally calm to mild NW wind; mostly cloudy with some mid-day sun My inaugural ice-fishing trip in Maine (and first excursion of 2022) was to Little Sebago Lake. I chose this based on known bait availability, public access and the presence of my preferred target, brown trout. With a dozen smelt and a dozen shiners from Sebago Bait and Tackle in tow, I hoofed it across the lake to try to find a break or weed line for the trout to cruise. With five lines to fish, and on a new-to-me lake without mapping, I started punching holes. By the time I had my five "traps" in place, covering from 6 to 46 feet of water, my first flag flew. A shiner 20 feet down over 30 feet of water had been crunched and dropped. After resetting, I visited my deepest trap, where the shiner 25 down had been treated similarly. After a lull, these same traps sprang again, and this time I caught the culprits; not trout, but rather small yellow and white perch. Not what I was hoping for, but at least some life, and a probable cause for the first couple of flags. These were by deepest sets, and so I moved my shallowest out to more than 30 feet. I also spent some more time scanning these depths with the sonar, looking for suspended fish. Seeing none, I switched to jigging the bottom. I could pretty consistently call some marks in and raise them off the bottom. For the most part, these would not bite, but occasionally one would; and these proved to be more small yellow perch. A few more flags flew (still on my deeper traps), and in each case, my suspended bait would be hit and dropped. At about 12:30, my shallowest flag finally sprang. I was pleased to see the spindle turning, and when I arrived, it was obvious that this fish had taken a lot of line already. When I tightened up, there was some substantial wright. I carefully played my Fish of the Day to the hole. I was surprised when I saw green mottling instead of the spots of a trout; but I was okay; at a fat 21 inches, this was a pretty nice chain pickerel! These were fun fish from my youth, but I hadn't caught one of these since the late 80's, and this one was certainly larger than average. This trap was placed along the edge in 25 feet of water, and my shiner had been swimming about 15 feet down. The deep sets had gone dead and so I drilled another hole shallow. Too shallow, perhaps (8 feet), but I had drilled it and so I was going to use it. Shortly thereafter, this flag flew, but it was another drive-by. And that was it. No more flags, no more marks. And I certainly wasn't hand-drilling any more holes! My best baits had been picked over. The weather had moderated, and had I been on any fish, I'd have stayed for the late afternoon bite. But I wasn't, and so by 3 PM, my lines were pulled. What do I have to say about this? Of course, I wanted some trout action. I never found that, but I'm happy enough with finally getting out on the ice again. With my first-ever white perch through the ice and my first chain pickerel in decades, there's enough to remember the day for. I'm already looking forward to my next session! And these two New England natives provided a nice "Welcome Home!" on the ice. I am also day-dreaming of an electric auger. Hand augering 8-inch holes through a foot or more of hard ice (and it's still early in the season) becomes grueling work, and that makes me less mobile. I'm no longer young, strong, stupid or poor. My current auger is from 1986, and I think I can treat myself to one more in my lifetime. Pondering the questions of core essence and finding meaning in unexpected ways Date: February 6, 2021 Body of Water: Newfound Lake - Bristol, New Hampshire Moon Phase: Waning crescent; New - five days Tides: N/A Boat: none, ice fishing With: A Target: Lake Trout Time: 11:30 AM - 3 PM Conditions: 32+/- degrees; mixed sun and clouds; northwesterly, gusty breeze; 7 inches of new, hard ice with a couple of inches of snow cover A and I left the house, Ollie comfy in the back seat, at about 8:30 AM. We were looking for a change of pace from our house-turned-office and the general bustle of Arlington. I felt confident that the ice would be safe and we could enjoy ourselves without dealing with others at quiet Newfound Lake, about 100 miles to the north. Our first and only stop was at Newfound Country Store ( newfoundcountrystore.net ) in Bridgewater on the lake's east side. I was happy to see snow machines and shelters on the ice throughout the southern portion of the lake as we approached, and doubly happy to learn they had live smelt in stock! I left with a dozen baits in the bucket, and I was on the ice via the boat ramp at Wellington State Park ( www.nhstateparks.org/visit/state-parks/wellington-state-park ) as quickly as possible. I trudged north, hoping to set up on the same end-of-point structure that I had successfully fished in 2020. I passed several groups targeting lakers and cusk, and was only mildly dismayed to see the last visible fisherman ostensibly parked on my destination. Not really a big deal; I continued my walk for another hundred yards and used my GPS to target the locally abundant flats, breaks and turns. I punched my first hole at the base of a break in about 65 feet of water. This is when I learned that I'd been given shiners instead of smelt. I did not appreciate this, but it turned out to be the worst set-back for the day. I couldn't do much about it; I soon had our allotment of four traps set at depths between 35 and 93 feet. Each was placed with some thought as informed by the GPS mapping, and I had some confidence. After a bit, I replaced one of the mid-depth traps for a sonar/jigging hole. I also raised the shallowest bait from the bottom to mid-depth, hoping to find a rainbow or brown trout cruising by. The first flag flew at about 12:30, from the deepest bait at 93 feet. I'd seen a fish on the sonar as I was setting the bait, and all my 2020 lakers had come from a similar depth. As such, this was my highest confidence location, and I was excited about the prospect of my First Fish of 2021! Unfortunately, no line was run out, and the bait was resting on the bottom. Retrieval and inspection of the shiner showed no real damage; this was an improbable wind flag, perhaps. A's interest flagged after a couple of hours and I was limited to pair of lines. I settled on my two deepest sets while I just watched the sonar in about 90 feet of water to be aware of any passing fish. I saw just a couple of marks over the course of my remaining time. It was turning out to be a not-great fishing day, although it was awesome to be out in the fresh air in a peaceful setting. My last excitement of the day was a second flag from my shallow trap, now in 80 feet. But this was an obvious wind flag, as the gusting winds were now occasionally swirling from all directions. At about 3 PM, I pulled lines, donated my leftover shiners to group of young cusk fishermen, and walked back to the truck. We were back in Arlington by 5:30 PM, feeling good, but pretty worn out by the day's efforts! What do I have to say about this? I had waffled on even attempting this; I wasn't sure about conditions, my state of equipment, COVID responsibilities, my energy or mood. But I am glad to have done so. Even without any fishing success, this day was restorative. It wore me out. provided plenty of exercise and led to a great night's sleep! And, I got exposed to the possibilities of cusk fishing!?! I've been aware of cusk fisheries but had never seen any natives participating. I'd unwittingly set my traps in the vicinity of a group with their overnight cusk lines. Of their four lines in place, they'd harvested a cusk and broke off another. When I walked off the ice, I noted that several groups had set their lines for an overnight soak, and I exchanged pleasantries with a father-son duo actively and hopefully setting their lines. Back at home last evening, I researched New Hampshire regulations and techniques. A few informative sites include: www.wildlife.state.nh.us/fishing/cusk-fishing.html www.wildlife.state.nh.us/fishing/cusk-line.html www.wildlife.state.nh.us/pubs/documents/samples/winter-cusk.pdf If I return for an overnight at some point, I might give it a shot; especially since the six lines allowed are in addition to the two I am allowed for trout. Why not? At the very least, a cusk would be a new species for me, might be a candidate for some excellent gyotaku, and is supposedly the sweetest of freshwater fish flesh. Pondering the questions of core essence and finding meaning in unexpected ways Date: February 23, 2020 Body of Water: Lake Winnipesaukee - Meredith, New Hampshire; out of Leavitt Beach Park Moon Phase: New Moon Boat: None, Ice fishing With: Alone Target: Lake Trout Time: 7 AM - 2 PM Conditions: Calm, clear and bright, temperatures increasing from 15 to 46 degrees F; ice had about 4 inches of snow cover and was 12 - 14 inches thick. As I approached my exit on 93 North after 90 miles of moonless, pre-dawn driving, there was just enough light to support the mountains' silhouettes on the horizon. This served as a reminder of the beauty of my destination, Lake Winnipesaukee. With derbies near (Newfound Lake) and far (Sebago Lake in Maine), AJ's was out of smelt, even though I had arrived just a few minutes after their 6 AM opening. I left with an assortment of shiners, suckers and hair jigs. The lack of smelt diminished my confidence a bit, but I also knew that lakers were often not choosy when they were on the feed. I'd chosen Leavitt Beach Park as my access point based on recommendation of AJ's via the most recent report from On the Water magazine. It was a new destination for me, but it offered lots of promise upon my arrival. I'd already scouted the area on my Lakemaster mapping; I wanted to work the edge of a sunken island (topping out at 24 feet or so), out along a series of breaks to the main lake basin in about 100 feet of water. At first, I thought a shanty was already set up on top of the island, but once I gained my bearings and sense of scale, I realized that I would have my water of choice, all to myself. I quickly had my two traps baited with shiners and set near bottom in about 60 and 80 feet of water. As I watched my bait descend to the bottom in the 60-foot hole with my sonar, a fish clearly rose from the bottom to investigate the bait. I stood by, patiently, expecting my first flag of the day, excited about the possibilities. But, when the flag had not sprung after five or ten minutes, I wandered away to drill some extra holes. These ranged from 35 feet deep and out to an inside corner of the main lake basin in 99 feet. I sprinkled several additional holes in the 60-90 foot range, too. Despite my best efforts, it turned into a fishless day. I frequently substituted a jigging presentation for one of the tip-ups, and each hole was given plenty of opportunity to produce. I saw 7 or 8 fish on the screen all day. Most simply evaporated from the screen quickly; a few stayed on my lure for a bit longer. I teased one fish at least 15 feet off the bottom, and I was certain it was going to eat; but it didn't. A solitary suspended fish (maybe 40 feet down over 60 feet of water) stayed with my lure for a couple of minutes or longer before it drifted away. As far as I could tell, a fish never touch my tube jig, hair jig or flashy Hopkins spoon. The fish I saw seemed to be in a negative mood; as far as I know, on another day, at least some of them would have been eaters. What do I have to say about this? I think it was just one of those days; they weren't biting. I saw nobody else with any semblance of action; I overheard a few complaints from upwind; and the folks I came off the ice with had all been skunked, too. I think I was making reasonable presentations in a reasonably likely area. Maybe it was simply too darned nice out to be productive, at all. That said, I have no real basis for explaining away my lack of action. This was my first time out on Lake Winnipesaukee's ice, ever. I've got a lot of learning to do, and it looks like I will have to do that learning one trip at a time. At the very least, I learned that this is a viable day trip, on par with my Okemos-based adventures to Lake St. Clair. This area will definitely be worth learning! But New Hampshire has a boater's license requirement; and so, if I am smart, I will get that out of the way before open water season. It may cost me a day on the ice, but it will be an investment in my future New Hampshire fishing efforts. I've got some plans! Pondering the questions of core essence and finding meaning in unexpected ways Date: February 16, 2020 Body of Water: Newfound Lake - Bristol, New Hampshire Moon Phase: 3rd Quarter - waning Boat: None, Ice fishing With: Alone, but A joined me as a spectator for the most active period Target: Lake Trout Time: 10 AM - 3 PM Conditions: Nearly perfect; calm, overcast and about 30 degrees F (+/- 2 degrees); ice had just an inch or so of snow cover and was 6 - 8 inches thick. With a long weekend scheduled, A and I planned a quick, overnight trip to the Lake Winnipesaukee region. While the main goal was to poke around, relax and plan for the future, ice fishing was definitely a possibility. On the morning of our departure, I was succumbing to a slow-developing cold, and I almost didn't bring my gear. I couldn't decide which was worse; the idea of ice fishing while not feeling my best; or not ice fishing, at all. I'm glad I chose to bring the gear, because despite the subdued pace of the trip and these fishing efforts, I ended up having one of my highest quality ice fishing experiences in a couple of decades. After visiting AJ's Bait and Tackle (ajsbaitandtackle.com ) in Meredith, New Hampshire and walking around Lake Winnipesaukee's Meredith Bay (a bit crowded and shallow for my taste), we continued to look for public access and safe ice. Squam Lake looked awesome, and I'll definitely return, but the ice at the access point was not safe; and so we wandered over to and around Newfound Lake. This lake seemed solid, with snow machines and permanent shanties in place; the public access at Wellington State Park was in full use, and trails on the ice ventured off in all directions. When I fired up my GPS with lake mapping, I knew that some prime structure waited within hiking distance. But it was now late in the day, I still needed bait, and so the actual fishing would wait until Sunday morning. The remainder of Saturday was spent relaxing, dining, scouting bait (there were smelt available at newfoundcountrystore.net ! Newfound Trading Post in Bristol to the south is a possibility, too) and admiring the astonishing silence of the Hebron, New Hampshire night. I hit the ice at the crack of 10 AM under seemingly perfect conditions. I'd secured the last dozen available smelt, the cold had relented, and temperatures would moderate at or above the freezing mark. It was virtually calm, and so chill was not a factor. The ice was safe, and there was a little bit of snow for traction. A dropped me off at the ramp and I began my march to the chosen structural element. About halfway, I stopped to chat with a couple of locals. They were set up in about 60 feet of water, but had no morning action to report. From this vantage, I could see that another small group was about where I intended to be, and so I continued my walk but stopped short at a quick drop where the bottom fell from about 40 feet into more than 60 feet of water. I jigged here with a perch-colored jig adorned with a small shiner; but in 15 minutes or so, saw just one fish on the screen. That fish vanished when I presented the jig directly to it. Given the known lack of success in this depth range, the fish's apparent negative reaction to my bait, and the observation that my competition was moving off my spot, I continued the walk to my selected area. Using the GPS and Lakemaster mapping as a guide, I "trolled" a path among the structure's interesting elements and laid down a series waypoints. At each waypoint, I drilled and cleared a hole. I soon had a trap set with a smelt pinned near bottom in 75 feet of water. Meanwhile, I bounced around other holes (generally between 40 and 70 feet of water) with my jig and shiner. My range of holes expanded from 15 feet to 96 feet of water as I sought some active fish. My sonar in the first couple of hours had revealed only a momentary glimpse of a single, disinterested fish. The fish were clearly neither shallow nor active. I moved the baited tip-up off the structure's edge and into the adjoining lake basin, using my deepest hole. That move paid off pretty quickly, with the first flag of the day at about 12:20 PM. As I approached the tip-up, I noticed the spool was not spinning, and the line seemed to go straight down. It looked like a false alarm or missed strike, but when I picked up the line, I could sense some weight; and soon I had a 20-inch laker to the hole. This was my first fish since October! And so, you can imagine my disappointment when the small circle hook came loose and my prize splashed in the hole. I chased her down the hole past my elbow, but to no avail; while I did touch her flank, she slipped my grasp and swam away. I'd have let her go, anyway, but I was still a bit empty inside, having flubbed my first chance in months. As A approached the area to join me for some fresh air, this same flag announced another bite, and soon I redeemed myself with an 18.5-incher. Like the previous fish, it had eaten a smelt presented about 18 inches off the bottom in 96 feet of water. My day was complete! This trap went off again at about 1:30 PM, while I was moving another tip-up to the same depth, but further east, off the edge but along the same underwater point. This laker was about 20 inches and likely the heaviest of the day. At about 2 PM, my second deepwater trap (now sitting in 94 feet of water) signaled a bite; another 18-inch laker came to hand. This same trap caught the last fish of the day, a lean 20-incher, just before my time was up at 3 PM. I walked off the ice, satisfied with my 4.9-for-5 effort. All fish ate smelt very near the bottom, and all of the bites came from the lake basin, as opposed to atop the structural features. I'd caught some fish, learned a bit, and felt good! What do I have to say about this? While the lakers were not large, they were legal-sized and the targeted species. Given the fact that this was my first time fishing this lake, I can't rightfully expect to do much better, or to demand more from the lake. And, in fact, I knew before the first flag flew that it was among my best ice trips, ever. The lake was beautiful, the conditions were uncrowded, I was positioned in a spot of logical choice, I had prime bait, the conditions were comfortable, and it was simply soothing to be participating in this chase. The fish themselves simply provided a bit of much-appreciated positive feedback and served as a basis for improvement. Because, I shall return to this gem of a lake! Pondering the questions of core essence and finding meaning in unexpected ways Date: February 22, 2019 Body of Water: McEwen Lake Boat: None, Ice Fishing With: KS Target: Pike and Panfish Time: 3:15 PM - 6:45 PM Conditions: 30 - 35 degrees F, clear, pretty calm. Ice was covered with just a dusting of snow, slushy in certain areas, and about 10 inches thick. I had convinced KS to meet me at McEwen for a rare weekday evening session. My goal was to come home with a single crappie for gyotaku (representing a better class; say, 12 inches), as well as to contribute to a nice panfish meal for him. McEwen Lake has generally offered a predictable bite for suspended crappies, with additional action on tip-ups for pike. The moderate weather boded well, and I was looking forward to ending a couple of long work weeks with a pleasant outdoor experience. And, it was! But the fishing was not what I'd expected. KS was already on the ice when I arrived; he'd already set his pike traps in about 15 feet of water. I scouted a couple of open holes in the basin; the first two, in 30 - 31 feet of water revealed nothing, but the third, in 36 feet and closer to my accustomed area, showed considerable life in the bottom third of the water column. Nothing responded to my jig or Swedish Pimple, but I knew that it was early and that this area would likely come to life as the evening evolved. I set my tip-ups in 20 - 26 feet of water off an adjacent point, theoretically targeting larger pike. Traps set, KS and I proceeded to wander around the basin enclosed by the semi-circle of our traps. We opened a dozen or more holes, in depths from 22 feet to 42 feet. I tended to roam quickly amongst our spots; a quick scan and drop was usually enough to convince me to move on. KS tended to hover over particular spots in deeper water, where life was more consistently evident. My first clue that conditions were not "normal", at least as defined by my previous experience, was that my first panfish bite (4 PM) came in our shallowest hole (22 feet deep), and less than 10 feet down. After teasing my mark for several minutes, it finally bit my waxworm-tipped Pimple, and I slid a bluegill (7 - 8 inches) through the ice. Not exactly what I wanted or expected; but Something! I made a round through our tip-ups to wake up our baits and then continued to explore for panfish. I convinced myself that the "life" that was so evident in the deeper holes was planktonic; a waxworm tore off my bait and revealed a much brighter target on my sonar as it descended through the depths. I started to focus on targets higher in the water column. After several refusals, I downsized to the point where I was only presenting a single waxie on a tungsten teardrop jig. At about 6 PM, in 28 feet of water, I teased a mark from about 11 feet down up to about 7 feet; it finally ate, and I was super pleased to slide a nice, 11-but-not-quite-12 inch crappie onto the ice. My screen still had a couple of marks; I dropped back down and immediately scored a solid but smaller crappie. This fish ate 9 or 10 feet down. Meanwhile, KS landed a bluegill from the top of the column in 37 feet of water. Things were looking up; but, things were over, too! We stayed until almost 7 PM, but the rate of targets showing themselves diminished; and their corresponding rate of refusal increased. What do I have to say about this? This was my second consecutive trip to McEwen with disappointing crappie fishing. My first concern was about crappie population cycles; perhaps the fish I expected were simply not available. My continuing concern is seasonal oxygen availability; I saw little fish activity below 15 feet, and all of our bites came from the top 11 (or so) feet. With not much time on the water recently and a limited scope of experience on this lake, I simply did not react to the conditions (or my interpretation of them) quickly enough. I'll consider this trip a simple, pleasant investment. Maybe it will provide dividends on a future trip when I am confronted with a similar bite. And, I did modestly achieve the goals for the trip, while enjoying some comfortable outdoor conditions with a good friend. I could take such a Friday afternoon on a weekly basis! Pondering the questions of core essence and finding meaning in unexpected ways |
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