When I was 13 years old, I caught my first trout on the fly rod in Nashoba Brook in a pool between Route 27 and the railroad tracks that parallel them. The pool was unique because at the head of the pool there were little islands, if you will, that broke up the flow and proved a perfect spot to cast from. You just needed hip boots to access them. The biggest of these islands was at midstream. I put on my hip boots and waded to that island.
So my father started fishing, and as usual (for that time), we started with worms on ultralight spinning rods.
It wasn’t long before I noticed a trout rising under the alder bushes on the left shoreline. I cast my worm in such a way as to have it drift right over him. He was having no part of it.
Unbeknownst to my father, I had put an old fly reel of his (a Pflueger Sal-Trout) in the back of my trout vest. So I got it out, took the spinning reel off my spinning rod, and I put on the fly reel. By today’s standards, it was in no way an appropriate setup, but it worked for me, as I did not own a fly rod.
A Pflueger Sal-Trout Fly Reel
Next came selecting a fly. Well that was not a big problem. I only owned a dozen or so flies. Amazingly, one of my few flies looked like the mayflies that were hatching. It was called a Yellow Sally. It was almost the same color and size of the hatch.
I tied it on and took this old fly reel, loaded with a silk fly line that had not been used in many years, and made a cast that was well short of my target. Mind you, I had never done this before in my life, even with a fly rod. My next cast was still a little short, but better. On my third cast, I put that fly exactly where it needed to be to drift perfectly over that rising trout. I watched with amazement as that trout sipped in my fly as it drifted right over his feeding window.
Silk Fly Lines
I was amazed, but not to the point that I did not know what to do next, which was to lift my rod tip to set the hook. I did just that, and the trout was on. My little ultralight spinning rod was doubled over. My dad was in disbelief and started repeatedly saying “Don’t horse him!”, which simply means don’t put too much pressure on the fish and your line or rod.
The idea is to let the fish fight the responsiveness of the rod. Well, I guess I did everything right because eventually I had the fish to my little island. I knelt down and got him into the net.
The battle, as it were, lasted several minutes. I could feel my father’s excitement. I could relate it best to a father watching his son getting his first hit in Little League.
It was a rainbow trout, very dark in color, meaning it had been in this tea-colored stream for many months if not a few years. Today, I would have released that fish immediately, but in 1958 he was going into the frying pan. My pride and satisfaction was unequaled by anything I had accomplished to that point in my life. My father’s pride in my achievement was palpable. We left for home almost immediately after landing that trout.
Rainbow Trout
Notice that I did not call it a fish. That is because trout are a special member of that family of creatures that we call fish. I once heard someone say that he loved trout because they only live in beautiful places. I love trout because they themselves are beautiful.
Some species, like brown trout, are very unique because no two are exactly alike.
Brown Trout
I love brook trout because the more you scrutinize them, the more beautiful they become. They have these red dots that are surrounded by a blue halo on a background of yellow dots on a purplish, blue backdrop with an almost impossible array of lines to describe on their back.
A Brook Trout’s Many Colors
Rainbows vary from silvery blue and steel colored with a pink midsection that starts at rose colored cheeks and then a slash of dark dots. Believe me when I say that I do not do justice to their beauty.
I can identify with people with addictions because I am addicted to these creatures and to the places where they thrive. My efforts to pursue them know no bounds.
Because of that addiction, I have traveled to the most beautiful and remote places on earth, like Alaska and Labrador, places only accessible by floatplane. No roads, no cell service, no artificial light, no noise, except that of the natural world. A loon’s call, whirring wings of geese, the silent wings of eagles and owls, and the sounds of their calls and the winds are the only sounds you hear.
My First Labrador Lake Trout (25 Inches and 6 Pounds)
My life was once full of traditions, but today not so much.
One of my most cherished traditions that continues to this day is spending Father’s Day week fishing with my son, Tony. I truly don’t know how long we have been doing it, but it is safe to say that it has been many years.
As per tradition, we made our way to the Errol, NH area in hopes of tackling some trout and salmon. As we drove along the Androscoggin River, we noticed right away that water was very high. Although I hadn’t received much rain at home in southern New Hampshire, they’d had quite a bit of rain up north.
The first evening of our week was marked by “almosts.” In the Androscoggin River, Tony lost a couple of landlocked salmon on jumps–one of which was a very nice eighteen incher that straightened out the hook on his fly.
With those near misses the night before, we headed straight back to the Andorscoggin the next morning, and I was quickly rewarded with a 19” male salmon. He took my elk hair caddis in surprisingly shallow water. That’s when we realized that due to the high water, the fish were finding any way possible to hide from the strong current. We’d see large fish hiding in small backwash areas along the banks of rivers.
That night, we returned to the Andorscoggin, and this time I started off with an 18” salmon.
I finished off the night with a 16.5” brook trout.
My 16.5-Inch Brook Trout
Once again, we caught all of these fish in shallow backwashes out of the current.
The day’s cherry on top was seeing a hen spruce grouse and her chicks on a dirt road that paralleled the Androscoggin. Northern New Hampshire is the very southern end of their range. Years ago, Tony and I saw another one, and Tony saw one in Labrador. That’s all. So it was a rare sighting to say the least.
Hen Spruce GrouseSpruce Grouse Chick
The next morning, I decided to take a few casts with my spinning rod in Umbagog Lake. Using my trusty Tiny Torpedo, I caught a 17” smallmouth bass and lost a slightly smaller one.
Hoping to repeat our success from the day before, we headed back to the Androscoggin. This tie, I actually saw a 19” salmon sitting in a shallow backwash right up against the shore. It was staring at an alder bush waiting for the “alder flies” (a large, rusty brown caddis) to come off the bush and lay their eggs in the water.
“Aldar Fly” Caddis
My dad always said, “The hardest fish to catch is the one that you can see.” He was right. I got this salmon to swipe at my elk hair caddis early on, and then he got a serious case of lockjaw. I threw every type of fly I could think of at him, and he wouldn’t even sniff at them. I then had Tony try a few flies. He even tried a streamer on a sinking line, but nothing.
I then tried a very small, darker caddis imitation, and that fooled him. It was a nice, 19” male.
19-Inch Landlocked Salmon
That night, we headed into Maine. On our way, we saw a red fox being harassed by a raven.
we went to The Meadow on the Magalloway River, which is always challenging because it is slow moving water, giving the fish the ability to scrutinize your presentation. Despite the challenging conditions, I caught a 12” fallfish, three small brookies (7”, 8”, and 9”) and two small salmon (7” and 8”). Nevertheless, it is awesome to catch them on dry flies.
I had dropped off Tony about a quarter mile upstream from me. He waded across to the opposite bank so he could cast to the undercut bank on my side of the river
He too caught a 7” brookie and an 11” fallfish.
On our way home, we saw a deer and a moose, which always make the drive go by faster.
The next day, we decided to explore the Cupsuptic River in Maine while the midday sun was blazing on the longest day of the year no less. The Cupsuptic is a legendary trout stream that is difficult to fish in the best of conditions, which is after a heavy rain. It is said to have big brook trout, and I have witnessed them. Several years ago, with no fishing rod in hand, I saw six or seven brookies that you would have measured in pounds rather than inches cruising slowly and steadily upstream as the water was rising in September.
I once caught a 14” or 15” brookie there under a wooden bridge just as a logging truck passed overhead, showering me with sand and gravel.
I fished off of the bridge, while Tony made his way down each of the steep banks to try his luck. I saw a nice 12” brook trout picking off nymphs. It looked at my fly, but it wasn’t that interested.
After an early dinner, we decided to try our luck at the Androscoggin again. Despite a ton of caddis activity, no fish were rising, and we only managed to catch a fallfish and a small smallmouth bass.
On the way back to our cabin that night, a bear crossed the road in front of us.
The next morning, we had to head home, but before we did, we decided to stop by the Androscoggin one final time since we had to drive right by it on our way. It was an exact repeat of the night before. Lots of caddisflies were laying eggs, and yet, we didn’t see a single fish rise. We only fished for a half hour or so. We knew it was a lost cause. Sometimes the fish win.
It boggles the mind that the trout and salmon were leaving all of those flies unmolested. I guess that’s why they call it “fishing” and not “catching.”
Despite the lack of success those last two days, it was a good trip. We didn’t catch a lot of fish, but we caught some nice ones. We also saw some wildlife, which always adds to the enjoyment of this tradition.
Below is my son Tony’s write-up of our recent Father’s Day week fishing trip.
WLAGS
——————
As we do every Father’s Day, Dad and I headed for the Rangeley, Maine area for a few days of fly fishing.
The trip got off to an auspicious start during the drive to our cabin when a nice bull moose wandered out of the Androscoggin River and started licking minerals out of a mud puddle next to the road. He didn’t seem concerned with us at all, and we were able to get a few nice pictures.
We Hoped This Moose Would Be Our Good Luck Charm
When we arrived at our rental cottage, Dad was hit by an unexplained stomach bug, and he passed on fishing that first evening. So I went alone to the Androscoggin River that night. There were a handful of alder flies hatching, but nothing feeding on them. I managed to catch a little 10-inch brook trout on my favorite streamer (a golden demon) to kick off the trip.
This 10-Inch Brookie Started off the Trip
More importantly, I discovered a path along the river that leads to a spot where we often see fish rising but can’t reach them.
As the sun set, the alder fly hatch picked up the pace, and I had a nice landlocked Atlanticsalmon steal my brown elk hair caddis right out in front of me. I just shook my head and laughed when it happened. I’ve had it happen enough times to have learned that there’s nothing you can do in that situation except tip your cap to the fish.
It was disappointing, but I had the evidence I needed that this spot would pay dividends throughout the week.
Unassisted Double Play
Dad was feeling better on Monday morning, but we decided to take it easy in case his stomach started to bother him again. We headed back to the Androscoggin since it’s not too far from the cabin, which enabled me to test out my new found spot.
Since there were quite a few alder flies hatching, I tied on another brown elk hair caddis, and in short order, I caught a 16-inch salmon. I knew it was smaller than the one that took my fly the night before, but it still felt like a win.
As is often the case when fishing with barbless hooks, the fly popped out as soon as I netted the salmon and took tension off the line. I placed the fly in the water at my feet to prevent the salmon from wrapping himself in my leader while I measured him. While I measured the salmon, my rod bent, I grabbed it and netted a brook trout that was exactly half the length of the salmon, which was still in the net. This spot was proving hotter than I had anticipated.
Double Trouble: A 16-Inch Salmon and an 8-Inch Brook Trout
A few casts later, I caught an 18-inch landlock, which very well could be the fish that stole my fly the night before. I decided to consider this my vindication.
This 18-Inch Salmon (the Biggest Fish of the Week) Hit a Dry Fly
Dad was feeling better so we decided to venture further afield. We headed for the Magalloway River. We looked at a few of our favorite spots. The water levels were good. I tried a few flies, but the strong winds and bright sun were not conducive to fishing.
The Good Water Levels in the Magalloway Were No Match for the Strong Winds and Bright Sun
We headed back to the Androscoggin after an early dinner. I made my way to my new favorite spot, and this time, I dragged Dad along with me. The walking was steep, full of boulders and alder trees, but he managed. It paid off. He caught a nice 15-inch salmon and an 11-inch brown trout much to our surprise!
I also managed a 15-inch salmon that night.
This 15-Inch Salmon Capped Off the Day
Lewis and Clark
Tuesday morning, we stopped by the Androscoggin River on our way to the Magalloway, but very few flies were hatching and we couldn’t buy a hit.
We decided to do some exploring along the upper part of the Magalloway River. It was slow going because we had to stop several times for logging trucks to move for us, and we spotted some wildlife along the way, including a turkey and a deer.
A Doe that We Spotted Makes a Dash for the Woods
Accessing the Upper Magalloway was more difficult than we remembered from previous trips. It would have taken a chainsaw in some places. After a hot, sunny day of driving dirt roads, we decided to write the day off as a scouting mission. We headed back to the cabin for a much needed nap and an early dinner.
We had a lot of action that night, at the Andro. I landed a 12-inch salmon and a 12-inch brook trout, but I lost a really nice brook trout.
The star of the show was a really nice salmon that Dad lost on the sixth jump! Dad said, “I did not feel the least bit remorseful when he leaped to his freedom.”
All of our action on the Androscoggin River hadn’t gone unnoticed. There were six other fishermen around us that night. Prior to that, there had been between zero and two other fishermen. Word travels fast.
As we headed out in the dark that night, the fireflies and peepers put on a show for us. I caught a little video clip of the action.
The Fireflies and Peepers Serenade Us
A Break on the Lake
As the forecast predicted, Wednesday started out cooler and more overcast than any other day that week. That was the weather that we had hoped for as we fished Parmachenee Lake.
The day started off with a bang when Dad caught a fat, 17-inch salmon.
This Chubby 17-Inch Landlock Started the Day Off Strong
He caught it on a fly that he tied but hadn’t named. At that moment, he named it Orange Blossom.
Dad’s Orange Blossom Fly
We had the whole lake to ourselves, save for a mother loon and her two chicks.
The Loon With Her Two Chicks
Unfortunately, the wind picked up and the cloud cover diminished as the day went on. Despite that, we managed six gamefish (salmon and brookies) and two fallfish in a little over four hours of fishing. The bookend to Dad’s nice salmon was a beauty of a 15-inch brookie that I caught.
15-Inch Brook Trout
We worked hard for them, but the work paid off. That’s not always the case.
After a long day of bucking the wind and driving dirt roads, we again headed back to camp for a catnap and dinner.
That night at the Androscoggin, there weren’t many flies hatching, and the fish were inactive. That said, I did raise a bunch of small fish on dry flies, but I only managed to land one 7-inch salmon, which is still fun on a dry fly on a 5-weight rod.
As we headed home on Thursday morning, Dad spotted a nice buck in a muddy stream. We’d seen moose in this spot before, but never a deer. The buck was doing exactly what those moose did. He was licking minerals from the mud.
This Nice Buck Ended Our Trip on a High Note
The buck was a great way to wrap up another great annual trip. As Dad said, the bonus of this trip was that almost all of our river fish were caught on dry flies. No fishing is more exciting than that.
On Father’s Day, Tony and I took off for Errol to start our trip. It was warmer and brighter than we would have liked. We much prefer fishing in more cloudy and even wet conditions.
When we got to the cottage, my age showed up, and I passed on fishing that first evening.
A Promising Start
Tony made his way to the dam, and in less than perfect conditions he caught enough fish to justify the effort. He arrived to a decent amount of insects hatching, including dragonflies, caddis, and later on, fireflies. He took advantage of the activity and caught a very nice 16-inch landlocked salmon, followed by a nice brown trout, and a fallfish, all on dry flies. It was a nice way to start the trip.
Tony Kicked Off the Trip with This 11-Inch Brown Trout
The Road Less Traveled
The next morning we headed for our primary destination, Parmachenee Lake by spending the last 20 miles on dirt roads. The last seven or so miles of dirt roads are behind a locked gate to which we are lucky enough to have the key.
Those Gates Are No Joke
On the way there, we had a bit of a thrill when Tony was able to see his first bluebirds.
Tony Snapped Some Pictures of His First Bluebirds
It was another less than perfect day. Not only was it hot and humid, it was also very windy with gusts of up to 20 mph. We were grateful for the few fish that we caught; the best of which was an 11-inch brookie that Tony caught.
The water level reflected the drought conditions of the year so far.
A Doe Took Advantage of the Low Water Levels
That night, we tried to repeat Tony’s success at the dam from the night before, but thunder and lightning cut our trip short.
Worse Weather, Better Fishing
Tuesday morning, we headed back to Parmachenee, and the weather was much more fishing friendly, as it was cloudy and even sprinkled for time. The fishing was more what we had hoped for too.
Tony caught two nice salmon and a small brookie.
Tony with the Smaller of His Two Salmon
I caught a great salmon. Not that it was huge, but he did his species proud with eight great leaps. On some of those leaps, he did a complete summersault at the top of the jump. He actually had me laughing at his energy and speed. What a wonderful fish. I felt honored to have caught and released him.
The 16-Inch Salmon that Jumped Eight Times
The cherry on top was a couple of better than average brookies.
A Wild 12-Inch Brook Trout
This was what this trip is all about. If you get one day like this on every trip you have to feel blessed.
The wildlife also made the day eventful. We saw loons, of course, but we also saw another deer walking the shoreline and a seagull harassing an eagle.
The Aerial Battle in Progress
That evening, Tony added a smaller salmon that he caught below the dam in the river.
The Mighty Mag
We started the next morning driving even further down dirt roads to fish a remote area of the Magalloway River, but netted just a couple of smaller fish; a trout and a fallfish.
Your Guide on the Upper Magalloway
We love this area as much for the wildlife, and we saw most of the several moose and deer that we saw on this trip in that area. My goal was to see seven moose and get a decent photo of one, and that was exactly what we did.
It Took a Hunter’s Eye to Spot This Cow Moose
That evening, we tested ourselves against the smartest and most pursued fish in the area by fishing the very popular Bennett’s Pool well below the dam on the Magalloway River.
There are always people fishing this fly fishing-only, barbless hook section of the river; hence, the very well educated fish. I have often joked that I can hear the fish laughing at poor presentations or less than perfectly tied flies.
For the first time ever, the river was low enough for Tony to wade across to the other bank. It paid off, as Tony landed a 13.5-inch brookie on a dry fly.
Tony’s Wild 13.5-Inch Brook Trout Was His Highlight
I missed a similar sized brookie. With these fish, you get one shot. If you miss, you are cooked. They come back even more wary.
We fished until the sun set, the temperature dropped to 45 degrees (causing a thin layer of fog on the water), and the full moon rose over the mountains and shined on the river, and then we closed the book on this trip.
The Full Moon Shining on a Foggy Magalloway River
These trips are always momentous, and this one was no exception.
The following is an email exchange that I had with my grandson Sam, who lives in Maine. Note that as a kid, he hated ice fishing. He is in his mid-20s now. The name of the lake has been redacted to protect the innocent fish that live there.
Sam Ice Fishing in 2010
—————————————————— From: Sam Sent: Saturday, January 16, 2021 7:47:28 AM Subject: Ice Fishing trip in the Mountains
Hey Grampy!
As I write this I find myself on the west side of the White Mountains. I am ice fishing [redacted] Lake today in search of a hot brown trout bite that my friend has heard about through the grapevine. He has a camp here that we are staying in for a couple days. I will report back on the bite when I get home today.
My friend asked me a very specific question that I did not know the answer to. This is a question that kind of took me by surprise because it illustrates how small our world really is. He mentioned the picture that we took at L.L Cote in front of the white moose on our June trip, and asked me whether I knew the name of the man who worked the fly counter.
Tony, The Guide, and Sam with the L.L. Cote White Moose
My friend worked as an EMT in Derry, would fly fish his way up the Androscoggin River on the weekends and make it a point to stop in and buy flies. Every weekend, he would run into this man who would give him advice and some free flies every once in a while. My friend learned how to tie elk hair caddis based on the ones from that store. (He gave me a couple that he had made; score!) So the question he asked was; What’s the man’s name who works the fly counter at L.L. Cote? Neither of us could remember. My friend’s other connection to this man was educating his child at Barry Conservation Camp, where my friend was a counselor.
I hope this email finds you well! Good tidings from the other side of the mountain!
Love,
Sam
—————————————————— On 01/16/2021 10:10 AM “Grampy” wrote:
Sam,
Grammy and I have fished that lake.We caught browns, smallmouth bass (SMB), and a big surprise–a landlocked salmon (LLS)! I called my contact at New Hampshire Fish and Game afterwards, and he let me in on a secret. He put some salmon in there as a test.
So make sure that you are looking at a brown and not an LLS. If people were aware, it would surely attract a crowd. Do not let this info out to anyone except someone you can trust.
By the way, Grammy caught it on my sparrow nymph. I also caught a smelt.
Grammy loves that place. We watched an eagle kill and eat a merganser there that day. Grammy just reminded me that it was blowing so hard that she wore her life jacket all day.
The guy at Cote’s is Aaron. Say hi to him for me.
You know Ian went to Camp Barry didn’t you?
I will expect a full report at day’s end.
Good luck.
Love,
Grampy
—————————————————— On Jan 16, 2021, at 10:13 AM, “Grampy” wrote: Subject: Weather
Sam,
Is it snowing there?
We have 6+” on the ground today, and it is still snowing. Heavy, wet snow at that.
Love,
Grampy
—————————————————— From: Sam To: Grampy Sent: Saturday, January 16, 2021 1:20:14 PM
Subject: Re: weather
Ohhhh it’s snowing alright. Snowing sideways!
I’m writing this from inside an ice hut next to the heater, so I’m living a life of luxury. Do you know the name of the F&G officer? My friend Tim has gone on ride-alongs with a lot of NHFG wardens around this area and was curious. He is currently an EMT with hopes of one day being a warden. He says that he knows almost every one!
Wind flags so far, but we are hopeful. We set a lot of traps shallow, right on the south crest of the lake. We used depth finders to find a shelf we saw on Google Earth.
I did know that Ian went to camp, but I didn’t know it was Barry.
I’ll write again tonight when we are back at camp.
Love,
Sam
—————————————————— On Jan 16, 2021, at 3:29 PM, “Grampy” wrote:
Sam,
The only warden I know personally is Major Dave Walsh. He is the number two man in the department. Do you remember that opening day in that miserable weather when we caught 77 trout?
Opening Day of NH Trout Season, 2011
That was Dave waiting for us at the ramp. That day sealed my reputation with him as a fisherman. You might remember his telling me that he got his butt chewed by many of the other fishermen that day. Some went so far as accusing him of not stocking the pond. I’ve known him since he was a rookie.
It is my opinion that they are short-handed right now, and I know that Maine is short-handed as well at this time. I would say that Tim could not be applying at a better time.
My inside sources told me that there are native brookies in that lake too. F&G doesn’t mention them because they say “it isn’t a viable fishery.” I think that they do that so as not to put undue pressure on them.
What are you using for bait? I would recommend the smallest shiners that you can get and SMALL worms.
You are smart to fish shallow, but it often pays to put a few traps in 5′ or 6′ of water.
I would set the bait on those traps just a foot or so below the ice and maybe one or two a foot off the bottom. I think that browns are not quite as fond of very shallow water as brookies.
Looking forward to your update later.
Love,
Grampy
—————————————————— From: Sam To: Grampy Sent: Saturday, January 16, 2021 6:54:38 PM Subject: Re: weather
The full Report: Skunked.
There were three other groups on the lake, and only one group got anything, a 14’ brown. The lake was stunning. I was taken aback by how enclosed it was by the mountain range. The day started so windy and snowy that the mountain peaks were invisible. I only saw them as we were taking the traps out before sunset and the clouds broke just enough for me to make them out. DEFINITELY worth a trip back.
My friend Tim knows Dave Walsh by the nickname “Young Pat.” He and his family have known him since his early days on the job, just like you!
We got stopped by Sargent Glen Lucas while we were on the ice. Tim knows him well. He asked us how we did. He was surprised that we got skunked (hint that there should be some fish to be caught there?). He also asked us for our licenses, which we didn’t have since today is the free fishing day. When I told him that we thought that it was the free fishing day, he told us that it was actually next weekend. After five seconds of me trying to remember the fine for fishing without a license while simultaneously noting that I absolutely CANNOT let my grandfather know that I got the days wrong, he laughed at us.
“You shoulda seen the look on this guy’s face!”, he said to Tim. I got played…very hard. He went on his way after that.
That’s the report! Fun to be out, and great to see New Hampshire when it’s at its most stunning.
Thanks for all the intel!
Love,
Sam
—————————————————— On 01/16/2021 8:50 PM “Grampy” wrote:
Great report, if not successful. Glen is a cool guy. He checked Grammy’s and my licenses several years ago on the Ammonoosuc River.
You must watch North Woods Law, right? He’s a mainstay there for a few reasons. First because of his territory, which includes some of the state’s best hiking and its lofty peaks. Second because of the many miles of snowmobile and ATV trails. And lastly because of his good looks and great personality.
He is a great ambassador of F&G and the state, unlike many of the old wardens that were Gestapo-like back in the day.
I’m sure that he has rescued more hikers than any other warden and usually in terrible weather conditions.
I’m not sure whether it was him, but a week or so ago, they rescued a couple of women. One was from MA and the other from CT, I think. They were so ill prepared that they are going to get a bill for the cost of the rescue. Those people put other people’s lives and limbs at risk by their stupidity.
They don’t do it often, but you would not believe the number of people that climb to a mountain top at midafternoon and then want to be ridden down on an ATV!
The show is on Animal Planet on Sunday nights, I think.
If Glen seemed surprised, it probably is because the lake was stocked this fall.
I just checked. It was actually not stocked this fall, but it got 2,000 browns and 6,000 brown fingerlings earlier.
A late friend of mine, John shot a bear on those mountain peaks many years ago.
Well, I’m glad that my grandson who hated ice fishing does not feel that way any longer.
The Guide Teaching Sam and His Cousin Ian How to Use a Sounding Sinker 2006
The only other tips that I’ll offer are these:
#1: The moon is more important in ice fishing than open water fishing. I have proven that to myself several times.
#2: The best ice fishing is First Ice and Last Ice.
I take both of those things into consideration when I go. I don’t go very often anymore so I take those things to heart when I do.
Lastly, I see ice fishing as a time to socialize much more so than open water fishing. It is something to do until ice-out, and it is often done in beautiful places.
I’m glad that you are not discouraged, and I certainly hope that you’ll try again, hopefully some time a little later in the season.
Check the moon! I like a few days either side of a new moon best and a few days either side of a full moon.
One goes hand in hand with the other. There is no great substitute for experience, and fishing is a classic example of that.
I regularly call upon my experience in my fishing endeavors. This was very true on this years Father’s Day week trip to northern New England.
Experience has taught me what I can reasonably expect under certain conditions in certain places. Experience has also taught me to expect the unexpected, which also came in handy on this trip.
This was my grandson Sam’s first real fly-fishing trip. He had experience with the fly rod, but not under conditions where casting was of supreme importance—casting for distance but more importantly accuracy and touch, or as we fly fishermen call it, “presentation.”
Our first evening was spent at the tail end of a long pool below a significant dam and above some riffles and rocks.
I decided to play coach that evening to watch as Tony and Sam waded into position.
At first, Sam’s casts were inadequate, but with Tony on his right side and having some knowledge of what a cast is supposed to look like, he got better as the night progressed.
Sam’s Casting Improved Over the Course of the Night
Tony landed a pair of smaller-sized salmon, but salmon being salmon, they provided thrills with their spunk and aerobatics.
Sam managed to catch his first fish on a dry fly—a smallmouth bass, which was full of energy and gave him some experience in landing a fish under these conditions.
Sam’s First Fish on a Dry Fly—a 12-Inch Smallmouth Bass
The next morning, we headed for one of my favorite places to fish, Parmachenee Lake. On the way there, Sam had another first. He saw his first bull moose, which was in velvet of course—this being June. Luckily Sam had Tony’s camera with its 300-mm lens to capture the moment.
Sam’s First Bull Moose
Parmachenee is not a private lake, but the road to it is. The road is gated, and if you don’t have a key to that gate, you can’t fish the lake because you’d have a many mile-long walk on several dusty, sometimes muddy, and always rock-strewn roads. Once you got there, you would need a boat of some kind. This is not a lake that you can wade.
I have the good fortune to have a friend who owns a camp on the lake that was built by his father in 1972.
What makes this lake special is the fact that all the brook trout in it are native, meaning that they are not descended from hatchery fish. Also, all the salmon are wild, meaning that they *are* descended from hatchery fish, but those are from almost 100 generations ago. The lake hasn’t been stocked with salmon since the late 1800s. Hence, the salmon that you catch there today were born right there in the lake, or more accurately, in the surrounding streams.
There are just a few cabins on the lake, which include some of the cabins that were part of the now defunct Parmachenee Club that was made up of almost entirely well-to-do New York City lawyers.
My friend has at his camp two very large (20-foot) aluminum jon boats with small outboards, but because I prefer the quiet of an electric motor, we brought my motor.
Loading Up Our Friend’s 20-Foot Jon Boat
As we launched, we saw a cow moose to our left feeding in the lily pads of a marshy area.
Parmachenee’s Resident Cow Moose and a Loon
We would see her every day, along with some deer feeding and drinking at the lake’s edge. We even caught a glimpse of an immature bald eagle, which left several feathers behind at the launch site.
One of Several Deer We Saw on the Shores of Parmachenee
The fishing conditions were awful. By that I mean that it was bright, clear, and hot. As a salmon and trout fisherman, you want the exact opposite of those conditions. The nastier the better. However, as I mentioned earlier, experience has also taught me to expect the unexpected. Despite the terrible conditions, we caught one fish each. Sam caught a 12-inch salmon on a Parmachenee Belle fly that I tied, and Tony caught a 10-inch brook trout on a pink streamer that I tied. I actually caught my fish, a 12-inch brook trout, on a yellow hornberg fly that I had bought that day just because it caught my eye.
Sam’s 12-Inch Salmon
That night we returned to the river, and we all caught fish. Tony caught two salmon while Sam and I put a dent in the fallfish population. I caught 10 of them in 10 casts!
The next morning, we returned to the lake. With the experience of the day before, we had a banner day, catching several trout and salmon; some of which were very nice, even large, like a 17-inch brookie that had a bulge in its stomach as though it had just eaten a bullfrog!
My 17-Inch Brook Trout
While Sam and Tony again caught their fish on flies that I tied, I caught all of my fish, including a 17-inch salmon on that yellow hornberg fly that I had bought the day before. The salmon had two fat minnows in its stomach.
My 17-Inch Landlocked Salmon
That evening, Tony and I returned to the dam where he caught a nice 15-inch rainbow trout on a dry fly.
Tony’s 15-Inch Rainbow Trout Capped Off the Day
Unfortunately, we did so without Sam because he was called home to mourn the loss of his cat. We were all sad about his beloved pet and to see his trip cut short.
The next morning, Tony and I returned to the lake under much more fisherman-friendly weather, which would eventually turn to rain, including a downpour.
I caught four brook trout and a salmon. The biggest of each was 13 inches.
My 13-Inch Brookie
Tony caught a 15-inch salmon and three trout, including an 18-incher—his biggest ever caught south of the Canadian border.
While reviving Tony’s big brookie the landing net slipped over the side and sank like a stone. Tony had detected a hole in the handle earlier. On our way home, we bought our host a new and better net, which was well worth our time at his camp.
That evening, we fished the Magalloway River. I describe fishing there this way: if fishing were in the context of a college degree, the Magalloway would require a master’s degree. It is heavily fished by good fly fishermen from all over New England and the country. The big fish there have doctorates in fly identification and presentation, along with assessing the quality of a fly tier’s work. Bottom line: if you catch one of those native brook trout, regardless of size, you earned an A on that day’s test.
By that measure, we each worked very hard to get an A that night. I caught a 12-inch brook trout, and Tony managed a 9-incher in the waning moments of light.
We rarely see other fishermen at this spot, but we were joined by a couple of “sports” (clients) and a guide that night. One of the clients must have taken a wrong step off the steep bank and ended up swimming downstream in his waders. I have to give the guy credit. Most people would have panicked in that situation, but he didn’t. He swam until he found his footing, and then he stood up and fished for the next hour right in the middle of the river. He didn’t even get his cigar wet!
The New Sport of Swim Fishing in Waders
The last morning, Tony’s birthday, we made a quick trip back to the dam. I spotted a couple of fish rising, put Tony on them, and he fooled a nice 20-inch salmon with a dry fly to close out our trip with the longest fish of the trip.
Tony’s Birthday Salmon
It was a very good, memorable trip, and with the exception of Sam’s loss, one of our best.
Now that you have observed the situation and have come to the conclusion that there are fish where you are, then start by doing the things that have worked for you in the past. Like a good athlete, you have both muscle and brain memory. The latter is of extreme importance. There is no greater teacher than experience. That said, when all else fails, think outside the box, or better yet, do what my dad told me more than 60 years ago; “Think like a fish.” Well not literally, but you do need to know what a fish needs and wants.
Take the temperature
He needs a friendly environment; one that fits his needs, both nutritional and physical. The single most important thing other than food that he needs is a comfortable temperature. For example, a brook trout can’t live in water of 70+ degrees or more for more than a matter of minutes. He is happiest in water between 53 and 65 degrees, but he can live in temps a little warmer and much colder.
Preferred Temperatures for Trout
Of course oxygen is essential, and there are some places where oxygen levels are better than others, particularly in a river. This is especially true when the water warms in the summer. So it makes sense that in the summer, water that is churning over rocks, would contain more oxygen than flat or still water.
Eat up
OK now your fish has oxygen. Now he needs food. You need to figure out what foods are available where and when. You would not fish a lure that looks like a frog in April
when there is no frog activity. Why would you fish a dry fly if there are no insects flying about? If it is early spring, and there are no insects hatching, then in makes sense the
trout are heavily dependent on eating other fish or insects in the nymph stage. Many insects spend 364 days of their 1-year life span living in the water, only to hatch, mate, and die in a single day. So from a pure numbers game, you are far better off betting that the trout are eating something sub surface.
Mayfly Life Cycle
Many years ago, I used to say that trout diet consists of 80% nymphs. I was wrong. Now I believe that it is more like 99%+ over the course of a year. This does not take into account consuming other fish because that varies greatly on availability, species, and the size of the trout.
Browns, for example, start feeding on other fish at a younger age than rainbows or brookies. It also matters greatly the availability of the prey fish.
Here is a personal example that has stuck with me for 43 years. I was fishing on February 29, 1976, the last day of the fishing season, and an extra day at that because it was a leap year. (The next year, Massachusetts went to a 12-month trout season.) I stood on the shore of Long Pond in Plymouth and watched the ice break up. It was exciting and disappointing at the same time. This would be my last chance to fish for six weeks.
As soon as I had open water to cast to, I did exactly that. I soon landed a 12-inch rainbow. That fish had the tail of another fish still jutting out from its mouth. It wasn’t just any fish, it was an 8-inch yellow perch! When I removed the perch the head was greatly digested, but the middle and tail were intact. This told me that this rainbow grabbed the perch hours earlier, yet he was aggressive enough to go after my lure. It must have looked like an easy meal that he just could not pass up. This is a classic case of availability. Despite this incident, I contend that rainbows are not the fish eaters that similar-sized browns and brookies are.
One last tip: If there are yellow perch in the body of water you are fishing, you could do worse than put on a perch-imitating lure. A yellow perch Rapala is hands down my wife’s favorite lure and is on my list of favorites for sure.
Perch Rapala
On our last trip to Moosehead Lake, we were getting little action on our usual lures that imitate smelt when Tony put on a perch Rapala and caught a salmon despite the fact that we were in a river that was full of smelt. Why did he put on the perch Rapala? Because he remembered that a lake trout we caught the year prior had two yellow perch in its stomach.
The Landlocked Salmon that Tony Caught on a Perch Rapala
Use your head
Try to give a fish what he wants to eat or something he just can’t resist. Remember that all forms of life tend to take the path of least resistance. More to the point, the will seek out the maximum amount of calories with the least effort. Hence the success of lures that imitate a crippled fish, amphibian, or insect.
Just yesterday, I saw this video of a 30-inch lake trout trying to eat a 20-inch lake trout that was being reeled in. It would never do that if the smaller fish was not in distress.
I have had incidents like that happen to me many times, including:
a pickerel attacking a large sunfish that I hooked
smallmouths grabbing a hooked trout (several times)
bluefish grabbing another hooked bluefish
And that’s just to name a few.
Think like a fish. Think temperature, think food, think opportunity.
I have been asked by many people to put down on paper my knowledge of fishing. In my mind, there is a direct correlation between knowledge and experience. The keys there are to identify the experience and remember it for future use.
At the top of my list of things to do is to be observant. The number of times that my being observant has resulted in fish is literally countless. I’ll give you an example of what I think might be the first time I applied that theory.
Everything happens for a reason
It was the summer, and I was fishing with my father on the Assabet River in the Maynard/Stow area of Massachusetts. I was probably 13 years old at the time.
The Assabet was notorious for becoming carpeted with small algae that the locals referred to as duckweed. (The ducks did love it, by the way.) It would be so thick on the surface of the water that it would support the weight of many non-metal lures.
On this day, we were drifting downstream when I noticed a disturbed spot in the duckweed. Logic told me that it happened for a reason, and I assumed it was brought about by a fish. So I cast my recently purchased 6-inch black Creme plastic worm towards the spot. I was careful to cast slightly past it and bring it on top of the algae to the slightly open spot.
BOOM! A nice largemouth bass grabbed the worm. My father got so excited that I could not believe it. We landed the fish, which we kept to eat. After that, we caught a few more, but we missed more than we caught. The next time we went fishing, my dad had his own supply of plastic worms.
Later, I would apply the same principle to bait fish. My friends and I would go down to the river downtown with little pea-sized dough balls to catch shiners. We couldn’t keep them all alive so we would wrap them in tin foil and freeze them. Before we put them in the freezer, we would bend them into about a half moon shape. That way when we put a hook in the frozen shiner and cast it like a lure, they would spin on your retrieve. They worked in open water, but they worked best coming across the algae.
Stop and look
There are many obvious instances of being observant when it comes to fly fishing, but here is an unusual one. I was wading at Menemsha Beach on Martha’s Vineyard one fall day while fly fishing for bonito.
I was having no luck, despite knowing that I was casting a fly that was a perfect match to the small baitfish that we call “spearing” that were schooled right in front of me. The bonito were crashing within arm’s length of me, at times even splashing me. To say that I was frustrated was an understatement.
The next time a bonito crashed close to me, instead of casting at it, I simply observed exactly what was going on. A crash came, and I immediately noticed a dozen stunned spearing just quivering and slowing sinking from the shock of the strike. Suddenly, below the surface and out of anyone’s view, these flashing streaks darted in all directions and picked off every one of the stunned spearing. When the next explosion occurred in front of me, instead of retrieving my fly after casting, I simply left it there and twitched it a few times…BOOM! I was on!
Sometimes, things are not what they appear
Many times, early in my fly-fishing life, I would get frustrated by casting at rising fish and not getting a take. What I learned was a simple principle that applies to all forms of wildlife, “The less energy expended, the better.” In other words, “Take the easy way out.” Or, “Why kill yourself for a meal when you don’t have to?”
As it turns out, more often than not, those rising trout were not taking the already emerged dry flies, but rather the emerging ones. Those nymphs lay helpless in the surface film for several moments as they dry their wings. They are so easily picked off, like the spearing on Martha’s Vineyard, why not take the easy lunch?
Take it all in
Being observant can also mean exactly that, in that you want to take in all that is around you.
If for example you aren’t catching fish in your favorite bass pond, but you occasionally hear or see a large splash in the lily pads you can assume that the bass are looking on top for lunch, for something like frogs perhaps.
Trust your senses. If you thought that you heard a splash to your right, you no doubt did, and splashes don’t happen for no reason.
If you notice the slightest movement by a lily pad that seems out of place, you can bet that it is a fish, probably a big one.
Watch the loons and mergansers. There life depends on finding fish. That said I would never crowd either of them. Wait until they move off before fishing that spot. When you are there, take note of the depth and water temperature (when applicable) where they were fishing.
Water temperature isn’t that important at certain times of the year. For example, in a shallow lake in late July, the temperature is going to be pretty uniform throughout. However, if you are fishing a few weeks after ice out, a one- or two-degree temperature difference from one spot to another is huge!
I kid you not
Don’t forget the little boy or girl in you. When you went to a pond or river as a kid, what did you do? You looked for all the neat things that lived and grew there. Keep that in mind the next time you launch your boat. If you see many pollywogs, for example, you can bet that the game fish are fully aware of them too.
Tadpoles
If you are fishing a body of water that is next to a ripening corn field, you can bet that little rodents are making many trips to that corn and are in need of a drink or a swim.
Look at what is under those rocks. Are there nymphs or leeches? Neither is pleasant to most of us, but they’re high on any game fish’s menu.
Observe the elements of your success or failure
For example, August is without a doubt the toughest month to catch trout, especially on a fly *most* of the time.
Many years ago, I fished a heavily fished trout pond on a rainy, foggy, muggy August morning, and I had a spectacular day. Now every August I head to the pond on days just like that. In fact, that pond, which had long been one of my favorites, I have yet to fish this year. It has received much publicity, and it is very popular with kayakers so fishing it in good weather is no longer pleasant. Fishing it in unpleasant weather is much more relaxing and productive.
On a similar note, my very best days there have been in early season snowstorms; I kid you not!
In fact, one of those days is a perfect example for this topic. In late April of 2011, we had a very cold snowy opening day of trout season.
Ian and Your Guide in the Snow on Opening Day
I had my grandson Ian in my boat, and Tony had my grandson Sam in his. The pond had at least a dozen other boats on it when we got there.
We started by trolling close to shore to try to locate some fish. We did in less than 10 minutes, and we stopped at that spot to cast. A couple of hours later, we had the place to ourselves, and we had landed 77 trout that we released.
Sam’s First Tiger Trout
It seemed that we could have caught fish all day, but I insisted that we leave because Tony and both of my grandsons were wet and shivering. When we got to the launch, the local warden was waiting for us.
Dave asked how we did. He was shocked. He said none of the other boats had landed a single fish. He said that he was called all kinds of names including a liar when he assured the other fishermen that it had been stocked.
Why did we catch fish when no one else did? We were observant and smart. After the very first hit that we got trolling, I stopped the boats for two reasons. First, I knew that this early in the season the fish would be schooling. Second, I knew that they would seek “structure,” meaning rocks, logs, etc. for protection.
That is exactly what happened. My very cold and wet grandsons were very happy.
The fishing at the Rapid River was challenging, and the banks were crowded with fishermen. I can count at least nine fishermen in this one photo that Tony took that day.
A School of Rapid River Fishermen
If it weren’t for the nice backwash that Tony spotted and many other fishermen missed, our success would have been very different. We caught most of our trout and salmon on dries, which is preferable, but with the river so properly named, every fish was a challenge to land. Why were the fish attracted to this backwash? Like in the Cape Cod Canal, the backwash traps food. In this case, insects.
Tony caught what was then his biggest native brookie (16 inches) along with several others and several nice salmon. He earned them because he was observant enough to spot that nice backwash that was holding so many fish.
Tony’s 16-Inch Brook Trout in 2014
Keep your eyes open, and think about what you are looking at.
Whenever I am asked about trout fishing in September, my answer is always something like this:
The fishing can be slow.
The fish are moody.
They are thinking more about reproducing than eating.
The weather conditions can vary greatly, also affecting their moods and urges.
That said, the fish are in peak condition in both strength and appearance.
So the quick, two-day trip that Tony and I took just after Labor Day proved all of that.
We started our fishing at one of the most famous spots on the Magalloway River–the Mailbox Pool. We never fish there because it ALWAYS has so many fishermen that I feel like I can’t enjoy myself in a crowd that size.
So when we saw no cars there, we decided to see what was so special about this spot. When we got there, it was obvious why it was so desirable. It looked like the picture perfect trout water.
Your Guide at the Mailbox Pool
We fished it without a hint of a fish. I think I saw one fish rise. So when a young man showed up with *two* fly rods and his dog, and apparently had fished here many times, we decided to move on.
Local Fisherman and Dog at the Mailbox Pool
Surprisingly, when we got to our car, there was no other vehicle there. We assumed this young man walked there. That said, there is only one house within a mile or more of this place, which seemed to confirm our belief that he was very much a local.
Now we moved on to our secret place on the river, downstream a few miles. This spot is rather innocuous, but it simply holds fish, big fish. You might remember this spot from this spring’s story of the big brookie that Tony hooked briefly. It was easily the biggest brookie we had ever seen in the lower 48.
Our Secret Spot
So we fished that pool–or more accurately a bend–and for quite some time, there was little to get excited about. Suddenly a nice sized fish broke right in front of me. Thankfully I was in such a position that I was almost instantly able to put my flies (a dry with a nymph dropper) right on the spot. There was a splash, and I was on. Tony knew, even at a distance that it was not your typical 9-inch brookie, and he dashed over to help.
The bank there is the very definition of steep and deep. It is a few feet deeper that Tony is tall. He literally slid down the bank, having to be careful not to go too far so as not to end up in the very deep river.
Eventually, I got this beautiful native brook trout to Tony’s waiting net–a very small hand net that you hang from your wading vest. What we needed, and I’ve since created is a long-handled net.
If Only We Had This Net
Now Tony needed to get up the bank. That was no small feat, but eventually he made it. The trout was a beautiful 15-inch female that we returned to the river very quickly. That made the trip.
My 15-Inch Brook Trout
This place is within a short drive of one of the most heavily fished brook trout pools in all of New England–or maybe the Northeast! We have only once seen another fisherman there, and even that was very briefly, thankfully.
At midday, we went to the dam. That resulted in each of us catching a trout and a salmon.
My 13-Inch Landlocked Salmon
Tony’s salmon was the biggest at 15.5 inches. It was a nice couple of hours.
Tony’s 15.5-Inch Landlocked Salmon
That evening, we returned to our secret spot. Just after sunset, I heard an excited Tony as a salmon took to the air. I went over to help, as it appeared something was wrong. Sure enough, the salmon had taken Tony’s line under a log, not once but twice, wrapping the line around it, and making it impossible to move him. I held Tony’s rod while he once again climbed down the steep bank and into the river, lifted the log, and rolled it to untangle his leader. The fish and the fly were gone.
It worked out for this very smart–or more likely lucky–salmon, as the resistance of the log was enough to break the leader at the fly, which was one of the yellow soft hackle streamers that I tie. Luckily, Tony took a picture of it before he tied it on so I can recreate the fly that he lost.
My Yellow Soft Hackle Streamer
The next morning we returned to the dam, and Tony caught an average sized brown trout.
Tony’s 10.5-Inch Brown Trout
Later that afternoon, we returned to the dam and caught a couple of small smallmouth bass.
Tony’s 7-Inch Smallmouth Bass
When 10 high school students began to slowly portage their kayaks over the dam, we decided to move on.
Invasion of the High School-Aged Kayakers
That night, we returned to our secret spot. It started off quiet and uneventful. There were no rises to take note of.
Suddenly, about a rod-and-a-half length from me, directly in front of me, the largest salmon that I have ever seen south of Labrador, jumped in a classic arch.
One of Our Salmon in Labrador
It–and I mean this very honestly–took my breath away. I could not even speak as I tried to yell to Tony. I finally caught my breath, and it became obvious that at even 75 yards away, Tony had heard the splash and seen the rings.
This is going to sound crazy to some, but like the appreciation for the big brookie earlier in the year, we felt lucky just to be fishing in a place that a magnificent fish like that called home. Actually, he probably does not live there. He is more likely there for the sole purpose of spawning. He’ll then leave, but he’ll be back. So will we.
The next morning (our last) found us back in the stretch on the upper Magalloway where the big trout had been the evening before. He or she must have fed all night and decided to sleep in. That fish never showed. Some of his or her offspring were more cooperative, and we caught and released a couple average-sized brookies.
My 10-Inch Brook Trout
It was a beautiful morning, except for the clouds of mosquitoes and black flies. This was not the norm. Usually when we fish here at this time of the season we only have to contend with the mosquitoes, but I think because of the late spring, we had to deal with the black flies as well. We were however encouraged by what we saw and made plans to return that evening.
Beautiful Morning = Bad Fishing
Later in the morning we dropped downstream in hopes of finding some feeding fish. We did but they were all fallfish.
Tony’s 7-Inch Fallfish
We returned to the upper Magalloway that evening in hopes of getting another shot at that big brookie, but it never showed up. In fact, despite adequate insects hatching, the rises were few and far between. We did manage another average-sized brookie each.
8-Inch Brook Trout
It probably does not make sense to a non-fisherman, but the highlight of our trip was that missed fish. Why? Because in my lifetime of almost three-quarters of a century, I have seen very few brook trout of that size. The only ones I have seen, I had to travel hundreds of miles at great expense and physical effort to accomplish in Labrador.
It is even more special knowing that this trout was not born in a hatchery, but instead was born in this beautiful river surrounded by these incredible mountains.
The Cloudy Sunset Behind the Mountains
I am very happy knowing that that fish is probably still there, and I can’t wait until September in hopes of fooling him with a grasshopper fly.
Grasshopper Fly
So despite the low number of fish landed, it was a most productive and rewarding Father’s Day weekend, and I will cherish the memories of it.
WLAGS 