The Learning Curve

I’d like to think that I can claim to be a life-long learner.  I’ve taken a hiatus or two, but otherwise I’ve always been pretty busy at functioning at a generally acceptably high level, reading worthwhile stuff, collecting skills, increasing self-awareness, and seeking general self-improvement.  Without doubt, many of these efforts have probably been misdirected, and in some cases, fruitless.  But I’m no slacker, and my utility to friends, family and society has probably increased over the years.   Along the way I’ve accumulated a diverse array of experiences and memories, some of which might even make me occasionally helpful or interesting to others.  

One of the great things about fishing is that it offers unlimited potential for improvement.  Whether it’s new waters, new habitats, new species of fish, more fish, bigger fish, new tactics and tackle,  or competing in tournaments, there’s always a broad horizon of opportunities and challenges to take on.

Most of the discretionary part of my youth was spent acquiring the knowledge, skills and tackle to become a competent bass fisherman.  Those pursuits took me into my thirties, but I reached a point where, given the amount of time I had available for the pursuit, I wasn’t getting much better at it.  I kind of knew what to expect from any given bass outing, and one season was pretty much seeming like the last.  I wasn’t exactly bored with my fishing efforts (I do love bass fishing), but I have to admit that golf held a strange attraction for me at the time.

Unlike my teenaged Rhode Island, West Michigan has diverse, quality fishing opportunities.  I'd always enjoyed my occassional walleye, brown trout and shore-bound pier/river salmon excursions that spiced up my fishing, but it wasn’t until I mounted a single down-rigger on Mrs. Paul and tried my hand at Lake Michigan salmon fishing that my passion for fishing re-ignited.  I’m willing to bet that the salmon fishing in August of 1995 was worthy of “Best Ever” status, because week after week, despite limited tackle and knowledge, I was getting enough action and enjoying enough success on the lake to think about little else (in terms of recreational pursuits.)  Fishing mostly by myself, and pretty much blind (without a GPS, speed indicator, temperature probe, or even a depth sounder capable of reaching the bottom), I encountered good numbers of fish of impressive size.  And these fish pulled drag!

I don't think I was obsessed, but most other types of fishing fell off to the wayside over the next few years.  More and more time and money got spent on the pursuit of Great Lakes Trolling Excellence.  I added many new presentation options to my repertoire, and I soon out-grew Mrs. Paul.  Along came Numenon, with more space, new electronics and longer range.  With all these new toys, tips and tricks at my disposal, plus the fact that I continued to learn from just about every trip, if not every fish, I was motivated enough to equate "Fishing" with "Great Lakes Trolling".

At about the same time, I was able to seasonally access and learn a viable striped bass fishery.  These quickly taught me that many of my freshwater skills and tactics weren't quite up to snuff.  Combined, I was now catching (and expecting) more, larger, stronger, meaner fish with a variety of tactics.  Instead of knowing what to expect, there were constant surprises and choices to be made.  Fishing had become something beyond the act itself; there was endless balancing, exploration, learning and application; it was more than the simple sum of skills, tackle and time.  Fishing had become much more than a past time, it was an avid pursuit, it was now a true avocation.

I was exposed to an early theory in ecological studies that became known as the “Optimal Foraging Theorem.”  (Before I go any further, let me apologize to any of my former professors or ecological cohorts for any miss-statement I might make here.)  Optimal Foraging basically stated that, in heterogeneous environments with varying resource availability, an individual spending only enough time gathering food in place so as to exceed the average foraging success rate would ultimately come out ahead.  The individual could sample different environments, get a sense of rates of return, and focus only in those areas of good (i.e., better than average) returns.  The benefit is in staying “ahead of the curve” and therefore assuring better than average performance.  All cannot be above average all of the time, but there’s nothing to say that we can't be smart about our choices.  

Science!  It takes time to have initial success, but then you learn quickly.  But don't stick  with the same tactics, because your returns will diminish!

And so for many of the last few years, I’ve focused my efforts on the best available quality bite at a given time.  This has been my version of my Optimal Fishing Theorem, and by fishing for the "hot" species at the "right" time, I can stay with above-average opportunities all year round.  My fishing always at least has a chance of being above average.

Another ecological concept in my approach to fishing is sustaining a maximum return for my efforts.  As we master an activity, our rate of improvement diminishes; by constantly trying new species and tactics, I may have missed out on overall mastery of one approach; but I'm constantly learning new applications and being exposed to new experiences.  No more Same Old/Same Old, but rather each trip has the potential for offering something new.

Science!

And now there’s musky fishing.  I can’t really claim that these efforts are in any logical way, optimizing my chances of success.  But I will say that I've recently learned more and taken greater/quicker  strides towards competency than in other fishing effoerts.  So I’ll hang on to the steepest part of my Learning Curve (Return vs. Effort) as hard as I can.  Simple calculus indicates that this is where the fruits of my efforts are “optimum”.

I’m not really sure what my relationship with Rates of Return says about me.   After all, ”When the going gets tough, the Tough get going,” and it kind of seems like I’m more interested in improvement that in actual total performance.  Given recent political interest in metrics, and my sincere belief that this is a dangerous and misleading lesson when applied to school performance, future opportunity, etc., I'm not really proud to say I'd rather enjoy improving as opposed to being awesome.  But I am enjoying this most recent ascent of The Learning Curve.  Thinking back on my recent musky exploits, it simply makes me smile.

Smile!  Numenon's first legal, targeted muskellunge.

Simply Fishing

I visited a favorite local lake this morning for some simple bass fishing in my small tin boat, Arracuda.
This was her maiden voyage for the season, and my first simple trip since starting the open-water season with some suckers.  Despite getting up at 0-Dark Thirty, skipping breakfast and travelling smoothly to the lake, I still managed to be about 20 minutes later than I'd have liked.  So while I was fishing before dawn, I missed out on a chunk of the easiest fishing.  And the accommodating fish did make it easy today, especially early on.  If a fish showed itself in pursuit of prey or my lure, it typically fell to a subsequent cast.  Most of the strikes came on a Rapala Skitter-Pop, but those I missed fell to a pitched Senko.  The bass of the day (but still less than 3 pounds) came on a Johnson Silver Minnow (gold, with white trailer.)  This fish provided a water-pushing bulging strike as the spoon wobbled just beneath the surface among some pads, and was a joy to pull out of the cover with my new Inshore Revo.

Sunrise

The first nice bass of the morning fell to an old favorite, the Johnson Silver Minnow.

This guy got pulled through some heavy cover, and was not going to get off.

Perhaps the fish of the day was a 5 pound (or so) dogfish.  Not only did it provide a nice battle, it was one of about 4 dogfish encountered today.  One other was briefly hooked, and two followed surface baits all the way to the boat.  They were active today!

I've long a thing for dogfish, and this one outfought any bass today!

No tournament excitement, muskies, stripers or glory fish today; but it was the best way to spend my time this morning.  Back home by Ten or so I enjoyed a pancake breakfast, and I still have some time to prepare for tonight's shift!  The dogfish stories will provide another notch in my belt, and it seems at least as likely that a customer will be interested in dogfish as an upcoming trip to Nunavut.  But I could be wrong.

ppm

Given Thursday’s completion of a fairly major task at work, a beautiful (albeit windy) June day,  and the dwindling clock on my oldest daughter’s break from school, after a quick lunch at a favored restaurant, we hit Lake M for another shot at muskies.  We had tried for muskies on Sunday morning, and had shared a really nice experience that encompassed a signature West Michigan Early Summer Dawn, some wildlife, a fairly quiet lake, and even encounters with two of Lake M’s muskies.  The estimated duration of our exposure to the muskies was about a second (and so represented less than 1 part in 10,000 parts of our fishing effort), but this 100 parts per million (ppm) or so was more than enough for us to choose to try again.

I’m not used to fishing in the early afternoon of work days, nor have I embraced fishing in 20 mph northerly winds, but as I approached the area of Lake M where we’d crossed paths with Sunday’s fish,  I had a bit of confidence.  Despite the wind, boat control was good; the weed’s break-line was clearly visible; the wind was pounding into this barrier; and my lure was spooking up fleeing baitfish with each cast.  I expressed some of my optimism to Katie, likening my lure and the baitfish to marlin and mahi, respectively, and asked her to dial in, because conditions seemed “right.”  Less than 15 minutes into the session, my feelings were validated when I experienced one of my most memorable freshwater strikes ever; and I briefly loaded the rod on a very sizeable muskellunge.  She’d eaten my Rapala Gliding Rap right on the break, exactly like I had hoped.  Of course, I didn’t sink any hooks into her and she quickly disappeared with a stunning displacement of water; but I’d gotten my dose of more than 100 ppm, and the need for my next fix cemented into my being.

Nothing else of positive fishing note happened for the rest of the afternoon, but we were in the game, enjoying each other’s company, and we each had an inkling of what real success at this musky thing will feel like.  And while I know that it doesn’t really matter whether or not you catch the fish, catching one has to be better than just exposing them, right?  In the meantime, I’d gotten more out of the effort than I’d likely have gotten from a routine bassin’ trip, and I’m getting more comfortable with and more appreciative of my new musky gear.  I’m piecing together my experiences with those of other musky-chasing co-workers, and my knowledge base and confidence are growing.  While this might be at the expense of my current Great Lakes or local bassin’ experiences, it feels like a proper investment of, and the right thing to do with, my limited fishing time.

Part of this blogging thing is getting the proper picture, too.  Just another way for me to fail, but it’s tough to get a good picture of these fish when you’re not getting them in the boat.  Oh well, here’s an opportunity for me to simply share a picture my dog, Oliver, behaving and enjoying himself on his first non-Reeds Lake fishing trip.  He did really well, did not in any way detract from the fishing, and truly enjoys getting out.  I wonder how he’ll deal with a 49-incher in the boat?

Oliver's Numenon

Maiku

Maiku  (My Haiku)

Hunter Thompson said,
"Civilization does end
at the water-line."

Lake M Musky!

Primary reasons for taking on the second job at the store were to meet some new fishing friends, to learn from them, and to get exposed to some new-to-me fishing experiences.  Ironically, my fishing has suffered from the job; I've simply been too busy to spend much time on the water.  Similarly, my co-workers aren't on the water very much, but we have shared some stories, past and present.  A couple of the guys I get along with best have serious Muskellunge Leanings; and one of them has made his living pretty much as a Musky Pro.  He was excited to relocate here from Eastern Minnesota ("Musky Heaven?") for this store, and he's openly shared his optimism about local musky fisheries, such as Lake M, with me.  Moreover, he's been out a couple of times and has seen many muskies in the shallows and has caught at least a few of them.  I've pretty much discounted the local musky scene based on our crowded lakes, my lack of experience and proper gear, and never hearing much of any good about these fisheries.  But, buoyed by his enthusiasm, and with a couple of lures he confirmed as good choices and a workable game plan, I targeted muskies for the first time this past Sunday.

I arrived at Lake M before 6 AM and was quickly on the water.  Conditions were clear and quiet, and I knew if I kept my Bucher Shallow Raider or Rapala Gliding Rap above emerging weeds in the shallows, I'd have a shot of at least raising a musky, or at perhaps encountering a big bass or pike as a consolation.  And so I enjoyed the first couple of hours exploring the lake, casting, and sharing the morning with a nice assortment of herons, cranes, waterfowl, song birds, turtles and mosquitoes.

Lake M has some undeveloped shoreline and was a pleasure to fish early in the morning.

Lake M is only 20 miles from home, but I've actively avoided it for the past 20+ years.  It's simply too developed and there's too much boat traffic for my taste.  But early on a Sunday morning, early in the season...conditions were pleasantly fine.

After a couple of hours of casting and a few re-locations without a hint of a fish, my confidence and hope were fading to a faithful reliance on luck when, unexpectedly (and bordering on unbelievably), I clearly sighted a nice muskellunge lying in a weedy bed in about 4 or 5 feet of water.  She was in water I'd already fished through with the Shallow Raider, and so I quietly turned off the electric trolling motor and glided past her.  I lost sight of her when I reached down for a rod equipped with a pitch bait; unable to find her, I threw my wacky-rigged Senko in what I hoped was her vicinity.  As I lost sight of my sinking Senko, I twitched it back up, and she re-appeared.  All lit up, she confidently inhaled my bait.  A lucky hook-set secured the small hook in the corner of her mouth, and after a nice struggle on my 8-pound test, she was boat-side and docile.

Now, my landing net is for harvesting fish, and I tend not to use it on fish I intend to release.  At an estimated 40 inches, she was too broad for me to grab by the shoulders, and she was still too green to gill her.  It was simply easiest, safest, and best for her to conduct a simple boat-side recovery and release.

Data - from the web!

She was clearly Numenon's biggest Esocid ever, and the above chart indicates a weight of about 18 pounds.  Just to have seen her was enough to make my day.  For my luck to hold through the subsequent, unlikely sequence of events (right lure, right cast, right reaction, lucky placement of the hookset and my thin, leaderless mono holding through the fight) indicates that she was clearly meant to be caught on this day.   I'm glad I was involved, and it was my pleasure to release her and watch her swim away.  The only things that could have made this better would have been to get a nice picture of her, or to have shared this experience with somebody else in my boat.  Oh well, these shortcomings can be addressed in future outings; and no picture would do justice to my ingrained memory of her visible strike.

This day's offerings; the wacky-rigged Senko was irresistible to a musky and a couple of bass.

I should probably consider retiring from musky fishing to preserve my 1.000 batting average.  They are, of course, The Fish of 10,000 Casts, and so I'm probably due for a very long slump.  I'm probably also not smart enough to recognize my advantage and avoid the process of things averaging themselves out.  So I'll probably be out there again, and I can certainly say that "Early Season Sight Fishing for Muskies" is now definitely on my Annual Fishing Calendar.

Back at the store on Sunday evening, I got to brag a little bit (which is always fun), but mostly I expressed my thanks to my co-workers for providing the motivation, confidence and advice to get me to try this new-to-me fishery.  My Musky Guru expressed his pride in me; when I reminded him that it was just a fish, he reminded me that it wasn't the fish he was proud of; it was in my effort.  We both agreed that the success (if catching a sub-legal fish can really be considered a success) is just a bonus.

Vajiggle-Jaggle Ain’t too Beautimous! And other West Michigan Musings

Honey Boo Boo and her Mama crept into my consciousness during a period of convalescence last year, and something the matriarch shared has stayed with me.  In reference to the appearance of customers at a local Summer’s Fair, she noted something very close to this; “Vajiggle-jaggle ain’t too beautimous!”  Pot/Kettle, Preacher/Choir, it’s too easy to even comment on the source of this statement, but her unique eloquence at the very least made this a memorable string of (almost) words, perhaps never before spoken in the History of Language.

Now Spring has sprung in West Michigan, and we’ve quickly transitioned from Winter to Summer.  Heating and cooling systems are lagging behind in response, and many public places (including the store) are simply too warm.  Folks, let me tell you, the coats are off, and the v-j is out!  And while such appearances might be uniquely American (at least in abundance and concentration), there’s a certain West Michigan contribution to this style.

My main employment is in a business building in the downtown of Michigan’s second largest and arguably most thriving city.  And yet I was recently confronted with the owner of a XXXXL Beauty School Sweatshirt.   I was awestricken by the irony of such an expansive article of clothing advertising a local Beauty School, but I was doubly stricken by the fact that it was, in fact, two sizes too small.

This reminded me of an electronic post card I’d received in the past.  The first screen depicted a French Beauty with “Paris, France!” as a caption.  I won’t describe the second screen, but let’s instead leave it to the imagination; just know that “Paris, Michigan!” served as the caption.

What’s this got to do with Numenon or Fishing?  On perhaps one of the most beautiful spring days in West Michigan history, one that was soon to become the most enjoyable Lake Michigan Weekday Brown Trout Fishing Excursion Ever, I stole away from work at noon to pick up my boat.  But first, I needed provisions, so I went to the local Subway.  This was several years ago, when Subway first started offering different breads.  I waited, second in line, while the Mountain of a Person in front of me discussed the relative health benefits of the various bread offerings with the Sandwich Artist.  After much hemming and hawing, a Combo Meal involving the 12-inch steak and cheese sub with chips was selected; but (to accommodate health aspects?) with a large Diet Coke!

A large Diet Coke!  

2013 Boating Season

The 2013 Boating Season has begun!  May 7 marks the latest ever start to the season for my boats.  With a 2013 maiden voyage on Reeds Lake, Numenon began her 11th season.  After a smokey start, she ran fine and fished well.

Water temps were already pushing 65 degrees, and the fishing was kind of slow.  I did take the first game fish of my season, but at 20 inches or so, this pike was a short of legal.  It ate a new Rapala F11 Scatter Minnow, and I had several other follows and bumps over the course of the evening. Crappies were making themselves known in the shallows, too, so I should have plenty of options by the time I get out again.

Finally... ahhhhhh, fishing!