Whether the moon has an effect on fishing success is a matter of much debate among fishermen. There are those who swear by it, and there are those that chalk it up to superstition.
The moon rising while I fished the Magalloway River
Last night, I saw a news story on TV in which a fisheries biologist strongly suggested that you fish during an eclipse. This immediately reminded me about an experience I had during the eclipse on Saturday, March 7, 1970. I was ice fishing on the pond at my local rod and gun club.
Two of my tip ups with flags raised at a local pond
I had no flags for the first two hours. Then as the eclipse started, the flags started popping up. Soon all five of my tip ups flagged at the same time. I didn’t know which way to turn. It was impossible to handle all five tip ups effectively at the same time. I was running around like a chicken with its head cut off, much to the amusement of the Saturday crowd sitting at the rod and gun club bar watching me fish through the windows.
Through all the chaos, I did manage to land a couple of trout, but as soon as the eclipse passed, so did the fishing. Another hour passed without a single flag. At that point, I considered myself lucky, and I called it a day.
Another experience I had was later in the 1970s when my friend Paul, his wife Dawn, and I fished a reservoir that was closed to fishing. We snuck in an aluminum canoe after sunset, and we fished all night.
At first, it was a clear, moonlit night, and we didn’t catch a thing. Dawn curled up in the bottom of the canoe and went to sleep until some patchy clouds rolled in and we started catching fish. Every time a cloud covered the moon, we’d hook up. When the clouds dispersed, the fishing shut down. This happened again and again. It was very dark when the moon was behind the clouds. We were blind casting.
As usual, I brought the bulk of the fishing tackle, including some surface lures, but mostly rubber worms. The surface lures worked occasionally, but the rubber worms worked on every cast that we took when there was cloud cover. We mostly caught largemouth bass, and big ones at that. They averaged 18 inches and 2 to 3 pounds. We were even catching good-sized pickerel on plastic worms!
Catching that many fish, especially pickerel, quickly puts a dent in your rubber worm inventory. When I started to run out of tackle, we started to make our way across the reservoir back towards our car, but it was slow going because we couldn’t stop catching fish.
As daybreak approached, we knew that we really needed to get off the reservoir before anyone spotted us. As we continued our way towards the road where we were parked, we couldn’t keep the fish off our lines. During that stretch, we caught a fish on every cast.
As soon as the sun made its way above the trees, the fishing shut off completely. Now we had a problem. We were in the middle of the reservoir that was closed to fishing, it was daylight, and we had to make our way to our car, which was parked on a very busy road.
Somehow we made it without anyone notifying the authorities. We caught more than 30 fish, making for a very memorable night.
One more experience I’ve had in favor of the moon debate is fishing for striped bass on Cape Cod and Martha’s Vineyard. There were many nights where I couldn’t buy a fish while the moon was shining, but as soon as a cloud covered the moon, I’d get a hit. On those nights when the clouds are moving fast, you could see the rises start up when the moon was cloud covered, and then it would all go quiet when the clouds moved on.
Fishing the Cape Cod Canal with my daughter and grandson
As a final piece of evidence on the pro-moon side, I present my late, great friend Dickie. He was one of those who swore by the moon’s effect on fishing. He would troll in the dark for smallmouth bass from sundown to sunup. He preferred fishing during a new moon. He liked to refer to the moon as “he,” and he would often say, “The best time to fish is when he is directly overhead or directly underfoot.”
Dickie would troll all night in his canoe
My son Tony and grandson Ian once did this type of fishing with Dickie, and Ian caught the largest smallmouth of his life that night.
Ian caught this 20-inch smallmouth trolling with Dickie late one night
Given how much success Dickie had on those nighttime outings and how much success I’ve had “playing the moon,” I’m inclined to take his side in the great moon debate.
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.
The year 1977 was the first one in my lifetime that did not have an Opening Day of Trout Season in Massachusetts. At first, I thought that it was a great idea—and probably still do—but I did (and still do) miss all that opening day was about.
I miss the anticipation, which was very childlike, like a kid looking forward to Christmas,
maybe more so for me. I miss the planning of where to go and when. It also meant a new array of tackle, and often a new rod and reel. I honestly could not sleep the night before.
So how did this play out for Massachusetts Fish and Game? Very well. No longer are they pressured to get every body of water stocked by that specific date. They can instead put the right number of fish in the right bodies of water at the optimum time for the fish, not necessarily for the fishermen, which in the long run means better fishing.
It also means a more even amount of pressure on a given body of water. When there was an opening day, I remember going to my favorite places, like the Nissitissit River, and having difficulty finding a place to park. Then having to settle for a spot to stand, rather than getting the best spot and not having the ability to move around. You’d better be right about your choice because you were married to it for hours.
Here’s my take on the numbers: When there was an opening day, they would stock, say 800 fish in a spot just before that day. Fifty guys would show up on opening day, and most would catch their limit, which was six fish then. In a matter of a few hours, 300 fish were gone. The rest of the fish were so shell shocked that they were just trying to hide. By the end of the day, more than half of the fish were gone.
One thing that I can’t emphasize enough is that by far most of the guys there on opening day would not be back again that season. Call them what you want; “one hit wonders” comes to mind.
I think the new “season” and stocking lends itself to real fishermen. Opening day was almost more of a social event back then. By the afternoon of opening day, there would be maybe 10% of the guys that were there at 5:00 AM.
So March of 1977 was a great new experiment, and it was a resounding success as far as I am concerned.
Prior to my first fishing trip of 1977, I did some deep thinking about where to go. I decided that wherever the ice went out first was going to be my best bet for success. I kept tabs on the ice situation, and I bet that Gull Pond on the outer Cape would be ice free first.
So with my father and my best fishing buddy Bob in tow, we headed there on Saturday March 13th. Our timing could not have been better.
After a three-hour drive, we arrived to see an unfishable pond. It was covered in large floating chunks of ice that were about half the size of a VW Beetle, and a doe was trapped in the middle of the ice chunks. Just minutes later, a strong west wind blew in off Cape Cod Bay and blew all the ice onto the eastern shore along with the doe, and she abruptly made her way to the tree line. What a break for her and us.
A Doe Trapped in Floating Ice Chunks
We quickly put on our waders and stepped into the water. Bob and I waded out to our midsections, and Dad waded up to his knees.
I was immediately into fish, nice fish at that. The first one was a very nice brown trout of about 14″. That was followed by several more. Meanwhile, Bobby was getting frustrated as he had only caught a few.
He asked me what I was using. I told him that it was an Acme Kamlooper spoon—gold and orange with black spots. I knew he would have one, and he did. Even when he changed to the same lure, he still wasn’t getting the action that I was.
The Acme Kamlooper
He got so frustrated that he snagged my line to check out my lure.
Recently, I was remembering a few surprises with regard to fish that I witnessed over the years.
The first happened on February 29th, 1976. How do I remember that? It was a leap year, obviously, and it was the last year that Massachusetts had an Opening Day of Trout Season. This would be my last chance to legally fish until the third Saturday in April.
I was fishing at Long Pond in Plymouth with my late friend Bob. When we reached the pond, it was largely ice covered. So much so that I walked the east shore to the south in hopes of finding enough open water for me to cast and get away from the crowd that was fishing the little open water at the boat ramp and beach.
Ice Going Out on Long Pond
As soon as I found a spot where I could make a full cast and not hit ice, I started casting. After changing lures several times, I decided to take a break after the long ride there and put on a salmon egg while I ate my sandwich.
It was only a minute or so after my cast, and even before I grabbed the sandwich, that the rod bounced and I grabbed it. I landed an 11″ rainbow trout, but there was a surprise inside. When I went to remove the hook, there was a tail looking at me. I instantly knew that it belonged to a yellow perch. Sure enough, I pulled an 8″ perch out of the trout’s mouth. The head of the perch was starting to show signs of digestion, being almost all white.
Now I had all kinds of questions:
Since when does a rainbow of this size turn into a predator? Rainbows of that size are largely insect eaters. Usually, rainbows don’t become predators of other fish until they are much larger, say at least 14″ if not more.
Why take on a prey fish that was so close in size?
How could it still feel the urge to eat a morsel like a salmon egg while literally having its digestive system stuffed?
Back then I didn’t think of rainbows like I do browns or even brookies when it comes to preying on other fish. And I certainly didn’t put them in the same category as a real predator, like a pickerel, for example,
I have the ultimate example of that. One evening I was fishing in one of my favorite trout streams when I noticed a pair of chain pickerel. Each of them was on either side of me as I stood in the stream in my waders.
They were small, probably no more than 5″ long. They were both facing out into the current, as was I.
Suddenly I detected movement. I never saw it move, but the pickerel on my left was suddenly gone. I looked to my right, and I saw what I assume was the pickerel from my left sitting with what was probably his sibling mostly down his throat. Only the tail was protruding from his mouth. It is safe to assume that that meal was going to take some time to digest!
Even Small Pickerel Are Fierce
To say these fish were both optimistic and aggressive would be an understatement. Those are traits that every fisherman prays that his quarry has.
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.
We have all heard the clichés “Playing the cards you’re dealt” and similar tidbits of advice. When you are looking forward to certain fishing conditions for example, and you get just the opposite, you have to adjust and adapt or fail, like so many other things in life.
My grandson Ian, my son Tony, and I were hoping for typical salmon fishing weather—cloudy, slightly windy, damp (or at least overcast) conditions for our annual Moosehead Lake fishing trip.
We got none of the above. Instead, we got bright sun, no clouds, and no wind. I emphasize, no wind. Moosehead Lake was calmer for three straight days than I had ever seen in more than 65 years of fishing it. It was also much warmer than I had ever experienced there in May, with highs in the 70s F.
None of the correlating indicators of a good fishing trip were there either. We had completely missed fiddlehead season. And on the first night, we didn’t see the nesting pair of eagles on “Eagle Island,” as we call it, for obvious reasons. We feared that might indicate that the salmon were not there, probably because the smelt were not running yet, or the smelt run was over. Thankfully that was not the case, as the eagles arrived shortly after we did.
This Bald Eagle Was a Sight for Superstitious Eyes
So our optimism was tempered to say the least. We hoped for the best but expected the worst.
Our hope of a successful trip hinged on one thing, or should I say hundreds of thousands of little things—rainbow smelt.
That was where we lucked out. All indications were that despite an early ice out—one of the earliest recorded over the past 150 years—the cold water temperatures and the moon phase made it possible that the smelt were just starting their spawning run into the rivers. We saw water temperatures from the high 40s to 50 F.
Thanks to that water temperature and moon phase, at least a significant number of smelt were still pressing on with their spawning run. We pressed on too, using tactics of trolling shallow waters early and late in the day, trolling deep at midday, and always keeping our lures in the upper portions of the water column.
In fairly short order, we started catching fish in the stretch of river from our rental house to the mouth, and we even caught some in the lake.
We rarely do well in the evenings there, but thankfully Tony got us off and running with that salmon.
Monday morning broke cold and calm. There was a heavy frost on the boat. Despite an early start, we were not the first boat on the water. Actually we were the fifth. Soon there were two dozen boats working the mouth on the river, which made navigating the boat a challenge. Despite that, Ian did a great job on his shifts at the helm.
At one point Tony and I doubled up on a couple of 19-inch togue. It was a great start to our trip.
Tony and I Doubled on 19-Inch Togue
That evening after supper, we caught a couple of togue and a couple of salmon. That is very good considering we rarely do well at that time. I’ll never quite understand why. My best guess is that the salmon are sitting out at the mouth waiting for a fresh school of smelt to start their mission to head upriver to spawn overnight.
The next morning broke bright and clear with no wind. The first fish of the day was the biggest of the trip—a 24-inch togue.
My Two-Foot Togue
Tony followed that with a couple of nice 19-inch togue, and the highlight of the day was when Ian and I caught almost identical 16-inch brook trout on the same lure. Of course, it had to be a discontinued color Rapala.
Ian’s 16-Inch Brook TroutMy 16-Inch Brookie
In all, we caught seven fish that morning, including the only smallmouth bass of the morning, thankfully. They were illegally introduced, and they eat the native brook trout. Tony cooked up this smallmouth for lunch that day.
Ian’s 17-Inch Smallmouth Bass
That evening was more typical of our evening fishing with Tony landing the only fish, a big 16-inch fallfish.
Tony’s 16-Inch Fallfish
The next morning, Tony started things off with an 18-inch smallmouth that had an 11.5-inch girth, which we promptly killed and fed to the eagles.
Measuring Just How Fat Tony’s Smallmouth Is
We viewed our otter sighting that day as a good omen, and it seemed to be.
We Saw This Otter as a Good Omen
Tony and I both caught 20-plus-inch togue in the river before trying our luck out deeper (110 feet) of water, where I caught a 22-inch salmon.
My 22-Inch Salmon
That evening we each caught a togue in the 20-inch range in the river.
Our thirtieth and final fish of the trip was a 16-inch bass that Tony caught as he and Ian were returning the rental boat. We again fed the bass to the eagles.
Tony’s 16-Inch Smallmouth Was Our 30th and Final Fish of the Trip
It was—by any reasonable standard—a great trip. We had to earn our fish, and I feel comfortable in saying that no one else did as well as we did while we were there, except that one of the boats out on the lake did very well live-lining smelt.
When you add to the mix the beautiful weather, which is actually what you don’t want, then I say we did great. The beautiful scenery and wildlife only add to the satisfaction.
Tony Caught This Loon Singing as We Trolled By
I always enjoy any opportunity to fish with my son and grandson. That enjoyment only grows as the years pass.
They both make me very proud, and fishing is a significant part of our bond.
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.
WLAGS 