Sixteen Mornings

A place not so far from home boasts one of Maine's finest Brown Trout fisheries for the shortest of times in the fall.  If you blink you'll miss it. If you rise too late you'll be beaten to the position.  If you skip a day, you'll miss it.  This fall I decided not to blink.  I was in the water an hour before sunrise each and every morning I fished (except one day with Jasper) and I missed a few days but never two in a row; when it happened I was there.

The location is a flowage between two large lakes, split by a dam, a complex of lakes many of you are familiar with.  Its easy on the eyes and often hard on the heart. The combination of current and lack of easy landing pockets make it a brutal stretch to land a fish in the 16" class let alone a specimen in the mid to upper 20's.  These 16 mornings (I'm still going) fell between late September and the 22nd of October; I've seen it all on my quest to strike it right.

My first morning was a Sunday.  I fished with Marty, co-owner of a ski and stove shop in Farmington.  Todd, his business partner, fished extensively on the ice with Jasper and I last winter and made a trip to Steele country last March.  They both are responsible for funding Jasper's XC bike trip back in the day.  Their experience at this spot exceeds my own and when I was told it was getting time to investigate this stretch I was all in.

One gate on the dam was open, the flow was nice and it rained like hell.  

We landed some fine fish upwards of 18". I was told these fish were mere precursors to the spectacle to come.  I was sold, it was time to grind out some hard time on the water.

Fired up from my first day of the season on this water, I was met by a troubling situation.  The dam, for the first time in my life, shut down completely.  A team of volunteer dam keepers operate the dam with the only town mandated operation being a drawdown of the upstream lake starting on Columbus Day. A quick call to the head volunteer was met with some haughty answers to my polite questions regarding the closure and the fish which began to run, were left confused and without the flowing water they craved.

For a number of mornings I caught fish but nothing of the caliber landed on day one.  Now and again I would land a fish close to 18" as they let more and more water out after nearly a week long shutdown. It was maddening mulling over what was setting up to an epic run only to be squandered by bizarre dam releases.

Sooner or later it had to happen.  In the back of my mind I questioned if the vigilante dam operators would actually abide by the town mandated lake draw down.  Low and behold, Monday of Columbus Day weekend they opened the east gate as wide as it would go.  

Fishing was slow that week as the fish adjusted and filled back in after a prolonged period of low flow.  Jasper and I planned to fish on the Saturday after Columbus Day and were hopeful that things might finally turn on.

The stars aligned, the midge bite was on and we slayed.

The two of us landed a number of fish between 18"-20" and two over 24" on size 20's.  We lost plenty but these fish dulled the sting of those we never saw.

                               

                              

                              

Next up, Sunday with the BFC futures: Nick Ford '15, Tyler Schleich '15 and Andy Cannon '15.  We met at around 5 am and solidified our position.  The Sage 4650 reel is silhouetted by the full moon.

                           

The bite didn't disappoint.....below Tyler is deep into his backing on a hen that took him clear to the lake.  

                           

A hero move to dislodge the fly line from a mooring buoy some 30 yards offshore proved successful and Tyler landed his largest Brown to date.

                           

Again and again the boys went tight, Andy managed to land a fish but despite numerous hookups, Nick didn't bring a fish to net. 

                             

                             

There should always be a Plan B, a short drive ensued and a small stream five miles away was the target.  Overhanging branches and downed trees in the water make this sight fishing location extremely difficult to fish but the payoff can be sweet.

After threading my rod under several downed trees and various snags mid river, Tyler hooked me up with a badass NJ just upstream of the point of no return

Nick broke the skunk on Plan B water as well....spirits were high; some spectacular Central Maine specimens under our belts.

Jesse's dad and I had been exchanging phone calls and juggling schedules to get on the water one day before work.  After a few missed opportunities we finally settled on a morning.  Fresh blood in the water and a new unadulterated fishing perspective always brings good things.  After a number of healthy Browns coming to net, old Jon Robbins tied into a hog.  A lengthy battle ensued as this Salmon caught the current numerous times, only to swim slack lined right back at us on the river right eddy.  The fish snagged bottom several times during its desperate attempts to fray Jon's tippet but in the end, this well oiled team enjoyed a few photos of this 25" kipe jawed behometh! 

And with that, I slunk off to work at the conclusion of my 16th morning with a smile on my face.  Poseidon giveth.

July 4th trip to Gaspe Peninsula, Canada

Dear BFC,

This blog is pure awesomeness. Quick intro - my name is Andy Cannon, I'm a junior at Bates. I love it up there. My fly-fishing partners in crime are Tyler Schleich (aka Schleich daddy) and Nick Ford (aka Ford) and of course the legend himself, Andrew Wilkie. I met Keith briefly too and its always a pleasure to connect with you alumni.


Camp Brule Blog Post July 4, 2013

For a week, my family and I drove up to the Gaspe Peninsula, Quebec targeting Atlantic Salmon during the summer run of fish into the Grand Cascapedia, Petit Cascapedia, and Bonnaventure Rivers to spawn. We stayed at a Salmon lodge called Camp Brule located right on the Petit Cascapedia, allowing us a quick and easy departure on mornings we wanted to fish the petit. We would take a canoe with a guide push poling us down the petit. Water was so clear that when you passed over a fish that was in the 20-30 lb class range, the thing would look like an absolute submarine. On the Grand and bonny, we waded most of the time.




For most 21 year olds, the 4th of July weekend calls for partying with your buddies from school, using your ID fearlessly and chasing girls down the beach... All in all, a great couple days to be in the states.

For me... I had my cooler of beer and a 50 year old French guide coaching me where to cast my fly. There wasn't enough beer to make this French guy compete with any girls on a Nantucket beach, but he had some funny stories so I was still having a great time.

While we were up there, the weather was hot as hell. Upper 90s throughout the day which warmed the glacier fed water to about 65 degrees which is dangerous to the salmon. Despite the horrid conditions for salmon fishing (low hot water), we still managed to get into some fish. Below is a pic of a sea run brookie I caught and ate for breakfast one morning. We caught the brook trout as accidental catches on salmon flies.

Over the course of 4 days, I hooked three salmon and landed two. The fishing can be mentally and physically fatiguing especially when you are out there all day heaving a 9 wt rod with little or no results. But when you do hook up, its the best feeling in the world. You can see I am pretty stoked.

Healthy 17 lb Atlantic Salmon. Another fish that I caught had sea lice on her... these fish were fresh from the ocean and jumped like crazy when hooked.

The fish were taking blue flies on the Grand for the first time on the Camp's record. And it was not just any blue fly, the salmon were honed in on a small Blue Picasse. I rolled a fish on the Blue Picasse 3 separate casts in a row. Then changed my fly (as to not bore the fish out of taking) to a white muddler. No love. Changed to a Blue laxative. No love, shat my pants. Then back to that same Blue Picasse ...and sure enough Bang! Fish on baby!

Normal flies used for salmon over the years include the Black stone fly, Black bear green butt, blue charm, Magog smelt fly, Green pearl, Yellow canary, Silver Rat, Rusty rat, harry mary, green machine,  and an assortment of different colored bombers

I also fished large Bombers (dries) on the Petit Cascapedia, this river is much more clear/chalky than the tea-colored Grand. Personally, I believe a salmon coming up and crushing the dry fly is the craziest experience one can have on a fly rod. It is an absolute must do if you are a fly-fishing fanatic. I had a few come up and smash this trip but I failed to hook any. 

My family and I have been coming up to Camp Brule for more than a decade now. The annual run of Atlantic Salmon in these rivers is one of nature's most amazing migrations. It is truly mind-boggling that these fish travel out to Greenland to feed every winter and come back to the same rivers where they were once Par. Unlike the Pacific Salmon, these fish don't die after spawning. I know I don't have to tell anyone in here this, but it just adds to the respect for the bigger fish that have overcome so many obstacles to reach mature adulthood.

This pic is of a 13 year old kid with a big salmon hauling down river. First time fly-fishing ever. Stud!

If one of these trips ever interests you, I highly recommend Camp Brule. Great guides, great atmosphere, and are second to none with putting you on a salmon. They also do Moose and Black bear hunts if that interests you. The "Gaspe Macnab" is a week in September where you try and bag a salmon, moose, and a deer in one day. People have apparently come close to doing it, but it has never happened. I'm not a hunter, but this sounds pretty bad ass.




On the way back, we passed through my grandmother's place in Maine and absolutely slayed Stripers through the night on mackerel. Fished from 11pm to 2:30am and landed 10 fish. Smallest was 24 inches amd the biggest (one next to my foot) was 36 inches.

Thanks again for the blog invite Jesse and hope to meet other BFC members in the future. If anyone will be coming up to Bates at all in the next two years, let me Tyler or Nick know. We are always game to meet up fish somewhere and have a good time.

you can reach me at acannon@bates.edu or on Facebook.

You stay classy Lewiston,

Andy

Winter Break Steel

Recently I had a week off from college for my winter break. Naturally when I was home I decided to feed my newfound addiction of steelhead fishing. Here is some pictures from my trip to the American River in Northern California.

                                                          Nothing better then wild steel

Salmon River Madness

We are Tyler and Nick, roommates, current sophomores at Bates College, and the newest members of the BFC. Tyler first fished with Wilke on the Dead River this fall and got a sense of the ruckus ways of the BFC. However, Nick’s first experience came when we were invited up to the Salmon River by the boys to do some Steelhead fishing.  

November 15, right after class we jumped in the car and drove west. We drove until city lights were in the rearview and deer lined the road. We drove to what most call the mighty Salmon River. We drove until 2:30 in the morning, and then we drank... a lot. Our first impressions of the BFC will never be forgotten, and for good reason as we were greeted by a bunch of drunken boys who welcomed us with the always grand gift of shots. As the alcohol flowed late into the night we learned more of the club’s legacy, our mission as the club’s newest members, and stories of past trips. We also found out that the days to come would revolve around steel, alcohol, and sleep deprivation.

Day 1: 
Early wake up, not sure how we pulled this one off. We trucked up to the fly shop to pick up some licenses. The couple running the joint were not bashful to make fun of us two for smelling of booze, and bumping into sunglass racks. Day one proved to be a bit of a warmup for everyone with the exception of Clark, he seemed to be the only one able to hits. Indeed, it may have been the overconsumption of Paul’s Mezcal the night before, but it seemed like everyone wasn’t quite on their “A” game yet. Chet decided to sleep off his hangover on the riverbank for most of the morning, while Paul figured it would be a good idea to take a swim in the river with his waders on. Amidst the failures, Clark and Keith pulled it together and landed a few fish. Despite the long day on the water, we came to learn that no day of fishing with the BFC is a waste. No matter how many fish are netted, every day and night is always a great time. As we found out, ice chilled coffee brandy resolves the longest of days. These boys still know how to get after it!

Chet sleeping off the Mezcal hangover

Clark's first fish of the day

Napping was the common theme of the first day

Day 2:

The warmup day was over and there was a taste of victory in the foggy air. Today could be great. Infamous Port O’ Steele (Jesse Robbins) was due in around noon, and Nick Ford, Paul and I had adopted our steelheading names from the night before, and according to Wilkie no one catches fish until they have a steelhead name. Ford became “Built Ford Steel” Paul was now “Wetback Steel” after taking a dip in the river the day before, and Cali boy Schleich was donned “Shaquille O’ Steel”. The rest was history and everyone started picking up fish. I best describe my first taste of steel with the following:
             In the town of Altmar, NY in mid November the air is cold, the river is low, and the fish are larger than anything that I had ever seen.  The grass and trees may be dead, but beneath the surface of the Salmon River, life abounds. With my only weapon a frozen rod, I trek through the darkness to the golden stretch of the upper fly. Waiting I hold my spot on the river as the sun rises. With the guidance of Clark I position myself on the stretch of the river that he knew the fish were holding. My mind focused and soul ready I knew my next cast would be one I would never forget.  The thingamabobber, split shot, and pink egg pattern splashed gently on the surface and sank perfectly into the zone. The current placed my line flawlessly in a row of riffles just above the pool where I believed a steel was waiting for his breakfast meal.  My blood shot eyes vigilantly watched the indicator fall in line with the current, bobbing among the ripples.  Suddenly, Bang! A strike! I whipped the rod up to the sky and pulled down on the line as my indicator screamed to the bottom of the river. The fish blasted off downstream as my reel sang and the line spilled out of the worn reel. Heart pounding, hands sweating, I chased my quarry downstream. Clark had followed the fish down river to swiftly net the slap. The instantaneous relief and joy that comes with netting your first steelhead washed over me, and I couldn’t help but smile and fist pump. Having migrated from the lake, the fish lacked normal steelhead coloring, bearing only stark silver strides, smoky fins, and a tinge of pink on the gill plates. I realize that this is not only the most striking fish I have ever caught but is one of the most fascinating. I finally returned the fish to the water after the picture and the monster gave one more powerful thrust of its tail as it faded into the gray torrent. I think it is only after you net your first steel that you truly understand the hype that comes with steelhead fishing.

The rest of the day was filled with hooting and hollering as most of the crew netted fish. When we finally got off the river at the end of a long day, celebration was in order. We headed to the nearest bar, and downed a few pitchers as we shouted stories of the day. Pissing off everyone at the tables closest to us, we talked and ate until we couldn’t see straight.  

"00 Steel" got things rolling early

My first taste of steel

The dynamic duo killing it with a double

Robbins decided to join in on the fun

Even the browns decided to show up

Clark going for the hail-marry run down the river  

Day 3: 
There was still fishing to be done on the last day of the trip. Ford being the only member of the crew who had yet to land a fish hit the water in full stride. Up and down the river he searched for the perfect hole. Fighting the odds he struck a small guy who put up a large fight. Fighting him left and right, he teased him onto shore into Clark’s waiting net.  Wow, what a relief, the trip was now a total success. Landing your first steel comes with an unparalleled feeling of success. Man vs. Wild style, those suckers put up a fight and it’s unlike anything else bringing them to shore. 

Nick finally tastes steel

Driving off into the horizon on that third afternoon, we were already reminiscing upon the greatness of the trip. Going into a trip as blind as we had, our expectations had been blown entirely out of the water. Honestly, we never thought that middle-aged men would be so great to party with. These guys are the real deal and are some of the greatest legends of Bates. You boys were a real treat to fish and drink with. Thanks for the trip of the year, and we can’t wait to fish with you fellas soon.