Loaded the canoe Thursday night along with all my gear. The plan was to leave work and to try our luck on a small pond that we've heard stories about but that none of us had fished before. We knew the place fished well in the fall, would it fish well the week after ice out?
We arrived at 4p.m, dragged the canoes through the woods across a muddy root covered stretch. A few cars lines the road at the access point and brief conversation with those departing from the pond was lackluster.
Canoes in the water, and a bit of skepticism from the spincasters along the shore, we were the only fly rod toting crew on the water. Allagash ice out tactics were immediately employed. Blanketing the shallow water shoals with easy access to deep water drops. Within the first hour we had stung a couple but nothing had been well hooked.
At 5:45 the fish began to migrate up onto a submerged rock pile and it was game on. Troy, a bearded fly slinging carpenter I work with struck first. He discovered that long slow strips were the key to the solidhookup that we were seeking in the icy waters we flogged.
Four and a half hours of fishing produced fish for all, and their size did not disappoint. The icing on the cake was the first fish ever landed on the fly for a young guy that works with us, a bit of redemption for a man that snapped off his first fish ever hooked only moments before. The openwater fishing fire has been well lit under my ass.