Bassing makes good practice

Saturday, June 25, 2005

Ken Allen

Five years ago, on one of those glorious, sun-splashed mornings in late June, the sun had just cleared the eastern horizon on the Shawmut stretch of the Kennebec River and spread its golden light across the water, perfect for quality photos.

I was shooting color transparencies for a national magazine assignment and had chosen a 300-millimeter lens and tripod. The long lens served two purposes: 1) The narrow depth of field made the background slightly out of focus to highlight the wading fly casters 30 to 60 yards from me, and 2) it also created the illusion that the anglers and the distant shoreline 400 yards away were closer together. With luck, some of these folks would catch trout because a caddis hatch was going full bore.

One of my targeted fly fishermen was casting toward me 30 yards away, and the angle to the sun created great shadows for a 3-dimensional effect. The lens brought him close enough to somewhat fill a vertical frame, while including plenty of shoreline behind him.

After I set up the tripod and camera, much to my surprise, the guy made that universal, obscene gesture in my direction, which did not anger me at all. Like him, I dislike having my photo taken so that morning, found a more willing subject.

Ten minutes later, I focused on another guy, who promptly hooked a rainbow that jumped all over the place. One shot caught the fish in the air, too. Virtue rewarded.

That morning, I thought about the rude guy a lot, which instigated a misguided solution to shooting fishing photos. The next spring, I would guide salmonid anglers one or two days a week and take pictures of these folks, with their permission of course.

Most of the people who booked for June the following year ran into a problem, though. Central Maine was going through a severe drought, so trout fishing stunk with a capital S. I tried to cancel trips or take folks bass fishing, and many chose the latter, which taught me an interesting lesson. Trout fly rodders love catching big bass. Some of them talked about the practice it gave them in catching big fish and also shooting photos. Because of all the action, these people had lots of opportunities playing good-sized fish and shooting images of wiggly critters.

Not far from Augusta lies an undeveloped, largemouth-bass pond that stretches for three, narrow miles and has islands, coves and peninsulas galore. The access point requires a portage that makes my 20-foot, 94-pound canoe dig into my shoulders, but that inconvenience keeps fishing pressure minimal. So, in this jewel of a pond, bass grow to lunker size.

Most of my bass clients that year were straight trout anglers and owned rods too small for casting bass bugs and weighted Wooly Buggers and Clouser Minnows, creating quite the adventure for me. A 20-foot canoe never felt long enough to get out of the way of an errant hook, whizzing by my head. I wanted a Kevlar vest and football helmet with a full mask.

However, these folks caught lots of bass, and some largemouths weighed in the 2- to 4-pound range -- an honest 2- to 4-pounds. Bill Woodward, a fisheries biologist, also told me that an ice fisherman had caught a 6-pounder the previous winter. We saw bass in that category, but no one landed such a brute in my canoe.

A husband and wife from Massachusetts accompanied me on the first guided day in June, and they were avid trout nuts. While the woman cast an ultra-light spinning rod, her hubby used a 7-weight fly rod, and they had a grand time. They owned the best of gear and read Schweibert, Gierach and all the name people. Throughout the day, they talked trout and hatches while wrestling with largemouths.

The man's first fish of the day was memorable. It weighed 4-pounds, 2-ounces, and typical of bass, looked even larger. His immediate reaction pretty much paralleled lots of other folks.

"That's the largest fish I have ever caught in freshwater!"

Near the end of the day, the couple was discussing the nearest bass waters to their home in the Bay State, which according to them were a lot closer to the front step than quality trout streams. Furthermore, on my bass pond, the husband got his wife casting his fly rod for practice in playing fish.

That was the last year I guided with intentions of shooting photos because as anyone knows who has ever fooled with fish photography, it takes lots of work and even more patience to get professional images. When anglers pay a guide, darned few of them want to pose and go through all those antics required of a model.

After one client had hooked a big bass, I paddled to a nearby shore, got out of the canoe and stood on a rock, while shooting images. The final straw for this guy came when I was getting out of the canoe in shallow weeds, and he worried all the time that the fish would get away. Most people, even the best natured of souls, do not want to stop fishing while a photographer goes through all these planned poses.

I suspect that in July, many trout waters will have warmed enough to send salmonids deep. This might be the year to grab a canoe or float tube and try some of central Maine's smaller ponds that have no trailer-able boat launches. Moose Pond in Mount Vernon, Hutchinson Pond in Manchester and Farmingdale, Cranberry Pond in Fayette and lots of ponds in Waldo County are great spots for an angling adventure. Call up the Region B fisheries biologists at 207-547-5315 for details of Waldo waters.

Just remember a salient point, too. Bass offer summer anglers practice aplenty for playing big fish and taking fish photos, and now is the time to do it.

Ken Allen, of Belgrade Lakes, is a writer, editor and photographer. To reach him, send e-mail to KAllyn800@aol.com