Thanks to my trail cameras, I’ve captured some great photos over the years and this year in particular. This picture of a mother fisher prodding her little one off of a stump has been the standout so far.
A Mother Fisher and Her Kit
You’ve heard fishermen say, “You should have seen the one that got away.” Well, the same can be said for trail camera photos, believe it or not. Here’s one such example.
Due to a health issue, I haven’t had a chance to hunt much this year, but I did have a memorable experience on one of my few times out.
On the fateful afternoon, I stood near a well-used game trail in what we call the #1 Swamp. I’ve had a camera there for years. It overlooks the trail, which consistently gets year-round pictures of deer, moose, coyotes, and just about any other critter.
Unfortunately, the trail cam had been malfunctioning. It had been killing the batteries in just a couple of days, rather than the usual months. When I arrived that afternoon, the camera batteries were dead again, as I’d expected.
I had arrived a bit late, so I decided to leave the camera dead while I took my ground stand about 30 feet directly in front of it. I’d make all the movement and noise of changing the batteries after legal shooting light.
I decided to simply stand near the trail and wait for one of the bucks that we had been catching on the camera in recent weeks to happen down the trail.
One of the Bucks in the Area
I didn’t have to wait too long before I heard a twig snap quite close to me. The walking on the hard mud of the trail was so quiet that I didn’t hear this animal until it was almost on top of me. I had no time to react, so I just froze.
A second later, a very large bull moose arrived at a healthy walk, not quite a trot. He walked just past me, and then he came to a full stop about seven feet from me. He was about seven feet tall at the shoulder.
He stood stone still, assessing the situation. He obviously didn’t know that I was so close to him, but he knew something wasn’t right. He slowly turned his head around and looked at me, trying to size up what this camo-clad blob was all about.
A Smaller Bull from Another of My Trail Cameras
I didn’t move a muscle, and the wind was in my favor. Despite that and his poor vision, he could tell that something was out of place, namely me!
Once he had gotten an eyeful of me, he turned his gaze back to the trail, and he left at the exact same pace that he walked in. It was such a quiet evening that I could actually hear his antlers whacking into branches better than I could hear him walking on the muddy trail.
Here’s a similar-sized bull moose that we captured on a different trail camera:
A Similar Sized Bull in the Same Area
And here’s a video we captured of another bull of that age class not far from this area:
A Similar Bull on a Different Trail Cam of Mine
As I changed the batteries in the camera, I was cursing it for not working at a time when it could have captured a photo of a lifetime–me standing in front of it with this enormous bull moose towering over me, looking me in the eye.
However, my appreciation for being so close to such a magnificent animal far outweighed my annoyance with the camera. This was one of those special hunting moments that I’ll never forget. Encounters like these are exactly what keeps me heading back into the woods after all these years.
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.
This year’s Moosehead Lake trip was supposed to be a tradition renewal of sorts. It had been 10 years since we had done this trip as a complete unit; that is grandfather (me), son (Tony), and two grandsons (Ian and Sam). Unfortunately, as has happened too many times in the past, life got in the way, and Sam had to work, largely because of COVID’s impact on his school system. We were all very disappointed, no one more so than me since last year, COVID prevented me from going, as my wife Debbie erred on the side of caution. This year, we had to make the best of it as a threesome.
Timing Is Everything
We normally try to time the trip to be right after ice out because that’s when the smelt start to run up the rivers to spawn. That’s when the fish that we want to catch chase them up the rivers.
We set our expectations low regarding the fishing for this year’s trip because the ice went out the second earliest on record—April 16. We figured that by the time we got there (the second week in May), the smelt run would be over, and the game fish would have dispersed across the 100+ square miles of Moosehead Lake, making them much more difficult to catch.
Sunday’s long drive to Moosehead Lake was uneventful. We were surprised to see fiddlehead ferns still available, given that their season usually coincides with that of the smelt spawning run. The gentleman who sold them to us said that the colder than usual spring temperatures (they had six inches of snow fall the week before), had extended the fiddlehead season. We were hopeful that those temperatures would extend the smelt run as well.
Fiddleheads Were Still in Season
We arrived at camp with enough daylight to get out and take a few casts. Tony broke the ice with a 10-inch brook trout (BRK) at West Outlet of the Kennebec River, where it flows out of Moosehead Lake.
Tony, Grampy, and Ian at West Outlet on Moosehead Lake
Monday’s Moose Was Good Luck
On Monday morning, Ian and I went for a ride along the east side of the lake and we saw three deer and two moose.
Our Good-Luck Moose
We picked up the boat that afternoon. This year, we decided to rent a boat instead of towing one up, and we decided to go with a 19-footer, which is larger than we usually use. This would give us the ability to traverse the lake more easily.
Tony and Ian motored it the few miles from the rental place on the lake to our cottage on the Moose River.
We launched the boat that afternoon in the river at camp after lunch. Ian caught a landlocked salmon (LLS) and a lake trout (called togue in Maine). Tony caught a 20-inch LLS, and I caught a couple of 18-inch smallmouth bass (SMB) that evening. It was a nice way to start off the trip…sort of. More about those SMBs in a minute.
Tony’s 20-Inch Landlocked Salmon
Tuesday’s Fast Start
We hit the water before sunup on Tuesday morning. The results were several smallmouths between 16 and 19 inches, a few lakers, and a 13-inch fallfish, which is large for this native fish that Mainers call “chubs.”
Ian and Tony Doubled Up on 16-Inch Smallmouth Bass
I managed to land two lakers and a salmon on a lure that I had never tried at Moosehead before. It is another Rapala called a BX Shad, a BXJ6 in purple to be exact. It never hurts to try something new, especially when the tried and true are not working. We were hopeful this was going to be the start of a good day.
My 15.5-Inch Lake Trout (Togue)
Native vs. Stocked vs. Invasive
It’s noteworthy that of all the different fish species that we caught that day, only Tony’s 13-inch fallfish was native to Mooshead Lake.
The landlocked salmon were introduced in the late 1800s by Maine Fish and Game (as the IFW was called then). And as Tony mentioned in last year’s Moosehead Lake trip blog, Fish and Game introduced lake trout to Moosehead Lake and continued to stock them until 1975. Both species now naturally reproduce. But while the salmon and native brook trout (BRK) can live side by side without issue, the lake trout have been so detrimental to the BRK population that Maine’s Department of Inland Fisheries and Wildlife (IFW, as Fish and Game is called today) has increased the bag limit and eliminated the size limit for the most part. This year, each angler can keep five lakers of any size per day, but only one can exceed 18 inches.
Smallmouth bass on the other hand were illegally introduced by “bucket biologists,” that is regular jamokes who want to catch smallmouth bass and decided to toss them into Moosehead Lake with no input from the real fisheries biologist at IFW. The smallmouth bass have taken hold in a big way, and they are quite harmful to the native brook trout population. As an example, one time in New Hampshire, I had a 20-inch SMB eat an 11-inch brook trout right off my line.
Because the smallmouths are an invasive species that are destructive to the native brook trout population, there is no size limit or bag limit on them in Moosehead Lake. In fact, anglers are encouraged to kill any SMB that they catch. We decided to eat half of the SMBs that we caught, and we fed the others to the resident bald eagles that nest on an island at the mouth of the Moose River.
An Eagle Grabbing One of Our Smallmouth Bass
Back to the Fishing
We launched at around noon for our second trip of the day, and it went well. Since the wind wasn’t too bad, we decided to take advantage of the larger boat, and head out on the lake. I caught an 18-inch salmon as we rode up alongside Mount Kineo.
My 18-Inch Landlocked Salmon
I caught two more lakers, while Tony caught an 18.5-inch laker on his trusted Fathead Minnow-colored Rapala. Not bad for a midday trip.
Tony’s 18.5-Inch Laker
We took an early dinner break, and Tony cooked up some smallmouth bass filets and some of the fiddlehead ferns that we bought on the ride up. My dad loved eating SMB, but I would rather put them back to catch another day. However, here in Moosehead, they are eating the brook trout, so they are fair game.
Smallmouth Bass and Fiddlehead Ferns—It’s What’s for Dinner
After dinner, Tony and Ian went out while the Old Man recouped. Ian landed a nice laker and Tony a nice smallmouth. They fed the latter to the eagles.
Ian’s 17-Inch Lake TroutAn Eagle Enjoys Our Gift of Smallmouth Bass
The Final Fishing Day
We hit the water early on Wednesday as well, and Ian caught our only brookie out of the river—a 13-incher, giving him the Moosehead Slam (brook trout, lake trout, salmon). Until Ian caught that BRK, Tony’s 13-inch fallfish had been the only fish native to Moosehead Lake that we had caught.
Ian’s 13-Inch Brook Trout
Ian also caught an 18-inch laker that morning, while Grampy caught a 22-inch laker—the biggest fish of the trip, which broke off the front hook of my lure during the twisting of his “death roll.”
My 22-Inch Laker Was the Biggest of the Trip
After a lunch break, we headed back out on the river. I managed three more lake trout between 17.5 and 19 inches. Tony also caught an 18-inch laker, and Ian caught yet another 16-inch smallmouth bass.
After an early dinner, we gave it one last shot without a lot of success. I managed to pull in one last 17-inch lake trout.
By almost any measure, it was a great trip, despite the fact that we missed having Sam with us. We caught 30 fish in 3.5 days, we saw moose, deer, a mink, loons, and other wildlife. We ate fresh fish and fiddlehead ferns. We fed bald eagles. Most importantly, we had three generations of fishermen all sharing their love of the outdoors. It doesn’t get any better than that.
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.
Below is my son Tony’s write-up of his recent trip to Moosehead Lake with my grandson Sam.
WLAGS
————–
The History Behind the Tradition
From the late ’70s through 1985, my dad led an annual pilgrimage to Moosehead Lake. It was a large contingent that grew larger every year. Many of my dad’s friends would join us. My grandfather and his friend Jim would drive up in my grandfather’s camper van. My cousin Ralph and his friend Dana joined us almost every year as well.
There is a very long story behind why we stopped this tradition after 1985. Perhaps we’ll blog about that some day. In any case, we picked up the tradition again in 2010, this time with my two nephews in tow–15 year-old Ian and 13 year-old Sam. The four of us made the same trip in 2011. Then, Ian and Sam got busy with their high school activities and teenage lives. Dad and I continued on the tradition from 2012 through 2016.
The reasons that we ended the tradition again after our 2016 trip were twofold:
The brook trout fishing had gone downhill.
The wind.
This year, the wind was even worse, but the brook trout fishing had improved notably, which is why we decided to give it a try again.
The Fall and Rise of Moosehead’s Brook Trout
The story of the brook trout’s decline and rebound is a classic case of the American model of wildlife management. Maine’s Department of Inland Fisheries and Wildlife (IFW) last stocked lake trout (called “togue” in Maine) in Moosehead Lake in 1975. The togue, which are not native to Moosehead Lake, took off from there. They created a naturally reproducing wild population that grew and grew, much to the detriment of other species, especially the native brook trout.
In the short, seven-year span from 2010 to 2016, we personally witnessed a decline in the size and number of brook trout. Luckily, Maine’s IFW also took notice, and they acted. They increased the number of togue that fishermen could keep, and they decreased the size limit. This year, you could keep five togue per day, with a minimum size limit of 14 inches. In 2016, I believe the size limit was 18 inches, and the bag limit was two fish. The results speak for themselves. The brook trout have bounced back very well.
OK. Enough with the history lesson, let’s get to the fishing, shall we?
This Year’s Fishing
As I mentioned, the wind was terrible, which made the fishing more difficult, and it showed in the results of our first couple of days. In our first 48 hours–much of that spent fishing–we only had four brook trout to show for our efforts. I was starting to think that the fish were taking this “social distancing” recommendation too seriously.
When we arrived on Sunday evening, I managed to “long-distance release (LDR)” two brook trout that probably measured around 9 inches. I caught them both casting a small (T101) watermelon-colored Buoyant into West Outlet.
The next morning, we trolled the Moose River from 7:45 until noon. Sam caught the only fish, a 12-inch female brook trout. He was trolling a size 7 rainbow trout-colored sinking Rapala. Since the fish are feeding on rainbow smelt, we find that rainbow trout-colored lures work really well–sometimes better than the real thing, but not on this day. Other boats that were live-lining smelt caught more fish than we did.
Sam’s 12-Inch Brook Trout
We spent the rest of Monday fishing any body of water where we might be sheltered from the strong, gusty winds–West Outlet, East Outlet, the Roach River, and Misery Stream. There wasn’t a fish to be found in any of them. I started to question the wisdom of coming back to Moosehead after a four-year hiatus.
Putting the “Moose” in Moosehead
The only silver lining to Monday was all the wildlife that we saw. One of the things that makes a fishing trip to Maine so special is seeing moose. On Monday, the animals made me look like a genius. We saw that there was rain and snow in the forecast for late Monday night and Tuesday morning. I told Sam that a lot of wildlife, particularly ungulates with four-chambered stomachs would be out in droves filling up before the storm blew in so they could hunker down and chew their cud during the storm.
I had no idea how right I would be. We saw four moose. I had to slam on the brakes for two of them.
One of Four Moose that We Saw on Monday
We saw nine deer, including a buck in velvet.
One of Nine Deer that We Saw on Monday
As forecasted, we woke up to about three inches of snow on Tuesday morning.
A Rude Awakening
When it stopped snowing, Sam bailed out the boat, and we trolled the Moose River from 9:30 AM to 1:00 PM. Again, Sam caught the only fish–a 17-inch fallfish (called a “chub” in Maine) and a 15-inch female brookie, which he brought home.
Sam’s 15-Inch Brook Trout
Bring In The Guide
We were stumped so we called The Guide. Dad asked us, “What have you done in the Moose River in the evenings?”
“We’ve avoided the Moose River like the plague in the evenings,” I said. “If you look at our fishing logs from 2010 to 2016, you could count on two hands the number of fish that we’ve caught in the river after 2:00 PM.”
“Even so,” Dad said, “You should still go out there for the last hour of daylight. You’re right there.”
He was right, as usual. Our cabin was just a few steps from the river. Why not take a run down and back up the river during the last hour of the day? Sunset was 8:00 PM. Sam and I agreed that no matter what we did in the middle of the day, we’d be back on the river by 7:00 PM.
For the remainder of the afternoon, we fished a few other spots that were a short drive from the cabin with nothing to show for it. We made sure to be back to the cabin by 6:30, and we were on the river trolling by 7:00. What was interesting was that all the other boats on the river were pulling in their lines and docking for the night. No one wanted to be on the water during that last hour of light.
Right at sunset (8:00), I hooked into an 18-inch landlocked salmon. I decided that this would be the fish that I kept to bring home for dinner. I caught it on a Rapala that they stopped manufacturing in 2011. It’s called the fathead minnow color. This time, I was using a floating lure. The fish were right on the surface.
Tony’s 18-Inch Landlocked Salmon Turned the Tide
The Turning Point
That salmon was the turning point in the trip. We felt like we finally understood how the fish were behaving. It was like when the momentum shifts late in a sporting event. Sam and I felt like we had been losing this battle with the fish all week, and suddenly we saw a path to victory.
Sunrise was 5:11 the next morning. Sam and I were up at 4:15 and on the water by 4:45. I caught the first fish of the day right at sunrise, another 18-inch salmon. Two hours later, I caught a 20-incher.
Tony’s 20-Inch Salmon
Sam didn’t have any of those discontinued Rapalas so I lent him mine. At 7:35 AM, one minute after he put the lure in the water, he caught an 18-inch salmon. Unlike mine, his jumped four times. You can see the last quarter moon over his shoulder in this picture.
Sam’s Salmon and the Last Quarter Moon
We fished for another hour, but in that hour two things happened: the wind picked up, and more boats than we’d seen all week combined appeared on the river. Also, we never caught another fish.
Unlike on Monday, on this day (Wednesday), we didn’t see any of those guys who were live-lining smelt or trolling flies catch a fish or even get a hit. This was one of those days where the artificial lures outfished the bait.
On Wednesday, the animals made me look like a fool. I wanted to tell Sam (but didn’t) that with the storm gone and the high winds, we wouldn’t see any wildlife on our drive to the Roach River. Boy was I wrong. We saw another moose, eight deer, two beavers, a turkey, a snowshoe hare, and a roughed grouse (or should I say “a partridge in a pear tree”?).
Two of the Eight Deer We Saw on Wednesday
Again, we didn’t catch any fish in the Roach River or East Outlet. Sam managed to catch an 11-inch brook trout in West Outlet on a silver and blue Phoebe that his grandfather (The Guide) gave him for Christmas.
Once again, we were sure to be back on the Moose River by 7:00 PM to fish the last hour of light. And once again, all the other boats were docking as we were launching. We had the whole river to ourselves for that hour. Although we saw one salmon jump, we didn’t catch anything, which was perfectly acceptable to me.
We had already had a successful trip by my way of measuring. We caught some nice fish, saw quite a bit of wildlife, and I got to spend a few days fishing with my nephew. You can’t ask for much more than that.
On the third morning we put the boat in Aziscohos Lake near the inlet of the Magalloway River. To get there, we needed to drive about 16 miles down dirt roads.
At one point, we came upon a doe standing in the road, licking it to take in the minerals, much like a cow does with a salt lick. Unlike all the moose that we saw, she was not very skittish at all. In fact, she was reluctant to leave the road. We needed to drive right up to her before she would scamper off into the woods, which she did very slowly, giving Tony a chance to take a few pictures of her. One look at her ribs made it obvious why she was so reluctant to leave the mineral-rich dirt road.
It Was a Long, Hard Winter for this Doe
This is what a deer looks like even several weeks after 17 feet of snow has melted. That’s not a typo. They received 17 feet of snow this winter.
As we were preparing to launch, we met the new warden in the area, Officer Egan. After we exchanged pleasantries, we offered to show him our licenses, but I assume after our conversation he knew that we were legal. Besides, he was far more interested in some campers that were camped right under a sign that said, “No Camping”!
It was a beautiful morning, which inevitably makes for tough fishing. We each caught a small brook trout.
Tony’s 8-Inch Brook Trout
A loon was also fishing for those small brookies.
The Loon That Was Fishing With Us
The highlight of the day was seeing a mated pair of bald eagles feeding their eaglet on the nest.
The Eaglet Being Fed
That evening, we went to the upper Magalloway River. There were fish rising, but they were very fussy. These fish no doubt had seen many a fly in their day as this stretch of the river has strict fly fishing only, catch-and-release, and barbless hook regulations.
One of Many “Fly Fishing Only” Signs on the Magalloway
It became obvious that there was one very large brookie occasionally feeding in the pool. Knowing that too much activity would put them down, I stopped casting in hopes that Tony could get that big brookie to take. Tony carefully measured his casts so as not to let that fish get a glimpse of his fly line.
Tony Casting in the Upper Magalloway
It worked. After several casts and a perfect drift came the unmistakable sound of a big fish rolling on the fly. Up came Tony’s rod with a deep bend in it from the weight of the fish, but almost as quickly it went limp.
The good news is that that miss did not seem to deter that fish from feeding. Tony stayed there until last light, as did the fish. Once darkness set in the air cooled, the flies stopped hatching, and the fish stopped feeding. Both Tony and the fish called it a night.
The Magalloway After Sunset That Night
As we made the long trek home, we saw five moose (including three calves), a doe, and a red fox.
I won’t bore you with all the details, but in the nutshell, I did a 2-hour trek to check the camera at Stand #3.
I was anxious to get in the house to see what was on the card, but I had set some bird seed on the steps to put out on my return because I would have ice cleats on.
I turned the corner of the house at about 3 PM, and there was an ermine, black-tipped tail, black eyes and black nose, sniffing the Magic Rock!
Short-Tailed Weasel in Ermine State
Then I noticed a red squirrel running like hell across the wet spot and into the pines. I’m assuming that the squirrel used one of the tunnels in the snow to make his escape. The ermine, a short-tailed weasel, was sniffing vigorously on the rock.
I think this might be only the third time I have seen a weasel in the ermine state. Except for the spots of black, you can imagine how perfectly camouflaged they are in the snow.
Ermine in the Snow
I vividly remember one running (or should I say “bounding”?) over both of my boots on Stratton Mountain.
I also remember seeing a least weasel in the white state, though I can’t remember where, running along a stone wall just a few feet from me when the ground was bare–so no camo advantage for him.
The camera, by the way, produced only moose videos–coincidentally on the 11th of January and the 11th of February. They’re not good videos because the moose was too close, and it was snowing both times.
I think it was a bull because I *think* I saw a waddle (the hair-covered growth coming from the neck). I’ll scrutinize more later. Until then, here’s a 2017 video that shows a good moose waddle.
WLAGS 