The dirt road was exactly how I remembered it. Giant pines towering on both sides, the sound of the wind moving through the needles, and not another soul in sight. It had been a few years since I’d made this drive, but pulling up to that familiar little lot on a cold March afternoon felt like running into an old friend.
This is one of those Cape Cod ponds that reminds you why you fish in the first place.
The road less traveled — the kind of access that makes this place special.
Home base for the afternoon — the lot puts you right at the water.
Trip One: March 23rd — The One That Got Away
The first visit came on a raw afternoon with temperatures in the 30s and a stiff north wind that had no interest in letting up. I decided to walk west along the cove near the parking area and work the northern shoreline, tucking into the lee of the wind as best I could.
I’ve had good luck in this cove over the years — trout, largemouth bass — so I started working the Thomas Buoyant Spoon I’ve been throwing all spring.
My reliable Thomas Buoyant spoon, with the northern shoreline of the cove in the background. Notice how calm it was in the lee of the wind.
About 30 minutes in, right in the middle of the cove, the spoon got bit hard. This fish was different from others I’d caught this season — stronger, running, taking line. Ten seconds later, the hooks popped free and it was gone.
I pressed on toward an island — or what used to be island. Due to low water levels across Cape Cod ponds this season, the island is now connected to the mainland by a sandy land bridge. The last time I was here, I paddled my kayak all the way around it. On this trip, I walked across it.
The Island — except right now, it’s not really an island. Low water levels have created this striking land bridge.
The last time I was here, I was floating in a kayak in about 3 feet of water.
It was surreal and a little eerie — walking ground that was underwater the last time I visited. I fished all around the "island" with frozen fingers, but the bites had dried up. With dad duty calling — Lauren had fitness classes to teach — I waded back along the shoreline, missed one more good bite, and accepted my first skunking of the 2026 season.
No fish. But here’s what I’ll remember from that trip: complete and total silence, save for the wind through the pines, a few ducks and geese, a hawk overhead, and the soft sound of waves on a gravel shore. No motors, no voices, nothing man-made. Just Cape Cod in March, raw and quiet and beautiful.
Trip Two: March 26th — Redemption
A few days later I was back, this time with warmer temps and a bright sun — though the wind had other ideas, blowing hard out of the west at around 20 knots. I parked and headed east this time, immediately struck again by how low the water was. Where the shoreline once ran right up into the bushes, there was now 20 feet of open beach to work with. For a shore angler, that’s actually a gift.
Low water = more fishable beach.
With the sun bright on the water, I swapped to an inline spinner — something that would throw a lot of flash and hopefully draw fish in from a distance.
The inline spinner that saved the day on trip two — flash and vibration in cold, clear water.
The first half hour was quiet. Then I reached a point where the bottom dropped off sharply into deeper water, and things changed fast. For the next 20 minutes or so I was in the action — a fish or a bite every few casts. Final tally: 3 rainbow trout landed, 3 or 4 more missed hits.
One of three rainbows from trip two — a little fish that felt like a big win.
Between fish, I kept catching myself just stopping to listen. Somewhere in the woods behind me, a vernal pool was absolutely erupting with spring peepers. An owl hooted almost the entire time I was out there. And underneath it all, that steady sound of wind moving through the pines.
It was one of those afternoons that does something for your soul. As my dad and many of us here on MFCC like to say, “catching a fish was just a bonus.”
Tight lines!
Ryan
Want to Know Where I Was Fishing?
This is one of those places that's worth putting in your GPS and making the drive — whether you're chasing stocked trout in the spring or bass later in the season. The access is unique, the setting is unlike most ponds on Cape Cod, and on a weekday in April, you may have the whole place to yourself.
MFCC members get full access to this report, including the pond name, info about where I parked, and the specific areas that produced fish on both trips.
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About the author
Ryan Collins
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