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Date: November 12, 2023 Body of Water: Sebago Lake - Maine Boat: amybaby22 With: Alone Target: Togue (Lake Trout) Time: 9:30 AM - 3:00 PM Moon Phase: New moon minus one day; waning crescent Conditions: Clear and bright; northerly, double-digit wind calming over course of day and swinging to WNW; 33 - 38 degrees. Water temperatures 47 - 49 degrees F (+/-) . Could I have possibly screwed myself over again? I arrived at the Standish ramp at Sebago's south end only to stare into the teeth of a stiff and long-fetched north wind. This was way stronger than forecast, and so I was a bit disappointed that I would be struggling with the wind again. Still, it looked to be safe and quite possibly, fishable. I had all day in front of me, so I headed north from the ramp. I decided to go as far north as possible to allow myself to ride the wind back and cover as much new water as possible. I'd at least learn during this trip! Mid-way up the lake, a view directly to Mount Washington opened up. On such a clear day, it was a beautiful reminder that I now have the good fortune of living in northern New England! I continued north, until I reached the shallow bar that separates Frye Island from the wester shoreline and that defines the extent of the northern Great Basin from the southern end of the lake. Here, I set my initial spread (full core of ten colors and a downrigger) and started the day's explorations. The graph was relatively devoid of targets as I trolled over new-to-me water. I focused on 55 - 85 foot depths and paralleled a sunken hump topping out at 55 feet. As I crossed the southern extent of this bar and entered deeper water (105 feet), my lure trailing 350 feet back got smacked. The lure was probably over 80 feet of water when it got hit. Unfortunately, the hooks immediately pulled, but this was still a hopeful start to the day. I ended up doing a completed circuit around this bar and repeating this pass before moseying off to the east, but I found no other willing fish. The wind looked to be relaxing and the familiar waters north end of Frye Island weren't too far away, so I pulled lines and headed that way. I set the same spread in about 130 feet of water as I trolled south, over the extent of the sunken bar and through some familiar waypoints in 70 - 80 feet. These didn't pay off, but I continued my meanderings and hooked up (finally), once again over about 100 feet of water with my lure coming across 70 to 80-foot depths. After landing this 20-incher, I replaced my downrigger with the 150 Copper equipped with a white/Bloody Nose spoon. The lead core produced another (small!) togue in similar water, while the copper rig went untouched over the next hour or so. I made the 4-mile run to the Northwest River humps for my final explorations of the day. I reverted back to using the downrigger, but of course the Easter Egg spoon still continued to tail far behind ten colors of lead line. My pass through the entire stretch of waypoints along these humps produced minimal action. The full core went untouched, while I picked up another small togue on the rigger. This fish might have hitch-hiked a ride for a bit as it did not pull the release, but I generally tried to keep the ball 5 - 10 feet off bottom; I had increased the leader length from the ball to about 30 feet. At 3 PM, I was through my waypoints and had a 20-minute run to the ramp in front of me. I pulled lines, perhaps for the last time in 2023. What do I have to say about this? While the fishing wasn't great (was I stuck on previous patterns due to a modicum of positive feedback? Had I not searched shallow waters enough, or indeed, fished shallow enough?), this had been a pleasant-enough session while I soaked in the sunshine. The run back to the ramp was downright fun in glass-calm water, and back at the ramp, I was stricken by an awareness of why it had been such a relaxing day; other than the sporadic call from a loon or gull, it was dead quiet. There was so little human-made noise. I wasn't too far from home, but at this time of year and with Mount Washington looming, this was approaching a true wilderness experience! Pondering the questions of core essence and finding meaning in unexpected ways
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Date: November 11, 2023 Body of Water: Lake Sebago - Maine Boat: amybaby22 With: Alone Target: Lake trout (togue) Time: 9:30 AM - 12:30 PM Moon Phase: New moon minus two days; waning crescent Conditions: Clear and bright, persistent NNW wind 10-15 mph with gusts, about 40 degrees. Water temperatures 49 degrees F (+/-) A planned quick trip was cut even shorter by a very stiff and building northerly wind. Alone at the State Park ramp again, I launched and motored to the humps off the Northwest River. I expected the thermocline to have dissolved and my first southerly pass included a Reef Runner crank at about 16 feet down and a bright spoon presented off two colors of lead and a long, light leader as I strafed over the shallowest portions of the humps. I marked very few fish and had no action, so I picked up lines and turned to the north to repeat a deeper pass over known, productive water. And that's when I realized how windy it had gotten! Beyond the humps' north end, I reset lines with a full core and a downrigger. Pretty quickly, I scored a fish on each. A 21-inch togue ate an Easter Egg (Glow) spoon on the full core over about 75 feet of water, while a simple white glow spoon, 25-feet off the rigger, got hit 50 feet down over 60 feet of water. This rigger fish was 20 inches or less. I continued my pass to the south with no further action. Controlling the boat and speed was getting more difficult. When I turned into the wind to set up another pass, I simply decided to call it a day; the wind was steady and the lake was getting angry. When I had some minor but real problems crossing the sandbar at the mouth of the Songo River (whether due to seiche or continued drawdown) upon return, I decided I was done with this launch for the season, too. What do I have to say about this? I've been holding out for the dissolution of the thermocline and the lakers moving into shallow water, but with holidays looming and now this ramp situation, I'm not sure I'll get to explore that part of the season! And yet I feel that I am not done; I'll have to decide whether the Standish ramp at Sebago's south end proves attractive and fishable, or move on to familiar trout ponds for any remaining sessions for 2023. Pondering the questions of core essence and finding meaning in unexpected ways Date: November 4, 2023 Body of Water: Sebago Lake - Maine Boat: amybaby22 With: Alone Target: Lake Trout (Togue) Time: 9:30 AM - 4:45 PM Moon Phase: Waning Third Quarter Moon Conditions: Mostly cloudy to overcast, persistent southwesterly wind over 10 mph but calming in late afternoon, about 50 degrees. Water temperature 52 degrees F (+/-) One would think that the Northwest River would be in the lake's northwest corner, correct? But no, this is not a reference to the Muddy River, but rather to a separate drainage system. When the overall fishiest guy I've met in Maine mentioned launching from there and fishing some nearby humps for quality lakers, I listened. I refocused my thoughts on the western portion of the Big Basin of Sebago. One look at my GPS mapping showed the humps in question, and these looked closer to the state park launch and more protected from the westerly wind than the Frye Island waters. Of course, I was going to start my day in this new-to-me area! I was now also equipped with a downrigger, salvaged from the original Numenon. This gave me another method of presenting a spoon to deep fish, if need be. Despite the wind and chop, it was a dry ride to these new grounds, and I was setting lines in about 80 feet of water south of these humps by 9:45 AM. My initial spread was the productive white spoon off ten colors of lead, paired with a clean "Easter Egg Glow" spoon off the downrigger. I rode the waves to the north and east as I began my search for fish. I had a lot of faith in 75 -100 feet, but I also knew that the week's cold weather and wind had likely eroded the thermocline and mixed things up. I hadn't moved far at all when the full core of lead bent over in about 75 feet of water; I used the trolling motor to maintain control of the boat as I put the main motor in neutral to fight the fish. At almost 20 inches, this first fish of the day was bright, fresh, active and strong. I was off to a good start! Things normalized, and I'd gone quite a distance without a hit while covering water from 55 to 110 feet of water. I had circled back to this same area before I got my next hit on the same presentation. This was a fat 23-inch laker, also in about 75 feet of water. A pattern was slowly developing. While these two fish were associated with the same slight hump on a a deeper flat, the next fish came from a similar depth, but at the edge of a flat plunging into much deeper water. Once again the full core of lead got hit aggressively, and I landed a nice 24-incher. I continued my troll to the north, now focusing on 75-foot flats and the break-line into the depths. This worked too, but I farmed out two fish in a row after long fights on the full core before I connected again, this time with a seemingly solid fish. Alas, I lost this one, too, but this time to a worn leader. I'd been pretty good about checking this and retying as needed, but perhaps 8-pound leader is just too light for the bigger fish. They have pretty abrasive teeth, and sometimes roll themselves up in the leader, which can put some odd-angled pressure on the line during the fight. It hurt to have lost this spoon, but I have plenty of white spoons, so I started to swim another. Meanwhile, I was working the downrigger hard, frequently changing depths, lead lengths off the ball, and spoons. So far, I'd had a few releases, but these might have been the spoon grabbing bottom as I slowed down, turned, etc. I'd seen several fish rise to the ball but then sink away without eating. The latter part of the afternoon calmed and the rigger bite really woke up. Generally staying 8 -10 feet off bottom in 70-80 feet of water with a 25-foot lead off the ball started producing. All my rigger fish came on an old lake trout favorite, the White Ghost (Glow). These ranged from tiny to about 22 inches. At 4:43 PM, the rigger went for the last time, and I ended my day at 9 togue-for-12 real chances. Not bad, for new water! What do I have to say about this? Using the trolling motor while fighting fish or setting the second line was a real boon for boat control! A couple of the rigger trout spit out tiny alewife (less than two inches). I doubt they would find a small spoon at such depths, but it was interesting to confirm the bait. I think these are the "clouds" of bait I see near bottom, and when/if I jig for these lakers, I will keep a small bait in mind and available to match the hatch. I suspect the thermocline is largely dissolved, but at 52 degrees, the water is still too warm to expect the lakers to have moved very shallow. As I recall from Michigan's Crystal Lake, 48 degrees was the magic number, and 46 was even better for hungry shallow lakers. Had I not lost my spoon, and had I landed that heavier fish, it would have been quite the day! Instead, I'll just admit that it was a really fine day on the water! As an added bonus, I fell asleep to the ongoing hum of the downrigger cables; something I haven't done in quite a while! Pondering the questions of core essence and finding meaning in unexpected ways Date: October 28, 2023 Body of Water: Sebago Lake - Maine Boat: amybaby22 With: Alone Target: Togue (Lake Trout) Time: 9:45 AM - 3:45 PM Moon Phase: Full moon Conditions: Clear and bright, but with some clouds and rain by session's end; calm but with a persistent southwesterly wind developing at 11 AM at about 10 - 15 mph; 60 - 75 degrees. Water temperatures 57 - 59 degrees F (+/-) and thermocline still in place. With a strong southwesterly wind predicted to develop, I decided to run across Sebago to the north end of Frye Island while I could. I figured I could always tuck into the channel between Frye and the mainland if need be, or cross the straits at the south end to the western shore of the lakes' main basin to explore new, but protected waters. By 10 AM, I was set up along Frye's western shore, exploring depths between 50 and 100 feet as I made my way north. My initial spread (which I ended up running all day) was the productive red-eyed white spoon off ten colors of lead; and a white/lemon/lime spoon of the same model off a newly rehabilitated rig with 150 feet of copper line. Theoretically, these were both attaining 45 feet or more of depth, and perhaps even a bit more at my target speed between 1.5 and 2 mph. Since water temperatures were basically stuck and I was still marking the thermocline with some regularity, I thought I'd give these their due time, at least until I'd convinced myself they were not working. The first hit came quickly and was a violent drive-by on the full core. Despite the rod doubling over dramatically and staying pinned down for a moment, somehow this fish was not hooked. Oh well, I continued my path to the north, noting some interesting structural elements worthy of additional inspection in subsequent trolling passes. One such element had some obvious targets hanging about, including a couple suspended about 45 feet down over 75 feet of water. Sure enough, the full core got bit again, and I was happy to slide the net beneath a spunky 21-inch togue. The first goal of the day had been fulfilled; my targeted quarry had been captured! I pulled the copper rig and motored to the south to set for another pass. As I turned into the wind, I noticed that conditions had dramatically deteriorated. The breeze had become a stiff wind, and whitecaps were forming over the main basin. Conditions were still very fishable, though, so I decided to stay in the area. After all, I'd had fish in two new locations and had not yet even made it to the area I expected to fish, hard! Lines reset, I made my way north for the second pass of the morning. The next action occurred almost directly over the waypoint for that last fish. Once again, I was marking some obvious targets on the sonar. This time, the copper rig bounced; nobody seemed to be at home, but a few beats later the rod bent over sharply. My newly-deployed, old-school approach paid off with a fat 23-incher. This rig had the advantages of being more effective at transmitting the actions of the fish, as well as being easier and quicker to deploy. I may have to cannibalize my 300-foot rig into additional, shorter presentations. With baits reset, I continued north through the waypoints from the previous weekend. Nothing happened in these 65 - 90-foot depths, but as I turned out over the deeper water at the end of this sunken bar, the full-core rod doubled over with a heavier fish. This turned out to be a beautifully marked 25-inch togue; my biggest Maine trout to date! Goal No. 2 for the day was now fulfilled, too! The wind was now really howling, and so I decided to hide in the lee of Frye Island. I trolled the picturesque channel between Frye and the mainland with out a bump. As I turned into the wind to get over the bar for another pass, once again the full core rod bent to a heavier fish; this 25-incher ate over 120 feet of water or more, but still near the edge of the break onto the bar extending from Frye's northern point. I circled around the sunken point's end, looking for another edge or deepwater fish, but to no avail. It was now about 2 PM, and I had a decision to make; stay and grind, or seek cover from the wind in unknown water? I decided one more fish would be nice and so I set up for a long pass through the water that had produced the day's action. If I didn't get one in the hour or so left of my fishing time, so be it; at least I knew I was around fish. I set the same spread, but changing out the copper rig's spoon with a "Bloody Nose" alewife spoon. At about 3 PM, the bite picked up nicely with three more fish along this now-familiar stretch. The full core produced two, the copper, one; all fish were the smallest of the day between 18 and 20 inches. Bites came between 75 and 110 feet of water, and at least two of the three were over or adjacent to existing waypoints; the third came from a juicy piece of structure (a feeding shelf in about 85 feet of water, leading to the extensive bar, but flanked by deep water, too). Goal No. 3 was in the bag; I'd landed five or more togue for the day. It was now cloudy, raining a bit, and the wind had a northwesterly component to it. I pounded my way into the harbor, perhaps the last person left on the lake for the day. What do I have to say about this? I left Goal No. 4 on the table; I didn't even attempt to catch a fish by jigging. Oh well, the trolling bite was good enough and it was certainly too windy to try to learn the jigging bite. I spoke with the Park Ranger on my way in this day, and he mentioned that anything "over 20 inches" is a nice togue on Sebago; but that trout to 30 pounds are caught each year. So I guess I am on the right fish, and there's at least a chance of an encounter with a true, quality fish. That's enough to keep me at this. A mounting system and hardware have been secured for a downrigger, so I look forward to adding that presentation to my spread in future trips. Catching fish on a clean downrigger presentation is more fun than dragging full cores! Although I do recognize, that on any given day, any presentation can be more productive than another. The 150 Copper fished pretty easily and showed itself well; I think I will add a 75 Copper to the arsenal, too. By my calculations, that should swim about 20 or 25 feet down and be light enough to be fun, overall. It was a beautiful Indian Summer day; but the weather has turned. Cold temperatures and wind will likely change things up before I can get out there again. Pondering the questions of core essence and finding meaning in unexpected ways Date: October 22, 2023 Body of Water: Lake Sebago Boat: amybaby22 With: Alone Target: Lake Trout (Togue) Time: 9:30 AM - 4 PM Moon Phase: Full minus six days; waxing gibbous moon Conditions: Rain, overcast with a few patches of sun, and then fully cloudy with more rain starting at 2 PM and getting heavier; northwesterly wind to about 10 mph, 50 degrees. Water temperatures 57 degrees F (+/-) The weather (and especially the wind) was not nearly as bad as had been forecast. A lot of my gear was still pretty wet, so I grabbed my vintage neoprene waders, my modern StormR neoprene jacket, and headed out to Sebago again. I figured that Full Neoprene Mode would keep me warm and dry; and with the day's cooler air temperatures, such a drastic move was not out of bounds. Clearly, the full core (ten colors of lead) had earned a slot in the spread; and I complemented this with a dark spoon off two colors. My first spot was the submerged bar extending southwest from the channel into 120 feet of stare or more. I'd seen a kayak fisherman jigging the end the previous day, and it looked fishy on the map and on the graph! But when nothing materialized here, I continued along the break towards the northwest portion of the lake, bouncing between about 55 and 100 feet along the way. I'd made it all the way to the north bar off Outer Island before my first contact for the day. My deepest spoon got eaten by perhaps my smallest lake trout, ever, over about 50 feet of water or so. Once again, I was fortunate to have seen the strike, because it would have been all too easy to simply drag this parr-marked sub-footer until I eventually checked lines. I set up for another pass, but now with seven colors in addition to the full core. I traced my way around the edge of Outer Island and continued down the bar extending to the southwest, through a couple of waypoints from previous trips. It had been a slow morning; I had to make a decision. Should I be happy with what I knew, or should I try to force the issue and look for something better? It was still very calm, and I'd heard (somewhere, sometime), that the north end of Frye Island is a spawning/congregation area for togue. Six miles and 15 minutes later, I was resetting lines in 120 feet of water while I approached this new-to-me area for the season. I found the break and turned north. The map showed an extended sloping point from the island, eventually dropping to 110 feet of water before plunging into the depths. It looked appealing, as did the bait and the occasional suspended fish on the graph. I had just come through some bait at High Noon when the full core got tight in 75 feet; this felt like a pretty good fish, too! Unfortunately, I farmed this fish out, sight unseen, just ten feet below the surface. Perhaps I had played it too cautiously, but I'd missed a pretty good chance! I motored back upwind and reset lines for another pass. There were still plenty of active targets in this area. I'd gone through the 75-foot waypoint and was over 88 feet of water when the same line tightened again. As I played this fish, bumping the boat in and out of gear, another fish hammered the white "Easter Egg" spoon presented off the seven-color line. After a long hiatus, this unexpected double turned the day. The togue were only 21 and 22 inches, but each was fit and pretty. With three hits in half an hour or so, I convinced myself to stay and explore this general area. I probably stayed too long, though, as the wind picked up and took advantage of the long fetch. I was losing control of the boat and suffered a couple of minor tangles. I knew I was being inefficient, so by 2 PM I had relocated to the more protected northern shoreline. I set the same spread in 100 feet of water off the rocky point just east of the state park and took a moment to enjoy the calm waters here. I really wanted another fish (or two, or three), if only to push the boundary on my expectations for a day on this lake. Plus, I was on no specific time schedule, and I will always hold out for the possibility (even if remote!) of a big fish. There was plenty of life on the graph and pretty quickly, another togue grabbed the deep, white spoon over 75 feet of water. Once again, I flubbed the fish close to the boat; it seemed as if the hooks simply pulled after a long and slow fight. Ugh! I had drifted out over deeper water during the fight and quickly reset lines to repeat this pass. Boom! Another quick connection on the same presentation; and, unbelievably, another lost fish with the leader on the reel! WTF? I hadn't stayed in the rain to not catch fish, and so I deployed the baits once more and worked my way over to the area of the previous day's mild success. I focused on 70 - 90 feet of water (that's where they seemed to be hitting), and just as I passed a waypoint from the day before, I was on another fish. This one, a pretty 18-incher, stayed buttoned and came aboard. I worked my way south, where a broad flat with high spots extended well offshore. Right on top of one the shallowest points (about 65 feet deep), my rod dipped for the last time of the day; Togue No. 5 for the day was just under 19 inches long. What do I have to say about this? This was an excellent "bonus" day of fishing; I really had expected the weather to be much less hospitable. I am pleased to have built on my experience from the day before. I need to get additional deep options; whether it's rehabilitating a downrigger or an additional full core or Copper line; the fish really seem to be keyed on the deeper presentations. The thermocline was a little less evident on the graph this trip, and it might dissolve with the next big wind, but while it is in place, it is certainly positioning the lakers deep. I caught fish in several new spots this day (Frye Island, just east of the state park, and offshore from the northeastern islands). Three new spots revealed is a good day, as is any day one can come close to patterning the bites; full cores over 75-90 foot flats seemed to be the ticket, today. I miss the violence of Lake Michigan fishing, but if I have to tune in to subtleties and light bites, I guess I will have to do so. Pondering the questions of core essence and finding meaning in unexpected ways Date: October 21, 2023 Body of Water: Sebago Lake - Maine Boat: amybaby22 With: Alone Target: Lake Trout (Togue) Time: 9:45 AM - 3:15 PM Moon Phase: Waxing quarter moon Conditions: Fog, drizzle, mist and rain showers, persistent but light ENE wind, about 55 - 60 degrees. Water temperatures 57 - 58 degrees F (+/-) The State Park was mine alone on what promised to be a wet and possibly windy day. Still, conditions were comfortable enough as I left the dock in a slight mist with a gentle east wind. I cleared the channel and turned east, into the wind. Water temperatures had dropped just a degree or two from the previous trip, and I expected the thermocline to still be intact. I figured I would troll with the wind at my back while I explored the deep drop off the State Park. But structure on my mapping GPS called me further east, to the various islands in the lake's Northeast corner. This lake is full of nooks and crannies, and I was intrigued by an obvious deep gut running between two islands. This pulled me in; and the I turned around to set my spread. I stuck with the same lures that had worked previously, a plain silver spoon off ten colors of lead and the silver/red spoon off seven colors. I marked many fish when over water depths of 75 feet or greater, but the first bite came pretty quickly and over just 65 feet. It's a good thing I saw the rod tip react to the strike; I could barely sense the fish until I'd wound all 300 feet of core in and the leader was in the rod tip. There'd have been a good chance that I would have dragged this small, 16-inch laker behind the boat without knowing for a long time! Oh well, they can't all be big, and I was happy to have made first contact so quickly. The thermocline seemed to be showing on the sonar, pretty consistently at about 45 - 50 feet down. That's about where my full core was reaching (perhaps a little deeper at my slowest speeds of about 1.5 mph). I circled around and promptly lost my plain but productive silver spoon. Recalling the "bite goes white" in fall, I replaced it with a similarly sized and shaped spoon in silver back, but with a glow/white front. The new spoon quickly proved itself with a 19-incher just adjacent to the waypoint from the first fish. This new area showed some promise! The last fish ate the same spoon and from the same general area; but I may have dragged it a bit, so I don't know exactly where it ate. What do I have to say about this? The southwest points of islands on Casco Bay are always a good place to start looking for fish, so why shouldn't the same be true for Sebago? I'm sure the land was subjected to the same glacial striations, and there are certainly plenty of boulders strewn about. I do seem to be a bit more productive when exploring significant structures on this lake, so I'll keep trying. I'm not proud to have lost some time today to a dragged fish and a lost lure (I continued to troll without checking, each time). The skiff gets squirrelly on the troll in the wind, and it is difficult to leave the helm and maintain two deep cores at the same time under such circumstances. I'm not as efficient as I remember from my Lake Michigan days! I feel like I am making a little progress; I was able to pattern the fish a little bit with all action being on the full, ten colors of lead and between 65 and 90 feet of water. I might as well recognize that this was my first three-trout day on Sebago. I stayed 15 minutes too long. While I'd stayed reasonably dry and comfortable all day, but a stinging rain caught me as I motored in. All in all, this was a pretty relaxing and satisfying day. This fishing isn't exactly exciting, but I still get a kick out of each bite and each fish. And this is filling the "between" season quite nicely as I wait for waters to cool enough to bring other trout to the shallows. Pondering the questions of core essence and finding meaning in unexpected ways Date: October 15, 2023 Body of Water: Sebago Lake Boat: amybaby22 With: Alone Target: Lake Trout (Togue) Time: 9:45 AM - 2:15 PM Moon Phase: New plus one day; waxing crescent moon Conditions: Clear, persistent northwesterly wind increasing to about 15 mph, about 50 - 60 degrees. Water temperatures 59 - 60 degrees F (+/-) With amybaby22 off her mooring for the season, I was in trailer mode and with a hankering for some freshwater fishing. Based on wind (pretty strong and from the north!), thermocline (expected to still be present), access (good!) and reputation, I decided to try Sebago Lake for a shot at lake trout, known locally as "togue". The launch from the State Park at the lake's north end went fine, even if the water got awfully skinny for a section in the channel out to the main lake. I knew the northwest wind would keep me reasonably close. Based on a smidge of 2021 success and some interesting structure, I decided to head over to the mouth of the Muddy River and the Inner and Outer Islands that guard its mouth. I would have to rely on lead cores to attain any depth, but I had rods rigged with 2, 7 and 10 colors. These have all caught plenty of Lake Michigan Lake Trout. Still, I hedged my bets a little bit by staying "shallow", i.e., less than 120 feet of water or so, and I especially focused on about 60 to 110 feet while I scouted for potential fish to vertically jig. Setting up along the western shoreline, I started marking targets and bait almost immediately, so I was filled with some hope for an active session. By 10 AM, I had spoons behind the "full" 10-color line (with a very basic silver spoon in typical Lake Michigan "alewife" shape and size) and a shorter and shallower, 2- to 4-color presentation (with a smaller Michigan Stinger Scorpion spoon in copper and red). I trolled as slowly as able, which into the slight headwind at this location, kept me at about 1.5 mph. Despite a couple of adjustments, I hadn't contacted a single fish by the time I had passed through the gut between the two islands. As I passed over the saddle connecting these and slid into deeper water, I marked some interesting targets near the bottom in about 110 feet. I pulled lines, readied the trolling motor, re-positioned, and set up Spot-Lock. I was able to feel, control, and see my baits (a 2-ounce bucktail jig with a Gulp! trailer, or a 3/4-ounce jigging spoon) to my total satisfaction, but the marks were unresponsive to any of my presentations. Soon, I was back on the troll, which was okay because the wind was really freshening at this point. Now, I trolled south alongside Outer Island and past the reef off its southwest tip. I knew this area held interesting structure and cover in the form of huge boulders based on 2021 downrigger issues here. I had to bump-troll and cut across the wind to maintain a slow speed, and the boat was crab-walking across the surface of the lake. My lines were at an odd angle, but the full core was especially odd and the rod holder was suddenly strained. Fish! In 110 feet of water, I grabbed the rod, confirmed a decently heavy head-shake, and very carefully wound the fish in. I slipped the net under a pretty, 23-inch togue; I hate to say it, but this is my largest Maine trout, ever, and the largest trout I've landed since I left Michigan in 2019. I continued to work this area, and replaced the silent, shallower presentation with a full 7 colors of lead. On this I placed another very basic Lake Michigan Lake Trout spoon in silver with some orange/red tape. Nothing else happened here, and so I changed gears and worked the drop along the north shore. An expansive sand flat here drops from 7 to well over 100 feet of water in a steep but erratic wall. After a couple of flubbed attempts (in which I ended up too shallow and snagged bottom), I managed to set up a pass in over 45 feet of water. I had just set the second line (7 colors of lead) when it bent over in about 60 feet of water. This shallow-water trout fought better than the first, and matched it in length (if not girth). I thought I was on to something good; but I didn't convert this into any more action. Still, it was good to catch some fish in new-to-me areas and with trusted, old techniques that I just haven't used here in Maine. I'll be back! What do I have to say about this? While these lakers would never have warranted a second glance on Lake Michigan (although I would have welcomed them in just about any tournament!), any day one catches two local Personal Bests is a good one. And each was pretty and seemingly fit! I will gladly build upon this small success. Catching smallish fish on the heavier tackle required for long lead core presentations isn't the most fun, but it is relaxing. My joy in fishing cores is detecting the strike by the awakening of the reel's drag system. Neither fish was able to announce themselves in this manner; I'll have to wait for the next opportunity to re-live that experience. Internet intel indicates "the bite goes white" during Sebago's fall season, so I will mix in some white offerings too. I guess the forage is both tiny smelt and full-sized alewives, so I will continue to mix in different sized spoons. That's why I just purchased two separate vertical jig kits, one advertised as the "small bait" option, and the other for "large bait" situations. There's so much to learn! Pondering the questions of core essence and finding meaning in unexpected ways Date: October 14, 2023 Body of Water: Casco Bay - Maine Boat: None; shore fishing from landing float With: Alone Target: Striped Bass Time: 4 PM - 5:45 PM Moon Phase: New Moon Tide: Low tide at 5:45 PM Conditions: Mostly sunshine but with some clouds, decreasing winds to calm, about 55 - 60 degrees. Quadrant II. Clear water, temperatures 55 - 58 degrees F (+/-) I had this tide marked on the calendar. I really didn't want to miss one of the major (and perhaps the last) Moon Tides of the season. The evening was open, I had frozen mackerel for bait, the rods were freshly rigged, and there really was no better use of my time. I headed down to the landing float to see if any stripers lingered. After completing a couple of quick chores, I was in place at 4 PM with my spread; a choice tail section free-lined to the bottom, and a mid-section chunk suspended under a float. The dock's cross-bar was just appearing at the water's surface, and so I knew I had the best portion of Quadrant II (second half of the falling tide) ahead of me. Almost immediately, my float jiggled and slipped under. I missed the fish and my bait seemed pristine, so I sent it back, wondering if I'd missed my last chance for the season. I had not; the float submerged again and I wound down to a small fish. It was a large mackerel that I had luckily hooked, and this improved my bait situation; frozen baits were quickly replaced with the freshest possible chunks. At 4:15, my float slipped under for real, and I connected with a small striper in the low-20s. Success! For the day, for the season, and as redemption for ending the previous session with a broken-off fish. I repeated this almost immediately with a similar fish, but then things went quiet. Still, I was more than happy with the session's outcome. There was still bait to be used and conditions were so pleasant, I stayed until slack low tide (and almost sunset). Floated chunks produced two more bites and resulted in two more bass of about 26 inches. The last one even came on a frozen bait! Meanwhile chunks and heads sent to the bottom attracted nothing but crabs. I hadn't deployed the float rod in quite a while, but this had been a perfect opportunity to do so! What do I have to say about this? With the boat out of the water, work schedules, impending fall weather, etc., this could certainly have been the end of my local striper season. But I'll continue to maintain some level of readiness, because... one never knows. I spent a portion of the evening rigging gear for freshwater trolling. Trout will have to replace stripers, at least at the margins of our open-water season. And I'll be pleased to catch any local trout that pulls drag like even today's smallest bass. Pondering the questions of core essence and finding meaning in unexpected ways Date: October 9, 2023 Body of Water: Casco Bay - Maine Boat: amybaby22 With: Alone Target: Striped Bass Time: 9:30 AM - 1:45 PM Moon Phase: New moon minus five days; waning crescent moon Tide: Low tide at 2:18 PM Conditions: Clear sunshine, persistent southwesterly wind increasing to over 10 mph, about 55 degrees. Water temperatures 57 - 58 degrees F (+/-) Tropical storm Philippe must have scattered the mackerel, because it took 45 minutes for me to land a dozen off Clapboard - East. These came in singles and doubles, and I never got a frenzied school beneath the boat. Still, I had plenty of bait to start the day. I thought Cow Island deserved a shot, even if I'd missed the highest part of the tide. If it didn't work out, I could easily slide over to Crow. As I approached Cow and prepared to deploy a bait, I noticed what I thought to be mackerel about 10 or 15 feet down. After my first pass along Cow went unnoticed, I returned for a second pass through the choicest spot. But first, I dropped my Sabiki and instantly hooked up. Soon enough, I had another dozen or so live macks in the well. Even though conditions at Cow seemed prime (nice current to the east and wind and swell into the face of the rocks), I raised nothing and so motored over to Crow. I'd fished the north and then the west sides of Crow with nothing to show, when finally a bass showed itself. At Crow's southwest corner, this bass chased my mack as if in slow motion, finally crashing the bait on top, but somehow missing. I loitered here for a bit with a fresh bait before moving on. Having now fished all the way around Crow without a true bite, I decided to return to the southwest corner before leaving the area. I managed to finesse my bait right along the rocks plunging into deeper water and got bit! Finally, I was connected to a striper! It was just another 23-incher, but the day's goal had been completed. After another pass, I moved to Clapboard's west end. After an unsuccessful pass, I relocated to the Falmouth shoreline to end the day (and possibly, the saltwater boating season) with a Spot-Lock and chunk session. I was in position with chum bits flowing by 12:30 PM, with the best part of Quadrant II ahead of me. I had time to build the bite before making a decision on when to pull the plug; on both the day and the season. "Spot-Lock and Chunk" has been a very reliable technique for me in the second half of 2023, and I was surprised that I hadn't;y made contact with a bass by 1 PM. I decided to stay and stick it out, as opposed to relocating, based on the tide. I was even more surprised when I still hadn't a touch by 1:30. With the wind building, I decided to call it at 1:45 PM, unless something good had developed. All the while, I was dead-drifting my bait while introducing a steady rain of mackerel bits. At 1:45, I started cleaning the boat, storing extra macks for potential future use, and generally putting things away. Meanwhile, I left two baits resting on the bottom with the reels in free-spool. Everything was stowed and I was reaching for the last rod when the line jumped and raced away. I wound down and got tight to this last-second fish! What a way to end the season! But the bass was dogging towards a mooring and I put some additional pressure on it to turn it away. My line parted at the leader! Ugh; what a way to end the season! I returned to the ramp, a bit befuddled about what I thought about this turn of events. I can say, 18 hours later, that it's just another story to add to a fine 2023 season and overall experience. What do I have to say about this? While I didn't exactly execute well on my last few trips, I can certainly say that I tried to squeeze what I could out of the season's end. There are still some stripers to be caught; just not too many in my local waters. I can choose to trailer elsewhere, or I can move inland and target some trout in fresh water. And the landing's float is still in, and I kept some mackerel for cut bait... so another striped bass encounter is at least still possible, if I so choose. Pondering the questions of core essence and finding meaning in unexpected ways Date: October 7, 2023 Body of Water: Casco Bay - Maine Boat: amybaby22 With: Alone Target: Striped Bass Time: 8:30 AM - 11:30 AM Moon Phase: Quarter Moon (waning) Tide: Low tide at 12:13 PM Conditions: Tropical Storm Philippe on the way; heavy clouds with showers and squalls, persistent ESE wind >10 mph, about 60 degrees. Water temperatures 59 - 60 degrees F (+/-) Mackerel remained abundant in the top 20 feet of water over 60-foot depths off the east end of Clapboard Island. Fifteen minutes of drifting and jigging secured a couple of dozen in just 15 minutes, and I started the real fishing by live-lining a fresh bait off the rocks of Clapboard's southeast corner. Within minutes, my bait was chased to the surface and eaten in about 14 feet of water. What a great start! But as I wound tight, the leader parted even before I felt the full weight of the fish. I did NOT want to end the season on a lost opportunity go my own making! I continued my exploration here without raising another fish. I wandered around the corner to the northeast portion of the island, where another bass revealed itself by chasing my mack as I retrieved it. Still, subsequent drifts with livies and a casted fluke were not met with any enthusiasm. I ran to the west end of Clapboard, and I still could not find any fish. I'd thought to Spot-Lock and chunk here, but without any sign of fish, I decided to return to the area where I'd received the first and only hit of the day. When this proved futile, I decided to take advantage of the tidal stage (Quadrant II) and try some Spot-Lock and chunking along the Falmouth shoreline. By 10:30 AM I was positioned near the Bauman/Brown mooring buoys that have long been a marker of a fishy area (at least for me), with plenty of baitfish in the well to allow a steady dribble of fish bits to generate some local interest. The tide was weak, but the wind was strengthening. My drift wasn't great, but I was reaching bottom, based on the crabs! It seemed a little hopeless, but I also knew from this year's experience that if often takes 15 or more minutes for this activity to build before the fish start biting. And at 11 AM, my line jumped and I tightened up on the day's only striper. It wasn't a lunker (at just 23 inches), but it beat the day's skunk, and I have to admit; it could be the last of my Maine season. So I was happy to have landed this fish! I fished for another half hour without a bite. The wind was steadily increasing; Philippe was clearly on his way. What do I have to say about this? I don't tolerate break-offs very well, but am happy to have gotten another chance for another striper. And with a holiday on Monday, I might get even another chance or two. I am also thankful for avoiding disaster at the dock. As I pushed off the float to return to the mooring, my left Croc got snagged by the cleat. My right Croc was on deck, and my body was in-between. The wind was pushing amybaby22 into the dock (no real danger there), but also under the connecting gangway. I finally shrugged my left Croc off and centered myself in the boat. I was happy to avoid the dock, but then I heard several rod tips scraping the underside of the gangway. I could have broken all six rods standing in the rod holders, but quick action and a lot of luck enabled me to lay each rod down before it was broken. A couple were under a lot of stress (including a pair of my favorites), but I seem to have escaped this unharmed. I guess I really won't know until each rod gets stressed by the next fish or two. Pondering the questions of core essence and finding meaning in unexpected ways |
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