tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-81181613826377879522024-03-19T00:06:28.414-04:00The Connecticut YankeeA blog about fishing.Kierran Broatchhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10540948886211980207noreply@blogger.comBlogger313125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8118161382637787952.post-67664540119046513232024-01-27T08:59:00.000-05:002024-01-27T08:59:24.392-05:00First Ice, First Fish<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Our footprints were the only ones
on the lake aside from the coyote tracks we followed to our spot. It was a deliberate
walk in single file, testing the ice in front of each step with whacks from a heavy
steel chisel. There should have been more ice than there was, but a recent snow
had slowed its growth and hid her imperfections. Even still, there was enough black
ice under a grey layer to make us feel comfortable, and temps would be stuck in
the 20s all day. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">It was mighty good to be ice
fishing again, but in the back of our minds we knew it was fleeting. Just like last
season, it looked like we could be in for only a short window, so we had to make
it count. That’s why we took the day from work and set our alarms for 3 a.m. It’s
also why we brought more gear than we needed. What’s the point of owning all of
this stuff if we don’t get to use it? <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">A flag went up just as snowflakes
from a light system started to come down. Jeff noticed it first, standing tall
on the farthest tip-up in my spread. The bait was a large fallfish that I had
trapped in my home waters and vacuum-sealed almost two years before. It’s hard
to describe the feeling when approaching a dead bait flag on a windless day. Suffice
to say, it was exciting to look down and see a slow rolling spool with line off
to the side. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">With a firm tug on the Dacron, my
hook found purchase in the maw of a hefty pike and the fight was on. Euphoria was
soon replaced by despair when the tension went slack. The predator below had
bolted toward the hole, fooling me into thinking I had lost her. Once I retrieved
enough line to come tight again, our spirits lifted and the battle resumed in
close quarters. The fish was still green when her jaw opened just enough for a
plastic gripper, and we kept her in the water as we removed the hook and readied
the camera. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">When we pulled the entire fish
from the hole, what struck me first was its color. It sported the darkest
greens I had ever seen on an esox—just an absolutely gorgeous specimen, thick
from head to tail, well on its way to becoming a true trophy. After quick photos
and a measurement, she kicked away strong and cemented a memorable first-fish-of-the-year
moment. Jeff and I were flying high for the rest of the outing and it set the
tone for the ensuing days, which may or may not have been the last of the ice
season. Time will tell.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNgXCPeSqucODKuNZK-tqPD8gCDRIjpVlDGN7Oa4ScoGKnkvN7FIFNIPCEPvKaatRcIEkig84zmX8qm0qk4RTvvUM0G9690yx6pjGnqEpgwDjgPrm6ze2GpXXdvc77VYKoiaD7W4vKOsMm9dHalEYRAw2ETrrzWPr7LPTmXgE22YZMRGe4lDeAvnVF_-kr/s1889/IMG_5201a.JPEG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1337" data-original-width="1889" height="451" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNgXCPeSqucODKuNZK-tqPD8gCDRIjpVlDGN7Oa4ScoGKnkvN7FIFNIPCEPvKaatRcIEkig84zmX8qm0qk4RTvvUM0G9690yx6pjGnqEpgwDjgPrm6ze2GpXXdvc77VYKoiaD7W4vKOsMm9dHalEYRAw2ETrrzWPr7LPTmXgE22YZMRGe4lDeAvnVF_-kr/w640-h451/IMG_5201a.JPEG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br /></p>Kierran Broatchhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10540948886211980207noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8118161382637787952.post-36211513401936954542023-12-18T22:31:00.003-05:002023-12-18T22:31:40.551-05:00Best Laid Plans<div style="text-align: left;">"Everyone has a plan until they get punched in the mouth." -Mike Tyson</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div><div style="text-align: justify;">It was the height of the fall run. A Friday in late October tailor-made for paid time off. The primary thing on my mind was false albacore. The goal of this trip was to catch my first of the season and, more importantly, my first ever from a kayak. By now, anglers had been getting their fill of little tunny locally for two months. I was not among them.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">After losing the only albie I had hooked all season weeks earlier, I was eager to settle the score. Getting one in a kayak would wash away that feeling and more, but I had to put myself in a spot with high probability and that meant heading an hour east. Also in tow were blackfish gear and a bucketful of crabs. My thinking was to check-off the main target then pivot to tuatog. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">It sounded good on paper. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtrYNAYfHLTIARV2X9Ya7RmEOFWecQqfTJFlSZjJr3710CaPAMTxcLnK1fzfEQBFxcdRbP376ssysOZWCD_3u_QjRgUVHg6BfymfLz4pvPqvNO4sBP0EgG7QWvdWYwAjsvzZkvOSaLMXqD3ar3q7PfSk224v5MwH5juTqAlb__oYKBpoRZZHimbuv6stju/s3910/IMG_5498.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2932" data-original-width="3910" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtrYNAYfHLTIARV2X9Ya7RmEOFWecQqfTJFlSZjJr3710CaPAMTxcLnK1fzfEQBFxcdRbP376ssysOZWCD_3u_QjRgUVHg6BfymfLz4pvPqvNO4sBP0EgG7QWvdWYwAjsvzZkvOSaLMXqD3ar3q7PfSk224v5MwH5juTqAlb__oYKBpoRZZHimbuv6stju/w400-h300/IMG_5498.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I had fished the area before from shore, but not much by boat and never in my Hobie. Between advice from a friend and studying the Navionics app, I pieced together what seemed like a solid game plan. The sunrise was gorgeous and conditions were tranquil, at least to start. After pedaling out to where the cove opened up to Long Island Sound, I spotted the first telltale feed, a little tunny porpoising like a half-moon through the surface of the water. They were around and eating. What could go wrong? </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Well, anyone who has spent time targeting albies knows that some days it seems easy and other days they make you want to pull your hair out. It was definitely the latter on this outing. They were in sparse pods and popping up only intermittently. There were times they'd be on top and within range long enough for one cast, but no sustained feeds where you get multiple shots. It was challenging to dial in a pattern and they were eating microscopic bait that I couldn't identify. To round out my excuses, the flat calm conditions were ideal for spotting these fish, not catching them.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">In the hours spent chasing, dozens of boaters motored by en route to their favorite rock piles. I eventually conceded and joined them, hoping to salvage the trip with a blackish limit. The conditions were evolving though: the tide flipped; the wind picked up; a chop developed. Anchoring in a safe manner proved difficult and pedaling against the current to stay planted above structure wasn't easy either. The scenario was perfect for spot-lock technology that I didn't have. Despite jigging up a handful of tog, none were close to keeper size and the expedition was starting to look like a bust. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I had a hard stop in order to get back home in time for school dismissal. During the long pedal toward the launch, I scanned the area of the day's first albie sighting. Deteriorated conditions established a renewed confidence if I could only get within range one more time. As if the Fish Gods were throwing me a bone in the 11th hour, a small platoon of albies slashed on top about 20 yards off my bow. A few cranks of the reel handle after a well-placed cast and the line came tight. YAHTZEE!</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">A bundle of frustration and second guessing evaporated in that hookset. Battling a not-so-little tunny from a kayak was everything I expected and then some. Being low to the water and that close to the action was an awesome feeling. The fish made a few memorable runs and had me reaching the rod tip beyond the bow because it was changing directions so much. Throughout the fight, it was pure adrenaline. When it hit the net, it was immense relief. A really cool moment for me that almost didn't happen, but I'm sure glad it did. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Just like I planned it. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIoJu97D_1b7DKTyYB2FvIBKHjOqbF80uy7m-rnC14EFrk37qs_DrKnxi2KwyrEI_M5jRTwddS24Nte7VPWlEO6tyIP7G3KnBV119ifCFPg6effr62IfjgitA5_S-h4Clmx-RR5yF2q2lzi0xofw9NdPZjCYgXrAh5H2EshK7y2U4uW4fCkFIgY7JKx_oW/s3807/979B3D57-DBD3-4A2B-9BC9-B4CAF9F3BFBB.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2649" data-original-width="3807" height="279" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIoJu97D_1b7DKTyYB2FvIBKHjOqbF80uy7m-rnC14EFrk37qs_DrKnxi2KwyrEI_M5jRTwddS24Nte7VPWlEO6tyIP7G3KnBV119ifCFPg6effr62IfjgitA5_S-h4Clmx-RR5yF2q2lzi0xofw9NdPZjCYgXrAh5H2EshK7y2U4uW4fCkFIgY7JKx_oW/w400-h279/979B3D57-DBD3-4A2B-9BC9-B4CAF9F3BFBB.JPG" width="400" /></a></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="362" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/ScAJ0kv7hAY" width="482" youtube-src-id="ScAJ0kv7hAY"></iframe></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Thankful to get the hook-up and fight on film. </div>Kierran Broatchhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10540948886211980207noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8118161382637787952.post-13280169813866893102023-09-18T21:29:00.002-04:002023-09-19T10:33:58.506-04:00Artificial Intelligence<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">I love everything about American
eels. They are <s>arguably</s> the most effective and versatile bait when
targeting striped bass. Many a book chapter, magazine article, and blog post
have been written about their ability to entice stripers into gulping them down
like candy. An eel was responsible for my largest bass ever landed and I’m sure
the same can be said by countless anglers up and down the Striper Coast. </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">For a long time now, lure makers have
been trying to, with varying levels of success, duplicate the American eel’s
shape, suppleness, and action. I have been fishing eels in nearly every fashion
possible for as long as I can remember and don’t plan on giving them up
entirely anytime soon. All that said, they are expensive, can be a pain to deal
with, and are sadly becoming scarcer as the years tick by. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Companies like Lunker City, Hogy,
RonZ, Al Gag’s, Berkley were some of the OGs of my early days of fishing eel
imitations, and they still make great baits today. However, it’s been
intriguing to witness the arms race of long, slender soft-plastics come
to market over the last 20 years. By names like Got Stryper, Game On!, Fish
Snax Lures, JoeBaggs, Zinger Baits, and Gravity Tackle to name a few. There are
limitless combinations of size, color, and rigging options available to today’s
angler for nearly any situation they could encounter. So much so the choices
can be overwhelming. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Over time, I have been building
up my arsenal of soft-plastics and my confidence in using them. I am starting
to find more consistency in my success and part of that can be attributed to selecting
the right bait and rigging style to match the spot and its conditions on a
given outing. Like in every kind of fishing that I do, it has been a fun, never
ending journey of learning. The farther down this rabbit hole I go, the more I
realize how much there is still to learn, explore, and experiment. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">We’re on a loop. Enjoy the ride.<o:p></o:p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAIb86cb1GPVvF_SvgFnFn7teS5agbRle57k6lZJ_vFiaG691YTQ2VCFg77S75aDQTWX7nHE34w1lIOJVEGX-NhlTlltQWuvKRO1jy17AW-wlnDR_9ZdaxFPIDwGYfSCWl58QRvNz73MMAqJn1Iy2yV0n-zridh_0q-vO5tiZpGfjVHa29As6jgXXUoec3/s2822/A58C21DB-4725-44D6-A956-B57D64D531F0.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2822" data-original-width="2822" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAIb86cb1GPVvF_SvgFnFn7teS5agbRle57k6lZJ_vFiaG691YTQ2VCFg77S75aDQTWX7nHE34w1lIOJVEGX-NhlTlltQWuvKRO1jy17AW-wlnDR_9ZdaxFPIDwGYfSCWl58QRvNz73MMAqJn1Iy2yV0n-zridh_0q-vO5tiZpGfjVHa29As6jgXXUoec3/w640-h640/A58C21DB-4725-44D6-A956-B57D64D531F0.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The author with a healthy striped bass that fell for a 13.5" GT eel rigged on a 1/2 oz. jig head. </td></tr></tbody></table><br />Kierran Broatchhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10540948886211980207noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8118161382637787952.post-58301126432120101502023-09-11T22:25:00.009-04:002023-09-12T10:09:29.545-04:00Triathlon Bass<div><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">While there was no swimming or
running involved, this lazy man’s triathlon did have its share of driving,
cycling, and walking. An end-of-summer fishing adventure with a good amount of
time and energy expended to reach a chosen spot; effort that would pay off in
spades just a few casts in. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Wearing wetsuits and standing in
water 50-yards from shore on a dark night, it was challenging not to think
about the plethora of brown sharks that chomped striped bass catches all over Long Island Sound this
summer. Jim, the trip planner and my host for the
night, started with a live eel. I opted for a lure that punched through the light
breeze to reach the dying current, which was going from right to left around a
rocky point with an ebb tide. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">This lure was an Xplorer, the
brainchild of a talented angler and plug builder named John Stirpe. Made of
resin with a portion of its core being urethane foam, it is a unique and
versatile floating swimmer that digs on a fast or slow retrieve, flashing a
super realistic paintjob. It was gifted to me by my pal Eddie, a fellow fishing
and artifact junkie from Massachusetts. He has fooled a number of plus-size
striped bass over the past few seasons on Xplorers. Knowing I had coveted one
for some time, Eddie generously mailed me a plug from his personal stash with
the understanding that I would fish it hard. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Our first casts came right after full
darkness set in. I was aiming to about 1:30 on a clock face. On my second cast,
my lure had just splashed down and something whacked it, even before I had a
chance to put my braid on the line roller. A good omen no doubt and I hollered
to Jim to give him a heads up. While retrieving the very next cast, a fish
slammed the Xplorer and immediately thrashed around on the surface. It then
made a bee line right at me and I reeled furiously to stay in contact. When the
bass realized it was hooked, she did an about face and flexed her muscles,
peeling an impressive amount of line in the process. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">This was the biggest test yet for
my 'Montauk Eel Rod,' a Lamiglas blank cut and wrapped in 2015 by a friend and
expert rod builder, Billy DiLizio. A rod soft enough to throw and feel lighter
offerings, yet with enough balls to put the screws to big striped bass, which
is exactly what I was doing in this moment for fear of having it bitten in half
by the taxman. A strong fish, but beaten pretty quickly and still green when my
Boga Grip clasped its lower lip.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">In the faint beam of my headlamp,
the bass did its best planking impression just under the surface, allowing me
to snap a half decent photo with the Xplorer still in its jaw. Before letting
her go, I lifted the fish quickly out of the water and watched the numbers on
the scale drop to a hair below the 36 mark. This was a notable catch for me in
a few ways. It was the largest striped bass I had caught in years, the largest
ever landed on that particular rod, and my largest ever using an artificial lure.
Stoked doesn’t begin to describe it. Do I wish I had gotten a better photo? Yes,
but there was no good way to document it without bringing the fish to shore and
risking its health and possibly missing out catching other fish. I took solace
in how strong she bolted away for deeper water. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">The fish were there as soon as we
arrived, and likely before that, though they seemed to vacate the boulder field
soon after, as the moving water grinded to a halt. Jim ended up losing what felt
and sounded like another big bass on an eel and I had one more hit on the
swimmer. That was it, though we kept trying for a while before the long walk, pedal,
and drive back. My partner was on vacation and could have kept fishing for
another 12 hours, but I had to be presentable at work the next morning. Still, I
wouldn’t have changed anything. I floated on air the whole way home and for some
time after. </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">That was a memorable fish and experience, and I am grateful for the many cool pieces that came together to make it possible<span face=""Calibri",sans-serif" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">—</span>from Jim organizing the trip, to Billy wrapping the rod, to John building the plug, to Eddie mailing it to my door. One of the greatest things about fishing is, you just never know what is going to happen on any given outing. </p></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhe6qc0y9sPlAZMFtnO6ad43cT_sZKnHGX0XJo8LPO7T7kYmnm8WKG60NmXGovBdYCUAYK48NP-zar9KDP6Hp9AwhvJjuJGYeEMZ_L1icd322zMuVF2RfhF6wb4S910ohu56gVwM8XYe69DsA0EPhbIVM64YWZxQoMBt-CBpug4LahnWek4e0-iKDsuka7-/s3890/IMG_4721.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3890" data-original-width="2482" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhe6qc0y9sPlAZMFtnO6ad43cT_sZKnHGX0XJo8LPO7T7kYmnm8WKG60NmXGovBdYCUAYK48NP-zar9KDP6Hp9AwhvJjuJGYeEMZ_L1icd322zMuVF2RfhF6wb4S910ohu56gVwM8XYe69DsA0EPhbIVM64YWZxQoMBt-CBpug4LahnWek4e0-iKDsuka7-/w408-h640/IMG_4721.jpg" width="408" /></a></div>Kierran Broatchhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10540948886211980207noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8118161382637787952.post-17239019255843919102023-08-27T19:08:00.000-04:002023-08-27T19:08:12.024-04:00Vacation Blitz<p style="text-align: justify;">“Lotto fishing,” quipped the Cape Codder from across the
street. “You need to be in the right place at the right time and get lucky.”</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">My family and I were renting the same cottage that we have
each summer for the last several years. While chats with the neighbor are
minimal during our stay, I always take stock in what he says. A hardworking
waterman, in summers past he had gifted us freshly-raked little necks. This
time he offered fishing advice, or at least hope that something special could
happen if luck was on my side.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">There was a pile of striped bass feeding just offshore of
the outer beaches, and they could easily follow bait to within casting range at
a moment’s notice, but you needed to be there when it happened. Reports from other
anglers and tackle shops nearby confirmed as much. So, while it was a family
vacation, I put in as much time fishing as I could get away with. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Our third day there was the Sabbath. We spent it at our
favorite bayside beach. I brought my fly gear along and spotted a few spooky
stripers on the flats during low flood tide. Despite some casts in front of
moving targets, there were no takers. Come to find out, these bass have been dialed-in
on crabs more than usual and I made the mistake of having only sand eels in my
fly box. The lesson here being that you should always hit the local fishing
shop at the beginning of vacation. Even still, it was really neat to see stripers
hunt the shallows in August, and I hope the adrenaline rush from sight-casting never
fades. <o:p></o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdXIIEzkVmTB2mvkCmWSY6VX0Yk39t297ayvoCzMKXfX-Gt_u6OkQukfbGOXyEVF7xoaHuZDY1nL99n1Qso70fRlTApldh9XR6Kh7hZ0z3d-JFNzoOl2mk283CoOOFJdP3l_7uxi4ru_TVe7UGO9j0D6rdd5iugfPuZn3AR5P8_I2aQYWxTRTbWiJxbFkb/s1440/57DFA632-46F9-4A60-A3EA-D94DE391F957.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1440" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdXIIEzkVmTB2mvkCmWSY6VX0Yk39t297ayvoCzMKXfX-Gt_u6OkQukfbGOXyEVF7xoaHuZDY1nL99n1Qso70fRlTApldh9XR6Kh7hZ0z3d-JFNzoOl2mk283CoOOFJdP3l_7uxi4ru_TVe7UGO9j0D6rdd5iugfPuZn3AR5P8_I2aQYWxTRTbWiJxbFkb/w640-h480/57DFA632-46F9-4A60-A3EA-D94DE391F957.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjT6tfmY0SSmucflWbSn8WPaRqD4y3C2OOhFpp2K3ndCHqbdVuKVYHwcKJ5SPuRMdz8iLO7F6Fe-E3LH38bMtl7s7UwW5nR1wbtM9Xoztrr5CMe17TgPjr9OfkxDFnYtt3GKilsAqtoE8ee1UFcI24nFckoKsAaeCkwjz26f_4ZPYbnUrnlHUyp0Um3evgZ/s1946/IMG_4106.JPEG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1946" data-original-width="1466" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjT6tfmY0SSmucflWbSn8WPaRqD4y3C2OOhFpp2K3ndCHqbdVuKVYHwcKJ5SPuRMdz8iLO7F6Fe-E3LH38bMtl7s7UwW5nR1wbtM9Xoztrr5CMe17TgPjr9OfkxDFnYtt3GKilsAqtoE8ee1UFcI24nFckoKsAaeCkwjz26f_4ZPYbnUrnlHUyp0Um3evgZ/w482-h640/IMG_4106.JPEG" width="482" /></a></div>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">After the Bay, we went mini golfing, grilled burgers back at
the cottage, then biked down the street for homemade ice cream. It was still
early, around 6 p.m., when we decided on a whim to see the water again, this time
the ocean. I put the surf rod on top of the truck just in case. I had fished
and blanked on this stretch of shoreline the previous two sunrises. No signs of
fish or bait that I could tell, but the large seals cruising the surf line hinted
otherwise. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">The evening beach crowd was in full effect when we arrived.
Large groups of vacationers sitting in Tommy Bahama chairs, set up in
half-moons facing the water. I spiked my rod and laid a blanket on the beach
berm, but no one sat. We all stood there soaking in our surroundings, enjoying
the waves crashing at our feet and the sun getting lower in the sky behind us.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">My wife pointed it out first. A few hundred yards to our
left, there was a large patch of water darker than the rest, parallel to shore
with a commotion of birds flying around it. It was the pot of gold at the end
of the rainbow; a bonified blitz that was slowly moving south towards us. I
could see a line of fishermen at the water’s edge in the distance, but it was
hard to make out if they were hooked up or not. To be honest, I didn’t freak
out right away because the action looked beyond casting distance. Once I saw
splashes tighter to shore, on the inner side of the main body of fish, I bid
adieu to my family and began a brisk walk to intercept the melee. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">The walk changed to a jog when bent rods came into view. The
beachgoers I passed were completely oblivious to what was going on, at least
for the time being. I stopped well short of the nearest angler, it was a kid
from Canada who was catching hickory shad on epoxy jigs when we first arrived. The
fish he was casting to now were striped bass, thousands of them gorging on
unidentified baitfish. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">The plug I had been using most on the trip to this point was
a pencil popper in a green mackerel pattern made my 247 Lures. That was before
I broke it off earlier in the day and watched it bob-away in shark-infested
waters. What I reached for next was more sentimental, a flat-bottomed pencil turned
decades ago by the late John Haberek. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
clipped on the Hab’s, leaned back and launched the furthest cast I could. A
striper crushed it on the surface before a full turn of the reel handle. It had
been a long time since I had hooked one in the Atlantic surf—it felt damn good.
<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">When the bass came through the last
wave and hit the wet sand, a few inquisitive kids stepped forward asking all
kinds of questions. As instructed, they avoided the pointy dorsal fin and ran
their fingers down the flank of the fish before watching it dart back into the
wash. By now my family had caught up and served as a cheering section and
paparazzi rolled into one. The highlight of the whole vacation was sharing the
unfolding scene with them. A second cast into the outskirts of the frothing
water produced a tight line nearly as fast as the first. Another bass, not
especially large, but aggressive and punching above its weight class in the
ocean currents.<o:p></o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8CMftw4uu0Z09cauIkguXzc6q-WBwOyTcjvvF378tDyfThLcOP--lrE1fXWVRkXFCBk1IAR9hEpp7b3hUpjllssttrlVFHQpQ9VMQOEKiS9LVMyx9umLYD_nfet8bIE2zA2YdipW1ct8pH4cXUjnYvcM8cr94rXcQ6QhUzPCYnvDZq5hO5S7iZCFvBOUI/s1796/FAEB89A6-5391-4C8F-9B12-7F3E612D8D62.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1796" data-original-width="1440" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8CMftw4uu0Z09cauIkguXzc6q-WBwOyTcjvvF378tDyfThLcOP--lrE1fXWVRkXFCBk1IAR9hEpp7b3hUpjllssttrlVFHQpQ9VMQOEKiS9LVMyx9umLYD_nfet8bIE2zA2YdipW1ct8pH4cXUjnYvcM8cr94rXcQ6QhUzPCYnvDZq5hO5S7iZCFvBOUI/w514-h640/FAEB89A6-5391-4C8F-9B12-7F3E612D8D62.jpg" width="514" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIg5wUWpXnIvCMCQNlubZr8XMifq7uqWcFoWXW9caZs-Vyl6nEYBR9LYh3rZuegRZtH-FPQk2RKh4g_9cNLUW3Sa_qLbZweXjXyj9bjctpRsDmJE4wG-k_q3soD7mEoCUn0zcKJi-09Pt-npAWIwcEGJBBgkNVknaKBSkgjs7dEr_ifgf2MAB9Fh2uG8Ry/s1800/E9BF2A4C-27C5-425E-85AC-C0A47FC0D17B.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1800" data-original-width="1440" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIg5wUWpXnIvCMCQNlubZr8XMifq7uqWcFoWXW9caZs-Vyl6nEYBR9LYh3rZuegRZtH-FPQk2RKh4g_9cNLUW3Sa_qLbZweXjXyj9bjctpRsDmJE4wG-k_q3soD7mEoCUn0zcKJi-09Pt-npAWIwcEGJBBgkNVknaKBSkgjs7dEr_ifgf2MAB9Fh2uG8Ry/w512-h640/E9BF2A4C-27C5-425E-85AC-C0A47FC0D17B.jpg" width="512" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">The next 20 minutes went on like that...wash,
rinse, repeat. Acres of boiling water sluggishly moved down the beach as anglers
followed along, fighting and releasing fish, then leap-frogging others who were
hooked up in order to get in position for their next cast. The noncombatants
behind us watched in awe at what was taking place. There was good reason to be amazed.
I had been visiting and fishing the Cape for more than two decades and had
never stumbled into anything like it. Only once before did something remotely similar
happen to me on vacation, about 25 years earlier with my Uncle Frank in
Charlestown, Rhode Island, but even then, that blitz was all bluefish.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p></o:p></p>
<span style="mso-bookmark: _Hlk143778613;"></span>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">While it all felt surreal, I was ready for this exact scenario,
beaching a half dozen stripers up to the mid-30-inch class and dropping a few others.
By the time we made it back to our blanket, the top-water action drifted far enough
away from shore to make the decision to call it a night easier. A few anglers
kept up in pursuit, but the damage was done was for us. My girls and I absorbed
what just went down while enjoying the last frames of sunset.<o:p></o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBIRJvJJjlMTLKCLusRida9iNq2thCK4ErLpNAAXdDDQuMzgWrYff1A0Pxh4Fv7pX6zORP7IAooL7s6fswIVh2smiw9sfKtQZCEhRsE1LYh3-0Hdc3xIKnAv6mbAmuSN0dA8jBWcYdmPMNOs5Rub8euAceMig6c1mtzw19hcdrqhfibeHKiu_Ua6cvtlK6/s1800/3C078E51-062A-400C-B1E7-5DAC02975F6A.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1800" data-original-width="1440" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBIRJvJJjlMTLKCLusRida9iNq2thCK4ErLpNAAXdDDQuMzgWrYff1A0Pxh4Fv7pX6zORP7IAooL7s6fswIVh2smiw9sfKtQZCEhRsE1LYh3-0Hdc3xIKnAv6mbAmuSN0dA8jBWcYdmPMNOs5Rub8euAceMig6c1mtzw19hcdrqhfibeHKiu_Ua6cvtlK6/w512-h640/3C078E51-062A-400C-B1E7-5DAC02975F6A.jpg" width="512" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZUa5xttDl0TRnTrfVHvXbnFaoCf8XpwaJJvhTxOBVLdsm91X59OzfBoe6R1kyjjJEivvmkqAFz3qkONoSrlLzOGzEUNU6kHvdRcz2z6rHCifoitCy9FEl7EkX42Tmpg2zO36bJ05o0Up-QdWYECu8MGHNLY7cdPov7HhK59xBYMMKHDgqA8Z1Lfk-yHHs/s2048/IMG_4205a.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZUa5xttDl0TRnTrfVHvXbnFaoCf8XpwaJJvhTxOBVLdsm91X59OzfBoe6R1kyjjJEivvmkqAFz3qkONoSrlLzOGzEUNU6kHvdRcz2z6rHCifoitCy9FEl7EkX42Tmpg2zO36bJ05o0Up-QdWYECu8MGHNLY7cdPov7HhK59xBYMMKHDgqA8Z1Lfk-yHHs/w480-h640/IMG_4205a.jpeg" width="480" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSDcF-UTXt9hOJz37uSl3dpwdwZS5Woipgv93cvAEoCERBLqLvQs7NTJP7BiESvNKvGjGbeGR92NMDTaJNMxDxXYU6C73xGPWKhUn47I_xG0_XAKzUwIq6ZcCVcM05WcEpi_Yjp6GT1ANXduvGoxBW_YyXjxwl2N8L4XpSI5Fjhy7DgserbW9nUz7dJ3iw/s1796/7B969924-7722-45BE-93F0-DB3157C7EE1C.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1796" data-original-width="1440" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSDcF-UTXt9hOJz37uSl3dpwdwZS5Woipgv93cvAEoCERBLqLvQs7NTJP7BiESvNKvGjGbeGR92NMDTaJNMxDxXYU6C73xGPWKhUn47I_xG0_XAKzUwIq6ZcCVcM05WcEpi_Yjp6GT1ANXduvGoxBW_YyXjxwl2N8L4XpSI5Fjhy7DgserbW9nUz7dJ3iw/w514-h640/7B969924-7722-45BE-93F0-DB3157C7EE1C.jpg" width="514" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Each of the next four days, we spent significant time along the
Cape’s outer beaches and never saw another fish or bent rod, still marine life
was all around us. We were treated to an incredible display of whales a few hundred
yards offshore, humpbacks full-on breaching and bubble-net feeding for hours. Another
lively sighting was a giant ocean sunfish, mostly exciting because its fin poking
out of the water looked awfully like a shark fin as it passed us on the beach. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Toward the end of our trip, I visited a tackle shop to stock
up on crab flies and replace the pencil popper I had lost earlier in the week. In
comparing notes with one of the employees, he experienced the same blitz we did, and shared that the next three evenings at
that beach were dead; no signs of life anywhere. In turns out, we were in the right place at
the right time and got lucky. That’s lotto fishing for you. <o:p></o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbVZlUZzeG3CB7x2Xr5tMlvSUMRD5zTRUH1dbqLdRDRLv6gmsQas1ftqQ_sFgbXbZBDUtfw1NwbYbUWuV812jWneCAMmaHBTDqsrmUMQ5bKATpy3Op4sFa9WTcAN1T67pDL8jMB_7DYz7R4m_eSflrLPWwVa5AGgdjYJfuQ1a_nRY2sOc7wCn-laGym75s/s1440/0DD5BF8B-594D-44CD-B92A-22EA6207FC38.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1440" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbVZlUZzeG3CB7x2Xr5tMlvSUMRD5zTRUH1dbqLdRDRLv6gmsQas1ftqQ_sFgbXbZBDUtfw1NwbYbUWuV812jWneCAMmaHBTDqsrmUMQ5bKATpy3Op4sFa9WTcAN1T67pDL8jMB_7DYz7R4m_eSflrLPWwVa5AGgdjYJfuQ1a_nRY2sOc7wCn-laGym75s/w640-h480/0DD5BF8B-594D-44CD-B92A-22EA6207FC38.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjj-56RqWQg8NluACWf-pUDFiiVyHstzeyOgjvbcH5cWmHQ_K9sIkqAF80QuzDpieu90hYEBgvz1zsEXyvB1TyVLfFqwceVpKPx7q4l2WH_zbTXRmz5IEJruzoPGA9XJTW1vnOFZ8Oe0Y55W2udJe4amU5SN16s9ziCheTYOhyHFSKyXQGQHdp5098WO_Tv/s1440/1C392A0B-5AD6-4AC3-A584-EA9FB6AE2E87.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1440" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjj-56RqWQg8NluACWf-pUDFiiVyHstzeyOgjvbcH5cWmHQ_K9sIkqAF80QuzDpieu90hYEBgvz1zsEXyvB1TyVLfFqwceVpKPx7q4l2WH_zbTXRmz5IEJruzoPGA9XJTW1vnOFZ8Oe0Y55W2udJe4amU5SN16s9ziCheTYOhyHFSKyXQGQHdp5098WO_Tv/w640-h480/1C392A0B-5AD6-4AC3-A584-EA9FB6AE2E87.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqYDz8rLx6JDX8HU4GP1SAzAb4arqwcfyjDbhR_IR0sIy6EOAxIyUoAT8KChuhSP_2mu92Ax0RrtDf6Xl-lS2AYSikgmH2KuTWEFLbt63Kw_zFZPOx59t7ZYx9ZUy0GpGUf6uCFYXSjWSfBqj-QfRduQTEw45SE6kWbml5AEO4av5BkFX58Ux7ovIRGvdl/s1440/6F1AA093-6D51-4454-9208-D84E607E15CB.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1440" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqYDz8rLx6JDX8HU4GP1SAzAb4arqwcfyjDbhR_IR0sIy6EOAxIyUoAT8KChuhSP_2mu92Ax0RrtDf6Xl-lS2AYSikgmH2KuTWEFLbt63Kw_zFZPOx59t7ZYx9ZUy0GpGUf6uCFYXSjWSfBqj-QfRduQTEw45SE6kWbml5AEO4av5BkFX58Ux7ovIRGvdl/w640-h480/6F1AA093-6D51-4454-9208-D84E607E15CB.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgf7gJdJbJ2dYxeFj-wTaRnivsCWqgjzcmReRrMU8-uyLwsm3oRB2cG4QzssyimOEWRkZAqn1mwCF0HfKDgeX809FvGXx8iK0eyjdwkpRLzFldloiqY1BHN1Wk9SQoFmqzFr0-cmiVjSJXe3ufQX9DXA6GFqF7upOPsD4dHJKS0bMiR7bOUGDSMHuE4B2g8/s1440/33D97001-2A3F-4325-A736-3657CF7AFC69.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1440" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgf7gJdJbJ2dYxeFj-wTaRnivsCWqgjzcmReRrMU8-uyLwsm3oRB2cG4QzssyimOEWRkZAqn1mwCF0HfKDgeX809FvGXx8iK0eyjdwkpRLzFldloiqY1BHN1Wk9SQoFmqzFr0-cmiVjSJXe3ufQX9DXA6GFqF7upOPsD4dHJKS0bMiR7bOUGDSMHuE4B2g8/w640-h480/33D97001-2A3F-4325-A736-3657CF7AFC69.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAOhmcCd6QTLp_egjMJBt11cIQI8eS7v4ygnfhiV44qNcWPLU0x6pVJFBYqtQ4rJeit_Dm7fhuq3fN62lDqw8EOSqwN8xUU3395d28FC-nUj6AvAb9WRl23FZLWKJbdriP2SLwaqC3p4CztKCSdCOJl_BhH3NlY7RMy1k2BpQRtUcMdvrhFC6yj9tb808t/s1440/59E424E1-6E30-498A-9BF4-444FF7901565.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1440" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAOhmcCd6QTLp_egjMJBt11cIQI8eS7v4ygnfhiV44qNcWPLU0x6pVJFBYqtQ4rJeit_Dm7fhuq3fN62lDqw8EOSqwN8xUU3395d28FC-nUj6AvAb9WRl23FZLWKJbdriP2SLwaqC3p4CztKCSdCOJl_BhH3NlY7RMy1k2BpQRtUcMdvrhFC6yj9tb808t/w640-h480/59E424E1-6E30-498A-9BF4-444FF7901565.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgquz6uUOXBdhAIw59An7OTv1N7Fb9BISvI5oZhFFIuk-cgkgsZvh6s_bhpAk-ibQNrhipiBHLFNFtbNh7VzWsH9THznxLaZYzqR2bP8nZwtT1j5lLoApAtFwHZ44FEodcmfSlczhezDFd6etisaDQpE0IsdtU9LsEjU8wemvfQkFvNZfe_lk5YrEAlBuE7/s1440/1023C19F-F0BA-459F-A842-57809C1C141A.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1440" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgquz6uUOXBdhAIw59An7OTv1N7Fb9BISvI5oZhFFIuk-cgkgsZvh6s_bhpAk-ibQNrhipiBHLFNFtbNh7VzWsH9THznxLaZYzqR2bP8nZwtT1j5lLoApAtFwHZ44FEodcmfSlczhezDFd6etisaDQpE0IsdtU9LsEjU8wemvfQkFvNZfe_lk5YrEAlBuE7/w640-h480/1023C19F-F0BA-459F-A842-57809C1C141A.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgvhxBiO9Lno2E-LFFWVwKc4WfPd40lA7GhwOIss9dPPT5MMmtYeDmSqk8cWYgSNMW6DbUEAOdkg-zXU-PXTeWmRpnveqK40_kwCsev6R3zA3ObJKUr8vNyoU_9YNzLoV6eT3yhaI5IBAO7rT7C7iek9B0L2flGU3kNKz0RdMWJwqHgcoXme0GzmDkfvvA/s1440/37206098-41E9-434E-B787-5C776AE88DDD.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1440" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgvhxBiO9Lno2E-LFFWVwKc4WfPd40lA7GhwOIss9dPPT5MMmtYeDmSqk8cWYgSNMW6DbUEAOdkg-zXU-PXTeWmRpnveqK40_kwCsev6R3zA3ObJKUr8vNyoU_9YNzLoV6eT3yhaI5IBAO7rT7C7iek9B0L2flGU3kNKz0RdMWJwqHgcoXme0GzmDkfvvA/w640-h480/37206098-41E9-434E-B787-5C776AE88DDD.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUzQy97wKNQiLvFR0dSihxPzCEvHQSQ7StnWo7KIuzTVhmdbtAhVUTZEtPifcUe_7LtN3PMb2_iSA0rnP5rshvAUBveZHAnxuId8n3-sfJW2zvV_vSPzW43PJtqsriWOyYD0orlNjLsaJ5_0gqmPCegjMOV0DZC8QWcyfhOFn3VdiwpncLSegXYyTbnbqu/s2048/IMG_4067.JPEG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1535" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUzQy97wKNQiLvFR0dSihxPzCEvHQSQ7StnWo7KIuzTVhmdbtAhVUTZEtPifcUe_7LtN3PMb2_iSA0rnP5rshvAUBveZHAnxuId8n3-sfJW2zvV_vSPzW43PJtqsriWOyYD0orlNjLsaJ5_0gqmPCegjMOV0DZC8QWcyfhOFn3VdiwpncLSegXYyTbnbqu/w640-h480/IMG_4067.JPEG" width="640" /></a></div>Kierran Broatchhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10540948886211980207noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8118161382637787952.post-80494950918691451312023-07-14T23:17:00.004-04:002023-07-16T13:21:22.513-04:00Summer Medley<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Salt air and fireflies.</div><div style="text-align: left;">Flounder, quahogs, and blue claws. </div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div style="text-align: left;">Summer ends too soon.</div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDXpxv7I9Bjz2hFnhxALYvsgKiwaERpOEVItSWmzpKiFUOvfHXrgei4ph7tkgAFM0ynzDLagogvg379TeZBYVNclYhFdUWFvIbNdKay09hXqWcdwU0n3eHD-CFLR4SVfSs6wOLfNKhigHuddMO1rbW2eZzRhnZIG6ydWd1i2DWqCsMSzl83ahdBBo4wATJ/s1856/IMG_3492a.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1856" data-original-width="1437" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDXpxv7I9Bjz2hFnhxALYvsgKiwaERpOEVItSWmzpKiFUOvfHXrgei4ph7tkgAFM0ynzDLagogvg379TeZBYVNclYhFdUWFvIbNdKay09hXqWcdwU0n3eHD-CFLR4SVfSs6wOLfNKhigHuddMO1rbW2eZzRhnZIG6ydWd1i2DWqCsMSzl83ahdBBo4wATJ/w496-h640/IMG_3492a.jpeg" width="496" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbcXNmwKFDDuZucQz3B60MFz4zYs206LOq5uYYFV-24ZVePsIgfK5CPt1_CPqNmwfzE-yJJCdHP1bCjCgZ4ZNNdWzb1vc-BcxhwwTu45ik-WRqm8ys-KDIvp1movcguE18U0xb3jqrEBvnf0glzLIgy0fRTao25K6eqeChmmXJYVpiCspKwMhwgwegmp_g/s1237/IMG_3359a.jpeg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1173" data-original-width="1237" height="606" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbcXNmwKFDDuZucQz3B60MFz4zYs206LOq5uYYFV-24ZVePsIgfK5CPt1_CPqNmwfzE-yJJCdHP1bCjCgZ4ZNNdWzb1vc-BcxhwwTu45ik-WRqm8ys-KDIvp1movcguE18U0xb3jqrEBvnf0glzLIgy0fRTao25K6eqeChmmXJYVpiCspKwMhwgwegmp_g/w640-h606/IMG_3359a.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrh0DlW8jYRG3vDLBYQJZZ6bcOKVZUwHRt1c4AzplUMMdS-dZckAYWqFxre82LLf1t9-RgO2xK0pDEIDgHFz2V8BFJOH3XCI8--A3zbzuiBceV4PO6dZHo1g3Hiu9NYaej9xFY2ziXtl3hpHA9rTPJko0D7Sc4KqRFM9fx_tRv6hOgViE7Vkb2yPV38eWt/s1804/IMG_3499a.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1804" data-original-width="1447" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrh0DlW8jYRG3vDLBYQJZZ6bcOKVZUwHRt1c4AzplUMMdS-dZckAYWqFxre82LLf1t9-RgO2xK0pDEIDgHFz2V8BFJOH3XCI8--A3zbzuiBceV4PO6dZHo1g3Hiu9NYaej9xFY2ziXtl3hpHA9rTPJko0D7Sc4KqRFM9fx_tRv6hOgViE7Vkb2yPV38eWt/w514-h640/IMG_3499a.jpeg" width="514" /></a></div></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFbFDR7zE1u3HJMbiX2YStJgR2dGfa4YwaJ8Wjmrl2s8HlRKdMZV38soMhVzvMTh8AV7hjZf5Yu2P9AsN3zjfk8sq1Vhht9RaBBqWSvzXwomNkB3ac3M7LHVp3DCtqj_adaj3-_gNVnSfzuDe7naulvfEhncnsqNvr1_IUmPyGAKrzxHNabINYhXlJ2fmB/s4095/edited.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2144" data-original-width="4095" height="336" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFbFDR7zE1u3HJMbiX2YStJgR2dGfa4YwaJ8Wjmrl2s8HlRKdMZV38soMhVzvMTh8AV7hjZf5Yu2P9AsN3zjfk8sq1Vhht9RaBBqWSvzXwomNkB3ac3M7LHVp3DCtqj_adaj3-_gNVnSfzuDe7naulvfEhncnsqNvr1_IUmPyGAKrzxHNabINYhXlJ2fmB/w640-h336/edited.jpg" width="640" /></a><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizriFrTxnCqZMW8VYRiEnQwy1rUcfo-ks2KQv57lm-xWSd4QgW461bXnXiyoh4pltynu21sy_Ik7J9qGiuTXjEBjJCnQ3l-qsZLWfTpeWEN1kcJ78FlRFXWRXfQFMKhTzD3JCelqHipBQDsnFiF5vngacLj-nvhYfbkYc1w-FscHPs6dqCS1ZUyh8xf0op/s1837/IMG_3401a.jpeg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1317" data-original-width="1837" height="458" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizriFrTxnCqZMW8VYRiEnQwy1rUcfo-ks2KQv57lm-xWSd4QgW461bXnXiyoh4pltynu21sy_Ik7J9qGiuTXjEBjJCnQ3l-qsZLWfTpeWEN1kcJ78FlRFXWRXfQFMKhTzD3JCelqHipBQDsnFiF5vngacLj-nvhYfbkYc1w-FscHPs6dqCS1ZUyh8xf0op/w640-h458/IMG_3401a.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuSuhtWle9HyiJU8SrM4wvWelK5LOG-47kZLmexhWCEDqIJE0eg_2o-11rEYV_puyMo3FjLl9hvw2MyW3vxwH2TBvm23ZlCPWPXopzJguGgZiQ05tbzB2ob31ljO1T-cvVtkHXGdEuxNOUWCanwRYD75fKHBlzaByyGZVryJX5yTVSiaeOkucaMT3shmj3/s2020/IMG_3394a.jpeg" style="clear: left; display: inline; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="2020" height="380" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuSuhtWle9HyiJU8SrM4wvWelK5LOG-47kZLmexhWCEDqIJE0eg_2o-11rEYV_puyMo3FjLl9hvw2MyW3vxwH2TBvm23ZlCPWPXopzJguGgZiQ05tbzB2ob31ljO1T-cvVtkHXGdEuxNOUWCanwRYD75fKHBlzaByyGZVryJX5yTVSiaeOkucaMT3shmj3/w640-h380/IMG_3394a.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div></div><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmQ9-hB5jX74nQXC1tLv_5Vbo7eNOUdRJy25qwPdi36aw_D-6xKlmzWKQzSI4W25cBliyhiOxgOrBbxDVd6ewg9GWV_r8szJK5GCnFhWaDYZzuOia8HLBrGQ_7vgt84ojYsNX_cFJVqeKkGLEv34uMnkABLk_opo8HLCK8qWH6HNOFhFJQ730yjos75_0a/s2141/tacoma%20hobie.jpeg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1141" data-original-width="2141" height="342" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmQ9-hB5jX74nQXC1tLv_5Vbo7eNOUdRJy25qwPdi36aw_D-6xKlmzWKQzSI4W25cBliyhiOxgOrBbxDVd6ewg9GWV_r8szJK5GCnFhWaDYZzuOia8HLBrGQ_7vgt84ojYsNX_cFJVqeKkGLEv34uMnkABLk_opo8HLCK8qWH6HNOFhFJQ730yjos75_0a/w640-h342/tacoma%20hobie.jpeg" width="640" /></a></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3fciLMwLLJf2_vvMXwibbRCkOXLgS1Fi59AhlZgl8dwqOdyb1oZkKQ76qDbzPzHoCMMuupr4kpEh34D9usxYNi5kj9FKi7_HkbNCWwtk1lnHDk_e62Cx8GInOHI2zm5ZsTkK6fHGypIXfKWS-saeNobXQ5bHI5l67cmCt6r1oN1ANa5gfnbWUsJYmhGCK/s2048/IMG_3252.JPEG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIVduNKtM6SXzhcpfBXsRpBUqlNzfxCn-a433X5SMsCLuHK93G8V2lO04PsbPQ9pN9i6iSDN1gjnsg5NedMm72itbzSfUkK43uiN5iuRHpem4V7WdFCrW0okKf3t74E8J5kt3iWhuQ2-hoi2GT1gQBMdiQXN_WPSqjbPDuYzqonxqj8kLRAdjzDZN9LEWL/s2048/IMG_3214.JPEG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIVduNKtM6SXzhcpfBXsRpBUqlNzfxCn-a433X5SMsCLuHK93G8V2lO04PsbPQ9pN9i6iSDN1gjnsg5NedMm72itbzSfUkK43uiN5iuRHpem4V7WdFCrW0okKf3t74E8J5kt3iWhuQ2-hoi2GT1gQBMdiQXN_WPSqjbPDuYzqonxqj8kLRAdjzDZN9LEWL/w480-h640/IMG_3214.JPEG" width="480" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO3PBLpeUamPFdyNMPJx4H4rBHtuZcdNCtNvig8FGfbZAtahMy_6pbd05OamxaGigZttIl_HY6-p09org61D_GViwk3qmjYz2eUE0GnxPEA0J3iqkHCcQjTUsTQ2AasvC1UZelRRPxI7oLfPG9nvO1JM0Rb23Xa7VoS5prF91yv-wtR0WA1cle6_iH7r_g/s1859/IMG_3252a.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1859" data-original-width="1535" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO3PBLpeUamPFdyNMPJx4H4rBHtuZcdNCtNvig8FGfbZAtahMy_6pbd05OamxaGigZttIl_HY6-p09org61D_GViwk3qmjYz2eUE0GnxPEA0J3iqkHCcQjTUsTQ2AasvC1UZelRRPxI7oLfPG9nvO1JM0Rb23Xa7VoS5prF91yv-wtR0WA1cle6_iH7r_g/w528-h640/IMG_3252a.jpeg" width="528" /></a></div><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZjLOgLJy0mVPhGK5tCPoXVExY752KxfBfim_m-qBS08vzL1bJ_4_yHplleVRC8QrB8ltXWjDS5R8SR861BuimskzkhHXOl0kP01GlLoSPId_9_0rjb_W2R36m6zWc14X3dB9jil22lF5P9ROyp9Z32va2dktts-LDRy9ztAItWcWZT74EscMVt5K9gqVc/s1870/IMG_3271a.jpeg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1187" data-original-width="1870" height="406" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZjLOgLJy0mVPhGK5tCPoXVExY752KxfBfim_m-qBS08vzL1bJ_4_yHplleVRC8QrB8ltXWjDS5R8SR861BuimskzkhHXOl0kP01GlLoSPId_9_0rjb_W2R36m6zWc14X3dB9jil22lF5P9ROyp9Z32va2dktts-LDRy9ztAItWcWZT74EscMVt5K9gqVc/w640-h406/IMG_3271a.jpeg" width="640" /></a><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnJNPNtx5YEDpasXjwH4vZYUgMwb4M7ct0G3z1PNKcT7s3ZUx1OKWX2yt1Q-Gj_vR8HoXkY-m0kb6692YKxmAj3yQg6ecKyHSb9EV5C-MNRGvrsftgYkLAllE1lvpjmmSVvjc5tCUzasMIdQIsVvw1zU_yFa9ewBc9oDYdWCwhS9lKA0gbTDh7K-reAGoA/s1974/IMG_3274a.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1974" data-original-width="1183" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnJNPNtx5YEDpasXjwH4vZYUgMwb4M7ct0G3z1PNKcT7s3ZUx1OKWX2yt1Q-Gj_vR8HoXkY-m0kb6692YKxmAj3yQg6ecKyHSb9EV5C-MNRGvrsftgYkLAllE1lvpjmmSVvjc5tCUzasMIdQIsVvw1zU_yFa9ewBc9oDYdWCwhS9lKA0gbTDh7K-reAGoA/w384-h640/IMG_3274a.jpeg" width="384" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqlonEfV6os88kYWN5x5h8pa0dF6m4jY2apw4dDOBkc-f-S8ZLWiUsZH1pRMN1u5zObBoGXWmUtZQ4dbMflQLTFzP_Mq1aDD-2xWhtOPK2MaVE8rpPbA10QYYN-GWYuex4wmPgJsq8xLsdQF09k5a03br8CyazaZ6n589r7jWBG8YDkssSU8q8yMhA0hoi/s1925/IMG_3278a.jpeg" style="clear: left; display: inline; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1179" data-original-width="1925" height="392" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqlonEfV6os88kYWN5x5h8pa0dF6m4jY2apw4dDOBkc-f-S8ZLWiUsZH1pRMN1u5zObBoGXWmUtZQ4dbMflQLTFzP_Mq1aDD-2xWhtOPK2MaVE8rpPbA10QYYN-GWYuex4wmPgJsq8xLsdQF09k5a03br8CyazaZ6n589r7jWBG8YDkssSU8q8yMhA0hoi/w640-h392/IMG_3278a.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNwMsJAvZqWdjT9Boeh1E4ysCglBzjEYxbps5hTfeKdE6KvE7IR3mdlSjNmf95Jy8-N9WeXo93bY7ecYna7hwNsP1gc7Q1wiY569zpsZSsX3F31v6closReRr7UWxHnjyMDj5mlwPKgjXFN5abvzUpuQDCA66BRzOCNlEROBI5XMQeqGCjslUiSHqlwYAy/s2001/IMG_3680a.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2001" data-original-width="1535" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNwMsJAvZqWdjT9Boeh1E4ysCglBzjEYxbps5hTfeKdE6KvE7IR3mdlSjNmf95Jy8-N9WeXo93bY7ecYna7hwNsP1gc7Q1wiY569zpsZSsX3F31v6closReRr7UWxHnjyMDj5mlwPKgjXFN5abvzUpuQDCA66BRzOCNlEROBI5XMQeqGCjslUiSHqlwYAy/w490-h640/IMG_3680a.jpeg" width="490" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEja-unZa57HpIjY-j-RQufb7rbMZj6VbyDeVh-aX_han-36rkHXpUFgruquQvznJoRVSPBru_7S7Prwv5z6rgAm68egbw7ToG9J0wELbqNZwl_zdkQFQHjR8kFIaWD0DKRb1Hy7vXQJKPyqRT8MZNdSZtokgzqO4xrUfx366-SfAI0eUKpR8KQdk7eb8orL/s2258/IMG_3797a.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2258" data-original-width="1006" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEja-unZa57HpIjY-j-RQufb7rbMZj6VbyDeVh-aX_han-36rkHXpUFgruquQvznJoRVSPBru_7S7Prwv5z6rgAm68egbw7ToG9J0wELbqNZwl_zdkQFQHjR8kFIaWD0DKRb1Hy7vXQJKPyqRT8MZNdSZtokgzqO4xrUfx366-SfAI0eUKpR8KQdk7eb8orL/w286-h640/IMG_3797a.jpeg" width="286" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR0PmFiK1oNVgTruLEzy2uLphgKPGbYenfGqHP_2Sdgvuo0lazd_T72-opDWbG4Ej97u7j0FRSA6BGKQzr0g94e9rdbVwvDLucf5xpf8d5FijmcVkA9aKynPvdYm9zkQMrQb9I-c9A0KcO7WcWK4F-UjiqP_uH69TZ9zRVtEbGXl5u39-xDaOBkgT2GAXx/s1921/IMG_3799a.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1921" data-original-width="1448" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR0PmFiK1oNVgTruLEzy2uLphgKPGbYenfGqHP_2Sdgvuo0lazd_T72-opDWbG4Ej97u7j0FRSA6BGKQzr0g94e9rdbVwvDLucf5xpf8d5FijmcVkA9aKynPvdYm9zkQMrQb9I-c9A0KcO7WcWK4F-UjiqP_uH69TZ9zRVtEbGXl5u39-xDaOBkgT2GAXx/w482-h640/IMG_3799a.jpeg" width="482" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixhL2TpX9deoP3fPOx_qjJjOuH7SShjZG49dOlxlM8n5XKuRftskX9OxYaDUcaNAkl5GJSgzu5g0x1KOv99GFjYCNgXZB-IK3MxNA-ZsUHWGsWRsPkJndHF2Lh4pwUolD1_Z9EzfE8ss4fE5acqv-jo9kyeP-9wXc2F3Kt_5kS1tPshg_2zBy-PQnQf1Qs/s1957/IMG_3802a.jpeg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1376" data-original-width="1957" height="450" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixhL2TpX9deoP3fPOx_qjJjOuH7SShjZG49dOlxlM8n5XKuRftskX9OxYaDUcaNAkl5GJSgzu5g0x1KOv99GFjYCNgXZB-IK3MxNA-ZsUHWGsWRsPkJndHF2Lh4pwUolD1_Z9EzfE8ss4fE5acqv-jo9kyeP-9wXc2F3Kt_5kS1tPshg_2zBy-PQnQf1Qs/w640-h450/IMG_3802a.jpeg" width="640" /></a><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqxKPfGhitGCYEOmFVAjXDGg0eE9NHlN2xtoxZ19LgSlORC6-pfOCWhwQhM71uYvRpntzlIodH0AvGVFHWPu_3p6PkvJCruTDtjuU8qvuNLMJYPuhBL2WtehpIZN9gaAF0UoMxgy-jjTeoCrXdfiPqkR0PwIDHv7yvrcIOVZcRtibuMxEcDedK7zG9auZQ/s1969/IMG_3741a.jpeg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1401" data-original-width="1969" height="456" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqxKPfGhitGCYEOmFVAjXDGg0eE9NHlN2xtoxZ19LgSlORC6-pfOCWhwQhM71uYvRpntzlIodH0AvGVFHWPu_3p6PkvJCruTDtjuU8qvuNLMJYPuhBL2WtehpIZN9gaAF0UoMxgy-jjTeoCrXdfiPqkR0PwIDHv7yvrcIOVZcRtibuMxEcDedK7zG9auZQ/w640-h456/IMG_3741a.jpeg" width="640" /></a><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHX_fg7FU4UtB6Y_gZRZLeCmhy2ku3dI_qUmMWRnGo0L7tRAjP15o8-6IdurGrFR1S9Px3Nj11ltkvX3TASai4sSO2SkTrxHxC3-MrL5m3yRWafW_QEKPkGi1hBCQ7vS7VqFf2GF-ZuqTUbB8tGNjlcggFQ829-b9inP9Jw167bW8G60nblt9XGSqlDYsP/s1850/IMG_3588a.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1850" data-original-width="1535" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHX_fg7FU4UtB6Y_gZRZLeCmhy2ku3dI_qUmMWRnGo0L7tRAjP15o8-6IdurGrFR1S9Px3Nj11ltkvX3TASai4sSO2SkTrxHxC3-MrL5m3yRWafW_QEKPkGi1hBCQ7vS7VqFf2GF-ZuqTUbB8tGNjlcggFQ829-b9inP9Jw167bW8G60nblt9XGSqlDYsP/w532-h640/IMG_3588a.jpeg" width="532" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOmwlDsQ3bSi2xC7-hMrERaNtLQTXwO_LssBBXLpKyqQ_WJDBu3zE2cOttuaPmaQPwSRkjBtL_aMvwPJey0_tseIrLfZQhziho91p69qgqkngvBCRPRfGbHCTSNocx1TCOjcdzoI_Hz4on5qjSPWc8yAyvYHUARyJhAybz7iIZnkU3ur9E25IVN7U_yRvx/s3313/mt.%20whitney.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2535" data-original-width="3313" height="490" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOmwlDsQ3bSi2xC7-hMrERaNtLQTXwO_LssBBXLpKyqQ_WJDBu3zE2cOttuaPmaQPwSRkjBtL_aMvwPJey0_tseIrLfZQhziho91p69qgqkngvBCRPRfGbHCTSNocx1TCOjcdzoI_Hz4on5qjSPWc8yAyvYHUARyJhAybz7iIZnkU3ur9E25IVN7U_yRvx/w640-h490/mt.%20whitney.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My brother summited California's Mount Whitney and left a Connecticut Yankee sticker.</td></tr></tbody></table></div>Kierran Broatchhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10540948886211980207noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8118161382637787952.post-75987851505685170692023-05-22T20:49:00.001-04:002023-05-22T20:54:42.017-04:00Runners of the Tide<div style="text-align: justify;">It has been an enjoyable start to the surf fishing season so far. The main reason being that my uncle and angling mentor is in the midst of a saltwater renaissance. After not sharing a tide in years, we have been out together this spring a half dozen times already—learning from each other while rehashing old memories and making new ones. Often it is not the fish that make these trips standout. Then again, sometimes it is unforgettable catches or bite windows that are engraved into our consciousness for years to come. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">For us thus far, this season has been all things squeteague—an intriguing and handsome fish that migrates to the same haunts each spring like clockwork, some years in better numbers than others. This year seems to be a very good year for weakfish in Connecticut waters. They are not everyone's cup of tea. Some can't stomach the crowds they draw. Others are after something bigger, or maybe they loathe the endless bumps from horseshoe crabs mistaking wading boots for potential mates.</div><p style="text-align: justify;">While I hardly enjoy a packed beach, I'll put up with it a few times each May. Thankfully when prime tides are very late or very early, even the most popular spots can be a ghost town. Catching the inaugural squeteague of spring almost feels like getting a monkey off my back. They can be challenging, partly due to the finite window of time we find them from shore with any kind of consistency, and partly because hooks often lose purchase in their weak mouths after seizure-like headshakes. Patience and a loosened drag can help.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">A big draw for me is witnessing the overall natural spectacle that is taking place; a convergence of fish, shorebirds, and arthropods that has occurred here each spring for millennia. Also, when everything lines up in your favor, you can experience a window of unparalleled action. Waves of weakfish charging up the beach and multiple rods bending in unison. A brief period with a bite so intense that you better make sure your offering is in the water and swimming well. </p><p style="text-align: justify;">We were fortunate to experience two evenings like that recently, where for about 30 minutes it was lights-out action. Up and down the waterline, all you saw were anglers in various stages of hooking, fighting, or beaching weakfish. I landed more in one trip than I had in multiple years. Some of them hit my jig only a rod's length from my feet. It was nutty for a little while and then it wasn't. That's the way it goes sometimes. And the more time you put in, the better the odds you'll eventually stumble into events like that. I am just glad that I was a small part of it, standing there right next to my uncle.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLKeVYs_PXUnk1EzOvJ0l3AOkNYOzhuYcZLqts6cxXzMOQI-c-Yxo1XdlQMAGoRT-LcUmGySX4bbqAIJvI8HUi1z_eQ80hbhq_XkLGJxv0AkI2lBbfxMS2OgDTTDj1FEeMTYGdzULqX7zZS-PsaczSS-IkntO-uj6rUQBmriMRKirRDYLHQ4DbPmorIA/s1683/IMG_3094a.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1499" data-original-width="1683" height="570" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLKeVYs_PXUnk1EzOvJ0l3AOkNYOzhuYcZLqts6cxXzMOQI-c-Yxo1XdlQMAGoRT-LcUmGySX4bbqAIJvI8HUi1z_eQ80hbhq_XkLGJxv0AkI2lBbfxMS2OgDTTDj1FEeMTYGdzULqX7zZS-PsaczSS-IkntO-uj6rUQBmriMRKirRDYLHQ4DbPmorIA/w640-h570/IMG_3094a.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUReUKN9aQoO6kHeOHYkcRCw1038NsMGzsFOOoG7vckBbAV_4oIaReX9l6t6dAKAWBLb7L1nRj37WbEITHYflM0eKqBFi_TvC2VLCBKEyX0w0xLmNDO72-i3Pbiixsi0xtD9EiHc9tf7R0gn0dmALV8DEm0Z5mGK9M3wUfsO1IW-dZMtbfovLxFVyFBA/s1984/IMG_3091a.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1984" data-original-width="1508" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUReUKN9aQoO6kHeOHYkcRCw1038NsMGzsFOOoG7vckBbAV_4oIaReX9l6t6dAKAWBLb7L1nRj37WbEITHYflM0eKqBFi_TvC2VLCBKEyX0w0xLmNDO72-i3Pbiixsi0xtD9EiHc9tf7R0gn0dmALV8DEm0Z5mGK9M3wUfsO1IW-dZMtbfovLxFVyFBA/w486-h640/IMG_3091a.jpeg" width="486" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTc_o1SclPC2p09HlGiXYT9jyxy1ypu1kqDgZtPaNzzGWnW3KKQW6yTgVBbegE1kZKqtplwTGvj3VtNWZ8SgKJ_skEYc-gq0SFKPMe6KNms8vFadi6vo9G4nExvcqNnSwb-DEgqataqzPv5WszFjoXl9HKPuFVBQobYp7dOc6VcSO5md29pCpJYJ8jUg/s1978/IMG_3104a.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1978" data-original-width="1490" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTc_o1SclPC2p09HlGiXYT9jyxy1ypu1kqDgZtPaNzzGWnW3KKQW6yTgVBbegE1kZKqtplwTGvj3VtNWZ8SgKJ_skEYc-gq0SFKPMe6KNms8vFadi6vo9G4nExvcqNnSwb-DEgqataqzPv5WszFjoXl9HKPuFVBQobYp7dOc6VcSO5md29pCpJYJ8jUg/w482-h640/IMG_3104a.jpeg" width="482" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizb-zRLxGLSBpSRLA7F3-IR8u1zRCyc7JpLuOn_bv9D-F7cbPyz1fFh0EK0KMZvSms7ZGMTWXWPFZQH7Ni4ZyouCHnzcenUedD2rA0VboLXxnzRhE_DES8BD2fynT35v_bUdpjONbXl2R67DalYST1uqu_W4A5XP57br2ouFlQyNqU-zngKqROzdrMmg/s1723/IMG_3825a.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1522" data-original-width="1723" height="566" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizb-zRLxGLSBpSRLA7F3-IR8u1zRCyc7JpLuOn_bv9D-F7cbPyz1fFh0EK0KMZvSms7ZGMTWXWPFZQH7Ni4ZyouCHnzcenUedD2rA0VboLXxnzRhE_DES8BD2fynT35v_bUdpjONbXl2R67DalYST1uqu_W4A5XP57br2ouFlQyNqU-zngKqROzdrMmg/w640-h566/IMG_3825a.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvMoBx65wYkVbuTPT1VnGb-6Dj63hrUbyNdJ1y4s-fLBqPoI4BiLn4nX6CzPL1qVFGQd1l7UFFzXTWfMmEIw2SlsfvQZTvGuu2xKGFwbKp1aVuXR97HuKVb6ygpS4qXvcAPgq88u46xrDwXfqHVlGk21fkr3arG2n4PJb0RfeRotK86AxMrRSFNMQnDA/s2220/IMG_3083a.jpeg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1416" data-original-width="2220" height="408" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvMoBx65wYkVbuTPT1VnGb-6Dj63hrUbyNdJ1y4s-fLBqPoI4BiLn4nX6CzPL1qVFGQd1l7UFFzXTWfMmEIw2SlsfvQZTvGuu2xKGFwbKp1aVuXR97HuKVb6ygpS4qXvcAPgq88u46xrDwXfqHVlGk21fkr3arG2n4PJb0RfeRotK86AxMrRSFNMQnDA/w640-h408/IMG_3083a.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYSrfyyXmzvmmqNFQZSry2RjUkmbSpYf30Fo2WZAXvCBepmzU7ztBJDt_F1A-f8v7Q0VR4-GFjOYMuKKAcesMSiAREUWXO_Iyv7Es562A4aaN_sJeLzIPCY9W1c03CL9kjyiOZP7oOD4lj7dS3IKJnRor-5kVyaZM_meqpUMYlVLC7H7nhGWdh9ZaAJg/s1929/IMG_3120a.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1929" data-original-width="1447" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYSrfyyXmzvmmqNFQZSry2RjUkmbSpYf30Fo2WZAXvCBepmzU7ztBJDt_F1A-f8v7Q0VR4-GFjOYMuKKAcesMSiAREUWXO_Iyv7Es562A4aaN_sJeLzIPCY9W1c03CL9kjyiOZP7oOD4lj7dS3IKJnRor-5kVyaZM_meqpUMYlVLC7H7nhGWdh9ZaAJg/w480-h640/IMG_3120a.jpeg" width="480" /></a></div>Kierran Broatchhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10540948886211980207noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8118161382637787952.post-64134642409984903842023-04-30T18:10:00.004-04:002023-04-30T18:10:34.114-04:00Opening Daze: 2023<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">“Warmest Opening Day Weekend yet.” </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">It started as a simple, and quite inaccurate, weather prediction made by Tommy
before our annual spring pilgrimage to the West Branch Farmington River a few
years back. It was so cold, wet, and raw that particular weekend, that the
botched forecast became lore amongst our crew, and the acronym WODWY has lived
on in text messages leading up to the camping trip ever since. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">The running joke finally turned
reality this year. Warm was actually an understatement; it was straight up shorts-weather
for the first two days of our outing. While 80s in April felt a bit out of
place, no one dared complain with hard frosts and deluges of years past seared
into memory. Of course, it couldn’t be beach conditions the entire stay, and
what’s Opening Day Weekend without precipitation? It rained just enough at the finish line to necessitate drying out gear in the ensuing days. <o:p></o:p></p><p>
</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">In between the warmth and the
rain, we packed in another banner celebration of spring. We ate, we drank, hell,
we even left camp twice to fish. Hendricksons were hatching, but the river's resident trout hadn’t
yet decided to eat them. Even so, we were grateful for the unfussy, freshly-stocked rainbows that tightened our lines. All in all, WODWY was an awesome experience. One more
good notch in the belt of tradition. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8SDYWfi_0cORy1zdRLY9A28mktahzZOydqHXqpAUO0TdHHPXkR1VlvoPviw_7Bxmfx1UPJ6QbIIh9gqUY84m1_32DvaLOOc9mkBm7anJ294jPgD-dGQG9ZI5VnrNViS1R06M4xV8NDs0s-OfaxR1J7ckccRlsiaQ-3VkYmFTpr1p_H7hyGJdy3UJD6Q/s1885/IMG_2687.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1359" data-original-width="1885" height="462" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8SDYWfi_0cORy1zdRLY9A28mktahzZOydqHXqpAUO0TdHHPXkR1VlvoPviw_7Bxmfx1UPJ6QbIIh9gqUY84m1_32DvaLOOc9mkBm7anJ294jPgD-dGQG9ZI5VnrNViS1R06M4xV8NDs0s-OfaxR1J7ckccRlsiaQ-3VkYmFTpr1p_H7hyGJdy3UJD6Q/w640-h462/IMG_2687.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzoqZwMfdGMZQd-FxYM41t_w0hWyuq5WQjYQyYsjDV8RM-11KMoPDiqW3S8nsdEYa9lY_6FQBYYtyJ8no4_Orm7wZyw6QLRF9cJQbg8dh4GV9mHTxBnvgsyR5lXQ64DiO-GEMoV9QDoy9i2lsCC6S7vpWxo4zjpgiPdQIc_96vGNN-3KY3D9CcH1Osdw/s1501/IMG_2628.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1501" data-original-width="1395" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzoqZwMfdGMZQd-FxYM41t_w0hWyuq5WQjYQyYsjDV8RM-11KMoPDiqW3S8nsdEYa9lY_6FQBYYtyJ8no4_Orm7wZyw6QLRF9cJQbg8dh4GV9mHTxBnvgsyR5lXQ64DiO-GEMoV9QDoy9i2lsCC6S7vpWxo4zjpgiPdQIc_96vGNN-3KY3D9CcH1Osdw/w594-h640/IMG_2628.jpeg" width="594" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKaiHZSfTqrl0_W3YrHurfaZE9h1wFcHaR4nF4IxpKyX4uXzZEPovJKY-LZGY00ohNGbdCzbWOBxD6V-kxHaqZPszz4zU_lOkWKxB0tdvm8yLNEudMhGzSuTsC2QCVkdSPw8oo_o8wF7yNOPdQ7bC-lMk79txOyW60mD4Oj2xD1-b90W_sNzaJDS_n_Q/s1853/IMG_2563.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /><img border="0" data-original-height="1387" data-original-width="1853" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKaiHZSfTqrl0_W3YrHurfaZE9h1wFcHaR4nF4IxpKyX4uXzZEPovJKY-LZGY00ohNGbdCzbWOBxD6V-kxHaqZPszz4zU_lOkWKxB0tdvm8yLNEudMhGzSuTsC2QCVkdSPw8oo_o8wF7yNOPdQ7bC-lMk79txOyW60mD4Oj2xD1-b90W_sNzaJDS_n_Q/w640-h480/IMG_2563.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQc1Zb7ymolHC_Nh3v3RWf-Kh3J9SrUswHsmJmT3BVfqhXjJqNsRNgZgZEa3ZDO3QLAPA3I1GgXfFvCMxUby4o-u2CJN_j8OZop99qhXh8ANcTEOGT6cOfaWXy5lb8i8AaH8oz3RzzPdSI6BGiNPciudYJGBt2qPMHzqvqqbbQG4keY8B6tMw8Z9kZQw/s2048/IMG_2684.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1307" data-original-width="2048" height="408" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQc1Zb7ymolHC_Nh3v3RWf-Kh3J9SrUswHsmJmT3BVfqhXjJqNsRNgZgZEa3ZDO3QLAPA3I1GgXfFvCMxUby4o-u2CJN_j8OZop99qhXh8ANcTEOGT6cOfaWXy5lb8i8AaH8oz3RzzPdSI6BGiNPciudYJGBt2qPMHzqvqqbbQG4keY8B6tMw8Z9kZQw/w640-h408/IMG_2684.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizD73-oBJQI6bD4otEDunBBguirP4Gszejgx1PUgt0EgOoT7GZzsv6vu0J0H2P8HYkZ2jtfuLmfzLF86Af0roSprPiqN3J-P_2xDRHE0O7sreGciYs8DNNmmEuYFM8YRYER8-C33_qaJz7n4W0UyGEWhQ8_eTKQUDENdyAUWlHlaAqKCSBwrcPrV3ZsA/s2014/IMG_2590.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2014" data-original-width="1419" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizD73-oBJQI6bD4otEDunBBguirP4Gszejgx1PUgt0EgOoT7GZzsv6vu0J0H2P8HYkZ2jtfuLmfzLF86Af0roSprPiqN3J-P_2xDRHE0O7sreGciYs8DNNmmEuYFM8YRYER8-C33_qaJz7n4W0UyGEWhQ8_eTKQUDENdyAUWlHlaAqKCSBwrcPrV3ZsA/w450-h640/IMG_2590.jpeg" width="450" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhYxOJb2uMzf1xKgqIcmgYln1HpJyHjN9jZ_JinlwFPtX4EF3ad4zz4OOewETeXiHfoVY6JAUOBC-EQX8Mmecvy7sUxwAB3f3pOjgmqJf7lOP3TS7ar0ObWlZRVCMVgU-SEu_p9FQEj0qw2Y6eBWjR2nx_dK475r63PB2YEmMt7ELu_rreUNl2I6AenQ/s1570/IMG_2632.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1570" data-original-width="1389" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhYxOJb2uMzf1xKgqIcmgYln1HpJyHjN9jZ_JinlwFPtX4EF3ad4zz4OOewETeXiHfoVY6JAUOBC-EQX8Mmecvy7sUxwAB3f3pOjgmqJf7lOP3TS7ar0ObWlZRVCMVgU-SEu_p9FQEj0qw2Y6eBWjR2nx_dK475r63PB2YEmMt7ELu_rreUNl2I6AenQ/w566-h640/IMG_2632.jpeg" width="566" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVt4yCpNdCtWMOOcI7Z5BfEa05_IYgVOjOCG3UHzlhFCDfD_4m-opdWnjzrkj6QqTI08wcDAsp3ay1cunZhY_BAgI_GDdzpCS5cMaNHwcF1DG7pFQ-mplhE3eK6vHgqj51rz3H9tbgAPnsMU1BILAor5KNsSI4qwha8X_6wN9-yYnzUBP1VphGaeE4CA/s1743/IMG_2577.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1743" data-original-width="1480" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVt4yCpNdCtWMOOcI7Z5BfEa05_IYgVOjOCG3UHzlhFCDfD_4m-opdWnjzrkj6QqTI08wcDAsp3ay1cunZhY_BAgI_GDdzpCS5cMaNHwcF1DG7pFQ-mplhE3eK6vHgqj51rz3H9tbgAPnsMU1BILAor5KNsSI4qwha8X_6wN9-yYnzUBP1VphGaeE4CA/w544-h640/IMG_2577.jpeg" width="544" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz6OKYOSs-2Hs2bnbqoasrmqWCy5lDxBByPnAJGznCo7wCy6Ojh746nS0RjMX0gGWii475Y4otA3HsSvTiCzpz8P1V7BGs0bGPVNQ5jvgeUs0gYPpDyv9-DqTsmbLAcj7LZ3SZlsbgV0OUrnFq-Ym0QWixhiAJg4xpGHNU2z4W-YwDCsHAOQI5MwusxQ/s1979/IMG_2575.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1979" data-original-width="1483" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz6OKYOSs-2Hs2bnbqoasrmqWCy5lDxBByPnAJGznCo7wCy6Ojh746nS0RjMX0gGWii475Y4otA3HsSvTiCzpz8P1V7BGs0bGPVNQ5jvgeUs0gYPpDyv9-DqTsmbLAcj7LZ3SZlsbgV0OUrnFq-Ym0QWixhiAJg4xpGHNU2z4W-YwDCsHAOQI5MwusxQ/w480-h640/IMG_2575.jpeg" width="480" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4-BSF-DXqxCH4nc4bAFkWB-6JO2ZR77cWG_qImbdO_Yb8npOGyxIwuhuZHYfVybZw9LebZkVqFUmhL9zDm7JvmGb0g5s5bdoLGKsWshDXI24at-wjHgLBDq-U3HdMDCSD8ew18UCAKGUlhotVCC-xdzo4C0MoQf5dlyQQkpb4aQR_IFkOYWQyTbAwQg/s1842/IMG_2703.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1842" data-original-width="1397" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4-BSF-DXqxCH4nc4bAFkWB-6JO2ZR77cWG_qImbdO_Yb8npOGyxIwuhuZHYfVybZw9LebZkVqFUmhL9zDm7JvmGb0g5s5bdoLGKsWshDXI24at-wjHgLBDq-U3HdMDCSD8ew18UCAKGUlhotVCC-xdzo4C0MoQf5dlyQQkpb4aQR_IFkOYWQyTbAwQg/w486-h640/IMG_2703.jpeg" width="486" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiux-H-6qTDsfAUnzbs_h8bBbJO_sIcd90_dkc7506YKq7zlkJ50v-1q9s436OPQ55FbVOaYP-Dqryn-uJ4WFT4vQufnV-dG3BnqhV4QhXJOYlegboLNx3-fMHVOHRlB_0EUxiY51HX2JrKsvhMadwQ3j2VJaojYKIQsqWcVw1OqpbHR02G370UCdsSnw/s1692/IMG_2586.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1692" data-original-width="1425" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiux-H-6qTDsfAUnzbs_h8bBbJO_sIcd90_dkc7506YKq7zlkJ50v-1q9s436OPQ55FbVOaYP-Dqryn-uJ4WFT4vQufnV-dG3BnqhV4QhXJOYlegboLNx3-fMHVOHRlB_0EUxiY51HX2JrKsvhMadwQ3j2VJaojYKIQsqWcVw1OqpbHR02G370UCdsSnw/w540-h640/IMG_2586.jpeg" width="540" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYAjNmgirgwwKD29sMt-ILMu_dEBcA9gWeaw5nsI_l0PpuIxuXk-dmqbtXsXNohbVBEg3BZ5xCh197BLmd62gEaV4kjt2LP3JfnkZXCX1bwQ4etQwdtyTKuAe61kJpKuxH48vkWZ8JS3-mvj-qmynrluzqdq9qg8NY8mQqJqkhHK779fVUvsScoA_sQw/s2047/IMG_2672.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1428" data-original-width="2047" height="446" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYAjNmgirgwwKD29sMt-ILMu_dEBcA9gWeaw5nsI_l0PpuIxuXk-dmqbtXsXNohbVBEg3BZ5xCh197BLmd62gEaV4kjt2LP3JfnkZXCX1bwQ4etQwdtyTKuAe61kJpKuxH48vkWZ8JS3-mvj-qmynrluzqdq9qg8NY8mQqJqkhHK779fVUvsScoA_sQw/w640-h446/IMG_2672.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT_qBntvVDb725lqEfuWyiHLsISCxBukSdFBhe6EvRfH9BqaPq0mUEACQebwW7FntjnIKjlBexL61mZd5CcTme4fDubuttYU9hqupnvQMRNwAIwx1aMZZlgBNXOHX9VshPB_ZphHU9L_Kd6kCp9F-NCnkyTpWFZp7D_oBb5BdkqJbQ_o5N5Cgi63oPUg/s2048/IMG_2597.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT_qBntvVDb725lqEfuWyiHLsISCxBukSdFBhe6EvRfH9BqaPq0mUEACQebwW7FntjnIKjlBexL61mZd5CcTme4fDubuttYU9hqupnvQMRNwAIwx1aMZZlgBNXOHX9VshPB_ZphHU9L_Kd6kCp9F-NCnkyTpWFZp7D_oBb5BdkqJbQ_o5N5Cgi63oPUg/w480-h640/IMG_2597.jpeg" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2oHlrjpt7n6AfN92OA-ijWdWztNEY0u9CoRP8w9NTTy79GyIwbJqrEch18_tkMDZ6VBPR_ssZKsp1VEE-kkbWNVnrUw-FbpXR_GNASijCV-kPrKUk9q0-CgMDqhdNK1Xiq-TzkIhOdYr7VYH1KnDoGlBve7vv1vHxg1CfYA5GJnvUfDE7n4Vsm_9NhQ/s1369/IMG_2601.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1170" data-original-width="1369" height="546" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2oHlrjpt7n6AfN92OA-ijWdWztNEY0u9CoRP8w9NTTy79GyIwbJqrEch18_tkMDZ6VBPR_ssZKsp1VEE-kkbWNVnrUw-FbpXR_GNASijCV-kPrKUk9q0-CgMDqhdNK1Xiq-TzkIhOdYr7VYH1KnDoGlBve7vv1vHxg1CfYA5GJnvUfDE7n4Vsm_9NhQ/w640-h546/IMG_2601.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEcSMPS6waOH6qA-ADqmqtLWme4S9QihP1szWQyIPqZ-c_rv3eNL47JSLLaea0WMFvv3gqi8uhCnC56gy4XUkqaUpEhuPbPFlWozFHPkh5CXn4CC1BJSXT5fh0n0X8fmn_Al0srHwjhkw4GdR0iR9sKFgFcC2XGwHbJUnno-4YExZea7J7A61ICOFqyw/s1628/IMG_2604.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1628" data-original-width="1272" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEcSMPS6waOH6qA-ADqmqtLWme4S9QihP1szWQyIPqZ-c_rv3eNL47JSLLaea0WMFvv3gqi8uhCnC56gy4XUkqaUpEhuPbPFlWozFHPkh5CXn4CC1BJSXT5fh0n0X8fmn_Al0srHwjhkw4GdR0iR9sKFgFcC2XGwHbJUnno-4YExZea7J7A61ICOFqyw/w500-h640/IMG_2604.jpeg" width="500" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinDMXbcd7AmT51YPSk3awCJRX9kQ_28H55bcNvO0psn7HsNenuELbHSaBzV5iu-onnQDBeNGn9KOiUE5_2OBxpAPi05wnY0mUF-dlkxUanmXsdgxmDTesnVDbY4uOzpyMTeU90TBzKMC5yKvfR9WaPXDw9dTzjJmJVdi28ZwtFyE7uoVcEBbVvfiuPDg/s1890/IMG_2610.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1890" data-original-width="1587" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinDMXbcd7AmT51YPSk3awCJRX9kQ_28H55bcNvO0psn7HsNenuELbHSaBzV5iu-onnQDBeNGn9KOiUE5_2OBxpAPi05wnY0mUF-dlkxUanmXsdgxmDTesnVDbY4uOzpyMTeU90TBzKMC5yKvfR9WaPXDw9dTzjJmJVdi28ZwtFyE7uoVcEBbVvfiuPDg/w538-h640/IMG_2610.jpeg" width="538" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYQ7v1baIaUpB_wbD_LD0_je0lVejz57uddJ-gztQ8t1vf_3k6L1FDRWQwxl-KoFZWQL51vfWl69oqto8bOzIvsdeHKffbYTw1F9McRVCgvqQKFDF01wTNvYAmcLhhu3SbN9gvg-NLJuPcPlOgd9cvm3KK1DMbgf34aefoOi8MHgA8pnc6VU-s2_bLpQ/s1831/IMG_2608.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1831" data-original-width="1521" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYQ7v1baIaUpB_wbD_LD0_je0lVejz57uddJ-gztQ8t1vf_3k6L1FDRWQwxl-KoFZWQL51vfWl69oqto8bOzIvsdeHKffbYTw1F9McRVCgvqQKFDF01wTNvYAmcLhhu3SbN9gvg-NLJuPcPlOgd9cvm3KK1DMbgf34aefoOi8MHgA8pnc6VU-s2_bLpQ/w532-h640/IMG_2608.jpeg" width="532" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEje8A69Wh5CktxeNVB7qIscxkAXBKY0WhbiUHeE1JTtVUKko7yY6ZYRa3O_2yYNM5mw0nYG3yPK7LPBPgmfEa_xAIN4R1v1BHosVO4WUtON1QUcDf56MyxgrmMssUljXm3BG66vqLHxNFnQMiKhfJ-DVOFV3XDr6LPqkaNLRNvyHzSl9Yt6NT1dg9ugBQ/s1768/IMG_2616.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1768" data-original-width="1407" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEje8A69Wh5CktxeNVB7qIscxkAXBKY0WhbiUHeE1JTtVUKko7yY6ZYRa3O_2yYNM5mw0nYG3yPK7LPBPgmfEa_xAIN4R1v1BHosVO4WUtON1QUcDf56MyxgrmMssUljXm3BG66vqLHxNFnQMiKhfJ-DVOFV3XDr6LPqkaNLRNvyHzSl9Yt6NT1dg9ugBQ/w510-h640/IMG_2616.jpeg" width="510" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkbSvsvVBhps-CKtc6UnkimZILLS5ZSJSu9wE4dYhz3NB-1wUw0SnDJ8A7iQeBt45EWWpLkLMU88LoeCR_L1Me2faRoa48i16MvA0wMKEtgEvV69p5-7JLvoQkUiOdDX60XtLMgQlafoYLDZc3zo36iv9HtwI6oVZ7f_TQgHI9WEE1uJi0_dXTdYnGcQ/s1924/IMG_2639.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1924" data-original-width="1503" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkbSvsvVBhps-CKtc6UnkimZILLS5ZSJSu9wE4dYhz3NB-1wUw0SnDJ8A7iQeBt45EWWpLkLMU88LoeCR_L1Me2faRoa48i16MvA0wMKEtgEvV69p5-7JLvoQkUiOdDX60XtLMgQlafoYLDZc3zo36iv9HtwI6oVZ7f_TQgHI9WEE1uJi0_dXTdYnGcQ/w500-h640/IMG_2639.jpeg" width="500" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1DiAT0UHXL47bFifbc_jUPAguOT1qvhCOJD5vg6ZflJGnrG8WAb1uA9n0AZGIu0ck5TkJtRSdI3rt6n7QKuYOj46LSQ_S0VCiorwOSIQxD1pmVtH04Z958nnXKAYq3Sua0PF9uq8k7G_EwYr38ovLuuCtLAOWLFu0Y4hs6Nm3JqJHRujqQJ-2qCeGIA/s2018/IMG_2674.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1297" data-original-width="2018" height="412" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1DiAT0UHXL47bFifbc_jUPAguOT1qvhCOJD5vg6ZflJGnrG8WAb1uA9n0AZGIu0ck5TkJtRSdI3rt6n7QKuYOj46LSQ_S0VCiorwOSIQxD1pmVtH04Z958nnXKAYq3Sua0PF9uq8k7G_EwYr38ovLuuCtLAOWLFu0Y4hs6Nm3JqJHRujqQJ-2qCeGIA/w640-h412/IMG_2674.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6A8I_CxOI87zGyBC55gcvS-nq1nrCCMCXX4geSe9Om6hGiODD1usR4aFX4wH_wgcvK7XAAWAGD2WQRlr_3-6lCKfPI6q8MCqU2N7VxlHu-QD8Mzt0YVelvwRBRv5__IJ41gA6E3gMp1fKPllzKkJRyoVKzhbBZ3AdIpxKOAVKjK9d3jRgVOniYuy8OQ/s1971/IMG_2688.JPEG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1971" data-original-width="1381" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6A8I_CxOI87zGyBC55gcvS-nq1nrCCMCXX4geSe9Om6hGiODD1usR4aFX4wH_wgcvK7XAAWAGD2WQRlr_3-6lCKfPI6q8MCqU2N7VxlHu-QD8Mzt0YVelvwRBRv5__IJ41gA6E3gMp1fKPllzKkJRyoVKzhbBZ3AdIpxKOAVKjK9d3jRgVOniYuy8OQ/w448-h640/IMG_2688.JPEG" width="448" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNlZQ7hCmNR-VszEGSyHBJ2xEWvrz5fGK2zTteRqNewALw2MSnlLQRReNsLwvh9HBboJifjJzZgTJngKaw77MEfbGS9N0qs406IYhkAEzhlQHfMX1VjG8tKBLIeuD36VhtggIy52G90qPbmXYQzDoKqxZ9GqcupC98Li2BNxKLkkDsQvTYP50q3VXiFg/s3743/IMG_2661.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2788" data-original-width="3743" height="476" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNlZQ7hCmNR-VszEGSyHBJ2xEWvrz5fGK2zTteRqNewALw2MSnlLQRReNsLwvh9HBboJifjJzZgTJngKaw77MEfbGS9N0qs406IYhkAEzhlQHfMX1VjG8tKBLIeuD36VhtggIy52G90qPbmXYQzDoKqxZ9GqcupC98Li2BNxKLkkDsQvTYP50q3VXiFg/w640-h476/IMG_2661.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>Kierran Broatchhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10540948886211980207noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8118161382637787952.post-18168596695540401872023-04-12T19:46:00.003-04:002023-04-12T19:46:58.188-04:00Spring Seef<div style="text-align: justify;">Coming off a winter with zero chances to ice fish any of Connecticut's deep-water lakes, I had been itching to visit one in a kayak this spring. It took a little help during Holy Week for my cards to line up right. With a day off of work, kids in school, and ideal weather conditions, excitement levels were through the roof as I drove north last Thursday.</div><br /><div style="text-align: justify;">When I finally launched at 8:30, it was 46 degrees with fog thick enough to make me question how well I knew my surroundings. Later in the morning, when it eventually burned off, temps spiked over 20 degrees. Thankfully there was little to no wind to speak of, making the surface of the lake smooth as glass and allowing sound to carry more than usual. The loud and eerie calls from a handful of loons fishing nearby reminded me of time spent on Woods Pond in Maine as a kid.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjC0GOG6QgJXe1uJG5Qx4_5564YYgtXEvXYr8h-rRRtMKbuUDcJeBRFzEQqGdZapp8Li8gXaM1m0fad6mUiAIdvXPzKpoVIobpKOH6R_p1iBfYY3KQHjp88QDf-R4xFFY0vKHb6-PTiR7GOcIqYCd9928SS6p2WEMwWNWrGL6ONlI8_kysq4m6AeOGmRg/s2042/The%20Launch.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1528" data-original-width="2042" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjC0GOG6QgJXe1uJG5Qx4_5564YYgtXEvXYr8h-rRRtMKbuUDcJeBRFzEQqGdZapp8Li8gXaM1m0fad6mUiAIdvXPzKpoVIobpKOH6R_p1iBfYY3KQHjp88QDf-R4xFFY0vKHb6-PTiR7GOcIqYCd9928SS6p2WEMwWNWrGL6ONlI8_kysq4m6AeOGmRg/w640-h478/The%20Launch.jpeg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">rigged & ready </td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: justify;">After peddling halfway to the planned starting point, I saw a fish eat on the surface close enough to warrant a hasty cast. It resulted in a reactionary strike and a long-distance release, but it was a welcomed sign of activity to come. As I approached the deepest bowl of lake, there were two gents drifting in a small jon boat – the only other anglers on the entire body of water.</div><br /><div style="text-align: justify;">My game plan was the same in the kayak as it was when I have been fortunate to ice fish here: vertical jigging with soft plastics and metal spoons to imitate the lake's main forage of landlocked alewives. Whether my fish finder was not up to the task or I still haven't fully dialed-in the unit yet, I couldn't see my jig or targets on screen in detail like I usually do while on the ice. Though still confident in my method and the spot to keep doing what I was doing, part of me felt like I was fishing blind.</div><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglJbBAt2KlrqprXOsJELj2X--ho0_LYQ3IwyRv_8LHPwm0jKvgJgnUADAz5FcjVdO3UHN5-TXRWS8TBOJygc9FNaBiSbStfXL1XtbzNUbEL4ZBG88zCiotbeRZh36XNPTP7RbaiwlBw7EFoLX8VStWVqmGSMS1_uypqDzt21kS6Pk066RzL9jECqEN3Q/s1893/Glass%20Calm.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1893" data-original-width="1491" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglJbBAt2KlrqprXOsJELj2X--ho0_LYQ3IwyRv_8LHPwm0jKvgJgnUADAz5FcjVdO3UHN5-TXRWS8TBOJygc9FNaBiSbStfXL1XtbzNUbEL4ZBG88zCiotbeRZh36XNPTP7RbaiwlBw7EFoLX8VStWVqmGSMS1_uypqDzt21kS6Pk066RzL9jECqEN3Q/w504-h640/Glass%20Calm.jpeg" width="504" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">glass</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguw3tAq1Lvi4uPdrs6NwL5tbMJtiOeKs3T0joxbOGZRBW_VWD4pFewrC7FPGY_jthr4NFkTNgkpTJBogJ9mVUvN94B59UyRn0X4qljL_5c-WSKqNe2TLyTlZH50jazy8zYoMQN843H0da2B95izLAbNExnMb73BzPnbWoZaU8mpkVlygtWNzdDnt5T9Q/s2038/The%20Offerings.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2038" data-original-width="1228" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguw3tAq1Lvi4uPdrs6NwL5tbMJtiOeKs3T0joxbOGZRBW_VWD4pFewrC7FPGY_jthr4NFkTNgkpTJBogJ9mVUvN94B59UyRn0X4qljL_5c-WSKqNe2TLyTlZH50jazy8zYoMQN843H0da2B95izLAbNExnMb73BzPnbWoZaU8mpkVlygtWNzdDnt5T9Q/w386-h640/The%20Offerings.jpeg" width="386" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">soft plastics</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div style="text-align: justify;">That method consisted of jigging on bottom and up through the water column with occasional pauses in hopes a chasing trout would pounce on my offering. More than few times I stopped to cast at the ever increasing number of trout feeding on top. Some of the takes were gentle sips while others were a porpoising action that revealed flanks of spotted silver and copper. There were unmistakably large fish in the mix. I reached over the side of the kayak and cupped in my hand what they were eating—small midge that were emerging from the lake bottom about 75-feet underneath. As the sun started to peak out, the hatch shifted from midge to larger stone flies. It was a sight to see.</div></div><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZa2c6969XC7guotENtGis5K0MB2YeGxAXtFrgVaOJiz-suIpRPX60rysqnhN4FxC-sseC_UqBmokO6OkCgZO-Y4Lh6Id5WUmDCXCL3elTRvDU962wgE5CgZLJfF344XHiTb8xn0TcMI43vGTptnEZB69FM7KcZ6bGr5hfS7XAjfuc-fS4GW5ZiXINHw/s2013/midge.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2013" data-original-width="1403" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZa2c6969XC7guotENtGis5K0MB2YeGxAXtFrgVaOJiz-suIpRPX60rysqnhN4FxC-sseC_UqBmokO6OkCgZO-Y4Lh6Id5WUmDCXCL3elTRvDU962wgE5CgZLJfF344XHiTb8xn0TcMI43vGTptnEZB69FM7KcZ6bGr5hfS7XAjfuc-fS4GW5ZiXINHw/w446-h640/midge.jpeg" width="446" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">elephants eat peanuts; big trout eat midge</td></tr></tbody></table><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_xt0YdLB3Za8iWS_LoOS2PBZqBfYcd_QF35t9fkuFKvRtZf4w6d4WTzasmFmQbPl7fcJjpWbLvYGYTOAG-OOceXo_wZ5D4U9jWRq8VaY4sm8bXxasccOTjI9EE-19E5l0JwE4X6iXXcbKGFipUdSkbCe_TSMdCDEHBiKWwvNAIKhx4F5x1JRdrkX7tA/s1663/taking%20flight.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1542" data-original-width="1663" height="594" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_xt0YdLB3Za8iWS_LoOS2PBZqBfYcd_QF35t9fkuFKvRtZf4w6d4WTzasmFmQbPl7fcJjpWbLvYGYTOAG-OOceXo_wZ5D4U9jWRq8VaY4sm8bXxasccOTjI9EE-19E5l0JwE4X6iXXcbKGFipUdSkbCe_TSMdCDEHBiKWwvNAIKhx4F5x1JRdrkX7tA/w640-h594/taking%20flight.jpeg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">a stonefly takes flight</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div style="text-align: justify;">The brown trout eating on the surface were keyed in on bugs, wanting not much to do with the baitfish offerings I presented them. Never during the trip planning stage did I ever think a fly rod and assortment of dry flies would be needed. I hooked and lost one more on the surface, but ultimately decided my time would be better spent targeting the trout I couldn't see eating herring down below.</div><br /><div style="text-align: justify;">During one of the many retrieves with a lead head and soft plastic, something heavy doubled over my new St. Croix rod on its maiden voyage. With the water so clear, I got the first look of the fat seeforellen brown trout when it was still more than 10 feet deep. I had stared down at many silvery trout on this lake through holes in the ice, but never before in open water. The sharp single hook of the jig was firmly planted in the trout's jaw, yet the jerky headshakes and barrel rolls on its way up from the depths had me muttering a hybrid of prayer and cursing. When it finally came within arm's length, I slid the net under the weight of its body, hoisted up, and let out a sigh of relief.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">On a bump board on my lap, the fish measured a hair over 22-inches. More impressive than its length though, was its girth. This trout was built like a Mack truck—a body type achieved on a healthy diet of fish, not just bugs. The population of illegally-introduced alewives in this lake is booming, and the seeforellen strain stocked here are taking full advantage.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgANHWv-ZxcyQNwc1iO7cvbkYtIh0ajOD8_w1BX-0rQ1x4tEsazHWAj27e6qBoNxwPBwHJ7hgML3UOAzmJDkt3aeUL9IfhlkHJouqgqKN4DSFwdJUGEwii0Ydbox_evPKd1VboJKfreg_yCXx3KAds88P5pVGKt3DoKmXNIwUqZFxjPM7NRdm8mj3Qpzw/s2048/Big%20Seef%204.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgANHWv-ZxcyQNwc1iO7cvbkYtIh0ajOD8_w1BX-0rQ1x4tEsazHWAj27e6qBoNxwPBwHJ7hgML3UOAzmJDkt3aeUL9IfhlkHJouqgqKN4DSFwdJUGEwii0Ydbox_evPKd1VboJKfreg_yCXx3KAds88P5pVGKt3DoKmXNIwUqZFxjPM7NRdm8mj3Qpzw/w480-h640/Big%20Seef%204.jpeg" width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">herring eater</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU8wPIL2ebs3_uLg9UTfRcvIQFw6K6A1UUzHZQF2xTkJbsHWtesHwZ03PDRpLqLgGR9D6iedoWu0eCG2bZw3PWyuBzt5gJq5lxfCREiONlUpvGXbxGD90S3oeRoyJ94hvk5XDg0kg-cnnPBmaYwE_q_GRpu2mYnsb5qDwStm9K0ceOaIr-MYrx4lwVkw/s1787/big%20seef%205.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1166" data-original-width="1787" height="418" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU8wPIL2ebs3_uLg9UTfRcvIQFw6K6A1UUzHZQF2xTkJbsHWtesHwZ03PDRpLqLgGR9D6iedoWu0eCG2bZw3PWyuBzt5gJq5lxfCREiONlUpvGXbxGD90S3oeRoyJ94hvk5XDg0kg-cnnPBmaYwE_q_GRpu2mYnsb5qDwStm9K0ceOaIr-MYrx4lwVkw/w640-h418/big%20seef%205.jpeg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">seeforellen<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSzAP032yAeobQzrGPSyjOvN1Cp0X3azVJ73YSYi3sfosl29V0xRwk8NRGjMThmSMYG2btWsy7lMBou9ypqWtQy8pfsVk-JzdIDgWHTIM4qVVWiohyq_UqDgCvm4l5Cq0YYHZsONTsOkz9IvBiCgk00h6SboEEXRRezfqdDoh3Vt8aprZH8nMaEIPKSw/s3060/Big%20seef%202.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2638" data-original-width="3060" height="552" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSzAP032yAeobQzrGPSyjOvN1Cp0X3azVJ73YSYi3sfosl29V0xRwk8NRGjMThmSMYG2btWsy7lMBou9ypqWtQy8pfsVk-JzdIDgWHTIM4qVVWiohyq_UqDgCvm4l5Cq0YYHZsONTsOkz9IvBiCgk00h6SboEEXRRezfqdDoh3Vt8aprZH8nMaEIPKSw/w640-h552/Big%20seef%202.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">catch & release trophy for CT waters<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div> <br /><div style="text-align: justify;">After admiring the trout in the water, one of the heaviest I have ever landed in Connecticut, it kicked away strong, straight back down to whence he came. It was an awesome feeling and affirming moment. The idea of a solo kayak mission on this body of water had been consuming me for months since the winter that never was. While I may never luck out with the same extraordinary conditions again, it was satisfying to know that I could pull this type of trip off and have a chance to catch big trout like that, or bigger. </div> <br /><div style="text-align: justify;">Morning grew late and the fog completely burned off, revealing a bright blue sky and a completely different day than when I started. It was darn right hot out for April. The amount of fish eating up top dwindled. I missed one more solid hit just off bottom. My time on the water was growing thin, but the long peddle back to my truck was an enjoyable one. I hugged the shoreline and snuck right up on a pile of largemouth bass of impressive size, yet couldn't coax one into biting a tube. There were two bald eagles perched in a tree along the last leg of my journey back. A fitting way to finish an outing that I will look back on for as long as I'm around. </div><br /><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9b6hQ6_MmWQR2vDQlDGK7dv9dQAHO-DhmxFYIxjuKDL0zaVNptsv5lDCg8G7aLOgx5ZGWL5Fb2wQwzgkh5F7KfAjlY4d0EWhCThj-mAWiCyUiYolIE3C9tu6iKCZEtMoeU3JpYkAYM3_s7czOyszZN5GvKzqvjAadqABwKVlErHtXoZMtdEMvb4wMrA/s2185/panorama.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1152" data-original-width="2185" height="338" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9b6hQ6_MmWQR2vDQlDGK7dv9dQAHO-DhmxFYIxjuKDL0zaVNptsv5lDCg8G7aLOgx5ZGWL5Fb2wQwzgkh5F7KfAjlY4d0EWhCThj-mAWiCyUiYolIE3C9tu6iKCZEtMoeU3JpYkAYM3_s7czOyszZN5GvKzqvjAadqABwKVlErHtXoZMtdEMvb4wMrA/w640-h338/panorama.jpeg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">a gorgeous body of water<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsHaf8v_tChuUj1D6FzHr419ti8d4xRLunYuvlRH2cXCHtdnkxjNjB7vQBslH4Yg9BVdRlqvKFKun-dyaUlHnkWLzHsFoeiLMzTANeDcFRpgNyCD8ZD1Nl1fyWtPERHVC37E7ZH56vYTy-fa6fNH7oqjDCnJa8IBtyHe5IA4OAtNZVu7Txcp-feFry4g/s1979/Saltbox.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1979" data-original-width="1587" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsHaf8v_tChuUj1D6FzHr419ti8d4xRLunYuvlRH2cXCHtdnkxjNjB7vQBslH4Yg9BVdRlqvKFKun-dyaUlHnkWLzHsFoeiLMzTANeDcFRpgNyCD8ZD1Nl1fyWtPERHVC37E7ZH56vYTy-fa6fNH7oqjDCnJa8IBtyHe5IA4OAtNZVu7Txcp-feFry4g/w514-h640/Saltbox.jpeg" width="514" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">had to pullover for this on the way home; spring in New England</td></tr></tbody></table><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisw8oSm8Adzgwx2ojj9tw1c5L4WoZw5PGlviV41VQqC9HerdRD9z_oYOGEKO14IZ77XN-PnseC5pgmsVeo7z0iOj0ibKCQjgVBc5wkKcuG8zXtkdpTpfjrzXZeYJZqO1hKMTHl8L26CwDCaGEymfzvtNamY_GjSmOu1i0fv9HRfaenvLb8GZfXv_Bh9w/s1933/Celebratory%20Libations.JPEG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1933" data-original-width="1319" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisw8oSm8Adzgwx2ojj9tw1c5L4WoZw5PGlviV41VQqC9HerdRD9z_oYOGEKO14IZ77XN-PnseC5pgmsVeo7z0iOj0ibKCQjgVBc5wkKcuG8zXtkdpTpfjrzXZeYJZqO1hKMTHl8L26CwDCaGEymfzvtNamY_GjSmOu1i0fv9HRfaenvLb8GZfXv_Bh9w/w436-h640/Celebratory%20Libations.JPEG" width="436" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">celebratory libations</td></tr></tbody></table><br />Kierran Broatchhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10540948886211980207noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8118161382637787952.post-55858367543671987212023-02-12T14:29:00.000-05:002023-02-12T14:29:09.120-05:00One-Day Season<p style="text-align: justify;">Last weekend's short-lived arctic blast produced just enough ice in Connecticut for one memorable day of hardwater fishing. Knowing this was essentially a one-day season, we got an early start and had lines in the water before first light. The little ice we had was strong and crystal clear. The first spud into it sent a loud reverberation across the waterbody. By mid-morning the ice was turning grey with air bubbles. By early afternoon, there was more water on top than there was ice below. It was time to go home. </p><p style="text-align: justify;">Those hours in between though were glorious. It was a scalding hot bite at times; the type of action you dream about when a lake or pond first freezes over. There was a point when I had three of my allotted six lines out of the water at once because I was unhooking fish and rebaiting tip-ups. Four of us fished together and we all caught our target species of northern pike, with a few good ones in the mix. A highlight for me was catching three of them by rod and reel. Something I have been exploring more of and recently wrote an <a href="https://www.thefisherman.com/article/ice-fishing-evolves-dont-spare-the-rod/" target="_blank">article</a> about.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">It's not lost on me how lucky I was to get in a few hours of ice time this winter. The stars and moon aligned with the conditions, timing and location. For how crappy this winter has been in terms of local hardwater opportunities, this was an outing I will never forget. </p>
<div style="text-align: center;"><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/gBpTTaUOa0E" title="YouTube video player" width="560"></iframe></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc8bvQWkgZr2hz7uAJagQggr6cFqE5uqBa0nlfItApwXT4EXYoeCIZGheV8ct4Ty9yFV6Kk0N02osajYkIqnsRl5MymCt3lBs7b6UqYU5WoN9_K4K-KUru-RPxWk9YC_jKK3KoQLXGYI-9MnVFf67CMyPpwr6y6lQ77CPjFsP8b3i9Trwxc7W0dyD1Cg/s4032/IMG_1467b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2086" data-original-width="4032" height="332" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc8bvQWkgZr2hz7uAJagQggr6cFqE5uqBa0nlfItApwXT4EXYoeCIZGheV8ct4Ty9yFV6Kk0N02osajYkIqnsRl5MymCt3lBs7b6UqYU5WoN9_K4K-KUru-RPxWk9YC_jKK3KoQLXGYI-9MnVFf67CMyPpwr6y6lQ77CPjFsP8b3i9Trwxc7W0dyD1Cg/w640-h332/IMG_1467b.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2nnorV_Em_r0TR20d5jlu_AM8WwEkxags_XR3lc3MHAnpFfNYRQRvyhhgAwTKCnXqom7D_zloobImwbiUjle6HrapGsLcm2FcZw6wxbwEtsGRyBHc33RsD-JhoSRi_IXRLdeW8b-ouTuefeYFwWGGqRD1DTl4qafmKPiwujCsjZABg3ymvSDNZds6Yg/s2036/IMG_9172b.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1480" data-original-width="2036" height="466" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2nnorV_Em_r0TR20d5jlu_AM8WwEkxags_XR3lc3MHAnpFfNYRQRvyhhgAwTKCnXqom7D_zloobImwbiUjle6HrapGsLcm2FcZw6wxbwEtsGRyBHc33RsD-JhoSRi_IXRLdeW8b-ouTuefeYFwWGGqRD1DTl4qafmKPiwujCsjZABg3ymvSDNZds6Yg/w640-h466/IMG_9172b.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLfPK-3lFJIgnOiqTnmlIF_TL5jgH5OECeYg3YL6Zu5Kzhej1ga_upmHozF58CgcUwDfkSTjLo_bGd433bvYMK7zuuf_6y38u7_GZgYVsbaDeDEh9J4obND9iy6Ob_hfSTSwRPebOWLkPPYq2Ttv3y7oFQ-0zeglw60MsM-5jBDGkVNmwpsgRs5FYS0g/s3886/release.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2664" data-original-width="3886" height="438" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLfPK-3lFJIgnOiqTnmlIF_TL5jgH5OECeYg3YL6Zu5Kzhej1ga_upmHozF58CgcUwDfkSTjLo_bGd433bvYMK7zuuf_6y38u7_GZgYVsbaDeDEh9J4obND9iy6Ob_hfSTSwRPebOWLkPPYq2Ttv3y7oFQ-0zeglw60MsM-5jBDGkVNmwpsgRs5FYS0g/w640-h438/release.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi94rOeQzAFA_NAz8a69DUnsUVLXNJ5wPVmP2Mcydb4pK34KFkMNNNnPv-hPGUpid2zAOSwNzoDm8UbY8DegrMt_akqLzFy7EJoTmdptPGfSo6EA6LwdbF3bG2rPY30mykOb2fYdyzYn8RN53Du6mT972XKW8-dfCHtLWBMjuj5W0Xz2l8PRzehlOZ5yA/s2048/yellow%20perch.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1535" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi94rOeQzAFA_NAz8a69DUnsUVLXNJ5wPVmP2Mcydb4pK34KFkMNNNnPv-hPGUpid2zAOSwNzoDm8UbY8DegrMt_akqLzFy7EJoTmdptPGfSo6EA6LwdbF3bG2rPY30mykOb2fYdyzYn8RN53Du6mT972XKW8-dfCHtLWBMjuj5W0Xz2l8PRzehlOZ5yA/w480-h640/yellow%20perch.jpeg" width="480" /></a></div>Kierran Broatchhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10540948886211980207noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8118161382637787952.post-49083916891478180632023-02-06T22:10:00.000-05:002023-02-06T22:10:16.630-05:00Taste of Summer<p style="text-align: justify;">An 11:30 a.m. low tide and 50-degree air temp helped form my decision. The plan was to rake local quahogs for a Sunday feast of stuffed clams and clams casino. After having success at this particular spot in September, confidence was high that I would find hard shells where I left them. That morning I layered up like it was a winter steelhead trip and waded into the 41-degree Long Island Sound. </p><p style="text-align: justify;">The tool for this is a long-handled rake with steel tines protruding from a wire basket on its business end. When the tines come in contact a clam, there is a distinct feel and sound that helps differentiate between a quahog and say a rock or empty shell. Let me cut to the chase and admit that I didn't hear any good sounds while raking that morning. I tried out deep, in shallow, and even on an exposed flat at dead low tide. For more than an hour, I moved all over the place and used muscles I didn't know I had, yet never zeroed in on where the bivalves were burrowed. </p><p style="text-align: justify;">One thing I learned is that I still have a lot to learn when it comes to clamming. Perhaps they were in water deeper than I could wade. Or maybe the clams were buried deeper in the sand and mud than the rake could reach. This is not a heavily pressured area, so I know it hasn't been picked over. Wherever they were, it wasn't where they were just a few months ago.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">On to plan B. </p><p style="text-align: justify;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi19cAmc6e84DNrkujccmZOpyiUie_1RctSJpNPxTreHLqn0xL5Ou4X4fCFrMGRXt1M3snGycjQUH9-QZ85dlBONPHg9cAirTEZrkMjMnDRm5ty77oHV4_RbN9D5-I98bgx-D68A8eVXYwrfYxIvepAWZm85bQJ9dYd_ThduK3D9nl0EZT8wthD33r04g/s3841/IMG_1367.jpg" style="clear: left; display: inline; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2881" data-original-width="3841" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi19cAmc6e84DNrkujccmZOpyiUie_1RctSJpNPxTreHLqn0xL5Ou4X4fCFrMGRXt1M3snGycjQUH9-QZ85dlBONPHg9cAirTEZrkMjMnDRm5ty77oHV4_RbN9D5-I98bgx-D68A8eVXYwrfYxIvepAWZm85bQJ9dYd_ThduK3D9nl0EZT8wthD33r04g/w640-h480/IMG_1367.jpg" width="640" /></a></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCdhikZEfwZU7sK4ON2u63l0tsMNa_hjss238jWpazGgj4RIg-HQQOUgTUAoDePuspIx4TchmUgO-Fo1imDqgNlL4oXLQzJxdn5igryhKqyxpnSORLk5p9FAVG9SbZlLDchTaazYrzbUWavT9hGcSZDjagyEa8cdL1Xf_Vz2YrwNphOykZSzmLudGjIQ/s3756/IMG_1370.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3756" data-original-width="2609" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCdhikZEfwZU7sK4ON2u63l0tsMNa_hjss238jWpazGgj4RIg-HQQOUgTUAoDePuspIx4TchmUgO-Fo1imDqgNlL4oXLQzJxdn5igryhKqyxpnSORLk5p9FAVG9SbZlLDchTaazYrzbUWavT9hGcSZDjagyEa8cdL1Xf_Vz2YrwNphOykZSzmLudGjIQ/w444-h640/IMG_1370.jpg" width="444" /></a></div></div><p style="text-align: justify;">There was just enough time to call an audible. My wife and daughters were coming to meet me and friends at the beach for lunch. I reached them before they left the house and requested another tool for a different kind of clamming. Soft shells, affectionately known by many as "steamers", are also found in this general vicinity, but in a precise area buried under a specific substrate. </p><p style="text-align: justify;">While the quahogs here live in soft sand and mud in open water, the steamers prefer life under a rocky bar that extends perpendicular to the beach. Getting at them requires a short-handled tool, like a garden claw or trowel. Instead of wading and raking in water, this method consists of kneeling and digging on dry land during the low tide window. My tactic is to throw a heavy rock on the bar to see where the soft shells spit sea water from their siphons. In the summer, one toss of a softball-sized rock could unleash several clues on where to pinpoint digging efforts. On this day, nothing. Zip. Nada. </p><p style="text-align: justify;">Instead of calling it quits, I dug a trench where they'd normally be and, sure enough, I found one about six inches down. It was a slow slog, but I kept at it and they came in small bunches of two or three every couple minutes. It was hard work for an appetizer, but I was pot committed (pun intended). The take home count was around 50 steamers, which is a perfect quantity for our family of four. Everyone was happy for a taste of summer; broth, butter and all. <br /></p><p style="text-align: justify;">While I didn't come home empty handed, I did strike out on my original plan. Winter clamming for quahogs is something I'd really like to focus on. It goes to show, no matter how much time we spend on the water, there will always be so much more to learn. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwGjFs2fzuD8WE4Wh_87bfuS7cLqeBdQUBgXRzkmVQa2V6yRv9lamnYA_tG3gDCE6Flv6-HYH35y6D715O8h3rUvqWQqiLotKjxEt2rz6DX6b8aEkk7hZiFAqBZnlBdR-Em7PXkhmmvTxZTJKCR6tSMtR67vaJMnrab1lH0EJzsj6zis4UApBRSd4RXg/s3715/IMG_1371.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3715" data-original-width="2785" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwGjFs2fzuD8WE4Wh_87bfuS7cLqeBdQUBgXRzkmVQa2V6yRv9lamnYA_tG3gDCE6Flv6-HYH35y6D715O8h3rUvqWQqiLotKjxEt2rz6DX6b8aEkk7hZiFAqBZnlBdR-Em7PXkhmmvTxZTJKCR6tSMtR67vaJMnrab1lH0EJzsj6zis4UApBRSd4RXg/w480-h640/IMG_1371.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5KAi8o_GemRE7Dsu8tfW9xzG1jfuTh2WjO81M4g5QEt9smGBsbwAELvrEpB4_eisDC4iCZu9BOUbQinGn760Gn4JeALmXcArQERfG0r4OT_eVV8_V9-3JYR932oyfdlP3Fi9tZP2RFq_fj4h4J3s1cMqLs7bOaB2ZlEewPn7MT7lJcfqIC8Hqb3Nqlw/s4032/IMG_1372.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5KAi8o_GemRE7Dsu8tfW9xzG1jfuTh2WjO81M4g5QEt9smGBsbwAELvrEpB4_eisDC4iCZu9BOUbQinGn760Gn4JeALmXcArQERfG0r4OT_eVV8_V9-3JYR932oyfdlP3Fi9tZP2RFq_fj4h4J3s1cMqLs7bOaB2ZlEewPn7MT7lJcfqIC8Hqb3Nqlw/w480-h640/IMG_1372.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjH8hfDZMq0ilcHz8aD6kefCuSUiSRV6ZmcAz8o9spSmMF6XIDr92YbtsNmQ9KOii5ECkOuCZmOcHXG2RqKOj2iXlJZGI1D2EcAhdM3yBag_-Y0ibTLKRxqAFv9StfTP2ZdEnaSPCl-wXbuOAOG7C77QiY12AFqwb_xgBAkIe67rreJcOsIkwOBfE5nbw/s3862/IMG_1378.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2488" data-original-width="3862" height="412" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjH8hfDZMq0ilcHz8aD6kefCuSUiSRV6ZmcAz8o9spSmMF6XIDr92YbtsNmQ9KOii5ECkOuCZmOcHXG2RqKOj2iXlJZGI1D2EcAhdM3yBag_-Y0ibTLKRxqAFv9StfTP2ZdEnaSPCl-wXbuOAOG7C77QiY12AFqwb_xgBAkIe67rreJcOsIkwOBfE5nbw/w640-h412/IMG_1378.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjunMkzN0YKxAAVQHKGCK6tp57Pbe3c_VFSBpdxeXWyBNgvXSw8YvSIft3MMn4w42lDv0pquJtob5uxmehX-lNLJOwu3bTnMntVAK9-aRWnapMLSDn_iNURCNyp6O2ErJy41TwAjWYZPO8ChQG5VSZNcf9qexpRPdYPNOv0ya0FzjKm4sij6BkLmdIitQ/s3912/IMG_1391.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2532" data-original-width="3912" height="414" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjunMkzN0YKxAAVQHKGCK6tp57Pbe3c_VFSBpdxeXWyBNgvXSw8YvSIft3MMn4w42lDv0pquJtob5uxmehX-lNLJOwu3bTnMntVAK9-aRWnapMLSDn_iNURCNyp6O2ErJy41TwAjWYZPO8ChQG5VSZNcf9qexpRPdYPNOv0ya0FzjKm4sij6BkLmdIitQ/w640-h414/IMG_1391.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>Kierran Broatchhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10540948886211980207noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8118161382637787952.post-79338524290309610402023-01-22T09:04:00.001-05:002023-01-22T09:04:45.502-05:00Winter Purgatory<p style="text-align: justify;">Usually my inaugural fish each year is caught while ice fishing in Connecticut. It goes with saying that wouldn't be the case this year. Every day this month at the climate station in Bridgeport has been warmer than normal. The average monthly temperature there of 40.1°F is 8.4° above normal. The same goes for Hartford where the second warmest January on record is underway, 9° higher than average. For ice anglers and snow lovers, we are stuck in winter purgatory; a seemingly permanent state of early March. </p><p style="text-align: justify;">With no ice fishing opportunities within a two-hour drive, I have been looking for other ways to scratch the itch. I had a few hours to myself on a recent afternoon and decided to spend them along a stream I had not seen since May. A fresh rain had the flow in its sweet spot. I started out with the dry-dropper method and never strayed from it. The first combo of flies was my go-to; a #14 Stimulator dry with an #18 bead head pheasant tail nymph trailing below it. Kneeling on the bank beside a familiar riffle, I watched a small wild brown trout attack my dry fly. A surface eat in mid-January for my first fish of 2023. I'll take it. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinKc49koFgtT4NA-Wbt01BInORkWHiTbrhX0vhtJ9EcCBku9OyutaAPKu7FCZMHWyY6kgzvBbRWXypX3wz8F7xehdVWOS4jvRXm-r7GypKIzloE8aavnil4CDX5jjv4O_EPHqu7LN3mxJYJeQf7QMjn0PnaR97YdFM1HjgtAq-BkQbVoCMaAytLNASkw/s3747/IMG_1276.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2374" data-original-width="3747" height="254" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinKc49koFgtT4NA-Wbt01BInORkWHiTbrhX0vhtJ9EcCBku9OyutaAPKu7FCZMHWyY6kgzvBbRWXypX3wz8F7xehdVWOS4jvRXm-r7GypKIzloE8aavnil4CDX5jjv4O_EPHqu7LN3mxJYJeQf7QMjn0PnaR97YdFM1HjgtAq-BkQbVoCMaAytLNASkw/w400-h254/IMG_1276.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">After several drifts with no love for my nymph selection, I swapped it out for more of an attractor pattern; a trusty San Juan Worm. That seemed to get their attention and a couple more wild browns quickly came to the net, each slightly bigger than the previous. I also missed one or two others due to late sets on the dry fly. It felt good to wield a fly rod again and shake the rust off. No native brook trout on this trip, and what the browns lacked in size they made up in their beauty. Just gorgeous creatures. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0YCHjNe1_xf0xPEfFzL6uGylu4IsqFS2huM3Jryp-ibikZ6MKGuXgw-D10GdJzoymMCQGGXpoKwmMtt6Ir9USKXJSMM7kTq0Y96J8RZRPcfUHb1HnvaZi4Bz9T93l3jg9ZQWCjYgr1ZnBTSRgQbMUYcb6flNLkF6J_BIpwvMjy2_BrrcH03gSW7P1AQ/s3589/IMG_1280.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2274" data-original-width="3589" height="254" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0YCHjNe1_xf0xPEfFzL6uGylu4IsqFS2huM3Jryp-ibikZ6MKGuXgw-D10GdJzoymMCQGGXpoKwmMtt6Ir9USKXJSMM7kTq0Y96J8RZRPcfUHb1HnvaZi4Bz9T93l3jg9ZQWCjYgr1ZnBTSRgQbMUYcb6flNLkF6J_BIpwvMjy2_BrrcH03gSW7P1AQ/w400-h254/IMG_1280.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGibViLRjQ5RRYl7nGGL69dwxLHSaYN3BUxvLWIRSckUQuwf9_QmL0E_NplvMR2IkM4VS_h6MPzcyxjaRb0au11Ro1HOdzkKafI-BUurZK2Tozmhh0g1Ona3YR-5SA-yGmb2joUGbtmNTlqh_8YGhCXYvAp7E-j-WRbxb7CCRXi6GgA8yCH95XXYDW3g/s4032/IMG_1282.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2714" data-original-width="4032" height="269" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGibViLRjQ5RRYl7nGGL69dwxLHSaYN3BUxvLWIRSckUQuwf9_QmL0E_NplvMR2IkM4VS_h6MPzcyxjaRb0au11Ro1HOdzkKafI-BUurZK2Tozmhh0g1Ona3YR-5SA-yGmb2joUGbtmNTlqh_8YGhCXYvAp7E-j-WRbxb7CCRXi6GgA8yCH95XXYDW3g/w400-h269/IMG_1282.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHdP2B_USH55XZKhqKEMjdWPrJ0076dkt8Hl6wZKpM-fZfxGQoU7-morvA_CZqkJS8jH_w2ryvv_qTctiU1574kDOQ62XfNzfNmD9iOHc8MWVCHW9mpxMK2pR-CTDhCHY4riPH5ugdnRIO6iFT0XV-nkfp26Tas_KJe11n7ey-teK2gbAAODVNc7ZCfw/s3642/IMG_1285.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2330" data-original-width="3642" height="256" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHdP2B_USH55XZKhqKEMjdWPrJ0076dkt8Hl6wZKpM-fZfxGQoU7-morvA_CZqkJS8jH_w2ryvv_qTctiU1574kDOQ62XfNzfNmD9iOHc8MWVCHW9mpxMK2pR-CTDhCHY4riPH5ugdnRIO6iFT0XV-nkfp26Tas_KJe11n7ey-teK2gbAAODVNc7ZCfw/w400-h256/IMG_1285.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><p style="text-align: justify;">The second and last stop of the afternoon was a short drive downstream. There were trout rising to what I believe were small winter caddis. I didn't bother embarrassing myself with a cast in this shallow, slow stretch; instead I just watched them feed for a while. I walked up to the next riffle and missed a fish on top during my first drift. That was it. A couple hours of fresh air and a few tight lines. It may not have been ice fishing, but to quote a legendary Stones tune, "you can't always get what you want, but if you try sometime you'll find you get what you need."</p><div style="text-align: center;"><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/E8jrZNwAhl4" title="YouTube video player" width="560"></iframe></div>Kierran Broatchhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10540948886211980207noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8118161382637787952.post-9537910988079222352023-01-13T21:05:00.007-05:002023-01-14T07:15:14.940-05:00The Waiting<p style="text-align: justify;">The late, great Tom Petty said it best: "the waiting is the hardest part." That's how I and many other ice fishermen feel this winter staring at forecasts and hoping something will change. The issue is not just in Connecticut; since the New Year, large swaths of the Northeast and Midwest are experiencing a lengthy period of above normal temperatures. January thaws are nothing new, but it's hard to remember a sustained stretch of winter warmth like the one we're experiencing now.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">I enjoy learning about weather, yet I don't pretend to fully understand all of the reasons causing this particular pattern that we're stuck in. Like the complex Pacific jet and the North American ridge that have been blocking the deep cold air bottled-up in the Arctic. Aside from the elephant in the room that is climate change, there are a lot of moving parts. </p><p style="text-align: justify;">Winter is far from over and we are due for a strong cold spell. However, the days are getting longer and the sun is getting stronger. Ice fishing seasons are always on barrowed time, but this winter, more than most, that seems to be true. We only have a few more weeks to turn the bus around. </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZXwInXcvFFxD9HVIw3W46fk_NkFIJvoUx_UthufTWwYHSg5KTReT6trI4nTPGRl8UQrSebiW4QJGgyzKPuftDwS-0kMwhxPfXi0h1DzHIitjb72s43FihVkXUTNZgBr5TFAgzOs2UxjvmbYO4cKZcJ_nhWPVkvnJFN3IRPydl6Belo1krKaOIx7urbA/s3785/IMG_1246.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3785" data-original-width="2842" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZXwInXcvFFxD9HVIw3W46fk_NkFIJvoUx_UthufTWwYHSg5KTReT6trI4nTPGRl8UQrSebiW4QJGgyzKPuftDwS-0kMwhxPfXi0h1DzHIitjb72s43FihVkXUTNZgBr5TFAgzOs2UxjvmbYO4cKZcJ_nhWPVkvnJFN3IRPydl6Belo1krKaOIx7urbA/w480-h640/IMG_1246.JPG" width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My friend Jeff landed this northern pike on the lone flag of our short-lived ice season</td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: justify;">It's crazy how we got here. Only a few weeks ago, right around Christmas, I thought we were off to a banner start to the ice season. A string of frigid days and nights locked up ponds and even some larger lakes in northern Connecticut, enough for eager anglers to squeeze in a few days of ice fishing. My buddy Jeff and I were fortunate to get out one of those days. We fished on three-inches of strong, clear ice. Optimism was high for some classic 'first ice' action. That was not to be. While we were both more than happy to be out there, Jeff got the only flag of the trip and made it count with a feisty northern pike that we watched battle its way to the hole under our feet. </p><p style="text-align: justify;">Things went to crap pretty quickly in the days after that. I went on a family trip to the Catskills for New Year's Weekend—not a lick of snow to be seen. By the time I got back, any ice we once had wasn't strong enough to fish on any more. The real kicker though was having to nix my bucket list birthday trip to the shores of Lake Michigan. For years, a friend and I have been talking about pulling the trigger on hiring a guide to put us on the world-class giant trout fishery in Milwaukee Harbor. Southeastern Wisconsin had early ice around the same time Connecticut did, but the warm stretch during the first two weeks of January killed it. Just today I had to cancel my hotel and flights. Woof. </p><p style="text-align: justify;">God willing I get another crack at that Milwaukee trip in the future. In the meantime, I have my fingers and toes crossed in hopes of a local cold snap that makes just enough ice for us to scratch our hardwater itch. All I'm asking for is the chance to jig up a few trout and chase a few pike flags. We've waited long enough. </p><p style="text-align: justify;">Tight lines and be safe out there. </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqRIdevAc8O-Dy0zeJVNA99uOjyyTuqbxPoF5bwnayNA-m070skMpCFHWOYCxWjTTdeFOLogKXR2GcRAoAx_CarQNTzTR-WBWJHYX6nZ5GKxFIsduIl3yW3k5gRjtgKAvFGQsbS7zxmdZQ2qMl8qZfI0pjsrf3sqCtL133-p8OLxs3QZMTzYekNv5urQ/s3667/IMG_1013.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3667" data-original-width="2890" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqRIdevAc8O-Dy0zeJVNA99uOjyyTuqbxPoF5bwnayNA-m070skMpCFHWOYCxWjTTdeFOLogKXR2GcRAoAx_CarQNTzTR-WBWJHYX6nZ5GKxFIsduIl3yW3k5gRjtgKAvFGQsbS7zxmdZQ2qMl8qZfI0pjsrf3sqCtL133-p8OLxs3QZMTzYekNv5urQ/w504-h640/IMG_1013.jpg" width="504" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dogs on ice. Mustard only.</td></tr></tbody></table><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL-BQOyWPKLP-A1ujnJfWqBrXNx9UXO0Q6xsBYwmnjfBHRwqUdXrPInOg2QhRjMIfN32hFo7zqcPOr4j1bLU2tQUzBfNdEpc0miWcEDed4zvqqyiNIRk4hqDdq7Jq_a-SmLYik1cv6ablAdgMl9U-GDHQc3mhkbzOoUru4rbAYgXd7MWq1JFLAK-xMKQ/s2048/Image-1.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1583" data-original-width="2048" height="494" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL-BQOyWPKLP-A1ujnJfWqBrXNx9UXO0Q6xsBYwmnjfBHRwqUdXrPInOg2QhRjMIfN32hFo7zqcPOr4j1bLU2tQUzBfNdEpc0miWcEDed4zvqqyiNIRk4hqDdq7Jq_a-SmLYik1cv6ablAdgMl9U-GDHQc3mhkbzOoUru4rbAYgXd7MWq1JFLAK-xMKQ/w640-h494/Image-1.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">WTF</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p style="text-align: justify;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><br /></p>Kierran Broatchhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10540948886211980207noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8118161382637787952.post-46577826333611340622023-01-08T10:00:00.009-05:002023-01-08T10:06:02.101-05:00Seefer Madness (revisted)<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<div class="MsoNormal">January 2023...</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">Once in a while I find myself revisiting old posts buried in this blog. I thought this one, even eight years later, still rings true. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">Connecticut's current <a href="https://portal.ct.gov/DEEP/Fishing/Freshwater/Freshwater-Record-Fish-Photos" target="_blank">state record brown trout</a> was caught about two weeks before I originally wrote this and it was certified shortly after. It was 33-inches long and weighed 19-pounds, taken from West Hill Pond just <i>days</i> after it was stocked from Kensington Hatchery. Not more than four months later, another beast, <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D-rpLsBGLf4" style="text-align: start;" target="_blank">likely even heavier</a>, was caught on a spinnerbait in Highland Lake, but the bass angler released the trout without pursuing the record.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">I am still in firm belief that CT DEEP should not have stocked fish of record size without creating a way to recognize them for what they are. I would have liked these fish tagged or fin-clipped and, if and when they were caught and broke the record, placed in a subcategory under the state record brown trout listing.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">It is highly doubtful any of those 400 monster seeforellens from the <a href="https://www.onthewater.com/connecticut-stocks-state-record-brown-trout" target="_blank">December 2014 stocking</a> are still roaming today. Unless CT DEEP stocks more record-size brown trout, the next one to break the current Connecticut record will have to surpass 19-pounds by having spent some real time in a lake, feeding on something other than hatchery pellets. I hope I live long enough to see that day happen...</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">___________________________________________________________________________________</div><div class="MsoNormal"></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">January 2015...</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">Up until a few weeks ago, “seeforellen” was a rather
unfamiliar term in Connecticut, spoken only within pockets of ardent trout
anglers and inland fisheries staff. Now, after a series of recent trout
stockings and a little public relations, it has become a household name
overnight, one that even carries a bit of controversy along with it. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
In the month of December, <a href="http://www.ct.gov/deep/site/default.asp">CT DEEP</a> stocked over 400 surplus
broodstock seeforellen brown trout in eight lakes throughout the Nutmeg State.
These five-year-old fish were born and raised in Kensington Hatchery and
averaged 15-pounds, with some well over the mind-boggling 20-pound
mark. This created an unprecedented and incredible opportunity for Connecticut
anglers, but it also sparked much debate due to the fact that several brown
trout surpassing the current state record were released.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Reared in our hatchery system since 1992, seeforellens have
a storied history in Connecticut. In a recent <a href="http://www.hanradio.com/5991-news/1218-yankee-fisherman/">radio interview</a>,
Tim Barry, the supervising cold water fisheries biologist for CT DEEP, shed a
little light on why these fish are so unique. “We are the only state in New
England to have this strain of brown trout,” Barry said. “It’s originally a
lake-dwelling strain that comes from Germany, and it’s known to be a
late-maturing fish and because of that fact they tend to grow very large and
live quite a long time, usually longer and bigger than most other strains of
brown trout. We use them in a variety of different applications, but primarily
in our lakes to try and promote holdover brown trout and bigger brown trout.”</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhids7Cpbqr2fOCYMeqii7XLOuZKeX1AunOm-A3cvNGZM7jc2bHdc6mJXzX7xIWVC5gfO2ds3aisbtQ4soozcv7ulNKCHzAeyBOuGVNUc6spMz6thUczu7LRiixfIJrE1Z505NEaGt0C1Ak/s1600/Seefer+2.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="470" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhids7Cpbqr2fOCYMeqii7XLOuZKeX1AunOm-A3cvNGZM7jc2bHdc6mJXzX7xIWVC5gfO2ds3aisbtQ4soozcv7ulNKCHzAeyBOuGVNUc6spMz6thUczu7LRiixfIJrE1Z505NEaGt0C1Ak/s1600/Seefer+2.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">One of the over 400 recently stocked broodstock seeforellen (photo courtesy of CT DEEP)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Since the early 90’s, countless seeforellens have been
stocked in Connecticut waters in all different sizes from fry to adults, but releasing
broodstock <i>this</i> large is not common protocol. According to a CT DEEP <a href="https://www.facebook.com/CTFishAndWildlife/photos/pb.355152261188535.-2207520000.1421005766./758169110886846/?type=3&theater">FAQ</a>,
“normally, these fish would be stocked at age two or age three, however, due to
an issue with a disease several years ago, the hatchery staff needed to retain
a large number of the disease–free fish to restart the strain. Now several
years later they are much larger than we need or can handle. At this size, they
are too large to be kept at the hatchery and are past their prime (their
productivity is decreasing). In order to make room for the younger, more
productive broodstock, we decided to make the most of these fish by giving a
once in a lifetime opportunity to our angling community.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Before I go any further, let me be clear in stating that I commend CT DEEP for providing
us with yet another unique and entertaining angling opportunity. I’d be lying
if I said it wouldn’t be a blast hooking into one of these things, especially on
a jigging rod through the ice. And if a youngster connects with a 15-pound
anything, let alone a beautiful brown trout, forget about it, they will be hooked
for life. However, hindsight is 20/20 and I think a few things could have been
done differently in this whole process.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
First, I believe the <a href="https://www.facebook.com/CTFishAndWildlife/photos/pb.355152261188535.-2207520000.1421038022./757538217616602/?type=3&theater" target="_blank">real-time promotion</a> of the stockings
via social media was a mistake. This allowed anglers to be at the precise
stocking sites literally within minutes after the seeforellens were released. I
get it; these fish were meant to be caught—it’s great publicity, especially in
a day and age with Facebook, Twitter and Instagram. But with trout still milling
around at the boat launches, there were cases of anglers throwing rocks to
break ice to get at them and, much worse, there were multiple reports of unsportsmanlike
snagging. Holding back on sharing the stocking locations by a few weeks could have
allowed the trout to acclimate to their new surroundings a little. And though
time consuming, stocking by boat several hundred feet from the launch would
have given the seeforellens more of a fighting chance.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIf2BraQy4laX5AMvUmvUZqUYbjoQMplokQan3dGLRSXe0r40amjmwX_y0xZr0SmLhIWqVOLiZiLWinvLtxn2IEJHB0B8Mu_M5N7qkKM_rJV9xY917SpFkgUXp-Kx-Oi8g86gmjr9kL_1h/s1600/Seefer+3.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="488" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIf2BraQy4laX5AMvUmvUZqUYbjoQMplokQan3dGLRSXe0r40amjmwX_y0xZr0SmLhIWqVOLiZiLWinvLtxn2IEJHB0B8Mu_M5N7qkKM_rJV9xY917SpFkgUXp-Kx-Oi8g86gmjr9kL_1h/s1600/Seefer+3.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">Another example of a recently stocked seeforellen (photo courtesy of CT DEEP)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It didn't come as much of a surprise when a photo recently popped up
on Facebook of an angler hoisting a 19-pound seef just a matter of days after the initial stockings. It's most likely the first of a handful of "pending state record" brown trout we'll hear about in the coming months. While not everyone cares
about angling records, for those that do, therein lies the hot button issue
with all of this. In June 2011, Tony Urbanowicz broke a 31-year-old
Connecticut brown trout record with an 18-pound five-ounce behemoth from
the Saugatuck Reservoir. Yes, it too was a hatchery fish, most Connecticut
trout are, but his seeforellen was stocked when it was six to nine-inches and survived
years in the wild before eventually reaching its massive 32.5-inch length and 21-inch
girth.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Maybe I was naïve in thinking Tony’s record brown trout was
going to stand for a long time, especially since the previous record of
16-pounds 14-ounces from East Twin Lake lasted for over three decades. With the
exception of a few deep lakes, Connecticut currently doesn’t boast many places
that could produce a holdover trout of that caliber. And most of the bodies of
water that can have certain restrictions (read: no boat fishing, no ice fishing
or both) that make the feat even harder to accomplish.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjE3zJ6o7jF5YSHu2ZuwRp6EPXbcrE3hj1N_r_NJtBx5HMfy34QC9EoKClj8GesOTpaDijkjZoeSMVeomKr1KTUzq2M9sztSc_ipPzwohrDna61E5Epvzi-83r_LPrcwojTXDCc5_wxy7rl/s1600/brown+trout+1+-+photo+credit+Fisherman's%2BWorld.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="490" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjE3zJ6o7jF5YSHu2ZuwRp6EPXbcrE3hj1N_r_NJtBx5HMfy34QC9EoKClj8GesOTpaDijkjZoeSMVeomKr1KTUzq2M9sztSc_ipPzwohrDna61E5Epvzi-83r_LPrcwojTXDCc5_wxy7rl/s1600/brown+trout+1+-+photo+credit+Fisherman's%2BWorld.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">Tony Urbaowicz with the current state record brown trout caught in 2011 (photo courtesy of Fisherman's World)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Regardless of what happens, I’m in the camp that’s not too keen on seeing a
new state record that was stocked at record size. Perhaps any seeforellens stocked
larger than the current state record should have been marked in a certain way,
like with an elastomer tag or a tail clip, to denote as much. Maybe there could
be a separate category for them in the records section of the Angler’s Guide or
maybe there should be a steroid-era asterisk next to the new record like plenty
of anglers have joked about. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
However things shake out, the amount of buzz that has been
created surrounding these giant trout is admirable. I believe the surplus broodstock seeforellen have provided a very cool recreational fishing opportunity, particularly
for the next generation of Connecticut anglers. And while I may disagree with
the stocking of state record-sized fish, the bottom line is that CT DEEP
deserves to be applauded for the incredible overall job they do managing our
freshwater fisheries, especially considering their limited staff and resources—the
seeforellen program is another fine example of that. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
</div>
Kierran Broatchhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10540948886211980207noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8118161382637787952.post-43981797353507797552023-01-02T10:56:00.004-05:002023-01-03T22:15:15.623-05:00Chain Gang<div style="text-align: justify;">Most years, during late fall and early winter, there are a few weeks between hanging up my saltwater gear and tuning up my ice fishing equipment. It's a time when I like to visit a favorite body of water in Connecticut—a challenging fishery with incredible scenery where I have spent many a chilly outing chasing trout and walleye.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc-ez5g-_nPpzzrONndGs_bIp88LCKD09SIHa4A9_9gwmUaZtfKZUWzZNgavFoRazOlWs8gtYTvqSjceL02jUEzP0axVC2FkN1KHnytxyM9ryr2OroJn1Ooz26on5rYvjfH4ggvoOWWgR_aOx8XGYdGpKAd5a6w05u_rfrFTiD8wd0pvEvuTnbL9a-gw/s4032/Sunrise.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc-ez5g-_nPpzzrONndGs_bIp88LCKD09SIHa4A9_9gwmUaZtfKZUWzZNgavFoRazOlWs8gtYTvqSjceL02jUEzP0axVC2FkN1KHnytxyM9ryr2OroJn1Ooz26on5rYvjfH4ggvoOWWgR_aOx8XGYdGpKAd5a6w05u_rfrFTiD8wd0pvEvuTnbL9a-gw/w640-h480/Sunrise.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: justify;">Not many lakes and ponds in my home state are home to both walleye <i>and</i> the fast-growing seeforellen brown trout. Throw in a healthy population of smallies and crappie and, at least to me, that rounds out a desirable lineup of target species. And here, they all have the potential to reach true trophy size—think state record potential. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">One reason for this is their diet consists mostly of landlocked alewives, which you can see schools of dimpling the surface on calm mornings. Another reason these fish have the ability to grow so large are the strict angling regulations in place. Rules that limit big chunks of when, where, and how you can fish, which ultimately deter some anglers from even bothering to try.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrBf1YPFyDEMwiDK0QaxrhjBV1IVxN2_59GmGJjwolxQX5C-ulxphe4YMkcf6aLXg_H0BuBP1tuizlBhiMwoqAQis-ywh6WMIgiPDkKcRmoRdiCUG_7J78pT36w4E1NR-ViUYPklDdh07K6WzAHqeCXn-gsLObOQvboDj5cKnaNDm7mN574WnJJvOsHA/s3955/waiting%20game.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2474" data-original-width="3955" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrBf1YPFyDEMwiDK0QaxrhjBV1IVxN2_59GmGJjwolxQX5C-ulxphe4YMkcf6aLXg_H0BuBP1tuizlBhiMwoqAQis-ywh6WMIgiPDkKcRmoRdiCUG_7J78pT36w4E1NR-ViUYPklDdh07K6WzAHqeCXn-gsLObOQvboDj5cKnaNDm7mN574WnJJvOsHA/w640-h400/waiting%20game.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: justify;">All that said, for me, it's the chance of encountering something genuinely special on any given outing that is a main motivator for logging hours and miles along its rocky shores. Over the years, more times than I'd like to admit, I have gone home without catching a single fish. Yet each trip, skunk or success, I learn from, and if you are going to get blanked, it may as well be at a place as beautiful as this.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSDutK5ZwJc3NpB4cyNuHKF__rIdotRUP3X70ICRuWFsVy7K0J3RUgtl0IjcP2Uy3CIfVoLXz8tShlrRigPDVwNSxgUCwgPFCeZ4wJPK3bLA_aBxoonUvlduxse3VVbJMmU6z6IWpp_Y0pc1enHrDDzGWSpKrm2EW2DAY_APWqb74lzTRWkrXxROCWHg/s3884/lightning%20crashes.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3884" data-original-width="2760" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSDutK5ZwJc3NpB4cyNuHKF__rIdotRUP3X70ICRuWFsVy7K0J3RUgtl0IjcP2Uy3CIfVoLXz8tShlrRigPDVwNSxgUCwgPFCeZ4wJPK3bLA_aBxoonUvlduxse3VVbJMmU6z6IWpp_Y0pc1enHrDDzGWSpKrm2EW2DAY_APWqb74lzTRWkrXxROCWHg/w454-h640/lightning%20crashes.jpg" width="454" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: justify;">This past November and December I was only able to make three trips—two morning shifts and one evening. What's more sad than the lack of time I spent there were my piss poor results. I landed a handful of fish, but none that I actually set out to catch. One was a brown bullhead that ate a shiner I had set on bottom in hopes of a sunrise walleye. Another was an unimpressive largemouth bass that fell for a shiner suspended under a slip bobber. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgb2JzBa1Psz2of1RWvWtex4k2kLBAhT5ZLNDZtFfk2_2VlvzGkqZ4884XEsGmjasu8tWCHh5iprm2dLPEbSeXV_gjJhfUhGNG3E1Zp7ftav6OA5L5U-SFFQIjhz110_qMEEy-L4AUKRw876d7oBrAAD7Y_9RpeKOCadWYebpZuAAlWDtDwEFYXIZ-ZhQ/s3978/slip%20LMB.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3978" data-original-width="2868" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgb2JzBa1Psz2of1RWvWtex4k2kLBAhT5ZLNDZtFfk2_2VlvzGkqZ4884XEsGmjasu8tWCHh5iprm2dLPEbSeXV_gjJhfUhGNG3E1Zp7ftav6OA5L5U-SFFQIjhz110_qMEEy-L4AUKRw876d7oBrAAD7Y_9RpeKOCadWYebpZuAAlWDtDwEFYXIZ-ZhQ/w462-h640/slip%20LMB.jpg" width="462" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: justify;">Most discouraging though, were the high number of chain pickerel that I landed on both lures and live bait. Pickerel are a native species that I respect, yet have never seen in these numbers in this body of water. It wasn't just me either. I talked to a few other anglers and a tackle shop owner that reported similar results—the most pickerel any of them had ever experienced. I don't know what to make of the population explosion, but I hope the trend doesn't continue in 2023. God willing I will be there perched on a rock next fall to find out. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Tight lines and happy New Year!</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIejE_wWVBUfXWQNdGZ0BYmLInnbC0OJU3WoO9CdDPH5_fDdJH7lJ2ji-gMkRBdRjPYPJ6NiyrM2kk6loboHX4EbVB9MREa3t4AOIt1sqzTOyHcX3SwO3WGWK3kT6VsDJiVm6pwu_FOXY3xsRBS5mLw-7lebgQXMJj0UZznB-qerjEj8T2Fo1QXljmNQ/s3900/lipless%20crank.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2695" data-original-width="3900" height="442" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIejE_wWVBUfXWQNdGZ0BYmLInnbC0OJU3WoO9CdDPH5_fDdJH7lJ2ji-gMkRBdRjPYPJ6NiyrM2kk6loboHX4EbVB9MREa3t4AOIt1sqzTOyHcX3SwO3WGWK3kT6VsDJiVm6pwu_FOXY3xsRBS5mLw-7lebgQXMJj0UZznB-qerjEj8T2Fo1QXljmNQ/w640-h442/lipless%20crank.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi__Rh0ooChY8ga6-IBchTtXMPUpX1vIPg6z6R6HrU_zYPDqIunEs3ty02JL-4lQiG84xWUlOceG8Hyt_cwIJfrzLy6iMfbWZRJSnWtlT3m8BoVLhFardLNWzibTOb5xzr4tUkAsxrgUuvnePXVV7jOeassS91vvDswkH3aMrfjDZevdpUV1DoeTDrnzQ/s4032/chain%20pickerel.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi__Rh0ooChY8ga6-IBchTtXMPUpX1vIPg6z6R6HrU_zYPDqIunEs3ty02JL-4lQiG84xWUlOceG8Hyt_cwIJfrzLy6iMfbWZRJSnWtlT3m8BoVLhFardLNWzibTOb5xzr4tUkAsxrgUuvnePXVV7jOeassS91vvDswkH3aMrfjDZevdpUV1DoeTDrnzQ/w480-h640/chain%20pickerel.jpg" width="480" /></a></div></div>Kierran Broatchhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10540948886211980207noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8118161382637787952.post-52361349762692028122022-11-06T18:32:00.005-05:002022-11-07T18:45:14.866-05:00The Fall Classic<div style="text-align: justify;">We are witnessing an exceptional 'fall run' in Long Island Sound by any measure. Fueled by incredible numbers of peanut bunker, there are birds wheeling over blitzing fish nearly every time I drive by the beach. A few feeds I have been fortunate to experience looked right out of a "Blue Planet" episode. It's been one of those stretches that part of me wishes I was 20 years younger without a real job, family, or any kind of responsibility for that matter. I'm thankful my local waters have been full of life this fall and I hope we can count on another one like this next year. </div><div>
<br /><div style="text-align: center;"><iframe allow="autoplay; encrypted-media" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/ae1NGXPbmec" width="560"></iframe></div><div><br /></div><div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdhHgGERNN8nN6vfOudtjRDd7lfJMf-mdCWbmivsKGtEV8WAgu_3e2ZXz4yIeJrbb-qn7CX1BtOJQUGa-W5HNvaDMfcxkoDkQOg-e1QY57ED86QITEYJmLAx05guB2zcPQNkDxBG7xpgXxjggoVmOResZGZZKzmg8uLynIO6AMw3bP2ehhvUx59Nf69g/s3426/IMG_9716.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2493" data-original-width="3426" height="466" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdhHgGERNN8nN6vfOudtjRDd7lfJMf-mdCWbmivsKGtEV8WAgu_3e2ZXz4yIeJrbb-qn7CX1BtOJQUGa-W5HNvaDMfcxkoDkQOg-e1QY57ED86QITEYJmLAx05guB2zcPQNkDxBG7xpgXxjggoVmOResZGZZKzmg8uLynIO6AMw3bP2ehhvUx59Nf69g/w640-h466/IMG_9716.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyXcaMSsKj1g87ITUM677mxAhGscALhr4_g-EIhd9Tvsa7xaXLK_0Fi8eTYW23SzPg-PGOBzMtQIIuPlGykH6Wlv1sDgvp_a3GkUmKzeaXAQAbOq5cMyfXvI92dbxzS6vgWlv41Sf3yHJwembNUIbZ3W9_uJtP0hBhDKId716eoKw2ilGYvxokR-Raqw/s2105/24524449-3388-4459-BB71-F8B08D83A553.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2105" data-original-width="2105" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyXcaMSsKj1g87ITUM677mxAhGscALhr4_g-EIhd9Tvsa7xaXLK_0Fi8eTYW23SzPg-PGOBzMtQIIuPlGykH6Wlv1sDgvp_a3GkUmKzeaXAQAbOq5cMyfXvI92dbxzS6vgWlv41Sf3yHJwembNUIbZ3W9_uJtP0hBhDKId716eoKw2ilGYvxokR-Raqw/w640-h640/24524449-3388-4459-BB71-F8B08D83A553.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZYTT5p9ELsNEjQW6fg9iUO6X3QuRrk9S17NIODJa2Lqy9GoANDy9dfEdzVpOJlR5exfd0vHViy7Gmn15Jdb_4n5WT0OawtxSqVzs7ZjAtYB_AnJD7kxHiK9Ex5Q1rcpDwUYeHDYd_6NXRZ773uIiWjNdgxh8Vr29HNwOhlFCOMbIBdbLFLAXWkpccCg/s3895/IMG_5815.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3895" data-original-width="2642" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZYTT5p9ELsNEjQW6fg9iUO6X3QuRrk9S17NIODJa2Lqy9GoANDy9dfEdzVpOJlR5exfd0vHViy7Gmn15Jdb_4n5WT0OawtxSqVzs7ZjAtYB_AnJD7kxHiK9Ex5Q1rcpDwUYeHDYd_6NXRZ773uIiWjNdgxh8Vr29HNwOhlFCOMbIBdbLFLAXWkpccCg/w434-h640/IMG_5815.jpg" width="434" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinGN5s_fCtZ7uv75MZ3-c5wgIifcBGEhx01xu-Ka0KJi_BVCiWgB4k61hxnVxaEWEqbsh1YjHw7ZqQ5IrjsA8YaBTvsVT51EkWxDFLN7DqN79v7hi1gl-RPNA62xWgTEC5JAALrq38mBZ8m7i8C_4itmivcnzdt2HNFrkM-4shgxyV43W-5AtA-3I43g/s3772/68883224609__C538E8CC-4C43-4CCD-8B92-712B44DDE63D.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3772" data-original-width="2828" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinGN5s_fCtZ7uv75MZ3-c5wgIifcBGEhx01xu-Ka0KJi_BVCiWgB4k61hxnVxaEWEqbsh1YjHw7ZqQ5IrjsA8YaBTvsVT51EkWxDFLN7DqN79v7hi1gl-RPNA62xWgTEC5JAALrq38mBZ8m7i8C_4itmivcnzdt2HNFrkM-4shgxyV43W-5AtA-3I43g/w480-h640/68883224609__C538E8CC-4C43-4CCD-8B92-712B44DDE63D.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-Pn07fyOZRT-9PfhOeotgmOp4cgInTZUrHADtfWhM3eV6ITXMRNdpTrrLEaVJDTykk8oQ3pV0c1fOBq6fb2ecXzoG15SsDbXkTWKsdwtZwFqAwbJJB2xDwqtpS2wzWfnb7zWf_r-bVR6ckJgVqqLRYG4jrZk_rTk5lyeOme-zRCLoaDqQ06sNPsRDfg/s3807/IMG_0058.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3807" data-original-width="2855" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-Pn07fyOZRT-9PfhOeotgmOp4cgInTZUrHADtfWhM3eV6ITXMRNdpTrrLEaVJDTykk8oQ3pV0c1fOBq6fb2ecXzoG15SsDbXkTWKsdwtZwFqAwbJJB2xDwqtpS2wzWfnb7zWf_r-bVR6ckJgVqqLRYG4jrZk_rTk5lyeOme-zRCLoaDqQ06sNPsRDfg/w480-h640/IMG_0058.jpg" width="480" /></a></div></div></div>Kierran Broatchhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10540948886211980207noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8118161382637787952.post-3377011496400726652022-09-01T22:31:00.003-04:002022-09-01T22:43:55.588-04:00Traditions Never Die<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"><span style="vertical-align: inherit;">Though several months removed, the trip is still seared in memory and the smell of wood smoke clings to my gear. While a recap from our annual Opening Day celebration is long overdue, sifting through photos from that weekend brought me right back and had me itching for more.</span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;">Traditions never die, but they do evolve. Our trip is a hell of a lot less about fishing now than when it started decades ago. It's pretty evident that we spend way more time swapping stories and eating good food around the fire than we do making drifts for trout. I'm not bothered by that. I still love fly fishing and the Farmington River, but when the third weekend of April rolls around, and I get a little time off from work and dad duties, I'm taking it slow and soaking it all in. </p><p style="text-align: justify;">This evolution doesn't change the fact that, come hell or high water, we'll be back celebrating each spring for as long as we're physically able to. It's my favorite weekend of the year by far and something I look forward to introducing my own kids to when the time is right. If they love it half as much as we do, the future of this tradition is bright.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipo2h3QSqfUzUOyGi-PTF8dD7T1iFqqpanKf2e9XwdyEcOOCWVxMSYXMMmM557ckN5Khtsy64EkxziH29HK5Y2fkeavM49gCzbhqryih4RuuQ2aaUuaKj141Dok5AOHbriMUd73HH7WaClobZV3rpZd9CkyMpMhUvNg6G3xQYqJUozEn2y4L_Lm1di7A/s2045/IMG_7697.JPEG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2045" data-original-width="1521" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipo2h3QSqfUzUOyGi-PTF8dD7T1iFqqpanKf2e9XwdyEcOOCWVxMSYXMMmM557ckN5Khtsy64EkxziH29HK5Y2fkeavM49gCzbhqryih4RuuQ2aaUuaKj141Dok5AOHbriMUd73HH7WaClobZV3rpZd9CkyMpMhUvNg6G3xQYqJUozEn2y4L_Lm1di7A/w477-h640/IMG_7697.JPEG" width="477" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhK0JZR_xNnWZLXnK6xLOCmt_hczbKXD0cqdC_o3FkkWE3i7sFcjk9GPa2kMMtO5WO4kNDOoiLY0x9vVrb56CDiM8Vw4erJIOYqUsxxguwaQXLu1U4KlrqeFz0GaxkEolsY2tTYvRM3KGXda46KMdiy4Xpi05sRkayDWzOJPzkt1j39KnCEz3EHrPH8hg/s1982/IMG_7658.JPEG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1370" data-original-width="1982" height="442" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhK0JZR_xNnWZLXnK6xLOCmt_hczbKXD0cqdC_o3FkkWE3i7sFcjk9GPa2kMMtO5WO4kNDOoiLY0x9vVrb56CDiM8Vw4erJIOYqUsxxguwaQXLu1U4KlrqeFz0GaxkEolsY2tTYvRM3KGXda46KMdiy4Xpi05sRkayDWzOJPzkt1j39KnCEz3EHrPH8hg/w640-h442/IMG_7658.JPEG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhR7DGjsXGDrIX5W7BPLvoOtyHSxzb-hxpx1HOhSpMLMUSSMdlWqmXjtDFTu2ffuQrRxdk0VlBIw8OV-KicNERXx8sLnbLF7a6vfPibH74ZECOXXjWg-753aBLZ3WDWBkgh7RagDDPONfpJAMmi4fCsPVzVxtgLKdRfpmGwstYNXBessbQlNm464QxscA/s2042/IMG_7667.JPEG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1061" data-original-width="2042" height="332" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhR7DGjsXGDrIX5W7BPLvoOtyHSxzb-hxpx1HOhSpMLMUSSMdlWqmXjtDFTu2ffuQrRxdk0VlBIw8OV-KicNERXx8sLnbLF7a6vfPibH74ZECOXXjWg-753aBLZ3WDWBkgh7RagDDPONfpJAMmi4fCsPVzVxtgLKdRfpmGwstYNXBessbQlNm464QxscA/w640-h332/IMG_7667.JPEG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihsNFpi5yyoBoH6LNJkwFDYAAPu76QJtlMz-jpaRdR8zmPlG6-HsrF2yIjcdUW9srTA5wNwhKdQknzI9P1G4_MVMJZ43VtE4WT0Hzs-6OUgs88EdKykMt7JCglvWu0yBJEtDsUKM8aeg2FH_h-j7W6xeTnefVOL8WJ0U_XcDVkJzHeXxP19bGEdEflYQ/s1979/IMG_7672.JPEG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1191" data-original-width="1979" height="386" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihsNFpi5yyoBoH6LNJkwFDYAAPu76QJtlMz-jpaRdR8zmPlG6-HsrF2yIjcdUW9srTA5wNwhKdQknzI9P1G4_MVMJZ43VtE4WT0Hzs-6OUgs88EdKykMt7JCglvWu0yBJEtDsUKM8aeg2FH_h-j7W6xeTnefVOL8WJ0U_XcDVkJzHeXxP19bGEdEflYQ/w640-h386/IMG_7672.JPEG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMhOuCwZWJY-dzrdURYaoWGqwe06vWNFX-AZo4FG8PABSxqSmDhL1v6yX464BKS1aYKCvnAvf-PQoVqdyfC_wK4qzK5QJ2ITf6LTzJNmbRTYozT_tUU6RtzrPN9ysbxHDSCEYI84KEyhWDbL3FLLCNoJkq94uc_agZzmeIapa0_kciFB4lBpcTBKss-A/s1806/IMG_7661.JPEG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1806" data-original-width="1461" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMhOuCwZWJY-dzrdURYaoWGqwe06vWNFX-AZo4FG8PABSxqSmDhL1v6yX464BKS1aYKCvnAvf-PQoVqdyfC_wK4qzK5QJ2ITf6LTzJNmbRTYozT_tUU6RtzrPN9ysbxHDSCEYI84KEyhWDbL3FLLCNoJkq94uc_agZzmeIapa0_kciFB4lBpcTBKss-A/w518-h640/IMG_7661.JPEG" width="518" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjslCN-q01jPnbXdEQpZH83C985uwHnKxev_TV02bALKVQN3uA6x5iFSrsuQF-h1-lHtMo48qK_qefd8zLjEzF_xvptrY0yNwfwkb3XxCphM-89ClmYi5rjEGc2rcNcGc75Qlu8hUKnaKjJaxtddXANjSkBdHlOvFMwNhI8H5Vwwt8_rOw5JjAaM_PO0A/s2048/IMG_1069.JPEG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjslCN-q01jPnbXdEQpZH83C985uwHnKxev_TV02bALKVQN3uA6x5iFSrsuQF-h1-lHtMo48qK_qefd8zLjEzF_xvptrY0yNwfwkb3XxCphM-89ClmYi5rjEGc2rcNcGc75Qlu8hUKnaKjJaxtddXANjSkBdHlOvFMwNhI8H5Vwwt8_rOw5JjAaM_PO0A/w640-h480/IMG_1069.JPEG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoPs7YIzp5qpl8GshU0HNyHX5ZPGyxzsjlLRzyP3y8hW-RfLyo43OmT_2K1BM7ALjeQD6dFebs2Lp7UtSzQHJn3WEmV6ToDTXX6_nnNnaR7HiTyBSNLhKkvFULTWXzKnCRI1pYd9fkjV79x1FC3APzekhzx4FK5wwS-5RfBIBrTaEnegFcqSnmnbyEFQ/s1870/IMG_7732.JPEG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1870" data-original-width="1401" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoPs7YIzp5qpl8GshU0HNyHX5ZPGyxzsjlLRzyP3y8hW-RfLyo43OmT_2K1BM7ALjeQD6dFebs2Lp7UtSzQHJn3WEmV6ToDTXX6_nnNnaR7HiTyBSNLhKkvFULTWXzKnCRI1pYd9fkjV79x1FC3APzekhzx4FK5wwS-5RfBIBrTaEnegFcqSnmnbyEFQ/w480-h640/IMG_7732.JPEG" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfSPWjT-xxOjKvG9YRRWDT2OqPzCWj9OIfGWMGJsI4jUQc68JXQFPzDOAccNGGDljfhAw61M9TkuvU0mYWX4co8Ac-5ucZVQsfMwMbz8FWKEa4vpVdJeJq3XXr5VFoDRD5ywlfHmG42-Ggxh4rDhHfURhZ8Yp4mWDG1D_Uzi-B6H9HlpxZhIsBkdjOwQ/s2040/IMG_7738.JPEG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2040" data-original-width="1507" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfSPWjT-xxOjKvG9YRRWDT2OqPzCWj9OIfGWMGJsI4jUQc68JXQFPzDOAccNGGDljfhAw61M9TkuvU0mYWX4co8Ac-5ucZVQsfMwMbz8FWKEa4vpVdJeJq3XXr5VFoDRD5ywlfHmG42-Ggxh4rDhHfURhZ8Yp4mWDG1D_Uzi-B6H9HlpxZhIsBkdjOwQ/w472-h640/IMG_7738.JPEG" width="472" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9LPvxaJwXSRvZOWAtAyUnCm4q3gNUV3FMJhsnoH07tB6qGAE2xUFerfGEoGY_p-zbt30Auij6eQFliQWvqdHVh1k9KNIDNIjtBkaOdzVKsGVbpyTVxluJQn15rNzHrtstHwtnOFgrgtWWZH6xu4CYFu6luxoBr0BTskPcEQyJk6FKVmQ-8W_wgqzLmw/s1956/IMG_7686.JPEG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1402" data-original-width="1956" height="458" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9LPvxaJwXSRvZOWAtAyUnCm4q3gNUV3FMJhsnoH07tB6qGAE2xUFerfGEoGY_p-zbt30Auij6eQFliQWvqdHVh1k9KNIDNIjtBkaOdzVKsGVbpyTVxluJQn15rNzHrtstHwtnOFgrgtWWZH6xu4CYFu6luxoBr0BTskPcEQyJk6FKVmQ-8W_wgqzLmw/w640-h458/IMG_7686.JPEG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd4ckwj_261oyo4qCsXacm_SR67pkhuPuWvgSUAsJXtNpeSAQx-On_hUHUd6fQCmYN9hoSYEIrOBhpWtZgU9sSt2UiS4msnLAsrAhRe0uMHVrabbG1OC3sdMJo2Q4iyjElN6aIfAw9qWg-CFn0dC371-DUBhfnX6ta1q1fzWInjj--WgxBYJEvyLRwog/s1827/IMG_7696.JPEG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1827" data-original-width="1333" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd4ckwj_261oyo4qCsXacm_SR67pkhuPuWvgSUAsJXtNpeSAQx-On_hUHUd6fQCmYN9hoSYEIrOBhpWtZgU9sSt2UiS4msnLAsrAhRe0uMHVrabbG1OC3sdMJo2Q4iyjElN6aIfAw9qWg-CFn0dC371-DUBhfnX6ta1q1fzWInjj--WgxBYJEvyLRwog/w466-h640/IMG_7696.JPEG" width="466" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2B3VZYYnDd6x3DKJ0RIxY5YO8uuAcf7NagQNNGrhahop-_rBWmKIDlvtQMN7HOSwFfa_U8kRBTK6nD9LLs4ewn7k_dY99_NEzrZrt1EhX_4zwFUUK7DJycRuceC3_EO_xSnqRNViGjcHLcD1DuwOvK78owEkc8-XHwDOLOTVLhKMJFn-X02rYSKNBHg/s2040/IMG_7711.JPEG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2040" data-original-width="1480" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2B3VZYYnDd6x3DKJ0RIxY5YO8uuAcf7NagQNNGrhahop-_rBWmKIDlvtQMN7HOSwFfa_U8kRBTK6nD9LLs4ewn7k_dY99_NEzrZrt1EhX_4zwFUUK7DJycRuceC3_EO_xSnqRNViGjcHLcD1DuwOvK78owEkc8-XHwDOLOTVLhKMJFn-X02rYSKNBHg/w464-h640/IMG_7711.JPEG" width="464" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5qx6cIC9WdPFmk0cIzNi8gp8FcwYS8ZR83Nm03u5Xchwn_tXPebsexjfJvw_Q6JKQQ4P5lCPc3J6ktuvlPffg_6BVypZ8RuE4otiKgEZ3DQr3niHAiVAgGaE-5Agpzcg64tKYYmaIXwQ0H6_jxehI137XEfgeFr_TUA98o8hdnwqv4hEV3XaH4COTMg/s1841/IMG_7724.JPEG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1381" data-original-width="1841" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5qx6cIC9WdPFmk0cIzNi8gp8FcwYS8ZR83Nm03u5Xchwn_tXPebsexjfJvw_Q6JKQQ4P5lCPc3J6ktuvlPffg_6BVypZ8RuE4otiKgEZ3DQr3niHAiVAgGaE-5Agpzcg64tKYYmaIXwQ0H6_jxehI137XEfgeFr_TUA98o8hdnwqv4hEV3XaH4COTMg/w640-h480/IMG_7724.JPEG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPh0M2cQiXJhSTxdHOo28IfpGPLsX1x7_t7jLNhxJYVtG1_9etCNg6OeohC7iszgSfT5WXCApJgh6JAQkoGf3CK6Koba3lFZgCQhAPkduGUuZTHfu9_0n9bsyF393g5BXctZRtcqD50johz4I5gg-fAG6hHstWxG82xnP6y-C2kOTqRmKhHclmiZIyJQ/s1768/IMG_7683.JPEG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1768" data-original-width="1285" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPh0M2cQiXJhSTxdHOo28IfpGPLsX1x7_t7jLNhxJYVtG1_9etCNg6OeohC7iszgSfT5WXCApJgh6JAQkoGf3CK6Koba3lFZgCQhAPkduGUuZTHfu9_0n9bsyF393g5BXctZRtcqD50johz4I5gg-fAG6hHstWxG82xnP6y-C2kOTqRmKhHclmiZIyJQ/w466-h640/IMG_7683.JPEG" width="466" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbayKMjdnwqoroHn4hzIRN5o_K-38NEmrnlUHX84HG196vGqYaGlB_mFyYWuMEC6CVY30diHQwdW71FU1u2hP7DhVRsGZV3miQ5TiGwAkMPGiIJZm7jJU6f8B3fd_QkPetGzaN6mj7nKRMjQ96-hAcrEG51-XKyy5tBD1hRXyEi1dtmwX12WY9sbRGDQ/s1708/IMG_7765.JPEG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1120" data-original-width="1708" height="420" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbayKMjdnwqoroHn4hzIRN5o_K-38NEmrnlUHX84HG196vGqYaGlB_mFyYWuMEC6CVY30diHQwdW71FU1u2hP7DhVRsGZV3miQ5TiGwAkMPGiIJZm7jJU6f8B3fd_QkPetGzaN6mj7nKRMjQ96-hAcrEG51-XKyy5tBD1hRXyEi1dtmwX12WY9sbRGDQ/w640-h420/IMG_7765.JPEG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXliPrNHdchzNYbmH-KkQlXwVvPAPrz27jeSH_gflFgbnox4fAX5AYmUdKOVj8kPt3HNLlKp5PgM1vjDz0Q3z1N2WcogOr2buMaoKqUlypUOxw3lLqrtxMUVdf7TQR8CRBBEkLc5U1gK6Oa-XKIbMXWdYFipCHjW6aqxawEJ3jxDtJqH_ZCOZj55aLyA/s3301/IMG_7752.JPEG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2716" data-original-width="3301" height="526" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXliPrNHdchzNYbmH-KkQlXwVvPAPrz27jeSH_gflFgbnox4fAX5AYmUdKOVj8kPt3HNLlKp5PgM1vjDz0Q3z1N2WcogOr2buMaoKqUlypUOxw3lLqrtxMUVdf7TQR8CRBBEkLc5U1gK6Oa-XKIbMXWdYFipCHjW6aqxawEJ3jxDtJqH_ZCOZj55aLyA/w640-h526/IMG_7752.JPEG" width="640" /></a></div>Kierran Broatchhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10540948886211980207noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8118161382637787952.post-45232835835583167422022-07-06T23:17:00.004-04:002022-07-06T23:22:25.731-04:00Better Late Than Never<p style="text-align: justify;">It's a good thing that Rob never gave up on asking me. For years, I had to respectfully decline each of his invitations to target smallmouth bass on the Housatonic River. Not because that type of fishing didn't interest me—smallies are among my favorite species to fish for—more so because life, work and a host of other reasons got in the way. </p><p style="text-align: justify;">This spring was different. When Rob's annual invite came via text, flush with recent photos of him and his sons holding top-notch specimens, for once nothing prevented me from accepting the kind offer. I was in the midst of a job change with a week off in between. River flows were good. Weather looked mint. My time had come. </p><p style="text-align: justify;">I don't live far from where the Housatonic pours into Long Island Sound. About 50 miles northwest of there, just a stone's throw from the Appalachian Trail, is where I met Rob on a late May morning. It was a gorgeous section of river, a mix of pools and boulder-strewn pocket water, too warm for most trout and just right for crayfish-eating smallmouth. And that's what we used on the end of our lines. Not the actual crustaceans, but flies and soft-plastics that closely resembled them. </p><p style="text-align: justify;">Rob played guide the whole trip like he'd been getting paid to do it his entire life. We walked along a trail next to the river, over a mile upstream from the parking area and through some of the most beautiful country that Connecticut has to offer. The plan was to fish our way back to the vehicles and when we finally stopped walking and waded into the water, Rob gave specific instructions that I followed to a T. The first pool he put me on, and just about every riffle and run after that, produced fish. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDiLTEdcIm2CdaYgavbFzjvohSRaZZeFqHQPXedvuRjcwj4GjyEosjyBF_W-tBrKapNDRrAlcYdr80ae-hMt4TJC1wwk1OpBuM9r70uQ2jpIxfpoD_bgw2RiZI5UYSOn_7HpjGc03vPxqAPQER5EoxtPh1__KhsqKPbmtmoz_WHIZ_l5Qn19V9su3Xdw/s6327/5.28.22%20pano.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3781" data-original-width="6327" height="382" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDiLTEdcIm2CdaYgavbFzjvohSRaZZeFqHQPXedvuRjcwj4GjyEosjyBF_W-tBrKapNDRrAlcYdr80ae-hMt4TJC1wwk1OpBuM9r70uQ2jpIxfpoD_bgw2RiZI5UYSOn_7HpjGc03vPxqAPQER5EoxtPh1__KhsqKPbmtmoz_WHIZ_l5Qn19V9su3Xdw/w640-h382/5.28.22%20pano.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><p style="text-align: justify;">The stretch of river Rob brought me to was riddled with smallies. With a halfway decent cast and presentation, our baits were getting crushed without hesitation. The fights that followed were fun, too, peppered with jumps and summersaults. It was a good workout for my old Orvis T3 six-weight and Rob's seasoned Fenwick. Aside from the hot bite and incredible scenery, one of the best parts of the day was not seeing another soul. Not one other angler upstream or downstream for miles. On a Friday no less. I'm not complaining, just a little surprised after all the trout fishing I have done on pressured waters. </p><p style="text-align: justify;">Hats off to Rob for sharing his time and knowledge with me and providing such an awesome experience. Countless trips on that river since his childhood have prepared him well for the task. My respect and admiration for the smallmouth bass, as well as the mighty Housatonic, has only grown since. It was a special outing many years in the making and very much worth the wait. As they say, better late than never...</p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1CJJBA4k3AKLirjHUS-QqPYcZdfdYGw0z09_0yl29qIm3GCtWfEfwMXGJt1Bbm7iuexznV8GSAVehk6HGMp7u7dPeA7Ko0spok4oRtsIpMKpod9rYj8CVhCts5lHLoj6kdvgtO-FYEwTzEpG1rGoSmNbXs1M4OU7xAJHoti2qiW4ap5E5ghkXnuBbZA/s4032/IMG_8310.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2221" data-original-width="4032" height="352" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1CJJBA4k3AKLirjHUS-QqPYcZdfdYGw0z09_0yl29qIm3GCtWfEfwMXGJt1Bbm7iuexznV8GSAVehk6HGMp7u7dPeA7Ko0spok4oRtsIpMKpod9rYj8CVhCts5lHLoj6kdvgtO-FYEwTzEpG1rGoSmNbXs1M4OU7xAJHoti2qiW4ap5E5ghkXnuBbZA/w640-h352/IMG_8310.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p style="text-align: justify;">P.S. This was the first non-ice fishing trip with my new GoPro. Having some fun getting back into filming and editing. Hopefully the videos keep getting better over time...</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZ_rXE8l_iZZiZGCh4E-RbMJRjac1vfM5QQzkKpTzSHlFA-ZEiFV1edd2XziYTTWwoBicT8GxOhtIanrMMXxHhN0WCwpksMugKoETuZ4ESXeB2X6r8rfeXW-x3D8qAGcnqcNBYFiC1O_eqkh9Uf9ciSedMdv0GdYTtpLyl1K4f4nnOFw_J2VdyGJjXig/s1920/SnapShot.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="334" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/qnKRsmwMe8Y" width="486" youtube-src-id="qnKRsmwMe8Y"></iframe></div></div>Kierran Broatchhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10540948886211980207noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8118161382637787952.post-55330558747424511282022-06-03T07:52:00.003-04:002022-06-03T07:52:37.138-04:00the wisdom and faith of a child<p style="text-align: justify;"><i>Editor's note: Chad Wilde is a gifted writer and good friend. This story, a fine tale about his son's first encounter with a northern pike, is the last installment in a series of guest posts...for a little while at least. All of Chad's work is worth reading, but anything on getting the next generation more passionate about the Great Outdoors sits particular well with me. Enjoy...</i></p><p><br /></p><span id="docs-internal-guid-33e3872c-7fff-4a1e-e48b-e03c6c14d70c"><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Sometimes, though it may work against your conventional knowledge, it is wise to listen to the ideas of a child when fishing. Children come from fresh places. Their experiences are always building. They pay attention to what works and seek to replicate it, as they pay attention to what doesn’t and seek to eliminate it. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">For my son, River, he always has ideas about what fishing lures, techniques, and methods should work. And I gently try to impart him with what knowledge I’ve picked up through four decades of angling while also giving him the leeway to try out his own ideas. On a blustery cold November day when fishing for pickerel, if he wants to throw an eight-inch top-water snake lure, by all means have at it buddy. But after a while I’ll say, “Maybe we should try subtle little jerk baits?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Sometimes, it is a hard stop no. Like, a spinner bait just won’t work dangled below that giant bobber. Even if we do tip it with a live nightcrawler and add several pieces of split shot for some unknown reason. But I try to listen, and in his learning, I learn as well. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Everyone who knows me as an angler should know that my favorite type of fishing is predator fishing. Give me Esox whenever available. Pickerel, northern pike, muskellunge. These are the fish that have my whole heart. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I’ve instilled this in my son. River will gladly and readily fish for anything that swims, god bless him, but given the choice of venue he’ll usually ask me to take him to The Pickerel Palace. This is a small, weedy pond near us here in Willington that is infested with pickerel. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Esox, they’re like dinosaurs, Dad,” he tells me. I agree. And who doesn’t love dinosaurs?</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">When tasked with doing a class presentation project on a wild animal, River naturally chose the pickerel. He studied them, he wrote up a report about them, and we printed a number of pictures to use as visual aids. When it was time, he dressed up in his suit and tie and presented his findings to his class. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Esox, they are dangerous fish”, he said. “Like dinosaurs! Look at their teeth!”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">We both love the perceived violence of the Esox fish. We like their teeth, their aggression. We love the places they live, slow flowing rivers and warm water ponds. Their hiding places, deep weed beds, downed timber. They move in our minds like silent menaces, and when we find them while fishing we are one with that menace and we connect with something different inside ourselves. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">All humans are animals, after all. And in Esox fishing, one can connect with the deep places where the luxury and softness of modern life is stripped away. We become the hunting predators we once all were. And in Esox fishing, the predator chases the predator and we’ll see who comes out on top.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Last Fall, when River was turning 10, I decided it was time to expand his predator fishing and get him off The Pickerel Palace and on some better waters. Waters where I hoped to help put him on his first northern pike. To this effect, I reached out to my friend Steve Pogodzienski.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Steve is a pike guide and friend who has taught me more than anyone else about fishing for predators. It was time for me to call in the big guns and get River in touch with a fish that would gladly eat a Pickerel. But first, Steve and I had to talk strategy.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">It had been a remarkably wet summer and the river we planned to fish had been on a rollercoaster. Huge storms regularly dropping inches of rain that made flows impossible to fish for long periods of time. Impossible to fish, and for fish to even eat. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">This worked for us in a sense. We would have to watch the flows as summer gave way to fall. And we would have to find a relatively dry period where the river would drop to an acceptable level for a float. Steve told me that when a window opens up and the flow is right, those fish will eat. I believed him fully.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I knew River would relish the chance to go fishing with Dad and Steve on a serious trip, and I wanted to make sure he had a shot at catching a fish. We timed it perfectly, and we hit the water in early October during a window that was wide open. At the launch, my son was a ball of excited energy. He was ready to go. He had so many ideas about what would work, and he brought a number of his own personal lures to use.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">He was excited that I got to use my fly rod. When we fish, generally I do more guiding and less fishing, as it should be. And he notices this. A wise friend had once told me you could be a dissatisfied angler or a satisfied guide depending on how you approached fishing with your child. I chose wisely there, but today I wouldn’t need to guide since we had Steve.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzYzaHepA9jKFnj0gWipWZUJjGIomuiDJ869RZak9N6ukq3kxAK6Gss0Drjlu6eYXnc64sN1pBhjFndhZhreq2qkCCwBPRwIXfgnnbDiY__OHKkuF_dU9Utg4h51sZ9_Weouf34-pFCEpOmebZMgWpTW7kZiods6pa48JiBAXv7NhZCc936ssclU643Q/s3924/riverfishing.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2745" data-original-width="3924" height="280" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzYzaHepA9jKFnj0gWipWZUJjGIomuiDJ869RZak9N6ukq3kxAK6Gss0Drjlu6eYXnc64sN1pBhjFndhZhreq2qkCCwBPRwIXfgnnbDiY__OHKkuF_dU9Utg4h51sZ9_Weouf34-pFCEpOmebZMgWpTW7kZiods6pa48JiBAXv7NhZCc936ssclU643Q/w400-h280/riverfishing.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><p></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Our plan was to get on the board with some bass fishing. River is a very good bass angler, and I wanted to make sure he connected with at least one fish on the day. I told Steve as much. He decided to work us up into a backwater cove off the main river that Steve knew held bass. Before we entered he told me, “Throw your fly up in the mouth there. Pike will post up just outside these coves sometimes.”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I did. And a solid pike literally left the water trying to eat my fly. I was a bit rusty, I panicked and trout-set. The line was limp. We all knew then, as the water’s surface calmed from the eruption and I cursed at myself inside, that the window was indeed wide open. A good sign. No more than 20 minutes into our trip and I had an aggressive take. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_TmJDIZaxoHg4CL4IMqF1o9OouArTP9hu2ThPTKSATnTrRee77GiRM5LcbAHiMm4VR29VCShda10tQSvM38qlTNlSTZG7XTLzCHrm3mVEw0gXC7mAuhJp3yfc6nmokqIcE_fsskaF1U88SvNuQaawSRKLjTp8_NpV0786KHn-dvZObsYQy2Xe8c_WGQ/s4032/dadfishing.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2891" data-original-width="4032" height="286" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_TmJDIZaxoHg4CL4IMqF1o9OouArTP9hu2ThPTKSATnTrRee77GiRM5LcbAHiMm4VR29VCShda10tQSvM38qlTNlSTZG7XTLzCHrm3mVEw0gXC7mAuhJp3yfc6nmokqIcE_fsskaF1U88SvNuQaawSRKLjTp8_NpV0786KHn-dvZObsYQy2Xe8c_WGQ/w400-h286/dadfishing.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><p></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The cove itself was one of those deeply weeded places you just know hold warm water fish. We discussed lures to use, and River had a series of suggestions. Steve settled on a pink Slug-Go for River’s spinning rod. I sat back and watched my boy get into the fishing, and he fished well. The benefit of the pink Slug-Go was that we could all clearly see its darting glides through the cove. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">It was impossible to think the bait wouldn’t get River an eat. Before long, I heard his small boy voice say, “Got 'em!” He was on his first fish of the day.</span></p><div><span><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirEzIa8W9nfyfsOhgVuxOfaR2qPk_Ytup9VTm9uDMBVaV_Kp5wx0BxuuqUtN1v3dZUVtnthcqH2qnDqK2WTGeh4-jgx0gpOu6ZI1rAxt7ZUvjIZxuMNp2M2CV_qVAKheVFKeyYYG5IqX37B7H4me-Tx5qLdNkUTp4Ytj8RkMdm8WFSugMzHNYgcaQlZw/s3724/solidbass.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2651" data-original-width="3724" height="285" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirEzIa8W9nfyfsOhgVuxOfaR2qPk_Ytup9VTm9uDMBVaV_Kp5wx0BxuuqUtN1v3dZUVtnthcqH2qnDqK2WTGeh4-jgx0gpOu6ZI1rAxt7ZUvjIZxuMNp2M2CV_qVAKheVFKeyYYG5IqX37B7H4me-Tx5qLdNkUTp4Ytj8RkMdm8WFSugMzHNYgcaQlZw/w400-h285/solidbass.jpg" width="400" /></a></div></div><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">He proceeded to pick a number of bass out of the cove as well as a giant crappie, and he was thrilled to do so. As he released a particularly chunky largemouth he said, “Don’t go get eaten by a pike!” He knows the food chain, and he knows who sits at the top. I was proud of him. With the skunk off, it was time to go look for pike.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I have to say, I rebounded nicely from the early miss. I took a deep fish. I had counted down the fly until it disappeared below the dark water, carried by a full sink line. Once it felt down enough, I began to work it. A ghostly strike. There is a point in a deep retrieve with a pike fly where the whole thing suddenly gets a bit weird. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">You can’t feel anything, no slack, no fly, no line. The rod just feels weird, fully empty. What has happened here is that a pike has inhaled the fly. Some unseen transaction has occurred and the lack of any feeling means the fish has eaten and moved towards you with the fly hopefully still in its mouth. This is when you quicken the strips until your mind’s eye tells you, “Now. Strip set!”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">This doesn’t always work out, but it did this time and the strip set placed the iron in the jaw. After a brief fight, we had our first pike of the day. It was a great moment to share with River, and Steve. River had never seen a northern pike first-hand. This clearly fired him up and I could tell he wanted one of his own.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjddXL4Kq4VAXxiGNBW3BCCrfSHEkmQ_tv1VLAXfCV152I2nXy2YxcpPsDnptYYzGch0Xpiv9jIynnH2pl2xlaNWgEyHCJ55hf01raAhyjKnNqcC3dZ6gEw7DXJ5kPsYL3kSHIgAx44zLT822EIzL4pWP2uoAx1UsF2vDMaO8jGPEh1LuYSB0qTQuuJLA/s3923/dadpike1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2918" data-original-width="3923" height="297" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjddXL4Kq4VAXxiGNBW3BCCrfSHEkmQ_tv1VLAXfCV152I2nXy2YxcpPsDnptYYzGch0Xpiv9jIynnH2pl2xlaNWgEyHCJ55hf01raAhyjKnNqcC3dZ6gEw7DXJ5kPsYL3kSHIgAx44zLT822EIzL4pWP2uoAx1UsF2vDMaO8jGPEh1LuYSB0qTQuuJLA/w400-h297/dadpike1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Shortly after, I got another eat. This one on top, like the first that I had missed. The fish materialized only one strip off the bank, below some overhanging tree limbs, and swirled the fly. I waited, nicely, and set hard. We had a second pike. As we admired and released the fish, River suggested maybe he should try a different lure.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjeWhIBXhALG1rpc5vY9yqrYMF8YE6AprNWNEaBzagB04-nXUdpmHsc2XLj3jQ_O32sBgOhE623oZXV0YfKmmhkDgXPC_-LSmhxfWjmMU0Tv3K0JedLGpwOH8n9bp1WsaOwWj_z8T1TMAos6fBcJszu33ZdtaZfeF38neQKTOvYYKfmKh5QcPe3KNyGQ/s3976/dadpike2again.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2676" data-original-width="3976" height="269" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjeWhIBXhALG1rpc5vY9yqrYMF8YE6AprNWNEaBzagB04-nXUdpmHsc2XLj3jQ_O32sBgOhE623oZXV0YfKmmhkDgXPC_-LSmhxfWjmMU0Tv3K0JedLGpwOH8n9bp1WsaOwWj_z8T1TMAos6fBcJszu33ZdtaZfeF38neQKTOvYYKfmKh5QcPe3KNyGQ/w400-h269/dadpike2again.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2PmkIFSvFPhaSaaVJmJo8VmcmUKMLZ6BnoSyAOv1Ih_uFNm019Zhodlq9sPGTC8VQp4SPzYG1rRMANTPNOYXHZQlOEwyWJL5tCDhb8-3_sncYXvLc3oj8MMJoYsP2fWXh2NOnVruPeu5SB5NzBpUOTX5syT8il1RrRH-c86FQ-WD5nlzq46H43DNbVg/s3917/dadpike2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2866" data-original-width="3917" height="293" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2PmkIFSvFPhaSaaVJmJo8VmcmUKMLZ6BnoSyAOv1Ih_uFNm019Zhodlq9sPGTC8VQp4SPzYG1rRMANTPNOYXHZQlOEwyWJL5tCDhb8-3_sncYXvLc3oj8MMJoYsP2fWXh2NOnVruPeu5SB5NzBpUOTX5syT8il1RrRH-c86FQ-WD5nlzq46H43DNbVg/w400-h293/dadpike2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><p></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">He had won a swimbait in a charity raffle. I don’t know a damn thing about swimbaits, but I asked around. It was a 3:16 bait and apparently retailed for $150. This perfect bait for pike fishing he refused to cast, due to the potential financial impact of losing it. “What about jerk baits?,” he said. “ Maybe they’d eat a perch looking lure, Dad?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">We considered this but collectively decided that the Slug-Go would be the best bet. A properly tied pike fly with a Buford-style head behaves just like a Slug-Go. That side-to-side sway, so sexy in the water. Steve and I felt it best to keep the soft-plastic on, for now. The window was open, and we were scoring fish with my presentation on the fly rod. The Slug-Go acted like the flies I was using so we stuck with it. We fished on.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">It got slow, and I could tell River was tired. We had woken and left early, and through the afternoon we had fished hard. He sat for a while, quiet, had a snack. Did some more fishing, reeled behind his back for shits and giggles, bombed casts, kept fishing. But the early luck had run dry. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidhGm7I5liGF1H2muK_voepZ5AQCfz4QbRpaaby7Mjnj2P3GSAMAx5GK1pkQd85MyvaztlJJy2-AlHZyGQidxFJMf1_4M96u74DnK__Y8k2aXPDmwrpS9SqU-Sg0FaJXU_6ObCTQqwxnhqDUdRk-gkOM9Jn1YMkHIDUpPFEd93__E82dUGoweXQBbdYQ/s3932/riverchucking.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2765" data-original-width="3932" height="281" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidhGm7I5liGF1H2muK_voepZ5AQCfz4QbRpaaby7Mjnj2P3GSAMAx5GK1pkQd85MyvaztlJJy2-AlHZyGQidxFJMf1_4M96u74DnK__Y8k2aXPDmwrpS9SqU-Sg0FaJXU_6ObCTQqwxnhqDUdRk-gkOM9Jn1YMkHIDUpPFEd93__E82dUGoweXQBbdYQ/w400-h281/riverchucking.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><p></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I was fishing the B sides of the water, when I was fishing at all, gladly giving River the preferred lies. I really enjoy just watching him fish, and I wanted him to get a pike. I already had a pair.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">As his energy level dropped even lower, we anchored up on a long slow bend in the current with a dying weed bed on the inside edge. “Ok, little buddy,” I said. “Let’s make it happen.”. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">After hours with the pink Slug-Go, he was determined to try a new approach. He rummaged in his backpack for a lure that had come in his Mystery Tackle Box that month. He held up a two-inch rubber paddle tail grub in a sunfish pattern. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“This is the one,” he said.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Are you sure, buddy?,” I answered. “That one?” I sort of looked at Steve side-eyed here. It was just a little thing, definitely a decent little bass bait, but Steve could tell how bad I wanted him to get a pike and this selection didn’t seem to fit the bill. I pulled back, and placed trust. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Ok, if you say so,” I relented in a sigh. It wouldn’t work, I thought, but he had faith. Steve tied the tiny lure on to a length of bite tippet. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Now at this weed bed, he insisted I fish as well. No more sitting around, Daddy. We’re on a fishing trip! So, both of us went to work on the weed bed.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I knew there was a fish there, and I felt pretty certain I was going to get it since he was forcing me to fish and I felt pretty confident in my presentation by this point. These pike, I knew they were eating. River pitched the weighted bait into the weeds. I started to work slightly downstream of them.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">On a pike float, when it comes, it just mesmerizes the whole boat. And suddenly, it came. River made his usual utterance, “Got ‘em.” I turned to watch, was this a snag? </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I saw motion in the weed bed, something was there. He had a decent amount of line out, and the bend in the rod told me this was a decent fish. I thought it was a good bass. But then I saw it flash in the water as it ran, free of the weeds. No, this was a pike. It got serious, real quick.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">He fought that fish well, gave it no chance really, and licked it quick. He did well, and we all began screaming when the pike was netted. “What’d you catch!?, I yelled.”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“LET’S GO!,” he screamed back. “I caught a ginormous pike on a lure that my Dad didn’t think would work!”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">They know, they always know. What we show them we must show wisely as they are always seeing and always learning. We must trust them to follow but walk on their own two feet. We must tread carefully as they will certainly follow. When we’re too tired, they’ll carry us as we would them. But it is best that we walk together. We must trust them and trust ourselves to teach well and learn hand in hand. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">River’s fish was bigger than either of the two I had caught. A proud moment for me, watching Steve hand him the fish. He knew how to slide his hand below its gill to grip the bony structure there. He supported it and grinned for the photos. Steve held the fish up current and we all watched it regain its strength. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMBwOGee7LZIqhPZPLWuXWJ1wrD9CHPqLkR0w_22KVa9NkCU6EPF9z_vDmVfxReMPaZVq_zxLxMg_44NcgqNwoL3bvSm__yIcHvbF16oYGFdEHwz_nCsQF9pW7hTnAckpN3gDb5MsZlioO5GuD7FdW8NUVG_cHcT1BriuTHFsvd4BigVP-94lomWb4vg/s3925/riverfirstpike.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2864" data-original-width="3925" height="291" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMBwOGee7LZIqhPZPLWuXWJ1wrD9CHPqLkR0w_22KVa9NkCU6EPF9z_vDmVfxReMPaZVq_zxLxMg_44NcgqNwoL3bvSm__yIcHvbF16oYGFdEHwz_nCsQF9pW7hTnAckpN3gDb5MsZlioO5GuD7FdW8NUVG_cHcT1BriuTHFsvd4BigVP-94lomWb4vg/w400-h291/riverfirstpike.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><p></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">We grew quiet. He called it a dinosaur. The beautiful fish steadied itself. “I told you that that was a good idea,” he whispered.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“You know, I’m not gonna lie…,” I couldn’t finish as I broke out laughing. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Steve said through his own laughter, “I know. I know. I saw you watching him.”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">We retired the lure, and now it was his turn to sit back and watch me. He had an unforgettable look on his face. Now, not to toot my own horn, but with the monkey off his back I felt free to get as many more as I could. The window was clearly still open. So I did, and ended the day with four pike, but who's counting really? River didn’t get another one on the pink Slug-Go, but we surely weren’t fishing the two-inch paddle tail. That lure is up on his bookshelf right now.</span></p><p></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">As we drove home, he fell soundly asleep in the seat beside me. The cool fall air outside, the warmth of the car’s heater within, a belly full of fast food. Maybe he dreamed of dinosaurs? When I finally slept, I didn’t dream of nothing but the wisdom and faith of a child.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKfN2hz7FGMcHLv_67GSBUGaqXlxYlLfI7JG06eDmKG-v2PUIOZJk93C38eTSy4uksusNKD5hMtDdjtNqRFOxZJwKCpup5uTn9siVcZ4AaWeDAGXyY4K7ffOF9YRefZ-OGgMkLGAReDkyvIJWSqiHY7DWPlpef2py-BtHROH_tjocDaOxSOdvyZUYckQ/s3893/riversatisfied.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2919" data-original-width="3893" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKfN2hz7FGMcHLv_67GSBUGaqXlxYlLfI7JG06eDmKG-v2PUIOZJk93C38eTSy4uksusNKD5hMtDdjtNqRFOxZJwKCpup5uTn9siVcZ4AaWeDAGXyY4K7ffOF9YRefZ-OGgMkLGAReDkyvIJWSqiHY7DWPlpef2py-BtHROH_tjocDaOxSOdvyZUYckQ/w400-h300/riversatisfied.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><p></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_EN27NftX0lGLZzy69lMv5cU6w2bvExmICiCwuc3__Te3qrlDuiFKIvH0NpK8HiOp63oizYy5s8t-yAfli9eZGvF4LT3EKuXbTzdesObethoxq_ilLbLI9AMKuKw8u5dD-vcO4ABSE4RA6NyKaTuT3P7_ocpD4xpz1xchYCeiFy8pYXtKX2y2IpuNKQ/s3885/menthisguy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2849" data-original-width="3885" height="294" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_EN27NftX0lGLZzy69lMv5cU6w2bvExmICiCwuc3__Te3qrlDuiFKIvH0NpK8HiOp63oizYy5s8t-yAfli9eZGvF4LT3EKuXbTzdesObethoxq_ilLbLI9AMKuKw8u5dD-vcO4ABSE4RA6NyKaTuT3P7_ocpD4xpz1xchYCeiFy8pYXtKX2y2IpuNKQ/w400-h294/menthisguy.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><p></p></span>Kierran Broatchhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10540948886211980207noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8118161382637787952.post-55075600364302757022022-05-26T20:37:00.002-04:002022-05-26T20:42:28.979-04:00ocular violence<p style="text-align: justify;"><i><span style="font-size: medium;">Editor's Note: Chad Wilde is a gifted writer and good friend. From time to time, I am fortunate to showcase his work here on The Connecticut Yankee. This is the second of a three-story series. Thanks for taking time to read it. </span></i></p><span id="docs-internal-guid-882bb28b-7fff-66f6-5de7-559375cc2684"><div style="text-align: justify;"><i><br /></i></div><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">At the theater, there is a marked feeling of anticipation. Gatherings, and rustling. Meeting one another, before the show, below the marquee with the light above glowing down to announce the attraction. For us, the theater is the boat launch on the Housatonic River, and soon we’ll be seated for the show. A pike float.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">There, among our stretched lives, are moments that bond relationships. These moments, our classics, are forged from our shared passions and our enactment of them together. Our summa’s and alphas. Our omegas. And when the codas of our lives swim into focus and the sounds of the world hush to everything, we are left with nothing else to hear. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">We find our places, as Pogo engages the jet and the boat departs upriver from which we will begin the float. We enter and take our places in the house. And at the theater, we speak to one another. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVkR_NjNTYj12cDIHhaVJoMpZFWpFVRZn5f5-OcjFxRfUMh5sH-JoW8x0XXJ5YNYhfOhQtEJzSVs37OXcGctveaxTU9BXNX7v1vOfiyN-kr4S7NMHhEfvTgBkQ94wvb5H8npgy-ugSO_YEKlL7JuuTGAYk-0Ppa6nUtN3VH6Q16vGoy1tbJM7UzRHYDg/s3200/upriver2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2321" data-original-width="3200" height="290" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVkR_NjNTYj12cDIHhaVJoMpZFWpFVRZn5f5-OcjFxRfUMh5sH-JoW8x0XXJ5YNYhfOhQtEJzSVs37OXcGctveaxTU9BXNX7v1vOfiyN-kr4S7NMHhEfvTgBkQ94wvb5H8npgy-ugSO_YEKlL7JuuTGAYk-0Ppa6nUtN3VH6Q16vGoy1tbJM7UzRHYDg/w400-h290/upriver2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><p></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The early part of the drift is the gathering, the excitement and anticipation. Discussions of the players in these events to come, the sheer drama of them. We catch up, we don’t see each other often, and our chatter is warm. We are excited. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Me and Aaron, we aren’t exactly slouches, we’re not great either, but we pass the mustard, so Pogo has little actual guiding to do save the navigation of the boat. This is finding your seat; and preparing for the performance to come there in the theater of our minds. Getting comfortable. </span></p><div><span><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjv19dojV-uaBAcNcR0NZwoJmtNiTuaWH34mz0ehfuFdsSdWI2k8v3hEYeeoew6V42vway2eKMA89VnZUGfTklbKgOOw_N_E4Kw6t8-t1ejRpU97U5q16tLB9sqAVnxx85im2JZgXc-uIvQgaWx-qDQkWgZsTcEGCnIeaXoTH6u3woCZF7cNfVOm-BADQ/s3200/pileoflies2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2400" data-original-width="3200" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjv19dojV-uaBAcNcR0NZwoJmtNiTuaWH34mz0ehfuFdsSdWI2k8v3hEYeeoew6V42vway2eKMA89VnZUGfTklbKgOOw_N_E4Kw6t8-t1ejRpU97U5q16tLB9sqAVnxx85im2JZgXc-uIvQgaWx-qDQkWgZsTcEGCnIeaXoTH6u3woCZF7cNfVOm-BADQ/w400-h300/pileoflies2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div></div><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">As the drift progresses, there comes less conversation, more anticipation, a heightened focus since it is going to happen. A nice quiet, not uncomfortable. And in the draining of sounds there, we kick back and luxuriate. The only sound left, the subtle stroke of the oars through the water. Here, we get ready for the show, we begin fishing with concentration.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">And afterwards we maybe look to each-other, those who attended the same events, those in the know who have heard the same sounds, seen the same sights, and we may say: Did you see that? Our classics.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">We collectively lower voices, our breaths bated, as the lights flicker on and off. And then the lights go down gently as the curtain waves from some bustling behind. And there, in the calm quiet of it all, the curtains finally open and all murmurs hush. The music begins.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">And the setting is the very end of the Berkshires, the rolling green hills, the deep bends in the river as it cuts through southern New England. The laydowns, old deadwood, the edges of weed beds, the slow motion of the current. The clay banks, where small birds nest and flitter from, off across the fields below the hills. It is a lovely stage, well set. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Punching the pike fly up tight, a good cast. Soft advice; rod tip in the water, from the director. The tan fly sinks into the flow through a slow three-count and the show truly now begins. The fly quarters out on the first strip, teases and curtsies. The curtain, it begins to draw apart.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5sfYiqwEr_fpI751a60exO-FFv_kydzCpkFRoy9e_J7yyGXX7HMcDYHn9Z-eyCDgsWc0RQ2dfi-fw91yfwJT8cG8JOBLzC27LbhqcUqhajZabqR-WeZ4tHitE5V-yk-oMpQby8qzIPsLRxgD5or9aD1fOQIi6YZ3u_IFuIDAv8H7Ag-B9QgQ_I_e-cw/s3199/aaroncasting.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2275" data-original-width="3199" height="285" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5sfYiqwEr_fpI751a60exO-FFv_kydzCpkFRoy9e_J7yyGXX7HMcDYHn9Z-eyCDgsWc0RQ2dfi-fw91yfwJT8cG8JOBLzC27LbhqcUqhajZabqR-WeZ4tHitE5V-yk-oMpQby8qzIPsLRxgD5or9aD1fOQIi6YZ3u_IFuIDAv8H7Ag-B9QgQ_I_e-cw/w400-h285/aaroncasting.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><p></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Three strips in and 18-inches deep the articulated fly takes a perceptible alteration of path following downstream just where the drop off falls to channel, it is still visible. And it kicks as the strip is ready to pull again on my fingers, and the curtain is fully open.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The fly speaks its preamble. I am femme-fatale, I am deathly pale in the tannic water. I am the damsel, dancing. I am distress. Drunk athletic and loose of limb. I am the dying baitfish, it says. Come take me.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">A classic. One you can talk about years later. The performance, itself. Heading into a show, you know the players. You know whose presence and action on the stage will set the memory. And you wait for the climactic moment, the chaos of reveal. The moment the antihero appears guns blazing and the fight kicks in. John Fucking Wick and Jesse Fucking James. Perfect choreographing of the dance. The fly; retrieved and briefly figure-eighted below the gunwales. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZjfQoLrOBq7arxLUX6ZWGU7d0TUD-lUKCQbWISsEdSccygAk6VqpQExnbYh7ONYSjBCMH5dnlxNj15CBQbMEjc_eRgNCgbXZTSxu619LzqmlDVdzniC4XSbKC-D_inHC6SvvJH4SdpLU39gxDetMS5yGvHTYHqp9P5O-e4q8k3Mz_bYsJrUu9igq3Nw/s3113/pileoflies.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2383" data-original-width="3113" height="306" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZjfQoLrOBq7arxLUX6ZWGU7d0TUD-lUKCQbWISsEdSccygAk6VqpQExnbYh7ONYSjBCMH5dnlxNj15CBQbMEjc_eRgNCgbXZTSxu619LzqmlDVdzniC4XSbKC-D_inHC6SvvJH4SdpLU39gxDetMS5yGvHTYHqp9P5O-e4q8k3Mz_bYsJrUu9igq3Nw/w400-h306/pileoflies.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><p></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Plots, they never thin. They only thicken. And the more often the fly pulls from the water, into the back cast, and then shot out to the bank to repeat its shifting flow into the retrieve, the more this plot does thicken. Each new spot we pull up on, this is the scene for the climax. This is the place. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The silence of the theater. The hiss of the fly line, rhythmic through two back casts, and then the longer, sibilate sound of it shooting through the guides and perfectly tucked tight to the target, here an upstream blowdown. All gnarled tree limbs and crags disappearing below the bourbon-colored water. A perfect spot. A perfect cast.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOGMI-FxbL5OcXTEww4LJM61GVv2rMzaFfqSOI_0LpftLdFh19OdJLGJxIemMZUMqTOL-p5DWttsExdeaFdZfCuvyuQW-gvnRHsBxcTOnTVOafBt9ZlT9M5rYozdYKdu05aZhoCZ-o46ZoxpNHuJ2vh4sTGierPu9y61pV6BuJy8tmn2s1v6eer5z-Ow/s3090/pogo.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2199" data-original-width="3090" height="285" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOGMI-FxbL5OcXTEww4LJM61GVv2rMzaFfqSOI_0LpftLdFh19OdJLGJxIemMZUMqTOL-p5DWttsExdeaFdZfCuvyuQW-gvnRHsBxcTOnTVOafBt9ZlT9M5rYozdYKdu05aZhoCZ-o46ZoxpNHuJ2vh4sTGierPu9y61pV6BuJy8tmn2s1v6eer5z-Ow/w400-h285/pogo.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><p></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The director, from the rower’s seat, speaks quietly, saying, Nice. The highest of compliments. And the dance begins. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br /></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Come take me, I am failing here, I am swimming but I tire. See how I palpitate and quiver. I turn tenderly, expose myself to you that follows: the antihero hidden. The following star. The fly is irresistible. And it is now time. That which we have come to see enters the stage.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">A Northern Pike in perfect profile arching and engulfing the fly from behind, just as you prepped to take the next strip of the line, and when you are in best contact with the fly. And you watch the moment of grace. The ocular violence occurs before your widening eyes. The show has begun. The flash of its movement, when all that it is, its purpose revealed, is just mouth and teeth and eat. That hit is like a drug, and addicts find addicts. Imperceptibly, we all see the show go down. We share.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Something has happened. There it is.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">This pike has taken the fly with an incredible urgency, and once taken it seems to pause in the mind’s eye. It does pause there, ponderously. All the world gone but this and you saw it all with your own two eyes. Internally, a gasp choked back as you prepare for the drama. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The fish turns, it moves back upriver to the blowdown from which we are drifting. And your strip set hits perfect, this time, and the line goes ever so tight. The rod tip leaves the water arching and bending to the opposing weight. There it is, you say aloud, a rapt audience. The fight is on. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Then, the head shakes. It makes desperate runs. It is a brawling fight. A remarkably long minute, if that. It’s longer if you get a hot one. You do what you can to land the fish. It is apex hunting. Big game hunting. It doesn’t always work out. There are sad classics after all. The drama, the plot, is thick.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Every predator fish risen, is a great thing and to land them is electric. And in that electricity, you can meld yourself to other people privy to the same surging current. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The space between happy classic and sad classic is razor thin. For all of us. You are looking for it, that connection with a predator. You all are. You want the ocular violence so badly and you are so grateful when it comes. This can weld steel between us, either way. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">It doesn’t happen every time, a great show. But the activity of taking in the culture more than makes up for viewing a so-so production. But not this time, this one is a classic.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Pogo has the net ready as the fish boils the surface and makes a run below the boat. Leaning into its performance, you give but make the fish earn it. Its tail sweeping it away below the visibility line. Then, back to view, and spent. On its side slightly, but always, you know, it is gathering its strength to run again. The show has to end. The net slides under and once contained, the fish kicks violently against its hold, all gnashing and swirling. But beaten there. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdbe1evi2v9JKRaj7Yq73m2dnymHHERh_DTdtoBokbSS23yAhDyT6pZubID7LHpr4RtTjPz_USIh8LgshODsLG2noRBrR7Jfm0PoC8GmhL_y0ImjDkDGWk2AD6lSoN17TiKeLWB_1okWB2BY3kqkKg6JQl-B_vqMYwzfNyq0Kwt-RefwWrwBXTpWHaAA/s3023/greatnterrible2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2072" data-original-width="3023" height="274" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdbe1evi2v9JKRaj7Yq73m2dnymHHERh_DTdtoBokbSS23yAhDyT6pZubID7LHpr4RtTjPz_USIh8LgshODsLG2noRBrR7Jfm0PoC8GmhL_y0ImjDkDGWk2AD6lSoN17TiKeLWB_1okWB2BY3kqkKg6JQl-B_vqMYwzfNyq0Kwt-RefwWrwBXTpWHaAA/w400-h274/greatnterrible2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwPc_e7xgd6u0-aGjRO997X-CbExQCIhL_B1fD-qnOtS1gKNUb6BkksJj3u_82KDyN7uhhTcyBgvZ04nU4qx-EQkwFQnkDPUon5zlRI_S9CERmcI6GDXRWpOOh6efX1p4vNx9J_lYX-zXu28OFK1shI5p-ZyGNgHEKy3B8vcllwx1r6aV-Ri9KY8a0XA/s3076/greatnterrible.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2357" data-original-width="3076" height="306" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwPc_e7xgd6u0-aGjRO997X-CbExQCIhL_B1fD-qnOtS1gKNUb6BkksJj3u_82KDyN7uhhTcyBgvZ04nU4qx-EQkwFQnkDPUon5zlRI_S9CERmcI6GDXRWpOOh6efX1p4vNx9J_lYX-zXu28OFK1shI5p-ZyGNgHEKy3B8vcllwx1r6aV-Ri9KY8a0XA/w400-h306/greatnterrible.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">At those climax moments, when we sit on the edge of the seat and wait for the resolution, we are all indebted emotionally in this show. Invested. Years later, in our easy chairs, together we clink our glasses and toast to the true classics, we lean in towards each other and ask, “Do you remember that?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Another show has run the course. The boat’s comfortable silence is replaced by our applause and adulation for the performance. With plyers, removing the hook from the corner jaw. Holding it, the memory, in a standing acclimation as the flashbulb pops and it is preserved for memorialization. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The hero bows. Placated, and spent. You hold its tail with a hand below to support its belly. You hold it upstream until the languid sweep and kick of the fish tells it is strong enough to be taken away from you, for now. And it slowly moves off from your hands, it dreamily disappears. Back stage again, heading right back to the blowdown from whence it came. And you swish your hands in the cool brown water.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Standing back up, in ovation, grinning, asking:</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Did you see that? At the curtains close.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPcA-5GtlB2O-jLhKF6Uykye1I38-aYdNmCBOAVLTJ3Qx_guKyG1NzWGYqn95LhH6iR31h5GL2IKQUJfg9nTFNmTf5SjXakU_5ZM2_399cONZ-w7NeOKao8hD8fFAKTq_x5bim60OTz1lbMubtLXiA3TYjLhR5yY5LLJ9L6z5ajgbge2NiSa1DRczBJw/s3200/pikeface.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2030" data-original-width="3200" height="254" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPcA-5GtlB2O-jLhKF6Uykye1I38-aYdNmCBOAVLTJ3Qx_guKyG1NzWGYqn95LhH6iR31h5GL2IKQUJfg9nTFNmTf5SjXakU_5ZM2_399cONZ-w7NeOKao8hD8fFAKTq_x5bim60OTz1lbMubtLXiA3TYjLhR5yY5LLJ9L6z5ajgbge2NiSa1DRczBJw/w400-h254/pikeface.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIcM4Fqj0qxr-ZwZjhveNab5Gvai2qWvlV8MQmZQyrx8-qHDs3TdwgRlX98Nm-mQzIzibI7GUiIi-fFmNqmX1eC-JYo-eVh9j0_iabKwHtIdm38BusPYT8dlJKjHPTlILZV4sbvmhy1jSa6hQDE3CbWZ8x75T5KAhvBnyFI7U_jru-r5tWZmwQYqJgiQ/s2752/niceview.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1888" data-original-width="2752" height="275" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIcM4Fqj0qxr-ZwZjhveNab5Gvai2qWvlV8MQmZQyrx8-qHDs3TdwgRlX98Nm-mQzIzibI7GUiIi-fFmNqmX1eC-JYo-eVh9j0_iabKwHtIdm38BusPYT8dlJKjHPTlILZV4sbvmhy1jSa6hQDE3CbWZ8x75T5KAhvBnyFI7U_jru-r5tWZmwQYqJgiQ/w400-h275/niceview.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvlQSyB2MX0GcQlfBfp7Om2QAVrntXeokQ0zh402xtxGeZ3BIzwR6XLQm-1ndX1EEgbyRN4rQqvfnJmD5cx-9m6uOJqG4EvQ8Rs1A7aHInv-mvfVTZJUIhyr8wORkShXgZn2CUcRLEq8kOYum5RocvbAKngOBsnpoq5NBDitJgpr0u9NesuNtJiNUccQ/s3200/aaronpike.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2167" data-original-width="3200" height="271" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvlQSyB2MX0GcQlfBfp7Om2QAVrntXeokQ0zh402xtxGeZ3BIzwR6XLQm-1ndX1EEgbyRN4rQqvfnJmD5cx-9m6uOJqG4EvQ8Rs1A7aHInv-mvfVTZJUIhyr8wORkShXgZn2CUcRLEq8kOYum5RocvbAKngOBsnpoq5NBDitJgpr0u9NesuNtJiNUccQ/w400-h271/aaronpike.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><p></p></span>Kierran Broatchhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10540948886211980207noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8118161382637787952.post-9007489328398789672022-04-26T14:12:00.003-04:002022-04-26T16:29:57.468-04:00other people’s fish – jim lawless<p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">Editor’s Note: Chad Wilde is a gifted writer
and good friend. This story, about his late Uncle Jim, is the first in a new series
that Chad is sharing on The Connecticut Yankee. It's a great piece that hits home
for me and may for you, too. Many thanks for reading. <o:p></o:p></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><br /></span></i></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikeJX5JtTVTEZJOJQq_9BRZv74_kNcXs7Nul2ridd-1gcZqtJWXCF0Su2jI6-visELZTTuLJvkFm_-QA9Y5gj0hiyF5h9uijJZlQOCDtHEvHZeODK2jSJ4QBkR-xM1yd4B-OBhQZHVMi6-H47IxIYuEnZNTSyiM28ANUL1iqbnn80mUalcBkdrhbzihQ/s4099/jimandme2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3399" data-original-width="4099" height="331" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikeJX5JtTVTEZJOJQq_9BRZv74_kNcXs7Nul2ridd-1gcZqtJWXCF0Su2jI6-visELZTTuLJvkFm_-QA9Y5gj0hiyF5h9uijJZlQOCDtHEvHZeODK2jSJ4QBkR-xM1yd4B-OBhQZHVMi6-H47IxIYuEnZNTSyiM28ANUL1iqbnn80mUalcBkdrhbzihQ/w400-h331/jimandme2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Most days spent fishing can be swept into an amalgam of
memory.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yes, we go fishing and we either
catch fish or we don’t.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>These are all
good days.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But other days are different
and leave different wakes behind them.</p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Some days, something remarkable happens.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And when the experience moves higher from
commonplace we are left with ringing stories to recall many years later.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They can leave behind something funny, poignant,
or powerful.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>These are the stories you
want to hear told when close by a campfire.<span style="text-align: left;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">For me, I can’t get enough of these tales.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I willingly share mine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But more than sharing, I like to hear others
recall their own great fish stories.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m
good at prodding them forth.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I enjoy
saying things like, ”Hey, tell them about that time”…….and then watching eyes
light up slightly as someone has just had their stage set perfectly for them to
tell a good story.<span style="text-align: left;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">People enjoy telling about their great memories. </p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">I’ve heard some of the stories told by my Uncle and friend,
Jim Lawless many times.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I loved to hear
him tell me about several of great fish he had found himself associated with
through his long life of outdoor pursuits.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="text-align: left;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">We would, perhaps, be at our annual Fishcamp and he would
have a Busch beer in one hand and a White Owl cigar in the other.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Below his push-broom moustache a smile would
creep and I would sit back and listen to a story I had heard before but wanted
all the same to hear again.<o:p></o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5zGOz5ybhcnlbuw2c7rdW27XrwpplfphSm8iT21Qf0JTyEZzAJE8B4l9hJfozC1GwmKr-m5x0b4W_cSqu0KIx7e8t7Liu47fb0EeCKeM8oaV2IKxCv5PwFkqOgiWzMnsMVTloj5MD0Z0m3YQHuHyLkjGA2ayKltdHyf660mUPymxLbR9ilCi9khg7Ow/s3319/jim11.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2319" data-original-width="3319" height="280" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5zGOz5ybhcnlbuw2c7rdW27XrwpplfphSm8iT21Qf0JTyEZzAJE8B4l9hJfozC1GwmKr-m5x0b4W_cSqu0KIx7e8t7Liu47fb0EeCKeM8oaV2IKxCv5PwFkqOgiWzMnsMVTloj5MD0Z0m3YQHuHyLkjGA2ayKltdHyf660mUPymxLbR9ilCi9khg7Ow/w400-h280/jim11.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;">My Uncle Jim was a self-depreciating angler, and among our
group he was known either as “Fishless Jim” or “Camp Squaw.”</span><span style="text-align: left;"> </span><span style="text-align: left;">The former sobriquet given for obvious
reasons, the later truly an expression of appreciation since he always took
good care to ensure our camp was well fed and as comfortable as the weather
would allow.</span><span style="text-align: left;"> </span><span style="text-align: left;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">As an angler, Jim was a bonified worm dunker, passionate ice
fisher, and horrible fly fisher.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But he
wasn’t really always fishless.<span style="text-align: left;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">In thinking of him, I recall words written by Thomas McGuane
about his own father:</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><i style="text-align: left;">“Uncle Ben, was my father a good fisherman?”</i><i style="text-align: left;"><o:p> </o:p></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i>He Smiled and said, “No, Tommy, he was not.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But no one loved it more.”</i> </p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">And this sentiment accurately applies to Jim.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In his life, he took such pleasure from the
streams and still waters of Eastern Connecticut and beyond.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was in his element waded thigh deep in the
Natchaug or Farmington rivers casting for trout, on the ice of West Hill Pond
checking a flag (most likely empty if it was his flag), or in the Adirondack
Mountains with his brother Ted fishing remote ponds for native Brook
Trout.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="text-align: left;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Here are several of his finer stories.<o:p></o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlXZf4UaT-4MWnFpGHqyuVYQkxibXwKFJGR_BbdgAQk1sppe75nT_FSebnSm3zYKQMTdiL44ebrphyay7aO8m-UgWL8ljbuiN3hklelzUNKjMBp4EGHS7z2w3QiveWuvVfyUuU4Zo2KGi0laeZOF4T0Ot3LZsa7xDYF-bHErIO8lmBhkTk7NCw5ZTpjg/s2428/jim12.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1769" data-original-width="2428" height="291" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlXZf4UaT-4MWnFpGHqyuVYQkxibXwKFJGR_BbdgAQk1sppe75nT_FSebnSm3zYKQMTdiL44ebrphyay7aO8m-UgWL8ljbuiN3hklelzUNKjMBp4EGHS7z2w3QiveWuvVfyUuU4Zo2KGi0laeZOF4T0Ot3LZsa7xDYF-bHErIO8lmBhkTk7NCw5ZTpjg/w400-h291/jim12.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p class="MsoNormal"><b>the snob</b> </p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">As mentioned, Jim was a horrible fly fisher. We both took up fly fishing fairly late in
life. While my own fly fishing improved
over time, Jim never truly caught on to it.
He would tell me how proud he was of me in my progress. We both found the medium more art than
leisure and though he never truly got it as a fly fisherman he did own a fly
rod and a small box of flies, which he would occasionally put to use. He would mix in a bit of fly fishing with his
preferred method of dunking worms, but rarely found success. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">He never fully committed to fly fishing, since he was more
comfortable with a spinning rod. “I
never catch anything on my fly rod,” he said to me. </p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">“Jim,” I replied, “you never catch anything on your spinning
rod either.”</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">He laughed, “Well, this is not true. I <i>mostly</i> don’t catch anything on my
spinning rod. Not never.”</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">One day his work brought him to a meeting near the Farmington
River. Jim decided that he would bring
only his fly rod, to remove the temptation of using his more familiar spinning
gear, and after the meeting ended he would go fish the Farmington. He arrived in the afternoon at Peoples State
Forest, rigged up his fly rod and tied on a dry fly which he schmeared with
flotation gunk, donned his waders, and marched into the water. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">In his words, his casting sucked. He didn’t know a damn thing about mending
line, and his drifts were useless. All
the same, he was out there and he was fly fishing. As his fruitless efforts naturally returned
no results another angler arrived, we’ll call him New Guy. <span style="text-align: left;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">This angler was a sharpie according to Jim, or at least Jim
thought he was. This guy had all the fancy
gear, you could tell. He looked exactly
the part of a Farmington River fly angler. <span style="text-align: left;"> </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;">
<span face=""Calibri",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Jim grew a bit self-conscious. He could feel New Guy watching him. Finally, he turned around. New Guy asked him if he minded that he fished
just above where Jim was flogging the water.
Jim, being a solid fellow said of course not. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><p class="MsoNormal">Now what Jim didn’t realize is that New Guy had just ‘high
holed’ him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He pulled a fast one and
committed a breach of angling etiquette.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>This subtle move is certainly frowned upon by those of us who regularly
fly fish, those of us who are not horrible fly fishers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span> </p>
<p class="MsoNormal">New Guy was essentially cutting in line, something that even
second graders know is inappropriate.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The underlying wisdom here is that when fly fishing one generally works
from down river upwards since all trout position themselves facing up
current.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Essentially, you are trying to
creep up behind them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>New Guy had just
deprived Jim of potentially doing so. </p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Jim was glad to be left alone and he continued his usual anticipated
skunking in peace.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He glanced upriver
several times at New Guy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When he did,
he noticed that he was constantly changing flies.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Jim chortled to himself, thinking, You can’t
catch a fish without your fly in the water.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">What Jim didn’t know here is that New Guy was likely
attempting to ‘match the hatch’, and more directly mimic the insect activity
that was taking place. Farmington River
trout can be pretentious in what they are eating, difficult to catch. New Guy was making sophisticated alterations
to his pattern, perhaps downsizing from a 22 to a 24. </p>
<p class="MsoNormal">With all of his amendments to presentation, New Guy’s luck
was no better than Jim’s.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was shaping
up to be one of those fishing trips that no one really remembers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But then, something changed. </p>
<p class="MsoNormal">As Jim casted his line and watched his admittedly shitty
drift a trout rose and dimpled the surface and took his fly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Jim lifted the rod, and lo and behold, found
himself tight to the fish.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He must have
made some commotion, as New Guy began wading down to him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As Jim netted his catch, he was amazed that
it was a Tiger Trout and a fine one at that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span> </p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Together, the two anglers admired the fish, and then Jim released
it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Naturally, New Guy asked what fly
the fish took.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Puzzled, Jim considered
his response here. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span> </p>
<p class="MsoNormal">He told me, “Chad, I really didn’t know what fly it
was.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A Grey Ghost, or whatever.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was just what I had decided to tie on.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Jim looked directly at the New Guy and said honestly, “Trout
fly.” </p>
<p class="MsoNormal">In my personal opinion, a perfect response.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We had a good laugh, Jim and I, the last time
he told me this story.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He said to me, “I
must have sounded like such a snobby bastard.” </p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">For the record, it was an Adams of an undetermined
size.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This unknown detail decided upon
years later thanks to the fact that he compared it to flies found in the bins
of a fly shop, and he had retired the fly that Tiger ate for posterity. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrsL-vrN7LDTIbUapi3-gywx93sVreX4TpZVqA4FydI1Fmdw8EuDLDHtV2GurFwwfwSW6A3rutzUBy5ZKzhQUTBcdJy63e65RtxNNXuq6yX-3Ty8e0nF9n6fQssmFQkA0ntkgZlyj3NRMOQT5sa46goBlVgGEKucawQ9WSSqStwoqvZoDMrGx6tuGNwQ/s2517/Jim2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /><img border="0" data-original-height="1887" data-original-width="2517" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrsL-vrN7LDTIbUapi3-gywx93sVreX4TpZVqA4FydI1Fmdw8EuDLDHtV2GurFwwfwSW6A3rutzUBy5ZKzhQUTBcdJy63e65RtxNNXuq6yX-3Ty8e0nF9n6fQssmFQkA0ntkgZlyj3NRMOQT5sa46goBlVgGEKucawQ9WSSqStwoqvZoDMrGx6tuGNwQ/w400-h300/Jim2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p class="MsoNormal"><b>brad somehow caught it</b> </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Jim and his brother Ted were quite fond of the Adirondack
Mountains and began in 1983 to take annual pilgrimages to the area on or about
Memorial Day weekend to fish a series of remote Trout ponds in a wilderness
area in the region. They had no clue at
first what they were doing, but they had a map and a 1972 Dodge Tradesman van
that had been converted into something of a make-shift camper van, they had a
flat-bottomed boat, worms they’d dug up at home, and plenty of beer.<span style="text-align: left;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">The wilderness area they arrived at was certainly not a
luxury campground. At best, you were
allotted a nasty outhouse and a beat-up old picnic table, but it was free
camping so it fit the budget. Their
early trips were largely unsuccessful, and it was a pain in the ass to drag the
flat-bottomed boat to a featureless disc of water where they would troll worms
behind wobblers and swill beer. But it
was a trip these brothers took yearly, and gradually they found waters that
produced fish. </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">And they would take these fish, Brook Trout with vibrant
pink flesh, to eat. And they would fry
them and serve them with baked beans and home fried potatoes. And they would share time together, and drink
beer. </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">When a thunderstorm blew up one day, they were forced to
retreat to shore, dock the boat, and seek shelter. They found enormous boulders uphill from the pond
leaning together forming a sort of cave.
It wasn’t much, but it allowed enough of a dry place to build a small fire
and wait it out, while drinking more beer.
Good times to be shared. </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">In later years, they began to invite others on their annual
trip. And one year they invited some guy
named Brad. The thing was, Brad wasn’t a
great fisherman. And if Jim made this
claim, which he did to me every time he told me this story, he must have truly
been god awful. Since the flat-bottomed
boat wasn’t large, they decided to leave Brad on shore while Jim and Ted took
to their usual routine of rowing in turns and trolling whatever pond they had
gone to this fateful day. </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Brad wasn’t mad at them.
He took his low rent fishing pole, a six pack of beer, and a pack of
smokes and carefully proceeded to creep out onto a fallen tree that laid in the
water. Here, he sat down crossed legged
and began chain smoking, drinking beer, and doing what fishing he could while
Jim and Ted fished the pond proper from the boat.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">After a while, Brad began screaming at the top of his lungs. Jim and Ted immediately rowed their boat to the log he was positioned on assuming he had impaled a finger on a hook or fallen victim to some other calamity. But no, Brad was hooked into an immense fish.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">“Chad,” Jim told me, “I have no idea how he caught that fish. The log he was on had all sorts of limbs and shit in the water below. His pole was a K-Mart special and his line had to be years old. How that fish didn’t find one of those snags or otherwise break him off, I have no idea. But he landed it, without a net.” </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">“How big was it?” I
ask, but I already know. </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">"A 29-inch Brown Trout," Jim said. "And to make it more complex, how the hell did a Brown Trout get into this remote Brookie pond anyhow? That thing must have eaten so many Brookies that we should have been eating!"</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">They had a camera with them, and I’ve seen with my own two
eyes that gigantic Brown Trout. Brad’s
finger stuck unceremoniously through the gills of the fish, holding it up like
the trophy that it was. All the better
dead, that fish. However the hell that
massive Brown got into that pond didn’t matter anymore, it would eat no more native
Brook Trout.<span style="text-align: left;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh57Y4h6aiQVSuIpAwBL6pbwonIy1Vm-QQ8WaLxF-MxM3-iaM-80tt0J1k1Jh4mSRO25jokbswrdGY6lrFKkxMvk38Af8LGSKYFxJpDJ6Ihn1KqA3sFZ_yfuHGoHL5LPwGpclowKUm-2J_0KRlovFxedNPmbFGkCKM9oFKbvy76HlJakxGx5Zz6UG2J6A/s4497/jimandme5.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3311" data-original-width="4497" height="295" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh57Y4h6aiQVSuIpAwBL6pbwonIy1Vm-QQ8WaLxF-MxM3-iaM-80tt0J1k1Jh4mSRO25jokbswrdGY6lrFKkxMvk38Af8LGSKYFxJpDJ6Ihn1KqA3sFZ_yfuHGoHL5LPwGpclowKUm-2J_0KRlovFxedNPmbFGkCKM9oFKbvy76HlJakxGx5Zz6UG2J6A/w400-h295/jimandme5.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><b>jim got a flag<o:p></o:p></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Jim was an avid ice fisherman. Many times, I have enjoyed sharing the ice
with him. While he rarely caught a fish,
he made a mean breakfast sandwich. As
“Camp Squaw,” Jim was always well organized and well prepared. He’d tell you that the key to a good Clam
Chowder while ice fishing was to bring a couple extra cans of diced clams to
add to the soup. He is dead on in this
assessment. </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">In the 1970s, Jim’s father, his brother Ted, and Uncle Jerry
took up ice fishing. Naturally, Jim
joined them, interested in this new novelty that would force these men outdoors
in the harsh New England winter and jam them together in a homemade ice shanty. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">The shanty was cobbled together from plywood and a series of
hinges that allowed it to be folded for transportation and erected on the
ice. It was heavy as hell, and rickety
to boot. It didn’t do much to provide
warmth but at the very least it broke the wind and gave some basic modicum of
relief from the elements to allow for proper beer drinking. He would bring his dog, Sunset, an Irish
Setter, and the poor dog would lay there shivering on the ice while all the
flags stayed down and the men drank beer while waiting for them to go up.<span style="text-align: left;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Eventually, Jim obtained his own gear and the shanty fell
into utter disrepair and thus by the wayside.
He continued ice fishing and a favorite spot of his was West Hill
Pond. I went with him several times. On one occasion prior to the trip I recall
asking him how the fishing had been of late since I don’t regularly fish the
pond. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">“Oh, very, very poor,” he told me. </p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">To me, this was fine since I’d be going with my Uncle and friend
and I was sure he’d be making something delicious to eat. We got skunked, the fishing was indeed very,
very poor. But even the slow days were
sweet. I only remember this day, because
afterwards I stopped at a jewelry store and bought the ring that my wife now
wears on her left hand. </p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">But one day, Jim had different luck on West Hill. The fishing wasn’t very, very poor this day. </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">He was fishing with Ted and their friend Jack. Upon showing up in the morning, to his
chagrin, he realized he had left his fishing license at home. Now Jim was an extremely ethical angler. He
never took more than his limit, and he abided by most of the rules of the
game. On this fateful day, he decided not
to set his tip ups and risk a run in with a warden.<span style="text-align: left;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Really, an easy decision.
Besides not having a copy of his fishing license, it didn’t really
matter after all if he did set his tip ups since he wouldn’t catch anything
anyway. Just less work to do in breaking
down at the end of the day, he reasoned.<span style="text-align: left;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">As the morning wore on, both Ted and Jack were having
luck. Jim started to feel a bit left
out, a bit antsy, so he struck an agreement with Jack. They would alternate flags. First, Jack would take a flag and then on the
next one Jim would fish it. A fair and
equitable solution, and only bending the rules really, no harm no foul since
this day they were practicing catch and release. <span style="text-align: left;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">As Jim’s turn in the rotation came, he and Jack made their
way to the standing flag. Jack held Jim
up, saying that he thought he was going to take this flag. He assured Jim that he would indeed let him
field a flag, but just not this one. He
could absolutely have the next one. Jim
reluctantly agreed. Jack caught a shitty
pickerel. </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;">They sat back down and drank beer.</span><span style="text-align: left;"> </span><span style="text-align: left;">After a while, Jack looked out across the ice
and announced that a flag was up.</span><span style="text-align: left;"> </span><span style="text-align: left;">The
men walked to it, and this one was to be Jim’s turn since Jack had mucked up
their rotation taking the last flag and earning himself a shitty pickerel.</span><span style="text-align: left;"> </span><span style="text-align: left;">When they arrived at the flag, the spool was
spinning quickly.</span><span style="text-align: left;"> </span><span style="text-align: left;">Something had taken
the bait.</span><span style="text-align: left;"> </span><span style="text-align: left;">Jim pulled the trap from the
ice, took up the line, and set the hook.</span><span style="text-align: left;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">He knew instantly that this was no small fish. It felt solid and as it neared the hole in
the ice, this assumption proved true.
When he had landed it, it was the single biggest trout he had ever taken
through the ice. A 19-inch male Brown
Trout. <span style="text-align: left;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal">Jim had a moment of pause here. </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">The fellows had no camera to document the catch. Jim considered that he would take the fish
and have it mounted. But this day, they
were fishing catch and release and he just couldn’t kill such a magnificent
animal. <span style="text-align: left;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Jim told me that in the glistening winter sunlight he had
never seen spots so radiant and lovely, mixed in with the black patterning of
the trout were crimson dots that looked to him as red as fresh blood. It had the sheen of a winter Brown to it,
silver on its shoulders and yellow bellied, its jaw slightly kyped. It was a true work of art as it slipped from
his hands and swam back into the depths of the pond.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">All these years later, I just wished that Jim had decided
otherwise and took what should have been Jack’s fish to be mounted. I’ve never seen that fish, but I feel I have
from the sheer number of times I’ve asked Jim to recount the tale. In my mind’s eye, it is what it had been for
Jim. The prettiest fish either of us had
ever seen. </p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">And while this is good and well, in my heart I’d love to
have seen that fish on his wall where he could have pointed to it and said,
I’ve got a story about that fish.
Fishless Jim, he deserved that mount, but he just couldn’t have killed
such a magnificent animal.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie-8jKGJwDyOGwa8sXoTa3wMi1RMjbMJRGR398pMIb8z9k7JuEfcQcEzgt8gc9aLPm5d61ikpME01LHP-kGsd8a2lwYFNPEfEkukYtAARcZcW1a7tQ279N8NOTIeERUXQHu0lp2FXRO_cVtMsFYK_4Xdtxu7BnKGGUVkqwrHZzY12J34-jOJpI3Cmuxg/s4224/jimandme1.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2976" data-original-width="4224" height="281" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie-8jKGJwDyOGwa8sXoTa3wMi1RMjbMJRGR398pMIb8z9k7JuEfcQcEzgt8gc9aLPm5d61ikpME01LHP-kGsd8a2lwYFNPEfEkukYtAARcZcW1a7tQ279N8NOTIeERUXQHu0lp2FXRO_cVtMsFYK_4Xdtxu7BnKGGUVkqwrHZzY12J34-jOJpI3Cmuxg/w400-h281/jimandme1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p class="MsoNormal"><b>after all</b> </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">My Uncle and friend Jim Lawless passed away last
spring. He had been sick for a while
with Pulmonary Fibrosis. He had survived
a double lung transplant, but he was never the same after. He soldiered on through a variety of ailments
after the transplant. He could no longer
drink beer, and O’Douls just doesn’t taste the same. His kidneys failed eventually and his
condition choked the enjoyment from his life.
He tried as hard as he could, and at the last he just couldn’t drag his
feet to slow the circle down.<span style="text-align: left;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">The last time I saw him fish a river well, on his own two
feet in waders, was in 2016 on the Natchaug River where we had met on a fine
spring day. I saw him catch a number of
Rainbow Trout on worms and an ultra-light spinning set up. I sat back that day on the shore and watched
him in his element for a good long while.
We had a long talk that day, and he wasn’t fishless.<span style="text-align: left;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">At our annual Fishcamp last year, he was a shell of
himself. He was always cold and he
wasn’t as strong as he had been. He had
no energy to fish, and I drove him down to the Natchaug River where he stayed
in the car and watched the current for a while.
A week or so later, he died peacefully at home surrounded by his
daughters and wife.<span style="text-align: left;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">At his funeral, the family had constructed a board with many
photos of Jim through the years. As I
looked at them, I realized how many of those photos I had taken myself, the
fishing photos. I would print them for
Jim, and I think he put them in his fishing photo album. I’m grateful I was there to take so many
pictures with him, and I’m grateful for all the stories he and I traded.<span style="text-align: left;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Jim’s stories, they live on.
As does his memory. And I know
that this year at Fishcamp he’ll be telling them, and drinking beer, with my
own Dad. Out there on the other side of
the Natchaug River, at the campfire we all will someday share.<o:p></o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc9Zu1yGZKyONgwZ7-VZJEiWj3aWGjdjTbOdrzV-u7NOIBRYJyD2mP3yCZnDu7mqM2ui5JMR1hzXoxissHRHx6V7MaKKbmLdbyuXTHB8xS46_SBHECJPxmPJoqCoGaOftONrVj9E7VvV3t-EfIwmli1K4u7-2f68RQ_kE1GU9Yb3WNYBGibEoYHn7oUQ/s2407/Jim1.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1805" data-original-width="2407" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc9Zu1yGZKyONgwZ7-VZJEiWj3aWGjdjTbOdrzV-u7NOIBRYJyD2mP3yCZnDu7mqM2ui5JMR1hzXoxissHRHx6V7MaKKbmLdbyuXTHB8xS46_SBHECJPxmPJoqCoGaOftONrVj9E7VvV3t-EfIwmli1K4u7-2f68RQ_kE1GU9Yb3WNYBGibEoYHn7oUQ/w400-h300/Jim1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih8BTAKYyaH8E2viNOQKEe6M1aUFrYlbSv9YPZtkijy5XEP2DTHckc-k9OFdHka9T_YFujctJxnt7vnC30QckKoJCer-vzIbzC4THr5zrWkYjlBGW0FMAzOZQ72WzjUFIQLo3eF4nakt0P2TL0ZcalnyJwJC19ONdrRIdWMCsLFg_cOGPG10dFeB6Qzg/s4449/Jim6.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3337" data-original-width="4449" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih8BTAKYyaH8E2viNOQKEe6M1aUFrYlbSv9YPZtkijy5XEP2DTHckc-k9OFdHka9T_YFujctJxnt7vnC30QckKoJCer-vzIbzC4THr5zrWkYjlBGW0FMAzOZQ72WzjUFIQLo3eF4nakt0P2TL0ZcalnyJwJC19ONdrRIdWMCsLFg_cOGPG10dFeB6Qzg/w400-h300/Jim6.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz6ZL7-J0kxxrSPjSBp0dfmdzvRUQz9VMzZVoRdASzL5SjYX96wF8u1dNJmWB_wXTsrk3hDHURoCYF6mCI3bFIXZPhkZrGrOrnT9cwf49VAGve2uH2GGjj4r-0cv5GdPqkii6U_R3tXD9OxMaD-1EYKpk7xXmGaJpX4oOsv_-d4FREgqjfLyb4pz2PwQ/s4503/jim9.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3377" data-original-width="4503" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz6ZL7-J0kxxrSPjSBp0dfmdzvRUQz9VMzZVoRdASzL5SjYX96wF8u1dNJmWB_wXTsrk3hDHURoCYF6mCI3bFIXZPhkZrGrOrnT9cwf49VAGve2uH2GGjj4r-0cv5GdPqkii6U_R3tXD9OxMaD-1EYKpk7xXmGaJpX4oOsv_-d4FREgqjfLyb4pz2PwQ/w400-h300/jim9.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBZta4UPDmBcSNGPJcL164ATXX6F1Bk0UFFmwzYOqsmGHocg09CHYOXu57ZEfvO-m1okoc8iAYRo7FOOMlAMUKhA042tUqs-2B9AmTZWj2miCb1piuS9KbYfOItUjT5_Wbx4gUElLt3gLl8p3eTb8Ml5viCk7blR33PF09CCkIelaatRHUgbOduqNfUw/s1974/jimandme4.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1974" data-original-width="1516" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBZta4UPDmBcSNGPJcL164ATXX6F1Bk0UFFmwzYOqsmGHocg09CHYOXu57ZEfvO-m1okoc8iAYRo7FOOMlAMUKhA042tUqs-2B9AmTZWj2miCb1piuS9KbYfOItUjT5_Wbx4gUElLt3gLl8p3eTb8Ml5viCk7blR33PF09CCkIelaatRHUgbOduqNfUw/w308-h400/jimandme4.jpg" width="308" /></a></div><p></p>Kierran Broatchhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10540948886211980207noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8118161382637787952.post-28406650051280578992022-04-10T13:17:00.001-04:002022-04-10T15:35:58.783-04:00Headwaters<p style="text-align: justify;">The first open water fishing I did this year was a pair of trips to a familiar stretch of stream. It's close by and I have high confidence in finding willing wild trout every time I go. On a warm lunch hour in March, I hooked and landed four beautiful browns all from the same riffle. The biggest of the bunch came up for a dry fly, which really made my day. Just over a week later and a mile upstream, I got into a few more quality fish thanks to a piece of hot pink chenille tied on a hook that resembled next to nothing in their diet. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMNy3N2z6w7MIrgmS9ytIE9oW68wMPr9j-2HQE3vt0SbQq93YKv5amOGWtX6tKoeEEDLyxgIwjv3KvsiFL12Ds50Y4HtiwxIFKKJSo3DSpelC6Oz1IdFm3cWSO8ZUNUQP5IVj0Zx8jRGTBSrmol1bFJulfCLlBf0y-9em0j6v7HaoERRqOshRjPCmRWA/s3720/IMG_7397.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2241" data-original-width="3720" height="241" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMNy3N2z6w7MIrgmS9ytIE9oW68wMPr9j-2HQE3vt0SbQq93YKv5amOGWtX6tKoeEEDLyxgIwjv3KvsiFL12Ds50Y4HtiwxIFKKJSo3DSpelC6Oz1IdFm3cWSO8ZUNUQP5IVj0Zx8jRGTBSrmol1bFJulfCLlBf0y-9em0j6v7HaoERRqOshRjPCmRWA/w400-h241/IMG_7397.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAyr6C4LwZ7U_aUxEQsTKCOGLj9nreW5DtejjIejNg6FX3xXMR2C7Cr-emOUbVgxUjHBfUNds4xtE_zuCqIvPHdGwaof9wZO4hTUUT4Pnfq76RJ18C28kJM6Q5TlNJONHmCN4nbP5QgRnEX3XGRKbEjc0-SP4djL_J0by1wjd0hQ7_NfSez8POAtqNMQ/s4032/IMG_7390.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="2583" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAyr6C4LwZ7U_aUxEQsTKCOGLj9nreW5DtejjIejNg6FX3xXMR2C7Cr-emOUbVgxUjHBfUNds4xtE_zuCqIvPHdGwaof9wZO4hTUUT4Pnfq76RJ18C28kJM6Q5TlNJONHmCN4nbP5QgRnEX3XGRKbEjc0-SP4djL_J0by1wjd0hQ7_NfSez8POAtqNMQ/w256-h400/IMG_7390.jpg" width="256" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0xiK34DaM1iv28lq4cssFF0VjG0_oMShgR-iv0NYvb5PLSQTk0MUNS60RFTUSqYO8zBkiNUs2IDx4tHJ5-f9yriVrSNaXgLD1NtO9x_sB6Yv9hBC_OSKkIaQ4-6AqwvuFHXj1bup2dYEuBOa7H_IDoGdavGt4CdELQltx6LFPM3Aj-A04vKGkUsQJUQ/s4031/IMG_7447.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2712" data-original-width="4031" height="269" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0xiK34DaM1iv28lq4cssFF0VjG0_oMShgR-iv0NYvb5PLSQTk0MUNS60RFTUSqYO8zBkiNUs2IDx4tHJ5-f9yriVrSNaXgLD1NtO9x_sB6Yv9hBC_OSKkIaQ4-6AqwvuFHXj1bup2dYEuBOa7H_IDoGdavGt4CdELQltx6LFPM3Aj-A04vKGkUsQJUQ/w400-h269/IMG_7447.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz5pntww8E1c1gprq87LswJBgAAun_RBnBwLuMjzq27EyYlPNfaM8W5kO2nwqq2ySWZzlOFHvyn9kTHGsUUskdPVmUN_aryE-KlJxHEPu1NDRYMtZqTwrTM9VaLtqrrma2X2WaQbICS67d8R78nkQR9MhDbODi2ZGXpZPyaqKqwouBqtHFct3WA_D1UQ/s4032/IMG_7453.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="2755" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz5pntww8E1c1gprq87LswJBgAAun_RBnBwLuMjzq27EyYlPNfaM8W5kO2nwqq2ySWZzlOFHvyn9kTHGsUUskdPVmUN_aryE-KlJxHEPu1NDRYMtZqTwrTM9VaLtqrrma2X2WaQbICS67d8R78nkQR9MhDbODi2ZGXpZPyaqKqwouBqtHFct3WA_D1UQ/w274-h400/IMG_7453.jpg" width="274" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="line-height: 107%;">Over the years, I have explored a good chunk of this watershed, learning a little more of her secrets with each visit.
Yet for as much as I thought I knew about it, there is always more to uncover. During a recent night on the couch with a laptop and Google Earth, I stumbled
upon some new access points north of where I normally fish, a long five miles
upstream. </span></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p></o:p></p></div><div style="text-align: justify;">The following day I found myself along a brand new-to-me section of stream. The waterway was noticeably smaller than the one I knew downstream. It was also fed by natural springs as evidenced by patches of thick vegetation that looked like water cress. I walked the bank just observing for a while. After a few minutes of seeing no life, I finally spotted a trout as it bolted away from me like I was Godzilla. A few more paces and a few more dark shadows darted in the opposite direction. It was clear these fish were easily spooked and I would need a stealthier approach. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFjPQgOmvCE2njkde1KMMGY2v9m1RyXsMFRA5W0MzfB9QnamH_w7Bw6s_8day0ITMAhb60lzTNOQ1q5a8xiVjgmYuwM9xereHZPxg8wnc0IwSkQVRUw5L7zTZ-r6LRY16yatiJ4xy4zz_sHMxczTvVjwQwZeejTR-alQDGGtpR7j5hl3_BCB46GgqDMw/s4032/IMG_7493.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFjPQgOmvCE2njkde1KMMGY2v9m1RyXsMFRA5W0MzfB9QnamH_w7Bw6s_8day0ITMAhb60lzTNOQ1q5a8xiVjgmYuwM9xereHZPxg8wnc0IwSkQVRUw5L7zTZ-r6LRY16yatiJ4xy4zz_sHMxczTvVjwQwZeejTR-alQDGGtpR7j5hl3_BCB46GgqDMw/w400-h300/IMG_7493.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: justify;">Eventually I snuck up to a pool that looked like it could hold some trout. On the first drift with a dry-dropper, something grabbed my nymph. I pulled tight and a small fish somersaulted across the surface and shook off before coming to my hand. Over the next several drifts, native brook trout of varying size took turns attacking the dry fly and pheasant tail below it. Finally I was able to cup one in my hand for quick documentation. That single pool must have harbored at least two dozen brookies. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEietLIfic9xjQ_Mb3UPKhiCuPZwtqCCqTXC__EBglWVERVwt66qIuznskTTx8Er-bXna3_rSA3ijjjhe20JzptEGaqV-PmNVuspPa2F8jWqhzHQrpX3lRAS7LgpRlit4rrmQ2Uxsi4VFd-peNwJe3qTnBjGM0nUygzM6u-YyPHWFpgrGY7z2QWe1HOJRw/s4032/IMG_7497.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEietLIfic9xjQ_Mb3UPKhiCuPZwtqCCqTXC__EBglWVERVwt66qIuznskTTx8Er-bXna3_rSA3ijjjhe20JzptEGaqV-PmNVuspPa2F8jWqhzHQrpX3lRAS7LgpRlit4rrmQ2Uxsi4VFd-peNwJe3qTnBjGM0nUygzM6u-YyPHWFpgrGY7z2QWe1HOJRw/w300-h400/IMG_7497.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimLjbsl41KecWdbaJn012N6WDArlXoMhMDeM2-UtQxRE6DGrM6jCs4l4fIQaxzm6lFzdyfzbEACsB-fKGJ9gizLiGYln0FrMMNWMjDwPDJcOZqUD_YsH-0j_TsqInoZEJfCXx9cuk2spskrSN4ivYRIS-nfOOJKV48vyWZ13hGoTLLnwNbEHpSZDzcbQ/s3637/IMG_7498.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3637" data-original-width="2920" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimLjbsl41KecWdbaJn012N6WDArlXoMhMDeM2-UtQxRE6DGrM6jCs4l4fIQaxzm6lFzdyfzbEACsB-fKGJ9gizLiGYln0FrMMNWMjDwPDJcOZqUD_YsH-0j_TsqInoZEJfCXx9cuk2spskrSN4ivYRIS-nfOOJKV48vyWZ13hGoTLLnwNbEHpSZDzcbQ/w321-h400/IMG_7498.jpg" width="321" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: justify;">Fifty yards further I stopped at another run and experienced similar results. It was like this was the first time these fish ever saw bugs. Interestingly they were all brook trout and the lower section of the stream was predominately brown trout. The scouting trip was a success and just the tip of the iceberg. So much more water and woods to explore, all seemingly unspoiled and uncrowded. Sometimes in pays to do a little research and break away from the comfort zones on our favorite rivers and streams. </div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTdTKVfKrjdsjEFlPxiWv6m4yLUnv7OhiXoRhHIslN8hLl4T0-u5AzeZ1l34kJQsbg0TwEifN3YrbZ40TJ8CkHc9m2GYJUhEbWFj6H5sPiyH0BI-QkP7VT2jsV3uuLDbPQbEuDy7wwxhb6wqwfvjeGqqnhMlsFHc8OTFRCH7YzZZPw5l_UDCUTwmx2wA/s4032/IMG_7486.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTdTKVfKrjdsjEFlPxiWv6m4yLUnv7OhiXoRhHIslN8hLl4T0-u5AzeZ1l34kJQsbg0TwEifN3YrbZ40TJ8CkHc9m2GYJUhEbWFj6H5sPiyH0BI-QkP7VT2jsV3uuLDbPQbEuDy7wwxhb6wqwfvjeGqqnhMlsFHc8OTFRCH7YzZZPw5l_UDCUTwmx2wA/w400-h300/IMG_7486.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE4YRV00aV7YvgoFgzV8gjmmMkliUwcyv0PJUASa_TZK_8RUHmxyJxJON8hqHopsUV-zRrx-sklI9RVJwiyJT4WtyTQI_otdjfk0MAIlXfjKQhnk72Zuk-0fOZhwaq8crBy8tASd3Gka7K4n5-GB4FP1MA9Xh1uiQ6GnOrRHbPLZTHEzZSiw_65HxBbw/s4032/IMG_7402.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE4YRV00aV7YvgoFgzV8gjmmMkliUwcyv0PJUASa_TZK_8RUHmxyJxJON8hqHopsUV-zRrx-sklI9RVJwiyJT4WtyTQI_otdjfk0MAIlXfjKQhnk72Zuk-0fOZhwaq8crBy8tASd3Gka7K4n5-GB4FP1MA9Xh1uiQ6GnOrRHbPLZTHEzZSiw_65HxBbw/w400-h300/IMG_7402.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>Kierran Broatchhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10540948886211980207noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8118161382637787952.post-77915854514839196472022-03-13T18:22:00.005-04:002022-03-14T08:45:34.787-04:00Farewell & Adieu<p style="text-align: justify;">Red-winged blackbirds are calling in the marshes. Stonflies are hatching on thin blue lines. Osprey and river herring are arriving any day. All signs pointing to winter's last gasps and another ice season's end. </p><p style="text-align: justify;">The weeks and months leading up to ice fishing are filled with anticipation. Hours upon hours devoted to prepping gear, securing bait, analyzing forecasts, and checking ice. Then, after arctic blasts transform our lakes and ponds, we fish when we can until its gone. Sometimes the season doesn't last long and the brevity of it all adds to the allure. </p><p style="text-align: justify;">This year my hardwater season lasted 51 days from January 14 to March 5. In that time I made six trips to three water bodies--the first half focusing on northern pike, the second half reuniting with a favorite trout lake I hadn't fished since 2011. Those two styles of fishing are incredibly different, but each enjoyable and exciting in their own right. </p><p style="text-align: justify;">It's always bittersweet packing away the ice gear in the rafters of my basement, but bidding farewell to winter means saying hello to spring and all of the amazing outdoor opportunities it brings. </p><p style="text-align: justify;">Here a is a short video from my <a href="https://youtu.be/jfSDG67_B6c" target="_blank">ice season finale</a> and a few other memorable moments that will hold me over until next winter.</p><p style="text-align: justify;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="401" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/jfSDG67_B6c" width="481" youtube-src-id="jfSDG67_B6c"></iframe></div><p style="text-align: justify;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhbRP4hdj2b0H02ZEMfpwFvsGwztDvC6KEEcbdvbo5rD81VFftZ9zIkWvFO8NjyhCs-cbg-Jkneo2K5bxh0jmYTTk6oxDYBdw8ANIlAuCiRIEfZBhAEik_N526BrLDBN0TE0v0AwjpvjzLLACi5fWkAQdzjVF3C663f3Z-M-M1lLqymyX7m0EjMFtHX3Q=s3884" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="3884" height="498" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhbRP4hdj2b0H02ZEMfpwFvsGwztDvC6KEEcbdvbo5rD81VFftZ9zIkWvFO8NjyhCs-cbg-Jkneo2K5bxh0jmYTTk6oxDYBdw8ANIlAuCiRIEfZBhAEik_N526BrLDBN0TE0v0AwjpvjzLLACi5fWkAQdzjVF3C663f3Z-M-M1lLqymyX7m0EjMFtHX3Q=w640-h498" width="640" /></a></div><p style="text-align: justify;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgfWrrxS-NctgyEdzdeOU1FqKxqLC6-NYDPpHHbnvclGtdWbn2QcVG32MRa1uAxA_MkpVR14g7mIAhnowchp8kHsMyLP4_kGztSgYDDAtiUuth0XQRf4ZQsJ4YnDfXIw-SA9mkWkS8jHDR0jNQzn-VEF8CztwNMl0bapqJoya2sqjulYVV5lgU1b3OIDw=s3065" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2073" data-original-width="3065" height="432" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgfWrrxS-NctgyEdzdeOU1FqKxqLC6-NYDPpHHbnvclGtdWbn2QcVG32MRa1uAxA_MkpVR14g7mIAhnowchp8kHsMyLP4_kGztSgYDDAtiUuth0XQRf4ZQsJ4YnDfXIw-SA9mkWkS8jHDR0jNQzn-VEF8CztwNMl0bapqJoya2sqjulYVV5lgU1b3OIDw=w640-h432" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgJ1Q24ydLaoWVvy9wJtGyZuxEvj_H1LmPUsZwzZqEmJdSOGMSJVR-aHdlcjnJK4-VSgmLf9pTIkzabYdAgqfGAZcM2zB63yyBH0sK8gxH7FnVRBfV1YHg9QCBbaeRymb36zkjfEmr_NK5Zg4yiG7apdZAVm5wrfPJy8DAcLZiee6fKazVvPFcWNGmcSw=s3423" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2056" data-original-width="3423" height="384" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgJ1Q24ydLaoWVvy9wJtGyZuxEvj_H1LmPUsZwzZqEmJdSOGMSJVR-aHdlcjnJK4-VSgmLf9pTIkzabYdAgqfGAZcM2zB63yyBH0sK8gxH7FnVRBfV1YHg9QCBbaeRymb36zkjfEmr_NK5Zg4yiG7apdZAVm5wrfPJy8DAcLZiee6fKazVvPFcWNGmcSw=w640-h384" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjfGl6p-3VSfPeMsu85rpAZoTYjc-gOGPh02kGyJy64ZBbBroGHsICnD8ihrrHdIos-W2qhgtLCnJme1Hkd0K_LCBJnSiDNr7uU4CWDXi524G4PgGuHrTpL4-HTe7dSNrFoVTNcYUeAvX5SCJvRWUdPNnGy4mv6S3HldNVWF5xYPkYwMGQvlSqwLLdlaA=s4032" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjfGl6p-3VSfPeMsu85rpAZoTYjc-gOGPh02kGyJy64ZBbBroGHsICnD8ihrrHdIos-W2qhgtLCnJme1Hkd0K_LCBJnSiDNr7uU4CWDXi524G4PgGuHrTpL4-HTe7dSNrFoVTNcYUeAvX5SCJvRWUdPNnGy4mv6S3HldNVWF5xYPkYwMGQvlSqwLLdlaA=w480-h640" width="480" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgMMFjBUMk-XWil3WHYGK4RuYWvNK8sfvCHGe1cY4RmXwjp6utLDu-81PcdofjMdm9OvVsoOI9CvNwQ9LsH8baUyKacCIDG3ZCLpBB6ucZGPm5F9ith3yWHJ9T9P40JDXN4i3qg7JZ4NCx8K5DlUoCGUXtt4eIPGi8SRL7bMfK325k1ErKv2LUmWsrBSQ=s3451" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3451" data-original-width="2706" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgMMFjBUMk-XWil3WHYGK4RuYWvNK8sfvCHGe1cY4RmXwjp6utLDu-81PcdofjMdm9OvVsoOI9CvNwQ9LsH8baUyKacCIDG3ZCLpBB6ucZGPm5F9ith3yWHJ9T9P40JDXN4i3qg7JZ4NCx8K5DlUoCGUXtt4eIPGi8SRL7bMfK325k1ErKv2LUmWsrBSQ=w502-h640" width="502" /></a></div><div><br /></div>Kierran Broatchhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10540948886211980207noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8118161382637787952.post-11719004736980805562022-02-22T20:26:00.001-05:002022-02-22T21:03:04.842-05:00Raising the Bar<p style="text-align: justify;">I have hooked and landed longer brown trout through the ice, but never one so heavy. This fish was stuffed yet still had room for my pike shiner set 30-feet down. By the time I had reached my tip-up, it had ripped dozens of yards of Dacron from my spool. Then I gained it back, hand over hand, and it froze on contact against the bare ice. Luckily most of the long battle was between the last 20-feet of line, half of which was 10# test fluorocarbon that gave me a little more confidence during the final throes around the hole. </p><p style="text-align: justify;">When my fishing partner reached down and helped scoop the trout topside, there was a sense of joy and relief, followed by fast action to document the new personal best before its healthy release. It is moments and fish like this one that become seared into our memory and drive us out into the elements each winter.</p><p style="text-align: justify;"> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="360" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/E2heABDlHWc" width="470" youtube-src-id="E2heABDlHWc"></iframe></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div>Kierran Broatchhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10540948886211980207noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8118161382637787952.post-83035645524703231042022-02-12T19:21:00.003-05:002022-02-22T20:29:12.998-05:00Return of the Jig<p style="text-align: justify;">I really enjoy ice fishing with tip-ups, but there is something special, and different, about jigging. Hooking and fighting my quarry through the ice with a rod and reel is such a thrill to me. When the target species is a quality trout that rushes 20 feet up the water column to eat a metal spoon I am pulling away, well, even better. </p><p style="text-align: justify;">It had been 11 winters since my last trip to this favorite body of water. Like seeing an old friend, we picked up right where we left off. I already can't wait to get back there, and God willing it won't be as long until next time. </p><p style="text-align: justify;"><br /></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="399" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/PKYKhL8pcdM" width="480" youtube-src-id="PKYKhL8pcdM"></iframe></div><p></p>Kierran Broatchhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10540948886211980207noreply@blogger.com0