Is your boat ready? Have you taken your canoe or kayak out of the shed yet? If you haven't, you better make it a high priority!

I've been talking to people around Sebago Lake, and it looks like the lake is ready for some hot activity. The rain and wind has helped knock down most of the ice and the smelt run will be happening soon. It makes me want to cry. I still haven't taken my boat out of storage yet. But this is the week.....and I have decided to set my priorities and get that old girl ready.

I have targeted various waters in the past, but Sebago has always eluded me. Oh, I'd make the occasional jaunt to the lake, but I never really fished it hard. To target a lake like Sebago, you have to be plugged in. Plugged into a good stream of information. And, last year that stream presented itself to me at the Fryburg Fair. I was as surprised as you. Good fishing information at a fall fair?

But there it was....steering me right in the face.... The Sebago Lake Anglers Association. They had a booth set up at the fair with alluring fish mounts and seasoned fisherman that almost scared me away. My wife wanted to know what I was afraid of. I knew what it was! I knew that once I started talking to these folks, I would have a hard time pulling myself away. And I was right! I talked for over an hour and ended up joining the crew.

It was through this Association that I made connections with Larry Lewis, Greg Cutting and Dennis Fecteau. All seasoned Sebago Lake Anglers. And what great information they shared with me.

My friends at On The Water magazine were so interested in my findings they agreed running an article on some of their ice fishing antics and advice last February. Now, that spring has arrived, I'm going to tickle the toes of these seasoned anglers and see what they have to say about spring and summer fishing on the lake. And with water as big as Sebago, I'll need all the advice I can get.

The gear is in place and the boat is ready to be dusted off. Let's see what this lake has to offer!

The outlook for Sebago Lake Toque fishing is excellent this year. Anglers should focus their early efforts on the area just south of the Sebago State Park access and areas off of Wards Cove with access from Nason's Beach.

Speaking of access, I just got off the phone with Greg Cutting of Jordans Store in Sebago. As of yesterday, the State Park still had the chain across it and Sebago Lake Station (at the intersections of Rt. 114 and 35) was still iced in. There is some good news though, Nason's Beach is open. Carroll Cutting, Greg's father, saw a five pound Landlocked Salmon today at Jordans store. No information was available on depth or the presentation being used. But I do know it was caught off of the Nason's Beach area. Live or dead smelt work well on Sebago Lake. As far as trolling speed with these presentations is concerned, slow as you can go seems to be the consensus. So if you are looking for action on Sebago this weekend, Nason's Beach is the place to head to. Jordan's store is also near by if you need to gear up or buy grub.

The outlook for early Pike fishing on Sebago looks slow, but as more interest and effort is put into targeting the species, I believe the catch rate will increase. Rumor has it that a twelve and a half pounder was taken out of the lake in the past several years. If this is true, the illegally introduced Pike population has established itself.

If you are an early Pike fisherman, try a floating bait rig in the shallows with dead or live bait. Pike are early spawners and move into spawn before the ice is out. Try fishing grassy or stemy shallows. Allow Pike to run a before setting the hook. Open-reel bait fishing is the preference in the early season; large spinners will be more productive as the water column temps approach the 55* mark. Pike in Sebago are often a by-catch. If you target them, your results will increase in proportion to the amount of effort you put in. Fishing is all about time on the water.

Be safe and have fun fishing!

Maine never ceases to amaze me. I traveled seven hours to get to The North Maine Woods from Southern Maine. The sun rises half an hour earlier and sets half an hour later than in Southern Maine and I’m still having a hard time sleeping through these shorter nights. Last night wasn’t as bad as my first night. I finally fell asleep after an hour of steering at a night sky that didn’t want to go dark. I do love it here in the North Maine Woods. It is reminiscent of Alaska, longer days and shorter nights.

Finally…..we have coffee. We made a special trip to Ashland yesterday, twenty five miles from camp, to purchase a pound of the black stuff. And, being the first person out of bed gave me the chance to light the Coleman, put on a pot of coffee and start a small fire to keep the bugs down.

Richard Bartlett, my “in-camp” master chef and seasoned fly fisherman, likes a smudge-pot fire, plenty of smoke and very little fire. It was easy to accomplish considering the damp weather we have had. But Saturday morning, the weather looked like it might clear. It was still over cast, but the sun kept trying to break through. I could see blue splotches racing across the overcast sky. It was true mountain weather even though we were not on a mountain.

I took a stride down to the Little Black River, which was less than one hundred feet from our tent, and I took in the view. The Little Black’s water was still flowing strongly; it was beckoning me to cast a fly and transverse its wide body. The Little Black was a strong flowing river this morning; the intermittent showers of yesterday helped it remain strong and vigorous. I perched myself on a rock and noticed eddies being formed by various underwater structures. Some of the structures where large boulders; they jutted out of the stream to claim a piece of real estate. Some of the other rocks lay just beneath the surface creating turbulence and areas of calm water where Brookies could hold. My fear of the swift running water was still too strong for me to over come. I grabbed a bucket of water for morning camp duties and hauled it back. I wasn’t ready to fish this strong flowing water……yet!

Richard was just rising when I returned to camp. “What’s on the menu today Richard?” I asked. “We’ll be fishing Pocwock Stream, maybe the East or West Branch and who knows….we may even run down to the Saint John and plunk around one of the mouths” Richard answered with a gleam in his eyes. I looked at him and replied “Is that big water? Because if it is…..I don’t know? I keep having these visions of myself bobbing for fish as I float down stream. That is, if I float; I’m a sinker you know! I didn’t bring my PFD(personal floatation device).” Richard looked at me and shook his head “You worry too much!”

When I was working in Yellowstone National Park, for the National Park Service, I had nearly drowned while horsing around with fellow park workers. A bunch of us were jumping into the Fire-Hole River from a swinging rope perched above a narrows. It was a part of the Fire-Hole that narrowed from over two hundred feet to less than thirty. The current was strong, and the river was deep at this point. On one of the jumps, I got caught in a strong undertow. It was more than I could overcome. I remember looking up from underneath the surface of the water and seeing the sun getting dimmer and dimmer and dimmer. I thought that I may drown. I kept gasping for breadth with my mouth closed. My lungs would expand and collapse without taking in water or air. It relieved the sensation to breadth, but only for a few seconds. The only thing that saved me was a saying I had heard as a child. “You always come up three times before you drown.” my uncle had told me while swimming together one day. “That’s right three times!” he reiterated. As the light grew dim, and I kept falling deeper and deeper into the bellows of the Fire-Hole River, and I kept repeating the mantra “You always come up three times; you always come up three times; you always come up three times”. I didn’t! I came up once…..right in between two people enjoying a cocktail on the “cliff like” rocky edges of the Fire-Hole. Their eyes popped like that of a great white when I burst through the water between the two of them while gasping for breadth; I held on to the side of that cliff for dear life while trying to act as if nothing was wrong, and all the while filling my lungs with oxygen. That was the end of my jumping days. But, I fear this incident still has a hold on me.

Back to camp: Richard and I finished breakfast, cleaned the dishes and headed for Pocwock Stream (Delorm’s Maine Atlas, page 70, D4). Access to the stream is on a lightly traveled side road that leads to the Saint John River. The access can be hard to find; I know it took us a good deal of time to find it. It is currently marked by a piece of fluorescent orange marking tape, the kind used by surveyors to mark a pin, and is tied to a branch adjacent to the trial's head. Once finding the access, it was a short bush-whacking walk to the stream. Pocwoc stream is a stream dotted with small holes. Its upper reaches hold some nice trout. I didn’t mind the level walk that was dotted with sand bars, pebble beaches and various rocks to set my sorry ass on.

I walked up the stream vigorously perusing the holes and eddies, and I stopped when I felt slightly fatigued. I developed this technique on Campbell Brook. The walk down the brook will take me five or six times longer than the walk up while I fish for natives. I enjoy fishing a stream on the way down to my entry point much more than on the way up. Plus, once done fishing, I am at my exit. This way, I do not have to endure a hard upstream walk to return to the point of entry. This technique works well for me. My first three casts all yielded Brookies that were in the six inch range, then as fast as it started it stops. The weather was still over cast but it wasn't as rainy as Friday. I walked at a deliberate, slow, calculating pace and developed my technique of roll casting to banks, stumps and eddies.

Pocwock Stream helped me to develop a roll cast that can be used on many different Maine streams and brooks that are choked by alders. I let my fly drift into the swift current, lowered my rod and than loaded it by quickly raising the tip and flipping the line in the direction desired. I tried to never back cast. The stream was too small. Pocwock is a thumbs-up stream, easy walking, nice holes and plenty of places to sit and retie.

I left Pocwock with a new confidence in the native Maine Brook Trout. The Brookies of the Maine North Woods are wild and aggressive; in an effort to stay alive, they seek prey constantly, and by catching their daily bounty of feed, they grow to see another day. I loved fishing this area.

At this point of the fishing trip, I had not yet run into one fisherman while fishing the streams of the North Maine Woods, and luckily, I had not run into threatening wildlife either. Black bears have never concerned me. But, if I would happen to cross a black bear with a cub, or a moose with calf, I know that there can be trouble. I have had both situations occur in other parts of the country. Moose will charge if traveling with a calf or in response to the desire to mate. A grizzly, on the other hand, will charge if you break the scent trail linking it to its cub. The sow and cub may be apart, but the sow remains in constant contact with her cub by remaining down wind and on scent. You may not even see signs of them, but if you break the scent trail that links a cub with its mother, look out! Another thing that I learned form an Alaskan guide, is that bears will start yawning when they become stressed. If you are watching a bear from afar and it starts yawning, this is not a good sign. If you ever see a grizzly yawning, you better get a moven. I know what your thinking…..why wait until you see the grizzly yawn. At times, I have had the necessity to be closer to grizzlies than most. The trick is to read their body language, be with a well trained guide, and make sure they are well fed at the time of your encounter. The most important thing of all is to let bears and wildlife know you are in the area by making noise. They don’t want to encounter you. And, you do not want to surprise them. Bears usually attack when they are stressed or startled.

When I returned to the truck, it was empty. I looked around but could not see Richard in the lower reaches of the stream. Richard then appeared like a magician right beside the truck. He had been fishing the pool on the lower end of the culvert and I could not see him from my perch. “How was the fishing down stream Richard?” I asked. “Oh, I had to work for them” Richard replied. “But there’s a nice Blue Canoe convenience store at the first bend in the stream!” He must be reading my mind!

We opened the cooler and Richard offered up launch. I wasn’t that hungry but ate I plump juicy apple as I listened to Richard explain his exploits of the good luck he had down-stream. I smiled and concurred that the fishing was fantastic!

I started the truck and we headed for our next adventure that was a deep woodlands stream. I have been sworn to secrecy on this one. I will give you a few hints. It is a mildly steep walk. It holds beaver that used to be positioned down stream, but that are now positioned upstream…..lucky me!

I began my walk up the stream; my legs were starting to burn with fatigue. The first corner in the stream holds two pools. Both have old logs in them. As I passed the second pool, I noticed a dam building project. I glanced to catch a view of the engineers; they are not in sight. Then, I hear a tremendous sound. A boulder has fallen from the sky and hit the center of the pool. My heart stops.
No matter how you prepare for it or whether you know it is coming, the thump of a beaver’s tail on the water is always a heart stomping event. I knew the beaver may be in the stream. I knew that he may stomp the water with his mighty tail proclaiming his discontent with my presence, but I can never prepare myself enough to keep my heart from skipping a few beats when it happens. The pool was full of small natives and it should be a good spot next spring if the beavers aren’t trapped.

I made my way further up the stream and stopped short of where I wanted to be. The number blow-overs covering the stream was getting to much for me. I stopped and tied on a muddler minnow. I had six of them and was trying to reserve one for each stream we fish.

I started toying with small brookies laying beneath a small blow over. They were relentless as they hit and run with the muddler. I was sitting on another blow over as I played with them. It ended up being the perfect place to stop as I caught and released six of the precious little brookies which were a rainbow of color in the afternoon intermittent light. It was still cloudy that afternoon, but the sun kept making small appearances through the cloud cover. I enjoyed fishing this cloudy and wind swept day that kept bugs at bay and the fish spread through out the stream.

As I walked down the stream, I again used my roll cast to reap the harvest of the brook. First, I would roll cast to the right. Then, I would roll cast to the left or center. Some areas were more productive. Undercut banks seemed to hold the largest trout; they also held the largest probability of loosing another muddler. The temptation was too great and my forth muddler remained in a clump of brush extending deep into the under-cut. I only had two muddlers left in my box at this point. But the temptation to tie another on is too great. I give in. I will only have one muddler minnow left for the last day of fishing if I loose this one.

As I make my way down to the head of the beaver pool, the larger fish are up in the stream. As I approach the pool the fishing gets slower and slower. The pool has seemed to go dry. Where did the fish go? Then it happens all over. I knew it would. That heart thumping sound that always makes my heart skip a beat. I knew the beaver was there, but when his tails hits the water, it is akin to a boulder falling out of the sky or a child cannon-balling into the water. And in the peaceful North Maine Woods, it will always makes my heart skip a few beats.

I made my way down stream fishing all the while. And, as I approached my exit point my left knee began to give way. I was heading for a face first encounter with my biggest fear. But wait, I view the glimpse of an alder to my right. I grabbed at its flimsy branch. It holds firm and props me up the way my wife does when the challenges of life seem too great. I am grateful. I can now view the alder as friend, not foe.

As I left the stream, I looked back at it. Its current was swift and its alders were strong. I feel the calm of a new born being held by its parents for the first time. I feel renewed as I limp back to the truck.

Richard was in the truck when I returned to it; we made a speedy dash to camp which involved a fifteen mile road trip and a half mile drive into camp.

I wonder what Richard will cook for supper tonight? He likes to surprise me. Will it be fresh scallops in an Alfredo sauce, sirloin tips roasted on a fresh fire or beans and franks? Only time will tell!

North Maine Woods and The Big Twenty……Day 2

After a hard night's sleep, I awoke to a rattling noise. Something was rummaging around our campsite. I could hear a deep bumping sound. There was no snarling or grunting but something was creating a raucous. Could it be some animal was attacking our coolers? I slowly peered through the zippered door of the tent to see what it might be. There in the middle of the campsite was a grizzly looking Richard Bartlett. Richard was on a tear. He had made his way into the food coolers and was on a rampage determined to find the coffee that he had packed. But, it was no where to be found.

I rustled on my cloths and offered to give him a helping hand. His paw was firm and definite as it made its way from one food cache to another. Still no coffee! His grizzly instincts insisted on a morning cup of joe. It helps move things along. I also can be a bear without my morning cup of joe, but I’m more of a black bear.

After a fruitless search we determined the coffee would have to wait; we had a breakfast, packed up and headed for The Big Twenty .

The big twenty is as far north as you can go in the contiguous United States. The sun rises earlier and sets later. And, when sleeping in a tent, it can make for a short night’s sleep. We left the campsite heading north on to the Estcort Road. The Estcort Road leads to Estcourt Station (Delorm's Maine Atlas, p66, inset) the most northern point of entry into the contiguous United States. It is used mostly for logging trucks and is heavily guarded by armed personnel.

We took a right on to the Airport Road, heading east, and made our way to Dead Brook. Now….I’m not much of a fly fisherman…..and I don’t have too much experience walking in swift running streams…..so, sometimes I get a little nervous. We made are way to an access road about a half mile long that ran perpendicular to Dead Brook, followed it to its end and geared up. The walk through the woods from the truck to the stream was short. When we approached Dead Brook, it was high, running fast, and had many deep pools. I looked at Richard “I don’t know buddy!” “What?” he replied. I looked at him shaking my head “I just hope this brook doesn’t live up to its name. First, I haven’t had my coffee. Second, you bring me to a boarder crossing reminiscent of Northern Ireland, and now you want to throw me into this wild running stream!” Richard smiled “Suck it up candy ass!”

As I stuck my foot into the stream, it seemed as if the bottom was nonexistent. I slowly lowered my foot into the stream. Finally, I felt bottom. At this point, one foot was still on the bank stuck in some sort of limb while the other foot was submerged in two feet of swift running water. Hmmm? “What a nice spot!” I thought to myself. Richard preceded down stream and I transversed the wilds of the upper stream.

Why is it that every time I go fishing with someone they want to go down stream? Is the fishing better? Is the walking easier? Is the smile on my face just too much to bear? Whatever! I started making my way up Dead Brook. It didn’t look so dead to me. I quickly hooked on to half a dozen trees and than half a dozen Brookies. I was uncomfortable with my footing. When I made my way back to my point of exit, Richard was no where to be seen. I had been given instructions to pick him up at the bridge which was at the intersection of Dead and Airport Road when I was done fishing.

I was secretly glad to see him take off. I wanted out! I didn’t have my stream legs on and I was tired, wary, and beat after navigating the stream for only forty five minutes. I headed back to the truck, grabbed a bunch of corn chips and started the engine to warm up. It was raining and 45*f, which is great for keeping the bugs down but not so great for my bones.

Richard met me at the bridge about an hour later. He was walking slowly down the stream executing his cast with the skill of a seasoned fly fisherman. I made my way to the stream, fly rod in hand, and started casting. I executed a perfect roll cast. I smiled his way and waited for the strike. A flurry of activity exploded out of the pool at my feet. Richard was smiling too! He pulled in a hefty native Brook Trout from the water at my feet. Learning can be such a hard experience. Some times pride has to be put aside and questions must be asked.

Richard had snuck his streamer down a ripple between two rocks and teased at native out of the water only three feet from my hold. He stripped his line with short pulses setting his fly back in place until the Brookie struck. He knew it was there. Don’t ask me how, but he did! He then teased the Brookie into striking. It fought hard in the swift running water dancing across the top at times. Native Brook Trout have so much spunk it makes me want to either kiss them or eat them. But Richard returned the Brookie to the water even after my plea for a fine morning treat. We left Dead Brook after Richard teased me and the Brookies a few more times.

The strong water of Dead Brook left me a little shaken. Could I handle this type of fishing without falling in to the stream? Last year a friend of mine, Tom Mouzas, had fished the Miramichi on Irving owned property. He was fishing a pool known for its Atlantic Salmon. He was also fishing in swift water when he lost his footing. He bounced along the stream for fifty yards or so not being able to right him self. Finally, Tom got his footing and proceeded to catch a nice Atlantic. The vision of him floating downstream kept bouncing around my head like a cat chasing a ping pong ball. I was glad to be out of the waters of Dead Brook. We decided to hit some smaller water that afternoon. I felt relieved.

“Marc, that is the biggest water we’ll be fishing” Richard muttered between my ramblings of having a stream mishap. Unbeknown to Richard this was not true. We we’re camped on the Little Black River. It was tugging at both of our minds. Richard had never fished its upper waters before. He had only fished it from a canoe in its calmer lower waters; we had not brought a canoe on this trip. The upper Little Black intrigued Richard as well as me, but its deep holes and swift current made me envision a reenactment of Tom’s episode without the Atlantic Salmon. I was not yet tempted to take the risk.

We made our way to Campbell Brook around twenty-five miles down the road. Everything is a country mile in the North Maine Woods. You may go twenty miles and have it seem like only a mile of southern Maine driving. You seldom meet any other cars. The miles pass quickly under your feet while traveling forty-five to fifty miles hour and discussing techniques, fish and wildlife. We arrived at Campbell and I was relieved to see it was a smaller water than Dead.

We geared up and headed into the brook. I headed up stream and Richard headed down. What is down stream anyways? Does Irving have a Blue Canoe convenience store stashed along the banks of lower waters? I quickly learned that I caught more fish walking down the stream than up. Once, while fishing with my late friend Gilbert Gammon, we deduced that the better action of down stream fishing must be related to feed. As you walk down a swift brook, food that is hidden under rocks is dislodged; the fish go into a feeding frenzy. They start gorging on everything. Is this just some backwoods thinking or reality?

Once while filming a documentary in Alaska with Tom Mouzas in Katmai National Park, some of the under water footage revealed some interesting traits of the Alaskan Rainbows of Kulik Lake. While having my camera under water, we filmed Rainbows chasing fish in that were hooked. It was as if the activity of the hooked fish created a response from the other Rainbows in the Kulik. They would chase the hooked fish in as if waiting to feed on the leftovers from a gorging.

I believe the under water world is connected by the tiny electrical impulses created by a fish’s nervous system. When the charge is felt by various species, it arouses their interest and they want to investigate. I’m not a scientist, but I have read some interesting articles on this.

Back to Campbell Brook…… The stream was running swift and I picked up a few Brookies upon entering the stream. This time I wanted to fish more aggressively, but I saved my energy for the trip down and quickly made my way upstream. The stream is fairly easy to walk. There are some gravel banks that enable me to elude the slippery rocks of the stream. I walked until I was a little fatigued. The grade was not steep, but I walked swiftly and turned around to test my skils. The action begins.

I have worked in Yellowstone National Park as a Park Technician, and I have fished Alaska’s streams. But during all this time, I never became a proficient fly fishermen. I wanted to stay in my comfort zone. I now wanted to hone my skills and test the waters. I took this trip with a seasoned fly fisherman to improve my technique. One thing I have figured out so far is that if you want to learn how to fly fish, you have to do it on a brook that has plenty of fish; and Campbell Brook provided this opportunity.

I put on a Muddler Minnow and let it float down stream with the current. It looked wimpy and did not have much action. I used a roll cast to flip it across the current. I was using a five weight rod that I had picked up for my son. It was a starter kit with rod, reel and line; its light weight made it easy to cast. I hook up with a minnow sized Brookie barely four inches long. Then another, and another and another. Four cast, four fish…..and they where getting progressively bigger as I made my way to the head of a pool. The day was still overcast, drizzly and windy, a good fishing day and the Brookies where scattered through out the stream. I caught them in the rapids, on the edge of banks and under submerged stumps. All were returned to the water; I was tempted to keep a few. I should have strapped on my Arctic Creel which I had brought specifically for this purpose.

I stopped on a sandy bank to cast into a larger pool. I could hear the rustling of the wind as in blew into the leaves. I made a roll cast into the opposite side of the pool letting my muddler run with the current then dart across. Bang! A Brookie inhaled the muddler just as it turned into the current. I tried the same roll cast and picked up another Brookie. This scenario kept repeating itself as I made my way down the brook.

I made my way further down stream, and I realized the floating line and 2.5lb tippet was perfect for the depth of the water. I lost one muddler on this stream beneath a stump and made my way to the bottom of the stream after loosing several more flies. I also lost count of how many native Brookies I had caught. It was a dream walk which built my confidence and strapped on my stream legs.

When I returned to the bridge, Richard was in the truck. He had found the open bag of corn chips and was feeding with the same intensity of the Brookies. “Are you hungry” I asked. “Well yaaaa….!” Richard replied. We made our way back to camp where Richard prepared perfectly aged strip steaks, camp potatoes and a fresh garden salad. Dinner was exquisite! You must remind me to bring a master chef on all my fishing trips. “Thank you Richard, that was delicious!”

I laid back on the bench thinking of the water I had covered. I was beginning to feel more comfortable with walking the water of the brooks. I was developing a walk, a stream walk, one foot slowly moves while the other retains a firm footing. Then the process is repeated constantly searching for stable ground. I walked down to the stream to peer at the Little Black River which we were camped by. It was tugging at me but I was not ready.

My next post will deal with day three, wildlife and the hazards of being with coffee in hand.

Be safe and have fun fishing!

This past weekend I traveled north and ended up in the most northern part of the State of Maine; it is known as “The Big Twenty”. The Big Twenty, located in the western part of northern Maine, it is a part of the North Maine Woods which is a working timberland managed by Irving. If you are looking to get away from the hurried pace of a metropolis, this is the place to do it. We saw more wildlife than vehicles as we traveled the hundreds of miles of gravel roads of the North Maine Woods; it was an exhilarating experience.

I traveled north at the bequest of Master Chef and experienced Northwood’s fly fisherman Richard Bartlett. Richard has been fishing the North Maine Woods for over twenty years. His breadth of experience and knowledge of this area was evident as he took me to streams that were covered with rocks and pools that held the spunky Maine Native Brook Trout. The experience was invigorating and calming in the same breadth as I walked up streams to discover what was in store for me.

Thursday….

Thursday started in Southern Maine, and after seven hours of driving, we arrived at the Dickey Checkpoint of the North Maine Woods (Delorme’s Maine Atlas, Page66, D3). It was around 6:00 PM when we arrived. A large automated gate blocked our entrance to the North Maine Woods. Richard approached the gate house to make the arrangements for our entry into the woodland and I followed. The area looked desolate. No one seemed to be around.

As Richard knocked on the locked door and I peered through a window, we heard a loud voice streaming from above reminiscent to that of the voice of the wizard in the movie The Wizard of Oz. “Can I help you?” the voice requested. Richard looked to the sky as if responding to a request from the heavens and answered “We are trying to register for the North Maine Woods”. The voice replied “I can’t hear you have to pick up the microphone”. Richard looked around but could not see it. “It’s in the box to your right!” the mysterious voice instructed. We were being watched by two remote cameras adjacent to the gate. We then were instructed to return to the Little Black Check Point (DMA, p66, D3) to register. The Dickey Checkpoint is now automated for most of the year and visitors must register at Little Black except during the deer and moose hunting seasons.

After registering and paying the entrance fee ($13 per night per person to camp) at Little Black Checkpoint, we were admitted to the woodlands. Campsites are available on a first come first serve basis. They are not reserved for you at the check point; you must take what is available once you drive in. Our destination was for campsites around The Big Twenty (DMA, p66, A2). We traveled the gravel roads at speeds of forty five to fifty miles per hour. The gravel roads are well maintained for the logging trucks that must travel them. The gate keeper had told us to keep an eye out for two ladies from Kentucky. They had gone into the North Maine Woods for a two hour drive and had not yet returned after five hours.

After traveling ten miles from the checkpoint, we crested a hill, and I noticed what appeared to be a car stopped in the middle of the road a mile away. I slowed my vehicle to investigate. The closer I got, I started to realize that the vehicle was actually moving. I slowed and rolled down my window. There were two women smiling as I approached. “Are you girls from Kentucky?” I asked. “The gate keeper is getting a little worried about you!” I explained. “Oh, were just tooling around trying to keep the gravel down. It is so nice of you boys to stop and check on us. We’re just trying to get a glimpse of some wildlife. You boys are so nice to stop and see how we are doing. We’ll make our way out of here just fine!”

I left the two women feeling assured that they knew where they were and how to get to the gate by 9:00PM. The gate is closed for the evening at that time. No one in, and no one out, unless you have an emergency that is. Then you will have to summons the gate keeper by some sort of communication device that enables her to open the gates remotely. Technology has even entered the Maine North Woods.

As we made our way along the gravel roads of the Maine North Woods to The Big Twenty, we came to our first wildlife sighting. It occurred while making our way around a corner of the road; a moose was running straight towards our vehicle. I slowed down, I almost stopped, but the moose veered off onto to an abutting road just left of us. “I had better get my wildlife eyes on”, I said to Richard. While working in Yellowstone National Park under a work-study grant, I had become accustomed to being on the look out for Moose, Bison and Elk. It was time for me to put that experience to work again.

After another five miles past underneath us, and as we crested another hill, I noticed a black spot to the right of the road. It was perfectly still. It resembled the silhouette of a wild bore. The silhouette remained still. I mentioned the sighting to Richard as we approached from a mile away. The closer I came, the more it looked like a wildlife sign that someone had put up. Then, the sign dashed into the road and began a hundred yard dart away from us. It then jumped into the woods. At that point it became apparent that what had appeared to be a sign was actually a large black bear.

Richard Bartlett has been told, on previous visits, that the wildlife is attracted to the roads because of the salt used during the winter months. Electrolytes are an essential part of their diet. And they, like us, like salt. As the trip progressed, we would see many more animals licking the roads including field mice, rabbits, deer and foxes.

The first campsite we approached appeared to be taken. It was a double site that two parties can stay on. A tent was on one half of the site and a camper on the other. We then traveled down the “Gravel Pit” (DMA, p66 ,C1) but the campsite at that location was also taken. On the way out we noticed a deer and another moose. At this point our vehicle to wildlife ratio was three to four. We had come across one deer, two moose and a bear. We had also come across two parked vehicles and one moving vehicle. The wildlife out numbered the vehicles, and vehicles the were underway were scarce, but it was only Thursday evening and we expected the weekend to be busy.

We finally settled on a sight that was close to The Big Twenty (DMA, p66, A2) but not actually in it. We set up camp, positioned tarps over the picnic table, and started a smudge pot fire to deter the black flies from ravaging us. Richard explained to me that a smudge pot fire is one that is very smoky; I have nooo problem with that! The insects were kept at bay by the fire’s smoke and the lower evening temperature that prevailed. Even thought the Little Black was less than one hundred feet to us, we were too tired to fish. We ended the day with thoughts of the excitement to come and I had a hard time sleeping. I attributed my insomnia to two things. First, I was thinking of all the water we would transverse in the next couple of days. Second, it was still fairly light outside when we turned in at 9:30PM. This is truly the Maine North Woods, its day light hours are reminiscent to that of southern Alaska. Sleep finally came to me and I awoke late the next morning around 7:00 AM.

Join me tomorrow to see what Friday had in store for us as we make our way to The Big Twenty and trash around for spunky native Maine Native Brook Trout…….

Be safe and have fun fishing!

At 8:41 this morning the Maine Warden Service officially declared Rangeley Lake to be free of ice. Rangeley Lake is known for its "ice-out" fishing. For the past several days, fisherman fishing in the Greenvale Cove area of Rangely Lake, which was open, have reported catches in the five to twenty count range. Most of the landings out of Rangeley Lake have been Landlocked Salmon, but fisherman have also caught a fair amount of Brook Trout.

Mr. Swain, of Sam-O-Set Cabins, on Rangeley Lake, reported parties in his cabins averaging five to ten fish per outing. Most fisherman are usning sewn on dead smelt. The fresher the better!

I picked up smelt at the Rangeley Sports Center, in down town Rangeley, where live smelt were packed in a small zip lock bag. If you do not know how to sew on a smelt, Jeff will show you. The smelt must be dead before you hit the water. Fines can be as high as $10,000.00, so be sure they are dead before putting them on the boat.

Flies are also doing well on Rangeley Lake. I picked up a 2 3/4 pound Landlocked on a Gray Ghost. I also picked up smaller fish on streamers tied with flash-a-bou. The fishing is fast on the main lake. Greenvale Cove is the hot spot. Hunters Cove should also be good, but I have not had a chance to check it out.

Reporting from Rangeley Lake.....

Be safe and have fun fishing!

I took a ride around the Saco River yesterday in anticipation of today's good weather. The ramp at Skelton Dam is iced in and the ramp at Rotary Park, in Biddeford, was locked. But the ramp at the end of Irving Street in Saco is open. I wonder if I should put my boat in?

Estes Lake in Southern Maine is a great spot to pick up a variety of species. It is known to have Small and Largemouth Bass, White Perch and Pickerel. I really like the area in the middle of the lake where people gather to fish off the bridge and exchange fish stories and luck.

Estes in actually a part of the Mousam and Littlefield Rivers and is positioned at the confluence of the two. And, as with any river, fishing activity is effected by rainfall. Turbid water that storms provide require us to use vibrating blades or scents. Estes Lake is open to fishing this time of year but it is catch and release only for most species. Make sure to check the regs. I find Estes a great place to relax while taking in the colors of fall and exchanging fish tales with others on the bridge. I've been told that there are Northern Pike in Estes, so large bait fishing may produce positive results. A few Brown trout show up from time to time also!

Be safe and have fun fishing!

You'll have to excuse my delay between post, but I've been out fishing remote locations!

I spent several days last week fishing Toddy Pond in Orland Maine. I picked up a variety of fish species by using a variety of fishing techniques. When I first arrived, I made my way through the narrows to Toddy Ponds eastern end and worked my magic on Largemouth and Smallmouth Bass. I kept feeling sharp quick hits and decided to down size my jig and worm hoping to hook up with larger Bluegills.

I used a 1/4 ounce jig to hook up with small Bluegills. After pulling three or four small Gills out of the water, I headed to the ledges to see if the Bass were active on the steep drop-offs. They were.....but I couldn't hook up with any large Bass. So, I made my way back to Toddy Pond and called it a night.

In the morning, I decided to concentrate on Salmonids. My 50 foot temperature gauge ordered from Cabela's this spring, indicated the thermocline at twenty-one feet down. Although the surface temperature of the lake stayed static at 72*F during most of my trip, the first twenty-one feet of the lake went from 72*F to 62*F. Then, the temperature dropped to 50*F in about a foot.

I started targeting this area and picked up a small keeper Landlocked on a William's blue and silver lure. My down rigger was set for twenty one feet, but I had rigged the lure 100 feet behind the release. I believe I was trolling just below the thermocline at a GPS speed of 2.2 mph.

Wanting to hook up with bigger fish, I headed to Van Raymonds in Brewer, Maine. I was looking for frozen smelt, dead or picked. Van Raymonds didn't have any but told me of a bait dealer that might on Rt. 1A headed into Ellsworth.

I found the bait dealer; he is located directly across from the Howland Public Works Department. There was no one around; so I waited half hour. After that, I decided to start fishing for salmonids again, and headed back to Toddy.

Having no smelt to sew on, I made my best effort with a blue and silver DG smelt which ended up hooking a Splake after my downrigger weight crashed into a rock pile on the Eastern end of the Pond. The rock pile was adjacent to deep water and I believe the pumping action of the weight hitting the rocks enticed the fish into striking. The rock pile is located in the middle of a bay created by Long Point Peninsula. It was a favorite hang out for fish while I was there.

Another popular spot seemed to be against the sharply dropping Eastern shore. If one area was not holding fish, the other area was. I tried to attribute it to the wind direction, but there seemed to be no correlation.

August, being a slow season for Salmonids, I would occasionally break up the day with a little bass fishing. I first targeted the steep drop offs but found more action in the shallows adjacent to deep water. This seemed to be the case even in the middle of the day. Remember, the surface water temperature of this pond was 72*F. I think this is what kept the Largemouths so active in the shallows.

Toddy Pond has plenty of deep water and very few weeds. If you make your way through the narrows, the water turns shallow. Toddy Lake, at least the way it is labeled in my 2005 edition of the Maine Gazetteer, is a shallow body of water encompassing a large area which is no more than thirty feet deep.

Due to the multitude of species this body of water holds, it will hold the interest of a varied number of fisherman. When it comes to ice fishing season, I hear the place is packed.

Till next time....have fun fishing and be safe by wearing sunglasses for eye protection and life jackets for life protection!

If you're in the Ellsworth area, the Toddy Pond Ramp located off Route 3 is worth checking out. Toddy Pond / Lake is just south of Ellsworth. The ramp is fairly new and in good shape. There is parking for around ten rigs; so it may be hard to get a spot on the weekend.

Toddy Pond has Togue, Brown & Brook Trout, Landlocked Salmon, and White Perch. Toddy Lake seems to be a mixture of Bass and Bluegills. Ironically Toddy Pond is deeper than Toddy Lake, if you believe the labeling in The Maine Atlas and Gazetteer. The two are joined by a series of two peninsulas labeled as Short and Long. I love it when things are kept simple. It enables my small brain to concentrate on more important things like where the fish are.

I arrived at the ramp around 10:00 AM, and after working on my boat, I launched around 10:30. I began a slow cruise by transversing the edges looking for shallows and troughs. After making a full circumference of Toddy Pond, I moved on the southern section.

Toddy Lake has a maximum depth of 26 feet and is covered with outcroppings of ledge and large boulders. The same is to be said of its underwater structure. Some of the boulders protrude from the water and others hide just below the surface. My soundings showed a multitude of boulders jutting up from the bottom in a manner that reminded me of a mine field. And, if you cross this lake at high speeds without knowing its structure, one of these rocks could be crippling to you and your boat.

After making my way slowly to the southern edge of the lake, a tall stand of trees gave way to a pleasantly shaded shallow to take a break in. I pulled my boat into the shade and dropped anchor. This lake exudes all the makings of a truly great Smallmouth Bass lake, and I'm putting this on my winter hit list for Smallmouth ice fishing.

I lay on the bottom of the boat looking up at the sky just as I did when I was a kid. The figurines of the sky are harder for me to see now that I am a well seasoned adult. When I was a child, there would always be an elephant or a Donald Duck dancing somewhere in the clouds. Now, it is easier for me to read the thermals than it is to have a visit with Mickey.

I enjoyed the break, and every time I got up to start fishing, the bottom of the boat lured me down for another look at the clouds. I felt just like a kid again without a trouble in the world. Maybe this is why I'm always drawn back to fishing. It evokes me to interact with the beauty of nature, a beauty that I have never tired of.

I finally broke myself of the trance the sky had lulled me into, and I began looking at the water that surrounded the boat. Throwing the electric trolling motor into gear, I made my way to the center on the channel and headed for a small island in the southern bog of the lake. The water temperature was 74* and there was adequate weed growth in three to five feet of water. But after spending thirty minutes around the island with out a strike, I headed for deeper water.

As I approached a small peninsula with sharply jutting edges, I felt a tap, then another. I switched from a Senko to a Grub, but I still could not hook up. I remembered the crawlers I bought several days earlier for trout fishing and checked to see if they were still alive, they were!

I slipped half a crawler on to a 3/8 jig head and started hooking up with fish. First a Smally, then a Largemouth, followed by other Smallmouths. The Smallmouths were hitting were water depth dropped sharply from seven to sixteen feet. The single Largemouth I hooked up with hit on the flats in seven feet of water. I also grabbed a bluegill on a fairly large hook. He was trying to cheat me out of a crawler, but I got the best of him!

Together Toddy Pond and Lake cover eight miles in length. With this in mind, I was only beginning to scratch the surface of this water. And, when it comes to boating safely, I find it more important to spend time learning the body of water you are on, before you start running from point A to Point B The added advantage to this strategy is finding the sweet spots that hold fish.

Toddy is worth another trip. And if I can afford the time, I will give it another whirl.

Have fun fishing!

Maine Splake! That's right, and maybe record setting Maine Splake! If you're not sure what Maine Splake are, you are not alone.

Maine Splake is a hybrid species; Splake are a cross between Brook Trout and Lake Trout. And, Splake do not reproduce in the wild. They are cross bred at the hatchery and stocked in various waters. They are more aggressive than Brook Trout which makes them easier to catch; they also grow much larger.

Splake assume the characteristics of either Lake or Brook Trout. In Maine, the former is usually true. At times it is hard to tell the difference between a true Maine Brook Trout and a Splake. But, the size will usually give it away. Splake have a slight v-notch in the tail inherited from the Lake Trout. Brook Trout, also known as Square Tails, do not have this notch. Stocked Maine Splake will also have a fin clipped. This helps the Department of Inland Fisheries and Wildlife track the year the Splake was stocked.

If you're looking for large Splake, Snow Pond has an abundance of them. When I stopped into Charlie's Log Cabin Bait Shop in Oakland, we began discussing the size of the Splake in Snow Pond, and the possibility of the next state record for Splake coming out of Snow Pond. With all the pictures of large Splake hanging on his walls, it was easy to see why Charlie feels Snow Pond has a State record in it.

According to the Maine State Governments Species Identification Page on July 27th, 2006, "The Maine State Record Splake was caught in Basin Pond by Dan Paquette. It weighed 10 lbs. 3 oz.". And according to Charlie, there are fish close to that size being caught out of Snow Pond now (Snow Pond is also known as Messalonskee Lake).

Charlie says most of the larger Splake are being caught around outcroppings and islands adjacent to deep water. Smelt and DG Minnows seem to be the preferred bait. Charlie will steer you in the right direction

While I was there, I couldn't resist asking him about the Pike fishing. He admitted that summer Pike fishing can be a little slow. But, he did know of one guide that was catching them on large bait by slow drifting over shelves in the twenty foot range. You'll have to ask him for the particulars. I believe the Pond was north of his shop.

Spring and Fall are historically the best times to target Pike in the Belgrade Chain. While the biggest Pike are taken during the winter months, there is nothing quite like fighting a large Pike with a medium spin casting outfit. The Pike hit hard then come to the boat with steady resistance. When they surface and see the boat, the Pike make three or four tantalizing dives searching for weeds, cover or anything they can tangle your line into.

The Belgrade chain of lakes has always had great fishing opportunities and Charlie's is the place to stock up on knowledge, supplies and bait.

Be sure to also stop by the Early Bird Restaurant while in town. Ask for one or two of their blueberry pancakes. You'll be pleasantly surprised!

Have fun fishing and be safe!

Maine Smallmouth Bass are singing the sounds of summer at Skelton Dam on the Saco River in Dayton, Maine. Maine Smallmouths are being caught on each side of the dam. Smallmouth Bass on the lower side of the dam are hitting on worms and various jigs. Maine Smallmouth bass on the upper side of the dam can be found hugging the steeper banks on the north side of the river.

Although many Smallmouths are scattered this time of year, some Maine Smallmouth still school together around points and outcroppings. First try enticing the Smallmouth Bass with a jig and grub or jig and pig presentation. Vary the jig size to provide different drop rates. Sometimes a quick dropping jig being bounced off the rocks of a steep bank can be very effective with Maine Smallmouth this time of year.

Smallmouth Bass are also very sensitive to vibration and have well developed lateral line sensors that enable them to target bait in muddy water. So, when the Saco River is a little muddy or stained, vibration can be the key to drawing a Smallmouth Bass to your lure and making them strike.

I like to start with a small spinner baits and work my way up from there. If you like Crappie fishing, you'll do well with this presentation targeting the Maine Black Crappie as well. If your spinner bait isn't making a strong enough vibration, try a Silver Buddy or Rattle Trap. I usually have better luck with the former, and I will stick with the smaller spinner baits for the first half hour as I make my way up the scale to stronger vibrating lures.

If you are not familiar with the Upper Dam landing, click here for directions. You'll find the ramp on the left at the end of the Union Falls Rd.

The basin that was created by the dam stretches for over two miles, and it has two major inlets. One inlet is the Saco River; it enters the basin one mile from the ramp. Just after the river inlet is a medium sized island that doesn't show up on google maps. The island has some nice drop offs around it. The other inlet is located at the north end of the basin around the juncture of Rt. 35 and 4.

I like targeting the shore directly across from the ramp and working my way up the basin. Earlier in the year, I will hit the shallows on the far end of the basin. With high flows the Smallies will use this area to stage before spawning.

There is also a large number of Brown Trout that are stocked in the Saco River. So the opportunity exist to target multiple species. One important fact to remember is that the Saco River is open to the taking of Brown Trout year round from open water. That's right! The open water of the Saco River can be fished year round. But the area below the dam can get rather treacherous in the winter time. Make sure you explore this area with a friend to be on the safe side.

The opportunities to fish Maine abound. Time to ante up and get fishing.

Have fun and be safe!

Sometimes good fishing is closer than you think! A good body of water in Southern Maine that has an abundance of Brook and Rainbow Trout is Kennebunk Pond in Lyman, Maine. Kennebunk Pond, Maine, is stocked heavily, but Kennebunk Pond is also fished heavily. To get there travel north on route 111 out of Biddeford for about four miles. Look for the Kennebunk Pond Road which is on the right when traveling west. The public beach is on the left around a mile down the road, if headed in from Rt. 111. They allow parking on the side of the road; but as things in Southern Maine become more congested, this could change.

Kennbunk Pond is a heavily fished during all fishing seasons. Make sure to show up early if you’re looking for a special spot. Kennebunk Pond has medium to high pressure in the summer time; you will need a small boat to launch. The launch is basically the beach and is very shallow for a ways out.

Be safe and have fun fishing!