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Date: May 6, 2023 Body of Water: (Upper) Narragansett Bay - Rhode Island and Massachusetts Moon Phase: Full plus one day Boat: amybaby22 With: Alone Target: Striped Bass Time: 8 AM - 2 PM Conditions: Local High tide at about 10 AM (empirical); Clear and bright with light, alternating winds but mostly from the north; 50 - 70 degrees. Water temperatures 52 - 54 degrees (+/-). Striper Cup 2023 commenced, and I needed documentation of three stripers for the week! That would be an extremely difficult proposition for me from Maine waters at this point, so I did a day-trip to Rhode Island. I chose to launch from Haines State Park on the east side of the Providence River, and I emerged from the channel into Narragansett Bay at about 8 AM. I was hoping to encounter some bigger bass chasing large baits; not knowing where to start, I picked up the shipping channel and cruised south, looking for any sign of birds, bait or bass. I made it all the way to Bristol's Popasquash Point and Hog Island without a hint of such. I searched the boulder-strewn shoreline of Hog with a swim-bait for a bit without luck before pulling off into the deeper water off the southwest shoal extending from Hog. Some gulls and terns were acting funny; they weren't exactly diving on bait, but they were hanging in the area. A couple of boats were idling about, too, as if expecting something to erupt. I didn't see anything as I fan-casted the area with a small swim-bait. Something (likely a blue) nipped the paddle off my paddle-tail, but that was it. After 15 minutes of silence, I moved on. Still in search mode, I moved north and east into Mt. Hope Bay. I'd either find some bait and activity or I'd sneak into some of the backwaters on the north end. Several miles later, I was easing my way into the Kickamuit River at Bristol Narrows. At the very least, I figured these types of pinch points might create some current seams. As I arrived at about 10 AM, it appeared to be the top of the outgoing tide. When I saw a rocky, wind-blown point with current pushing past and 15 or more feet of water immediately adjacent, I decided I needed to make a few casts. The new 3-inch NLBN (No Live Bait Necessary) swim-bait got crunched on my second cast! I landed a spunky 17-incher, and I was on the board for 2023! Now, my new Minn-Kota Riptide trolling motor with Spot-Lock shined for the first time in the salt. I repositioned, anchored electronically, and continued to fish this feature efficiently and effectively. I landed three more stripers up to 25 inches; that's a pretty good fish for me this early in the year and always a very nice battle on light inshore tackle. My next stop was just a few hundred feet further into the pond. Again, a current seam was forming downstream of a prominent point, and deep water was nearby. This time, my first cast was eaten by a plump 22-incher. I quickly landed a couple of other fish here too. While most of the day's action had been with "low and slow" presentations, one of these attacked just under the surface as I quickly retrieved the lure at the end of the cast. I saw it all go down on the clear water. My gut reaction was "Blue!" but I was certainly not disappointed to land another striper. My next few moves were to various pinch points and current seams in the Cole, Lee and Barrington Rivers. The Cole and Lee (both across the line and in Massachusetts) produced a couple more fish, but I didn't stir anything at the junction of the Barrington and Warren Rivers back in Little Rhody. At this point, it was 2:30 or so and I was out of pinch points. I could either call it a good day or push my luck in my search for size further up the Providence River. With a long drive ahead, I chose to recognize my good fortune and started to head in. What do I have to say about this? I hated to forego any portion of my Maine trout season, but chasing stripers seemed to have more upside. Despite having grown up in Rhode Island, this was all totally new water for me (on my own/without a guide), and while I didn't find blitzing big bass or any big baits (the allure of which had drawn me away from Maine as well as the familiarity of Cape Cod's southern salt ponds), I confirmed some good things. Birds and bait mean bass, but so does current; and it doesn't have to be much to collect at least a few biting fish. These were my first self-guided Rhode Island stripers! They were simply not part of my youth, but I was glad to share their presence on such attractive water. It only took about 60 years! Pondering the questions of core essence and finding meaning in unexpected ways
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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: October 24, 2021 Body of Water: Thompson Lake, Oxford, Maine Moon Phase: Full Moon plus four days; waning gibbous moon Boat: Numenon With: Alone Target: Lakers (Togue) or other trout Time: 8:45 AM - 1:00 PM Conditions: Clear and bright; about 35 - 45 degrees F; strong northwest wind > 15 mph; water temperatures about 59 +/- Since I had the entire day ay my disposal, I went "big", went a little further afield, and tried yet another "new" lake. This time, my destination was Thompson Lake in Oxford, just about an hour away. I'd seen some attractive reviews of the lake and its fisheries. Once again, I decided to troll, targeting togue or whatever, while I covered water and assessed the lay of the land. If I'd been surprised by the Upper Range Pond ramp the day before, I was even more surprised by the Oxford ramp near the lake's northern end. Once again, it worked; but not easily or efficiently, and only because nobody else was around trying to use it (or park), too. Once again, I had no mapping info; I picked my way out to deeper water and headed north. I thought the inflow might attract some bait and/or predators. There was still a lot of lake ahead of me when the water dramatically shallowed to 7 feet or less. Since I was looking for some holding water deeper than that, I turned to the south and east until I picked up the drop for the main lake's basin. Along this eastern shoreline, the water plunged pretty quickly into 25 feet of water and beyond; I set up my troll with the stiffening northwesterly wind. My first pass consisted of a flat line with an S7 Rapala and another rod with two colors of lead presenting a small spoon. I tried to stay in the 10 - 20 feet of water range, but this generated no interest, and so my next pass was in 20 - 40 feet. When I started seeing consistent aggregations of bait, generally near bottom in about 30 feet of water, I replaced the flat line with a downrigger/spoon combo. I was hopeful that tracing bottom in this depth range would reproduce the previous day's results. Other than one mystery release (and I might have momentarily grabbed bottom), nothing happened, even as I expanded my trolling passes. One other boat was out with me, and they seemed to be doing the same thing. As the wind increased, though, they called it quits around 10 AM. After four unsuccessful passes, I relocated to the lee of the western shoreline. Here, I marked some fish (and bait!) below 30 feet. I had what appeared to be a valid release (I had just noted some marks and I swear, I could see the rod bucking!), 40 down over 42 feet of water, but I even questioned that. A final relocation to a larger cove on the west side (past the giant boulder field; Beware! But smallmouths, take note!) also resulted in more of nothing. When a boulder grabbed my downrigger ball one last time, I called it quits before something worse happened. What do I have to say about this? It was a beautiful fall day, but the wind really sapped my energy. I also had a fair amount of downrigger maintenance in front of me. Between the four, I've swapped various functional parts for the problem parts and now have confidence in two of them (perhaps a third, too; time on the water will tell). I was home earlier than expected, but I had to tackle those chores at some time or other! P.S. Subsequent intel indicated this to be a better lake for landlocked salmon than for it's slow-growing togue. Smallmouths still intrigue, though! A Nor'easter came roaring through a couple of days after this trip; with the wind and consistently cooler temperatures, I suspect the thermocline has been smashed and turnover is occurring. When I return to the water in a couple of weeks, it will be a new, shallow-water ball-game! Pondering the questions of core essence and finding meaning in unexpected ways Date: October 23, 2021 Body of Water: Upper Range Pond, Poland, Maine Moon Phase: Full Moon plus three days; waning gibbous moon Boat: Numenon With: Alone Target: Trout Time: 9:45 AM - 1:45 PM Conditions: Generally overcast (some sun struggled through after Noon); about 40 - 50 degrees F; calm to very mild northerly wind; water temperatures about 60 +/- I thought I'd try some new water. Upper and Middle Range Ponds (it's pronounced "Rang", here) are relatively convenient, two-story fisheries. Neither lake trout nor salmon fisheries (like many of the coldwater lakes here), they are stocked with a variety of trout species (brown, rainbow, brook), and are known to sporadically cough up a big fish. A state-maintained ramp is on Upper, and it connects through a causeway to Middle. I suspected I'd have more than enough water and options to keep me busy. Here's the thing; local ramps are pretty informal affairs. I was surprised to find a very steep, misaligned ramp with no dock and very limited parking. Fortunately, only one other rig was using the facility this quiet day, and I got on the water with no real problems. The causeway to Middle looked very sketchy and shallow, so I turned south into Upper Range Pond. I was a little surprised to have zero mapping information on my Humminbird; I'd have to scout and fish "blind" from an initial structure perspective. Since the shallows (less than 10 feet) were still very weedy, I attempted to target the "edge" from about 12 feet of water out to 20 feet, or so, initially. I started with an S7 Rapala, 85 feet back on mono; and two colors of lead with a small Stinger Scorpion spoon. Since skies were overcast and the water was tannic brown, I chose lures with gold/yellow/red hues. As I approached the south end of the lake, I saw a bass fisherman catch a small bass; it looked like they were throwing jerk-baits over deeper water. I was targeting trout, trolling to cover water, but it was still "nice" to see some action. Shortly thereafter, near the southeastern part of the lake, I ran over a weedy bar. The flat-line bent over, and I assumed it was weeds; but it turned out to be a 13.25-inch smallmouth bass, my first in Maine. At least I'd caught something! I circled around to go through this water again, and noted my first congregation of "bait" near bottom in about 28 feet of water. I spent some time dropping spoons and jigs here, to no avail, before moving on. This scene repeated itself further up the shoreline, and when I was again refused with my vertical presentations, I decided to move deeper and try the downrigger. This turned out to be a decent move. As I scouted the basin, I noted that it dropped into 25+ feet of water, to as deep as 38 feet. Numerous "humps" dotted the landscape, too. After vertically jigging some marks near one that topped out at 22 feet (unsuccessfully, again), I moved further north to set up a trolling pass. My spread now consisted of an emerald shiner Stinger Scorpion spoon, about 50 - 75 feet behind the downriver ball, and a Michigan Stinger (regular sized; small for Lake Michigan but seemingly large, here) in yellow/bumblebee trailing five colors of lead. After circum-fishing the known hump, I continued my troll to the south, encouraged by some marks on the graph. There did seem to be a smattering of bait and individual fish in the bottom few feet over this deeper water. Zing! Fish on! I carefully played the fish on the lead-core line, images of a 4-pound brown and Lake Michigan memories swirling in my head. I was mildly disappointed when a fat bass jumped behind the boat. Smallmouth number two, a nice 16.75-incher came aboard. At about this time, the other boat from the ramp lot trolled by; they too, had a spread of riggers and cores behind the boat, and they were catching some fish, too. Sticking with it, the downrigger produced three fat largemouths to 15.5 inches. Each was between 28 and 32 down and right near bottom. I started imagining working this basin water with a blade bait for a mixed bag of bass (maybe the next trip, since that gear was not on board.) While I expanded my trolling passes to the south, most of the action (for me and the other boat, as far as I could tell) appeared to be in the northern part of the basin. And so I kept returning. Now concentrating on keeping the rigger spoon as close to bottom as possible (although I did get hung top a few times on rocky outcroppings), I was 28 feet down over 30 feet of water, when finally, the downrigger rod jumped with some authority. At this point I was expecting another bass, but I suddenly got very careful with the fish when I saw color; this was a trout! A 19-inch rainbow made my day! I continued for another half-hour or so, but suddenly the logistics of the ramp loomed heavily. Since I had the entire next day ahead of me, I cut the day short when I had to pull lines because the rigger had found some sticky bottom. I was home in good shape to share the evening pleasantly with A; this was, after all, the 40th Anniversary of our relationship. What do I have to say about this? This pond showed some promise! I liked the mixed bag fishery, and it's small enough to cover on foot for ice fishing. It's pretty well protected from weather, too. I shall return! It was nice to catch a couple of decent fish, but the trout really did make my day. Finally, some targeted success! Pondering the questions of core essence and finding meaning in unexpected ways Date: October 17, 2021 Body of Water: Casco Bay, Falmouth, Maine Moon Phase: Full Moon minus three days; waxing gibbous moon Tides: Low Tide at 3:41 PM Boat: None, shore fishing from landing float With: Alone Target: Striped Bass Time: 2:40 PM - 5 PM Conditions: Clear and brisk; about 60 degrees F; northwesterly wind > 10 mph; water temperatures unknown but suspected to be low 60's With amybaby22 now fully secured for the winter and the landing's float still in place, a favorable tide and a cooler of frozen mackerel drew me to the water's edge for a potential shot at a striper or two. Once again, I wasn't sure what to expect, but the week's weather had been mild, with no real change in water temperatures. Social media posts indicated the presence of nice bass both east and west of me; it seemed like a no-brainer to give this a try. I started an hour before predicted low (Quadrant II), and things were unusually subdued. There was no sign of fish activity. A single cormorant was posted on my mooring, and just a few gulls were evident down the shoreline. The ospreys were silent, if not absent. Even the crabs were slow to find my mackerel chunks. I used three lines, each with a chunk. Two were free-lined to the bottom, one with a head, the other with a piece of tail meat. The third rod presented a center chunk under a float. After a quiet hour, something picked up, moved and dropped a bottom bait. It seemed as though somebody might be home, after all. About 15 minutes after slack low (starting Quadrant III), my float quietly disappeared. I wound down and tightened into a good fish! After a dogged fight, I managed to land a 27- or 28-inch fish. My day was made! Fifteen or so minutes later, a bottom chunk started to slowly creep away. I picked up the rod just in time for the run to start, and I quickly tightened up to another fine fish. This fish didn't fight quite as desperately, but it still showed determination and used its weight. It was a solid keeper at an easy 30 inches. Once again, Quadrant III had produced. I stayed another 45 minutes or so, and my float got pulled down twice, but in neither case did the fish run nor did I connect with anything. I left with some bait, but if this is the end of my local salt season, I know I ended with a couple of the right fish! What do I have to say about this? Most folks quit before all the fish have left, and while I was not surprised at these results, I was still happy to encounter these two fine fish! It would have been easy to skunk and/or quit, but now, if I truly have run out of season, I've ended on a high note. And that's so much better than wondering about that last missed run from last week... or any of the other "misses" over the course of the season. Strangely enough, my favored heads and tails did not get eaten this session. Rather, each fish took a body chunk, and in each case, it was fresh (i.e., recently deployed). I probably won't get to 300 stripers for the season, but I am close enough to know that's a reasonable starting goal for me in 2022. ![]() Pondering the questions of core essence and finding meaning in unexpected ways Date: October 16, 2021 Body of Water: Sebago Lake, Maine Moon Phase: Full Moon minus four days; waxing gibbous moon Boat: Numenon With: Alone Target: Lakers (Togue) Time: 8:45 AM - 1:15 PM Conditions: Post- very heavy thunderstorm and generally overcast (some sun after Noon); about 65 degrees F; southerly wind > 10 mph; water temperatures about 64 +/- I thought I'd launch from Jordan Bay based on timing and the prospect of heavy southerly winds, but I arrived only to find that water levels were too low for launching! I relocated to the State Park at Sebago's north end and was pleasantly surprised to find the gate "open", so I didn't lose too much time. It did, however, adjust my focus for the day from Jordan Bay to the Dingely Islands in Sebago's northeast section. I started outside the islands in 60 feet of water or more and followed the 30/40 - foot contour well into the interior. One downrigger traced the bottom, while five colors of lead covered the 20 - 25 foot depths. A few other boats found this area, too, including the guide I had spoken with last week. I marked some bait and a few fish, but never connected. The most consistent marks were 18 feet down and so the rigger depth and the core lengths varied, but it didn't seem to matter. I resorted to vertical jigging over one concentration of bait, but that too was unproductive. With the clock ticking, I decided to try different areas. The outer side of Sheep Island, the the main point just west, as well as the tapering flat out to 100 feet of water were fun to explore, but still vacant of biters. I ran down to the channel between the mainland and Frye Island. If nothing else, I figured there'd be some current. This picturesque area did produce a couple of phantom releases on the deep downrigger, but it was tough to know the source of these (although I was attempting to trace bottom). The slow fishing made it a bit easier to leave; I had a 5 PM commitment to keep. What do I have to say about this? I don't like getting skunked, but it's part of the game. I did get to see some new water, and I anticipate lots of potential in what I saw. I feel caught in-between; lakers deep vs. salmon in the shallows. After turnover, I suspect I will be able to concentrate in more shallow water with more confidence. It will be a week or more before I return, and a cold front may have tipped the balance of the fall weather trajectory. Maybe things will change by the time I hit the fresh water again and I will find my groove. Pondering the questions of core essence and finding meaning in unexpected ways Date: October 10, 2021 Body of Water: Sebago Lake, Maine Moon Phase: New Moon plus four days; Waxing crescent moon Boat: Numenon With: Alone Target: Togue (Lake Trout) Time: 9:15 AM - 2:00 PM Conditions: Generally overcast; about 55-60 degrees F; insignificant wind; water temperatures about 64 +/- After 25 months, Numenon finally splashed again! The primary goals of the day were simple; get to the lake and have the boat run without any problems; and secondarily, catch a freshwater fish! I chose to use the protected launch at Sebago State Park, just in case I ran into any issues with the boat. I was surprised to find out that the park (and launch) is gated until 9 AM; but that just gave me some time to finish rigging. By 9:15 or, I had cleared the protected channel and entered the lake itself; Numenon was floating in the mountains! ![]() I chose to go west, to the vicinity of Outer Island and the Muddy River outlet. There seemed to be some interesting contours in the area, but more importantly, I'd have the wind at my back for a return to port if I encountered any issues. I was surprised the water was as warm as I registered; 64 degrees. The thermocline was clearly still in place, and I figured the lakers were pinned deep. I focused on a depth range of 80 - 120 feet of water, to start, because riggers and spoons work effectively at these depths. I'd barely set both lines when the deeper rod (plain silver spoon, perhaps an old Northport Nailer?) sprang. Fish on! It was no giant, but I was still pleased to encounter my first freshwater fish as a Maine resident. Target species and fit, too; I was off to a good start. Perhaps this rogue was part red herring, because my fast start turned into a grind as I focused on what I perceived as the "productive" depth range. Despite some interesting structure/contours, this was the only fish I caught I my 90 minutes in this area. (I did have a couple of mysterious releases from the riggers that may have been drive-bye, but they could have been due to my rustiness with the gear, too.) Convinced all was okay with the boat, I ran across the lakes' basin to near the southern tip of Frye Island to set up a northbound troll. I caught another, similar trout on the bottom rigger/silver spoon, but because it was a short-term dragger, I don't really know if it came from the shallow or deep end of my targeted range. And, while I maintained this "winning" combo near bottom throughout, I varied my presentation with the second rod, all the way from near-surface to just above the other rigger. I alternated five colors of lead, too, and tried a variety of spoons in different sizes and colors. Nothing ever happened with this rod, and I can't say that I marked any viable targets all day (other than occasional fuzzy bottom). The day was too short; but I had family to meet, a pizza to eat, and a Red Sox playoff baseball game to watch. What do I have to say about this? I achieved my stated primary goals, and with pleasant conditions, even! I am super pleased to have Numenon back in the water. Upon returning to the ramp, a guide mentioned he'd done quite well in the "skinny water" surrounding the island area to the east of the ramp. He'd caught mostly lakers, but also a bonus 37-inch pike that caught my attention. He too was trolling spoons, but off lead core, I about 35 - 40 feet of water. He said this particular area held a lot of bait and would only get better as water temperatures cooled. Good to know and time will tell. Pondering the questions of core essence and finding meaning in unexpected ways Date: October 9, 2021 Body of Water: Casco Bay, Falmouth, Maine Moon Phase: New Moon plus three days; waxing crescent moon Tides: Low Tide at 7:29 AM; High Tide at 1:42 PM Boat: amybaby22 With: Alone Target: Striped Bass Time: 7:30 AM - 2:30 PM Conditions: Generally overcast, but trying to clear later in the day; about 55 - 60 degrees F; persistent southeasterly wind > 10 mph; water temperatures 58 +/- degrees I wasn't sure what to expect. The week's weather had been pretty mild, with no real change in water temperature. I didn't want to leave any striped bass chances on the table, though, so I gave it a shot. Bait was spotty east of Clapboard, but with a half dozen in the well, I tried Clapboard's eastern point. Two passes revealed absolutely nothing, so I headed to Hussey Sound and College Island. I stopped a bit short of College Island, along Long Island, to set up. A single striper revealed itself pretty quickly with a surface chase of my mackerel, but after one "pop", it disappeared. I continued towards College Island and the saddle connecting it to Long. Almost there but with nothing to show for my efforts, I decided to circle around to the spot revealed by the single active striper. Off the edge of a grassy flat, the depth dropped from about 10 to about 20 feet of water pretty quickly. As I deployed a bait, I felt it get smacked; I tightened up, and landed a nice 26-incher! I circled around again, and repeated my good luck; this time, it was only a 23-incher, but from the same type of water; near the grassy shallows, off the edge, but not too deep. I tried the College Island saddle area with no luck. The mid-tide current was picking up and I was down to my last bait; The deep, west end of College Island provided a dozen mackerel in short order. I ran out of Hussey with the intent of fishing Vaill Island; but the wind and swell made things uncomfortable, and I really didn't want any problems on this lonely day; there weren't too many folks out to provide assistance if need be. So I turned back and went to Crow; I found nothing there, but had a double run off a rocky point on nearby Little Diamond Island. One bait got dropped, and the other got plucked off the hook as I came tight. And that was it; I spent another hour or more searching Little Diamond and then Clapboard for any active bass. Approaching slack high tide, I ran up Mill Creek and Mussel Cove. I casted my new 9-weight fly rod with a homemade Clouser for another hour without a sign of a fish. Just to keep them honest, I made a dozen or more casts with a swim-bait, and I finished by swimming a live mackerel in this skinny water. Nothing moved. This was the end of the line for my 2021 Striper Season (at least here in Maine, on my boat). I'd squeezed out what I could, but other it was clear to me, I should be investing my time in other pursuits. What do I have to say about this? I knew this was coming, but it still hurts a bit; I didn't want this fine season to end (at least without an exclamation point of some sort.) Still, there are worse things than ending a season with a trouble-free session, a couple of fish and a new wand in hand. I was decently pleased with my casting, and I've got plenty to look forward to, in both short- (trout!) and longer terms. P.S. amybaby22 and the dinghy were pulled from the water on Monday, October 11. This really was the last hoorah for my local boat/striper season. Pondering the questions of core essence and finding meaning in unexpected ways Date: October 3, 2021 Body of Water: Casco Bay, Falmouth, Maine Moon Phase: New Moon minus three days; waning crescent moon Tides: High Tide at 9:25 AM Boat: amybaby22 With: Alone Target: Striped Bass Time: 7:30 AM - 1:15 PM Conditions: Overcast with occasional light showers; about 55 degrees F; mild east wind < 10 mph; water temperatures 58-59 degrees Making bait in about 55 feet of water off the east end of Clapboard was easy; a steady stream of singles put a couple of dozen mackerel in the well in just a half hour. The macs were stacked in the top 25 feet of water. About one third of these were tiny 5-inchers. I was hoping that these Fun-Sized baits might trigger some bites and hookups. My first stop was Clapboard's east end; nothing happened. I relocated to the island's west end; more nothing. Despite the abundance of excellent bait in my possession, I wasn't able to put it to good use. Still, I swam a pair of macs, large and small, with some confidence of raising something. With the flood tide, I visited Prince Point. A lively mackerel trailed the skiff as I casted the shallow rocks and weeds with a Hogy popper. Neither presentation moved anything. I ran up Mussel Cove/Mill Creek as far as I could at slack high tide. Setting a tube-and-worm in just a few feet of water, I was surprised to lose my worm to pesky taps almost immediately. I re-set, and with about 25 feet of line off the rod tip, finally caught the first bass of the day in about 4 feet of water. It wasn't a big one, but it sure was welcome! I caught two more small bass on the tube-and-worm in this tight water in the next half hour. When the bites dried up (too much engine noise in close quarters?), I set a drift with a Fun-Sized mackerel instead. This produced another bass in the 20-inch class, and so I repeated this drift. The next Fun-Sized mackerel deployed got nervous a few times, but was never attacked, even as I drifted through some deeper water below the old mill foundation. After a quick, unsuccessful pass by the rocks at the mouth of Mussel Cove with the tube-and-worm, I made a big move to Hussey Sound and College Island. Despite marking many fish in the area that had produced the previous day, no stripers ate my trailing mackerel. After a few unproductive drifts, I tried Cow Island's southern face and eastern point. Again, my baits revealed nothing. My last chance was Clapboard's east end. With little time left on the clock (for the day and for the Striper Season), my regular-sized mackerel suddenly got very nervous. But then the snack, Fun-Sized, bait got confidently plucked off the surface. The last bass of the day, a fine 26-incher, provided a great fight on the light rod presenting this tiny bait. Not a bad way to end the session; not a bad way to possibly end the season!?!?! What do I have to say about this? With shorter days, dropping water temperatures and conditions clearly changing (as expected and as inevitable), I've got to consider shifting gears and targeting trout. This day was a struggle, but I think I put together a pretty good session. If that were my last bass of the season, it really was a fun one! And the smaller bass in Mussel Cove gave me something to think about. It could be a long winter, I'll need some fodder to get through it. Pondering the questions of core essence and finding meaning in unexpected ways Date: October 2, 2021 Body of Water: Casco Bay, Falmouth, Maine Moon Phase: New Moon minus four days; waning crescent moon Tides: High Tide at 8:38 AM; Low Tide at 2:30 PM Boat: amybaby22 With: Alone Target: Striped Bass Time: 7:45 AM - 3:00 PM Conditions: Generally overcast with some light showers; about 55 degrees F; inconsequential wind; water temperatures 59 degrees +/- I have never fished for stripers in Maine in October. Since I'm now a local, I am going to ride the stripers as long as they are available. I was mildly concerned that mackerel would be absent or I wouldn't find any bass. But I made considerable bait off Clapboard's east end in the first 45 minutes, and the second bait I deployed got destroyed by a very hard-fighting 26-incher. So these concerns were unfounded; I was off to a good start! I probably spent too much time at Clapboard's east end; a number of runs and surface smashes kept me there. But I never hooked up, so at 10 AM or so, I headed to my favorite stretch of Cow Island. There was no evidence of bass, bait, or birds here, so I relocated to College Island. My first pass on the island's south side resulted in nervous baits, but nothing else. Moving to the north side, I marked a concentration of fish in the deeper water north of the saddle connecting the island to shore. On my second pass here, I got my first real run in a while; the hooks pulled. I could still feel the mackerel struggling, so I left it in place; and it got picked up again. After a strong run, the bait pulled out; when I retrieved it, the hook was buried deeply into the mackerel's side. I repositioned the boat to go through this water again. Going with the current, I passed over the saddle into some deeper water (14 feet or so). A surface chase commenced and culminated with a confident strike from a very strong fish; this 30-incher was the 500th Striper I've landed on amybaby22! I returned to the deeper water (16 feet of water) north of the saddle and found the marks again; a 27-incher smashed a bait and came to hand. The catching wasn't fast or furious, but the fish were high calibre! And that was pretty much it; I tried Vaill Island, marked some fish, had some nervous baits and had a striper chase and miss a fluke thrown towards the rocks; but had no legitimate strikes. A decent swell produced plenty of whitewater along the rocks, but I may have to admit that Vaill doesn't fish as well at lower tides. It's still a favored spot, though, and I might have to add a popper, large dog-walker or perhaps a fly to the mix the next time I visit! Approaching dead low, I ran to the mouth of Mussel Cove and trolled the Falmouth shoreline with a tube-and-worm. Covering about 8 to 15 feet of water, I had no further hits. What do I have to say about this? The mackerel came in singles; are they thinning out? Still, I ended my bait-making session with a steady pick during slack high tide, and at the end of the day I encountered a tight pod of them near the landing float at about slack low. Macs are seemingly still a viable bait of choice. Perhaps more-so than blood-worms! The tube-and-worm went untouched despite the favorable tidal conditions at the end of the session. Striper No. 500 aboard the skiff was special! A keeper, but also kind of predicted as I spoke with my youngest on the phone; and since I had her on the phone when I hooked up, I streamed it live for her. Fun and memorable! I'll try again tomorrow; will that be the season's end? Pondering the questions of core essence and finding meaning in unexpected ways |
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