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Date: April 27, 2024 Body of Water: Collins Lake - California Boat: FHS Pontoon With: K and Captain W Target: Rainbow Trout Time: 7:30 AM - 3 PM Moon Phase: Full moon plus four days Conditions: Too nice! Post-frontal; clear and calm, with a mild breeze, intermittent breeze developing from the south. 50 - 70 degrees, water was stained and 64 - 67 degrees. Weekend crowds, too. Day 2 of our adventure (https://www.fishhuntshoot.com/product/collins-lake-guide-trip/) greeted us with "perfect" weather, which meant the bite might be tough! The lake was more crowded on this beautiful weekend day, and there was a local derby taking place to boot. We met Captain W at the stated time and location, and were soon setting lines over the lake's main basin. We had a good starting point from the day before, but we were still determined to find our own fish. Given the calm and bright conditions, we looked for comfortable fish a little bit down from the surface. Our starting point included a stacked spoon and naked worm off the downrigger, down to about 25 feet; and a couple of presentations off two colors of supplemented lead, ending in a dodger/crawler or a small plastic worm behind an action disk. Targeted speed was about 2.0 +/- 0.2 mph. All initial interest was in the crawlers, and the bites were tentative to start. The spoon was pulled, a turbo flasher added to the rigger's worm, and the plastic worm/action disk was replaced with a naked Gulp! pinched crawler (orange over natural) presented off two colors of supplemented lead. Most bites continued to be be very tentative, but a few were aggressive, and after the first hour, we had landed at least five nice trout! Not bad for a "tough" day! Late morning and early afternoon were slow, and we rotated through a series of dodgers and flashers on the leadcore/crawler combo. We continued the pleasant grind and added a metal-head fly way back (225 feet) on top, looking for a trophy. A few more fish came to hand, including a gorgeous and pugnacious Lightning Trout on the naked Gulp!, and the fly got smacked hard (and broken off!?!) once. Action continued to be "best" over the deeper portions of the lake's basin and the structure near the northeast corner. Once again, FHS was generous with their time and effort, and this paid off with an uptick in fish action between 2 and 3 PM (or so, I lost touch with the exact time...). The downrigger caught fire for a bit, now tracking 23 feet down; and we quickly added several trout to the the day's tally. This included a couple of very nice rainbows and lightnings over three pounds. As we called it a day, three of the four rods produced fish! Only the long-lined fly went untouched, but we had given it an extra-long soak, and we knew it was time to go. So much for a tough/slow day; we'd landed at least 15 trout and had probably connected with at least as many trout as the previous day! Tactics were generally the same, and yet different; we'd gotten there by a different path under different circumstances. What do I have to say about this? Good job, Captain W, you provided another excellent, productive and enjoyable day on the water! I know how difficult it is too put together multiple consistent days under variable conditions, and how much work goes into that. I didn't want to leave; and yet I even enjoyed the busy drive back to San Francisco and the long flight home. Thank you, K! What a nice long weekend! What a fishing buddy! Pondering the questions of core essence and finding meaning in unexpected ways
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Date: April 26, 2024 Body of Water: Collins Lake - California Boat: FHS Pontoon With: K and Captain CK Target: Rainbow Trout with Lightning Trout, too Time: 7:30 AM - 4 PM Moon Phase: Full moon plus three days Conditions: Alternating clouds, sun and morning squalls; wind from all points and up to 15 mph or so; 50 - 65 degrees. Collins Lake was "full" and spilling over the dam, the water was clear but stained, and surface water temperatures were 65 - 68 degrees. K was so kind to arrange a visit to the San Francisco area, and especially one where we could camp and fish together! After a bit of research we settled on https://www.fishhuntshoot.com/product/collins-lake-guide-trip/ , and we were not disappointed! Captain CK offers guided "teaching" trips on a small reservoir at the base of the Sierra Mountains, and I thought (correctly!) that this would provide a pleasant platform for K and I to relax while re-living our glorious past of trolling for trout (and salmon) on Lake Michigan. The accommodations at Collins Lake looked good, too, and I spent a good share of the winter quietly looking forward to a respite from the Maine weather and getting into some active fish! We left K's home on Thursday morning and wandered our way to Collins Lake. We snacked and saw sights along the way, and when we arrived mid-afternoon, our cabin was clean and ready for us. We poked around, unpacked, and enjoyed some local ice cream with our hot dogs roasted over our campfire. We went to bed relaxed and slept well! We hooked up with Captain CK right on time, and after brief introductions and based on our trolling experience, we were able to skip "class" and go right to the fishing! With surface water temperatures climbing to 65 degrees or more, Captain CK had deployed his downrigger for the first time all Spring the previous day, and many of the reported biters were settling in, deeper, to eat "meat", i.e., crawlers. Our initial spread included a surface line, 175 feet back, with a small white worm/action disk; two colors of lead (supplemented with a small, in-line weight) with a pink dodger and pinched crawler on a Slow Death rotating hook; and a naked, rotating pinched crawler 44 feet behind the rigger ball set at about 20 feet down. The morning's weather was funky but very fishy. Skies were gray, it was breezy to windy, and scattered, intense showers were visibly around us. (Occasionally they would find us, especially mid-morning). I was surprised to find depths over 100 feet in the lake's basin, and we settled into a pattern of searching for and collecting bites over this deeper water, especially along the lake's western shore and northeast corner. (Structure likely played a role in the northeast area, and I told myself that the predominant wind was pushing any food into this corner, too.) Everything got hit, but the pink dodger off two colors of supplemented lead clearly elicited the most action. We added the same dodger to the downrigger, and pretty soon we had switched to a pink worm on top, too! Target speed was 2.0 mph +/- 0.2 mph, and we were very comfortable on the pontoon platform. Bites came in flurries, and the numbers started racking up! After the first fish (which came on "my side" of the boat), we tried to alternate turns on fish, and there was plenty for all to do (or not, as one's mood might dictate at the moment). Soon enough, Captain CK was comfortable with me running the back of the boat (I let him thread the crawlers, just because...), and I was happy to net fish and monitor, tweak and adjust our presentations. I especially enjoyed converting drive-by's into hookups by "feeding" the bait to following fish. This was remarkably effective! We took a break for lunch with ten or 12 trout landed, and the afternoon was just as productive, even though the wind veered to the northwest and skies cleared. We spent some time heading up the river arm, where we added a spotted bass to our catch, but when we returned to the basin we finished strong, including our largest trout of the day (six-pound rainbow) and most beautiful fish of the day (a solid four-pound Lightening Trout for K). Captain CK and his dog friend, Lucy, were very generous with their time, and when we called it quits at about 4 PM, we agreed that we'd landed at least 19 trout in addition to the bass. We'd missed and farmed out a few, too, but that didn't matter; we were fishing again, the next day! What do I have to say about this? This was so pleasant and relaxing, and I can't thank K enough for making this happen. I also need to thank Captain CK for enjoyably hosting us, adjusting to our competence, sharing stories, and his enthusiasm. He and Lucy provided for a unique experience, and it was the one I'd envisioned! I also appreciated his rods, reels and lures, as they felt great in hand and performed well. For some odd reason, K seemed to specialize in the golden Lightning Trout while I caught just about all rainbows. They are the same species, but I still felt like the rainbows fought harder. I lost a lot of the details, but that comes with having had so many strikes and fish landed. Still, I enjoyed a number off firsts, including first freshwater fish in California, first Lightning Trout, first trout on a soft plastic, and first use of rolling crawlers for trout. Obviously, this will work in Maine, and this has been added to my list of tricks and presentations. Here's how I ended up finding FHS.com. In the mid-to-late 1980s, I was new to Lake Michigan and trout trolling in general. My only chances for trout and salmon were either from a river mouth pier, or in the years to come, from my small, shore bound boat. The local prize was a Spring Brown Trout, and they ate trolled Rapalas or casted spoons near shore. I was all in! But I still recalled a specific television show where a western troller was pounding big rainbows on his trolling flies. These didn't exist in Michigan, and this was before the Internet. I couldn't get those flies, and so I turned to local tactics. I didn't think about those flies again until a couple of years ago when I landed in Maine. One of the staple approaches to trolling for trout and salmon here is a double-hooked trolling streamer fly. I've integrated them into my local tactics and have generated some strikes and several by-catch smallmouth bass to date. When K proposed the idea for this trip, I started thinking about those big rainbows and flies! I found the original video (or remake) of the show I recalled, and it featured Jay Fair and his system for trolling his flies (see www.youtube.com/watch?v=syMj8laWyLM .) I found his flies for purchase and got some! I rigged a couple of rods with his hybridized floating flyline/leadcore-tipped presentation. But I also found www.fishhuntshoot.com/shop/ and their flies, gear, and guided trips. I'm glad I did! "Fish on!" Pondering the questions of core essence and finding meaning in unexpected ways Date: March 3, 2024 Body of Water: Flats and Mangrove Channels near Marco Island, SW Florida Boat: Slacktyde With: DC Target: Snook Time: 8 AM - 2 PM Moon Phase: Waning Quarter Moon Conditions: Similar to the previous day, but a touch cooler and cloudier, with perhaps less breeze. Once again, low slack conditions interrupted the day's fishing. Water temperatures were a little lower, too, generally registering 73-74 degrees. The water in the channels was clearer overall than the day before and further east. We left the Goodland Ramp at 8 AM, this time with Captain T from https://www.slacktydecharters.com. We'd indicated a preference for game-fish as opposed to food fish, and he'd been in touch with Captain J the night before. His live well was loaded with pilchards and we headed south to some new water! Once again, the program was pitching free-lined pilchards to the edges of mangroves, especially by cover in narrow channels with current. There's an endless amount of such water, but Captain T had specific locations in mind, many of which were well beyond the reach of most vessels under control of less daring navigators. The overall bite was tough, but five or six spots out of 12 or 15 produced good bites. While our largest landed snook was about 25 inches, overall the snook were better quality than the day before; we weren't entertained by tiny snook, and a few very nice fish showed themselves either as a retreating streak or on top while taking advantage of freebie baits. We were definitely on some of the right fish! DC once again completed his slam, while I missed out on the redfish. We both caught a few snappers, as well. The chance at a big snook once again kept everybody motivated for the entire trip. The sun was late to the game, and the current was suppressed, but we still had a good day of fishing! Captain T seemed to prefer riverine mangrove edges to oyster bars, but we visited a few open beaches and a deep slot adjacent to a marina, too. In the marine, we anchored our baits with a single split shot, and that kept the baits in the strike zone for long enough that the local snook and trout could find our baits. That simple adjustment put a few more nice fish in the boat. Too soon, the day was over, and it was time to return to Maine. Pondering the questions of core essence and finding meaning in unexpected ways Date: March 2, 2024 Body of Water: Ten Thousand Islands, East of Marco Island, SW Florida Boat: Love-N-It With: DC Target: Snook Time: 8 AM - 4 PM Moon Phase: Waning Quarter Moon Conditions: Mixed sun and increasing clouds, generally southerly breeze, part of a recent warming trend after a cool Florida winter. Water neither clear nor muddy. Air temperatures to 80 and water temperatures finally exceeding 75 degrees to about 78 degrees. Slack low tide in the middle of the trip. Perhaps DC and I had not fished together in six or more years, but our friendship and fishing compatibility picked up right where we'd left off. After more than 35 years of sharing boats and adventures, we found ourselves comfortably together in the company of Captain J. of lovenitfishingcharters.com/home-1. Warm weather was arriving, water temperatures were climbing, and snook, tarpon, redfish and seatrout were all on our radar. We left the Goodland, Florida town launch and headed out in a generally easterly direction and into the Ten Thousand Islands Region. After a substantial run over the shallow, calm water and through multiple mangrove mazes and channels, we pulled up to a spot I'd have targeted for stripers on Casco Bay or Vineyard Sound. The ebbing tide created a mild current seam off the tip of an oyster-laden point. We set up and started presenting free-lined pilchards (small green-back herring) to any available predators. This spot added the bonus of "deep" water nearby as our boat sat in about 9 feet of water as we pitched to the shoreline and bar edges. We had a few taps and nervous baits here, but quickly moved on in search of active predators. At our third stop, and at about the height of sunshine for the day, we enjoyed the first real action of the day. A gut between two islands poured current out and over a lengthy oyster bar. We missed a couple of chances from small fish, and a large swirl indicated bigger ones were around before I finally got hooked up. An approximate 20-inch snook lept out of the water to identify himself. Unfortunately, our lines tangled and in a moment of slack, our first catch was slightly delayed. Fortunately, my next cast produced a similar-sized snook and we were on the board. After a couple of others, DC suddenly hooked up while retrieving his bait; soon a 28-inch, fat snook was in the net! Snook were finally waking up for the day and for the season, and this was the largest of J's for the year to date. After the action here quieted, we set up off another non-descript "island" of just a couple of mangroves. Here, I landed my best-ever snook on a larger-than-average pilchard. This snook was also 28 inches, but sleek and less energetic than DC's. Our next stop was in the Fakahatchee State Park East Strand, and we found a pocket of active snook in the the clearer water. These energetic guys were energetic but small. I was treated to a juvenile Goliath Grouper, too, for some spice and variety. This was a new-to-me species, and a cool-looking one, to boot. At this point (about 11:30 AM or so), slack low caught up to us and the fish activity slowed way down. We tried a variety of wind-blown edges and points, and worked hard to scratch out additional bites and fish. Several seatrout and a couple of jacks came aboard, as did a small shark, some mangrove snappers and some more small snook, but a hot bite never redeveloped. Still, the prospect of finding the right snook (or tarpon!) kept us motivated, and a few obviously bigger fish did avail themselves to chummed livies. We had transitioned from oyster bars to sandy beaches and mangrove edges, and as the current started to pick up, so did the quality bites. We added several more snook in the low-20s, and DC completed his Inshore Slam with the single (small) redfish of the day. We were running out of time, but our last stop produced another nice snook for me and a final solid miss, while several nice fish showed themselves on freebies. Unfortunately, we never connected with The One, but we were already looking ahead to the next day! What do I have to say about this? I cannot thank DC and his wife for reaching out to us and inviting us to join them. We've been friends for 37 or more years, and we should continue to do so. Every aspect of the weekend was pleasant. It was great to be outside and fishing again! Conditions were comfortably warm but not too hot, and the clouds made the long days bearable. But maybe hotter and clearer would have been better; the snook seem to prefer those conditions. Captain J at Love-n-It did a great job, working hard on our behalf to keep us on productive spots and near active fish. We burned a lot of gas and were mostly fishing alone and away from others. He provided a full day of intense fishing and opportunity. I'd fish with him again, without hesitation! It was great to be fishing with DC again. He's really the only fishing partner that I've had with the same consistent attitude, approach and appetite for fishing long and hard. I'm really pleased that we've re-connected. So many bites! We used the same presentation all day; nose-hooked 3-5 inch pilchards with no weight, light and small circle hooks, and the bail closed. Small fish proved pesky, but even they entertained with their multiple attempts to engulf the bait from the surface. Pondering the questions of core essence and finding meaning in unexpected ways 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 I was fortunate to share a week with all my girls and my son-in-law in a comfortable, Gulf-side rental home in the middle of the Florida Keys. I had access to as much water as time, weather, and a kayak allowed, and I tried to make the most of my opportunities, while also trying to keep things relaxed, simple and fun. Date: December 19 - 25, 2022 Body of Water: The Florida Keys - Grassy Key, Florida Moon Phase: Approaching, through, and past the New Moon on December 23 Boat: Occasional kayak, but also dock and wade fishing With: Generally alone, but accompanied by A, K and A at times Target: Whatever I could find, but ultimately focusing on barracuda and sharks Time: Whenever I could and as weather allowed, but usually starting with sessions before sunrise at 6:30 AM, then some sort of mid-day effort, and ending with a dock session at dusk Conditions: Varied; a few days of calm and bright conditions with clear water, but sharply degrading with a historically powerful, named winter storm to very windy and muddy by Friday night. Normal temps of 73 overnight to 83 during the day, but then falling into the 40s with highs less than 60 at week's end. Day 1 - Monday, December 19 Arrival After picking up M in DC and sharing a pleasant weekend visit with my mother, there really wasn't any time for anything but arrival and gear preparation. I rounded up the kayak and a life vest, and tied on a small swim-bait and top-water walking plug for the next morning. I was glad to squeeze in a walk to the end of the dock before dark, and glad to find four or five feet of clear water, despite the day's wind. It looked like we would be comfortable and well-positioned for the week! Day 2 - Tuesday, December 20 Learning A small white swim-bait has a chance of working anywhere, anytime. My first, pre-sunrise cast from the dock got hit, but it took a second cast for me to land the first fish of the trip. It was just a small jack, but it pulled! This was a promising start. After a lull, I switched to the walking bait, and this produced several strikes and a fish in very shallow water near shore. My first top-water fish of the trip was a small barracuda. Just legal, if I'd had a bait knife it would have made good bait for sharks! Instead, it swam free. I switched to the kayak and headed into the 10+ mph ENE wind. This proved to be the limit of sea-worthiness for the kayak, but at least the water coming over the bow was warm. I alternated paddling with throwing the swim-bait. This produced several short strikes over flats adjacent to mangroves, but no solid hookups. This also revealed how limited my radius might be; my body did not easily tolerate the restraint and constraint of the small kayak. Live shrimp were only a few hundred yards away, so I picked up a couple of dozen and a few popping floats. Back on the dock, bits of shrimp on tiny hooks produced a steady parade of small snappers (lanes, yellowtails and a single mutton), jacks, and fortunately a couple of pinfish! Even though the pinfish was too big for my taste, I set one out under a float, with the rod in a holder and the drag loosened. I was bent over the shrimp, re-baiting when I sensed rather than heard the drag slipping. Then, it was singing! I gradually tightened the drag and finally turned the fish. It was a dogged fight, but unspectacular; I think it was a sizable nurse shark. Unfortunately, the fish turned to the southwest; I had a boat lift with a 30 (+) -foot center console on my left shoulder, and I got rubbed off on the outermost piling. Darn it! Still, I was pleased to connect with a heavy and fast fish. It had been a good, first day introducing me to the local fishery. Day 3 - Wednesday December 21 Kayak Success and Dock Heartache The dawn was quiet and calm, and so of course I started with a top-water. I fan-casted my favored Rebel Jumpin' Minnow. I'd already raised a few small fish (jacks, barracuda and/or needlefish) when the calm was explosively interrupted with the most dramatic top-water hit of my career. With a hint of weight, I swung and instantly cut through my 30-pound leader, perhaps 18 or 24 inches up. Whatever it was - shark, tarpon, barracuda or snook - had inhaled my hapless lure. Apparently, I'd found flesh, too, because my lure never re-surfaced. Losing another big fish hurt, but what an experience! Plus, clearly there were big fish available from the dock. After a short stint for work (???), I mounted a kayak excursion to the west, where I could see a prominent point and a long stretch of mangrove shoreline. Heading into a mild wind under clear skies and a brutal sun, I found some good habitat, a rumor of a tarpon from a fellow kayak fisherman, and a spooked school of something (bones? reds?) in about 6 inches of water. The catch was just a few barracuda for me; I caught these on white flukes with weighted swim-bait hooks, over shallow, varied bottom. These only stretched to 21 inches or so, but were still fun to catch. I intended to keep one for bait, but after resting in a docile state for about 20 minutes at my feet, it suddenly leapt to freedom and quickly swam away. Returning to the dock, my body failed me. I could not extract myself from the kayak without help and I could barely walk. That was the end of kayak fishing for me for the week. That evening, I floated frozen ballyhoo plugs from the dock. Once again, the drag singed and I was tight to another big fish. After a long battle with a suspected shark (blacktip? I'd seen one earlier...), I had finally turned the fish away from the boat lift when I felt my worn leader part. Ugh, another lost fish! Other highlights from the session included a nice extended view of a graceful spotted ray, and hooking an elusive filefish! This odd guy had been hanging by the dock for a couple of days and stealing baits intended for pinfish. It surprised me with speed and unexpected athleticism, and I dropped it at my feet. There's a cool picture of this fish at key-west-fishing.link/filefish.htm Day 4 - Thursday, December 22 Oooh, Barracuda! I was treated to another beautiful, gentle and calm sunrise. I casted a variety of baits without success, and things were slow at first, but I had faith in my ballyhoo under the float. When I lost the float, I simply placed a fresh chunk on bottom for the first take of the morning. With an instant, giant jump and long run, I suspected a tarpon! Fortunately, it ran north and east, away from the dock. I gradually tightened my drag and turned the fish. I played it lightly and slowly brought it in. Now with a 4-foot barracuda at my feet, I couldn't really be disappointed that it wasn't a tarpon. With no real way to land this fish, I simply admired it. It took only a slight change in angle and a shake of its head to cut through my leader. No picture; but still a legal, saltwater catch as my leader was within the rod tip. It was a great, if still somewhat unsatisfactory, experience. I continued my morning session with a few smaller 'cudas on flukes (and a few cutoffs, too.) I ended the morning when a large but lumbering fish pulled me into the boat lift and rubbed through the line. I don't know if it was a ray or a nurse shark???I didn't feel too bad about losing this, but now I was just about out of hooks! Mid-day, I grabbed my 9-weight fly rod, some pliers and a handful of flies. Wet-wading the flat immediately in front of our house under bright skies, I enjoyed landing five small barracuda to perhaps 20 inches (a first-time experience, for me) on a green-over-white Clouser Minnow that I had tied a couple of winters ago. Surprisingly, the 'cudas seemed to prefer a slower presentation, and would follow, but not strike, a popper. I found myself running out of weather, too, and yet I had to go shopping? Bass Pro Shops was just 22 miles up Route 1, and I bought more than enough to keep me going for the rest of the week. I hit the float again at 3 PM until dark; there were plenty of troublesome, pesky fish chewing my baits, but no real chances other than a box puffer and a needlefish. I also managed to explode my light lure rod with a power stroke after I had hooked the dock on an errant back-cast... self-imposing another unnecessary limitation on myself for my remaining fishing time. Day 5 - Friday, December 23 Impending Weather Change Gray skies and a bit of westerly wind greeted me at the dock's end, while thunderstorms rumbled way offshore to the north. I started with a Rapala Skitter Walk, and raised a couple of small fish almost immediately. A small but feisty jack crashed the bait on about cast six. That was followed up by a topwater lizardfish (?!?!?!). By 7 AM, the bite has slowed and I switched to bait fishing. I deployed pinfish and a variety of cut baits. I had just one bite, another cutoff that occurred without notice. I prepared a 40-lb leader with about 15 inches of wire tippet for the next session; I guess I was now officially targeting toothy critters. Mid-day, I tried fly-fishing for barracuda again. Using different Clousers under gray skies. I managed only a single eater that fell for a small, pink-over-white fly. I finished the day with a great evening session with K and her husband, A. It was A's first fishing experience! We used a variety of live and dead baits, both under floats and free-lined. These were chewed, but not eaten by the right fish. A did a great job supplying baits from behind the flowing chum bag. In addition to lots of pinfish and small snappers, A added a couple of Blue Runners to our list of species for the week. Their enthusiasm provided a good recalibration of my attitude, as it was a pleasure to share such a simple expression of the sheer enjoyment of fishing. This was good for me, and came just in time, because at about 7 PM, a wall of north wind hit and temperatures started to plummet. Day 6 - Saturday, December 24 Cold Front! It happens every trip! But this front was a bit of a historic doozy across the entire country, and it finally reached southern Florida. The day topped out at 55 degrees or so. With 20 mph (+) north winds, the Gulf-side water was too roiled and muddied. I opted to wade the Atlantic Side flats, so I hit Route 1 and headed north. The water at my first stop, Tom's Harbor, was too deep for safe wading. With current and deeper water, I casted flukes and swim-baits from a few shore perches, but found no fish other than a nurse shark passing by my feet. After a couple other scouting stops, I ended up at Lower Matecumbe Key near Anne's Beach. The patchy brown water looked promising for wading and possible barracuda encounters. After throwing a swim-bait and a Rapala Skitter Walk, I settled on what I knew worked for 'cudas; a white fluke. I saw a few and had a couple of taps, just no hookups! Still, this was worthwhile and pleasant enough. Joined by the nurse shark, a bonnethead shark, a couple of small snappers and a variety of White American Ibis, I was flats fishing in the Keys! I was in the game, and something good could have happened. At 4 PM, I thought I perceived (but was mistaken) a lessening of the wind. I finished my fishing day by drifting dead baits under floats from the dock into the teeth of the wind. Muddy water, weeds and wire leaders led to an uncomfortable session without any encounters. Day 7 - Sunday, December 25 Merry Christmas! The North wind continued and there were better uses of my time than fishing. We simply spent a quiet and companionable day together. My fishing was done; the wind would continue well into Monday, and we were due to fly home. What do I have to say about this? I was on the edge of something really good... but not quite there yet, fishing-wise. But everybody else was super happy with the accommodations and set-up, and overall it was a great week, without doubt. But, ending 0-for-Big Bites!?!?! Ugh! Part of it was the set-up from the dock, and there's not too much I can do about that. I did turn the athletic shark before it rubbed me off. I saw the giant barracuda at my feet, and it took only a slight change in angle to get sliced off; I was fortunate to have at least seen this fish. And, I experienced the most impressive top-water strike ever, so there will be good memories to bring home. Still, I'm not sure I am ready to start thinking about the next trip; it's probably going to be ice fishing! I was slow to switch to wire. After all, what was I actually fishing for? Not surprisingly, my bites dried up when I did so. Maybe some 60- or 80-pound fluoro will come with me on future trips. I was super pleased to have spent a session with K and A. Our few hours were a fun, action-packed intro to fishing. K has long been my fishing buddy, and it was great to expand our fishing experience through her to others. Not surprisingly, A proved to be an enthusiastic and quick learner. I look forward to many future sessions. Have I mentioned that Best Top-water Strike Ever!?! Who can argue with that? The fish took away my floating plug, so I connected well enough. I lost considerable leader, so it took it deep; or, a sharp gill-plate found my line. What was it??? There were a bunch of other (minor) firsts this trip, including some random species (needlefish, lizardfish, box puffer), Florida success on top-waters (barracuda, jack), and 'cuda on the fly. Other than exploding my rod, I had no tackle issues at all! And I really liked my LL Bean travel rods. Finally, A says it was her best vacation ever (by far!!!) I certainly cannot argue with that. I'll end 2022 simply recognizing that I am a very fortunate guy, even when I am not on the fish I dream about! Pondering the questions of core essence and finding meaning in unexpected ways Date: September 24 and 25, 2022 Body of Water: Woods Hole - Falmouth, Massachusetts Moon Phase: New Moon Boat: None, shore fishing from stubby pier With: Alone Target: False Albacore Time: 6 AM - 11 AM both days Conditions: High tides at 8-9 AM. Super clear and NNW wind in excess of 25 mph on Saturday; Overcast and westerly wind about 10-15 mph on Sunday. A fish could have made a mistake on either day; both were fishy in their own rights. Bait, birds and moving water were all evident and in abundance. The chop favored a fish making a mistake as opposed to shunning a presentation. But catching a false albacore from land is a difficult proposition! Saturday was slow, with just a single, fleeting chance at some passing fish. The bird activity stayed a few hundred yards away, and waters within casting reach seemed devoid of predators, despite the clouds of silversides and rivers of peanut bunker. Still, I worked hard with epoxy jigs, metal spoons (Clark and Crippled Herring), Albie Snax and a Popper-and-Fly. Other than snagging silversides and peanuts from the dense schools of bait, I didn't touch a single fish. A few other casters joined me to get similarly skunked. Sunday seemed even fishier with overcast skies, a more moderate westerly breeze and moderating temperatures. And it was, for super-selective stripers! I got distracted by these blitzing fish, and slowed down for them. Still, I got no positive response as I changed through baits and colors to include a Hogy Slow-tail and ultimately a white Hogy worm on a jig-head. Sporadic feeds popped up, again usually outside casting range, but with at least a few being reachable. I know at lies a few funny fish saw my lure during these, but to no good avail. Sunday's winner was the guy on the end of the pier. He was there upon my arrival in the dark, and he took advantage of this superior position. He scored a few stripers from the blitzes on a 3-inch white Al Gags swim-bait. This same lure attracted a few shots at albies, too. Even the bass preferred this bait raced just under the surface. I may have learned a couple of other things, too. Fishing here was better on the falling tide? I didn't see this, but I heard it a few times. Afternoons? Maybe, but my schedule didn't allow for me to try. Go Big instead of small and natural? Perhaps, but the one guy catching was using a small bait. The Popper-and-Fly (or Egg- or Float-) is real! I saw a few variations on this and a local fishing celebrity scored a striper on this while blind casting. I was in the game when I was casting this. Once again, I left Woods Hole in a humbled and demoralized state. Once again, I am already thinking about next year. Pondering the questions of core essence and finding meaning in unexpected ways Date: May 15-17, 2022 Body of Water: Merced River drainage, Yosemite National Park, California Moon Phase: Full Moon on First Day; waning gibbous moon Tides: NA Boat: None; shore fishing without waders With: Alone Target: Trout - rainbows or browns Time: Early every morning, and then various Conditions: Absolutely beautiful weather and scenery. Water was high, clear and cold which made fishing very difficult. Wow! Yosemite is stunning and worthy of anybody's time. I don't even care that I didn't catch a fish; I was constantly reminded that other things are more important! It took me too long to get there. That said, fishing was tough! I had also handicapped myself with my preparations and gear. I did have a prolonged interaction with what would have been my stream trout of a lifetime, and that was enough success for me! This trip was a mere suffix to the meaningful family events of the week. The entire trip was a bonus and the ordinary metrics of success don't really matter. What does matter, is that we did it! My focus and energy were elsewhere; my preparations were less intense than usual. I expected tough fishing conditions (check!), and to seek small trout in small environments with small, natural flies. Once again, I was reminded of the value of planning as opposed to specific plans. We arrived Sunday evening, and as quickly as possible, I was rigging up alongside the Merced River, in the Happy Isles section above the campgrounds. The value of my plans was already questionable; the tributary streams I had in mind were not accessible by car, but rather only by hiking in! And, this water was high, very clear, and faster than I preferred. I hadn't targeted stream trout with a fly in almost 14 years (see numenon.blogspot.com/2012/10/out-west.html , and especially the last few paragraphs), but strangely, I still had some confidence that I might catch a small native trout or two. At first I tried a two-nymph rig, but my rate of attrition on flies was way too high! Abundant wood in the river was especially sticky, and I lost a few flies to back-casts in the tight quarters, too. The current was raging, and I thought I might be able to both conserve flies and maintain depth control to a greater degree with a drop-shot rig. Perhaps so, but I still spent the night fishless. I did, however, see a couple of small (tiny) trout tucked behind a boulder, and a very few large, dark mayflies were evident. I executed a few good casts, too. Mostly, this had been scouting and I decided to try elsewhere in the morning. I confidently crossed the meadow, only to find the bank of the Merced "closed" to preserve bank vegetation and control erosion. Thus began 17 miles of searching for the day. There would be more walking than actual fishing. Finding the proper combination of access, castability and depth (especially without waders and while fly fishing) kept me on the hoof. Most spots got 10 casts or less before I moved on. The river here was more quiet, and my rig consisted of a simple soft-hackle fly above a bead-headed caddis nymph, both suspended under an indicator. In the still morning, I saw neither bug nor fish activity. I had headed downstream, and as I approached Yosemite Village, my time for the morning was running out. I crossed the river to pick up the road/sidewalk on my way back to camp. I tried another couple of spots on my return, with more of the same results. I was pondering my approach for the rest of the trip. Luckily, however, I struck a conversation with a gentleman walking about, and he excitedly pulled out his camera to show me some pictures he'd taken of various other fisherman and their recent catches in this area. Most had been captured by wading spin fisherman, but all had been captured in slower sections. I could certainly picture this; what really surprised me was the fish he showed were mostly brown trout, and larger than I had anticipated, up to 3.5 pounds or so. I'd further handicapped myself by not having included sinking tips and streamers in my travel kit. Still, this was good information, and this provided a new horizon for me to explore in my remaining time. After breakfast, we hiked along Tenaya Creek to the head of Mirror Lake. I spotted a rising trout at the tail of the lake. Life! As I rigged a dropper/dry presentation, an ill-informed youngster chucked some rocks at the rise forms. That trout was now down, but I still got in some nice casts and drifts. Parts of Tenaya Creek beckoned, but for the most part, I kept moving, looking ahead for some slower water. We found that later in the afternoon, when we drove to the section of the Merced below Yosemite Village. I accessed the river at Swinging Bridge. The water here was smooth, clear, and in some areas, very deep. Still, I was able to spy a pair of nice rainbows on a gravel flat upstream. These were well out of reach to me, so I watched them with some satisfaction. But when I turned my gaze downstream, I found three dandy trout in a perfect position. The river's main current crashed into the (protected and off-limits) bank, creating an eddy. These fish were in the soft water just downstream of the "U" in the eddy. One of them rose steadily and predictably to unseen food; probably to emerging midges. I spent the next hour or more trying to figure these fish out. I was able to get to within 30 feet or so of their position, but surrounded by bank vegetation. Every time I tried to reach them with a cast, I would catch this on the back-cast. I resorted to establishing a short cast and then stripping line to extend my drift as my flies (Parachute Adams dry with a generic soft-hackle trailer) floated downstream. I concentrated my efforts on the single rising fish, which also was positioned closest to me. This fish fed confidently and right on schedule. Every three minutes or so, its posture would change, it would drift a bit to the side, and after a beat or two, pluck something off the surface. I began to time my casts and drifts to this fish's rhythm. I flubbed or aborted most casts base on length, drift or drag, but still fully executed multiple casts and drifts without putting this fish down. But it didn't seem interested in these flies, and so I repeated with trailing caddis and midge emerges. With still no interest, I decided to rest this fish and look for another in my remaining time. I worked all the way down to Sentinel Beach. I worked some nice water and spotted another nice rainbow trout. This one was tucked under an exposed tree root, and also ignored my presentations (from positions above and below its lie.) I started hiking again, this time going upstream of the bridge and on the other side of the river. I saw no fish, and finding suitable casting conditions to appropriate water was uncommon. I was almost back to Yosemite Village when I decided to head back. Returning to my feeding fish and with time for the day running out, I had just gotten myself into position when I was joined by two young boys. Their presence made casting impossible, but the oldest was interested in fishing and so we chatted for a bit while I pointed the fish out to him and got him accustomed to its habits. When he finally "saw" the fish, he was fairly astounded, and he stayed behind, watching the feeder, as I left to join A and M. I took A on a reconnaissance tour of the nearby fish, and truly appreciated her reaction to my problem fish; "That's a big-a$$ trout!" So, despite my best efforts, I'd been skunked for the day. But it was really the best possible skunk. That night I dreamt of these trout; I hoped to return for another shot. First thing in the morning, I tried the slower water above Yosemite Village again, but this time with a simple weighted black marabou streamer with a generic wet, soft hackle above. I re-fished the previous day's water with some confidence, and even found a few other spots worth drifting through. Still, this was difficult and my ability to reach the best-looking water was limited. But it was still a good session, as my single streamer boosted my confidence for a good fish. But mostly I was looking ahead. I felt that the root-hugging rainbow might be vulnerable to the streamer from an upstream position. Plus, who could not look forward to another crack at my large, active feeder? Arriving in the late morning with M, she was the first to notice the higher water conditions. I confirmed the location of the various "bridge" trout before heading downstream to that rainbow of interest. Unfortunately, this fish had apparently changed positions with the higher flow, and I could neither see nor catch the attention of any fish in my section of most interest. Returning to the bridge, I found that my three eddy trout were slightly re-positioned, too. Two were hugging the bank and totally inaccessible. The third (largest and still feeding) had just slightly shifted position and was now out of reach; my casting position had been slightly compromised by the higher water and I just could not get enough line in the water to execute a proper drift. I left the park defeated by the fish, but somehow still exhilarated. What do I have to say about this? Have I mentioned how large that big-a$$ trout was? At least 22 inches and possibly more. While it wouldn't have been my biggest stream trout, it certainly was the most technically difficult one, perfectly positioned in the most beautiful setting. It would have been a fish of my lifetime, but I guess that honor will go to some future fish. Walking around a national park with fly-rod in hand is apparently my natural setting. I was approached and smiled at by more strangers in my short stay than I will be in the next several months in my regular life. While all expressed interest, I only saw two other people actually fishing during my stay. One was doing so oblivious to law or fish, the other was fly-fishing from an inflatable raft. I wonder if they saw, stalked and captured "my" fish? This time, especially on the heels of some special shared events with my family, also gave me an encouraging glimpse of what retirement might be like. I hope to make the most of it. Walking around a national park, fly-rod in hand, is a pretty good gig, even if the fishing is tough! Finally, just as I was wrapping this up, I came across this article - www.hatchmag.com/articles/12-keys-becoming-great-fly-angler/7715490. I am by no means a "great" fly angler, but I really can't argue with the 12 elements listed here to become one, should on so choose. Many of these elements apply, regardless of the pursuit, and so it's worth reading and thinking about, regardless of your fly-fishing ambitions. Pondering the questions of core essence and finding meaning in unexpected ways Date: November 13, 2021 Body of Water: Seaside Heights, New Jersey Moon Phase: Full Moon minus six days; waxing gibbous moon Tide: Low Tide at about 8:50 AM Boat: None, surf fishing With: Alone Target: Stripers Time: 6:30 AM - 11:30 AM Conditions: Generally clear and sunny (although a big thunderstorm came through a couple of hours after I left); about 60 degrees F; ESE wind about 10 mph but increasing; heavy surf but increasing water clarity The night before, I had scouted Island Beach State Park and had scored an inexpensive room at the adjacent Island Beach Motor Lodge hotel. Clearly, they cater to the surf fisherman, and many sand rigs were in the parking lot, while more were out fishing in the dark. I'd even learned where to get an early breakfast and tackle/bait/advice - Nick and Betty's. "Nick" made it clear that bass were hit or miss from the surf as they focused on bunker on their journey south. Fresh bunker chunks were the top choice, and there was no consistent sand-eel bite to report. The best current option for lures was a big-profiled metal-lipped swimmer, and so I purchased my first Danny. I like Gibbs Lures and am proud to support a fun company from my childhood hometown. I'd been dragging my feet, waiting for the park to open at sunrise, but couldn't wait any longer. I crossed the dune behind the hotel and was greeted with the spectacle of a busy beach! Surfcasters were spread to the north and south, and multiple trucks cruised the sand. I scanned the beach and was pleased to see an obvious and unoccupied cut within a short hike. I was in position before sunrise. The wind was in my face, and I was surprised at how poorly the heavy plug threw into the wind. Still, my cast made it across the trough, and I had plenty of whitewash to provide cover for any lurking bass. I was watching the bait swim, trying to get a feel for it's action, and had just slowed down my retrieve to produce the widest wobble when the water exploded no more than 30 or 40 feet in front of me. First cast and Fish on! Fortunately, it wasn't a big bass on my inshore tackle. Measured in inches instead of pounds, I'll give it 28 or 30; not a giant by any means, but still my first New Jersey fish and my largest-ever striper from the surf! And then, my good luck changed. I flubbed the fish at my feet and lost the opportunity for a picture. My leader parted at the mid-point and my Danny sailed away on a subsequent cast. The fish showed no interest in my other offerings (Diawa SP Minnow, bottle plugs, diamond jigs), and nobody near me had any action. By 7:30 AM, I was in the car, headed back to the Nick and Betty's for a couple more plugs and then to enter the park. I tried several access points within the park over the next few hours and moved from structure to structure at each stop. I never had another chance, and didn't see any, either. One party reported a single short fish on bunker for their efforts. Most people throwing lures seemed to be prepared for sand eels (diamond jigs and teasers were universally evident), but I saw no connections. After another stop at Nick and Betty's for lunch, I hit the road. The expected 6.5-hour drive took more like 8.5 due to heavy thunderstorms from NYC on, but I made it! What do I have to say about this? I probably accomplished everything I could have asked for from this side trip. I decompressed a little bit, got the lay of the local landscape, zeroed in on some fish and even enjoyed a small taste of success. I shouldn't shake a stick at a PB from the surf (it is slowly inching upward), and I got home safely, which after three days of driving under difficult conditions and seeing a pile of accidents along the way, is certainly appreciated. The smallish striper cost me a hundred dollars in lures, but I've secured a new-to-me technique and I can see repeating this quest again. I am intrigued by fishing the surf, and can see lots of opportunity for learning and improvement. Pondering the questions of core essence and finding meaning in unexpected ways Date: November 12, 2021 Body of Water: Barnegat Light, New Jersey - Surf and Outlet Moon Phase: First Quarter (waxing) moon Tide: High at about 2 PM Boat: None, shore fishing With: Alone Target: Stripers Time: 2 PM - 4:30 PM Conditions: Post- very heavy thunderstorms and generally overcast (but increasing sunshine); about 60 - 65 degrees F; ESE wind > 10 mph; water temperatures in low 60's (?) and heavy, dirty surf Having safely delivered my mother back to her home in Virginia, but unable to cope with driving all the way home immediately, especially given the likely presence of migrating stripers along the New Jersey shoreline, I diverted my path to the coast and started poking around. I'd done just a little bit of research, and I figured that there'd be a shot at some fish somewhere around Barnegat Light and outlet. My "plan" was to move from south to north, probably staging myself for the next full day, and probably near Island Beach State Park. Route 72 finally terminated on Long Beach Island, and I had my choice of off-season access points. I could hear the surf pounding as I got out of my car; the surf was way up, here on the edge of Surf City, New Jersey. I took a look at the conditions; a few bait fishers were scattered about in both directions, but the surf was so heavy that I declined to put on waders. There was no way I needed to be in that washing machine! Still, I walked to the water's edge and bounced from sand point to sand point, casting a sand eel/diamond jig and hoping for some good luck. After a half hour or so, I decided to look elsewhere and headed north. I stopped at the local Surf City tackle shop, and picked up a few more diamond jigs in return for some unenthusiastic information. In summary: Surf over bay, bait (bunker) over lures, north over south. I continued north. I could have accessed the beach at a number of points, but declined to do so given the heavy surf, and finally stopped at Barnegat Lighthouse State Park. After some quick reconnaissance, I grabbed my rod and returned to the walkway along the outlet channel. There were lots of birds (gulls, terns, cormorants and pelicans) working over bait here at the edge of Barnegat Bay! Although the birds were active, I never saw any fish disturbing the bait, which appeared to be tiny rain-bait. Multiple boats chased the birds, but I never saw them hook up either. I was joined by a few other casters, and many folks were fishing just inside the bay. One happy guy walked off the rocky pier with a small tautog, and I spent as much time just watching birds and boats as I did casting, especially since the most intense activity was mid-channel and out of reach. I switched from the diamond jig to a Hogy epoxy jig to try to match the smaller bait, but it didn't really matter. I knew I wasn't going to stay here; Island Beach State Park beckoned from across the cut. I could see vehicles moving on the beach and I knew folks were surf fishing over there. I hit the road again. What do I have to say about this? I didn't find any biting fish, but I was reasonably in the game. It took most of the day for me to wind down from the intense driving over the previous couple of days, but it proved to be enjoyable and productive, enough. I landed in a good spot for the next day's effort, and I was dead asleep by 7 PM. Pondering the questions of core essence and finding meaning in unexpected ways |
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