In Search Of Togue

The tradition lives on! Another great road trip in the books for Sebago Lake's annual lake trout derby. The fishing was tough, but everyone managed to put a togue on the ice. Being the only fools without a snow mobile, I can safely say that we worked harder than any group out there trudging through two feet of snow. The 22.42-pound beast of a trout that won the derby was a welcomed reminder of the potential that Sebago holds, but it's all about the good times and camaraderie that keep us coming back. A special shout out to Wayne from Maine for hosting us again--can't wait for next year!

Priorities

It's been quite a while since I last posted here, but thankfully it's been all for good reasons. Most importantly, my wife and I finally purchased our first home in the town that we both grew up in. So around Thanksgiving, my free time underwent a major priority shift from fishing and writing to sanding and painting. We've had a lot of help from great friends and the transformation of making this house into a home has been unbelievable. There is still a long way to go, especially turning the basement into a respectable man cave, but I've been reminded on many occasions by longtime homeowners that the work will never end.

Another big development since I last posted here is that I've decided to continue my education after taking several years off. I'm currently enrolled in an online masters program, which is a new style of learning for me. It has further cut down my time on the water, but it's an opportunity too good to pass up and something that I believe will pay off in the long run.

 

It hasn't all been house and school work though. Of course I had to sneak in a couple ice fishing road trips this winter, which I hope to share here at some point down the line. In the meantime, here are few photos to give a small clue what we've been up to at the new digs.  Be well and tight lines!

  

  

Reservoir R&R

Saltwater fishing is over and done with for me and ice fishing is still another cold spell away. So while waiting for hardwater, friends and I have been logging hours at a local reservoir with our sights set on trophy trout and walleye. The big fish have eluded us so far, but as the saying goes, if it was just about catching we would have stopped going long ago...

 

 

Autumn Action

With fall flying by and Christmas commercials already airing, the time is now to make those last saltwater trips before another winter sets in. As a devout Red Sox fan, much of my October was spent glued to a television set instead of on the water, but I managed to sneak in a few outings in the midst of an unforgettable MLB postseason. A couple of weeks ago, my friend Captain Mike Roy of Reel Cast Charters invited me on a predawn excursion in western Long Island Sound. Usually our trips together involve late nights out east, so getting up early and staying local was a nice change of pace. The plan was to take his boat to some spots we typically surf fish from and throw eels until sun up, which would signal the time to switch over to lures for a chance at surface action. But you know what they say about best laid plans...

Right after launching the boat, we were treated to telltale signs of bunker slapping the surface and snagged a half dozen to put in Mike's live well for good measure. We then motored out of the harbor and stuck to our game plan, but little did we know that we'd be back to the same spot an hour later desperately searching for more of the oily baitfish. After casting eels and top-water lures came up fruitless, Mike threw out a lively bunker to see what was what. It didn't take long for his bait to do a nervous dance on the surface, followed by the unmistakable crash of a striped bass engulfing it. That was all I needed to make the switch over to live bunker and the same sequence of events happened to me only moments later. It was lock and load for the next half hour with stripers up to 23-pounds making short work of our limited bait supply. After running out of bunker, we changed back over to eels trying to duplicate the results, but the fish were keyed in on something we didn't have anymore. So the executive decision was made to hurry back to the harbor, snag more bait and pray the bite was still going upon our return. 

By now the sun was high in the sky and boat traffic had increased significantly, so the bunker were much harder to find the second time around. We were lucky to snag six more for the live well, returned to the scene as fast as we could and immediately experienced the same results, except the bass were exchanged for giant bluefish, the biggest we both had caught in years. They were incredibly thick and strong, putting up amazing fights and pulling the scale down to the 15-pound mark! After the wave of blues, a few bass toyed with the last of our bunker and when the tide died the bite died, and it was finally time to switch gears.

It's hard to admit, but I had never fished for blackfish from a boat before so a trip of this kind was way overdue. Mike had a bucket of Asian grabs that he collected at low tide a few days earlier and we anchored at one of his favorite shallow water rock piles and it was lights out action until we had our fill. There were plenty of short fish mixed in, but we managed our limit of keepers and had a blast doing it. Tautog fight like bulldogs and you really have to horse them off the rocky bottom before getting broken off or snagged. I can only imagine what catching a double digit-sized one must feel like after the fights these "small" four and five pounders put up. Mike already had enough meat in his freezer, so I took all the fillets home for the family and cooked it the next night to the delight of everyone at the table. It was a delicious meal that was fun and relatively easy to catch. The combination of landing striped bass and giant bluefish on live bunker followed by a hot blackfish bite made for an incredibly memorable fall day on the water--one that I'll surely look back on when I'm sitting in an ice hut this winter waiting for flags to pop. 

CARPe diem

One of my buddies is a hardcore carp angler and recently invited me to join him for a day on the Connecticut River, a known big carp Mecca in New England. He and a couple friends stayed on private land for a week with sights set on hauling in serious amounts of fish. For the first part of their trip, weather was rather inconsistent and the carp bite suffered because of it. As the week wore on however, Mother Nature strung together a few days of stable conditions and action picked up the night before I showed up.

On a picture-perfect autumn day in Connecticut, I watched and learned from some of the best carp fishermen around. The bite grew hot at times, especially during slack low tide when we had four lines go off at once. Over the course of the day, I had an absolute ball hooking four common carp and landing three of them--all over the 10-pound mark. The cherry on top was witnessing a beautiful 33-pounder that was caught and released by Connecticut's current state record holder. And, as in many forms of angling, the downtime between fish was full of stories, laughs and swigs of beer and brandy.

Even though it had been nearly two years since I had last targeted carp, this trip reaffirmed my respect for the species, as well as my appreciation for the knowledge, time and money that goes into doing it right. I guarantee it won't be another two years before I do it again.

A trail like this always leads to something good. 

Carp fishing is made up of a good mix of preparation and relaxation with a sprinkle of utter chaos. 

Not your father's carp rig; these guys don't mess around. 

My first carp of the day was also my prettiest, with great coloration on its fins and tail. 

A phenomenal backdrop added to a good day of fishing. 

Mike hoisting up a common carp of 33.1-pounds.

The Cindy Crawford of carp?

Another look at the gorgeous fish before its release.

Ethan tallying the catch totals, which were closing in on 1,000-pounds at this point.

My third carp of the day, each one fought as hard as the next.