Outdoors
The BDN outdoors section brings readers into the woods, waters and wild places of Maine. It features stories on hunting, fishing, wildlife, conservation and recreation, told by people who live these experiences. This section emphasizes hands-on knowledge, field reports, issues, trends and the traditions that define life outside in Maine. Read more Outdoors stories here.
As fishermen, I think we all start out the same way. In the beginning, everything is new and we are constantly learning. We read books, watch videos, talk to other fishermen and try just about anything we can to catch more fish. As we grow as fishermen, we figure out what works and when to use certain techniques and flies. That’s a great thing because we become better fishermen and, hopefully, catch more fish. But it can also work against us.
As a guide, I want my clients to catch as many fish as possible and, hopefully, some big ones. I try to mix things up, but I’ve found that I can get stuck in a routine, too. Ninety percent of the time, that routine works. But sometimes, it makes fishing a lot harder than it needs to be.
You can feel that fall is here. The nights are getting colder and the days are back into the 70s, more like the falls I remember growing up. To me, that means it’s time to start switching from smallmouth bass to trout and salmon, which are starting to feed and move into the rivers. They are also beginning to get ready for their fall spawn, which happens from the end of October into November. That makes these next few weeks some of the best fishing of the year if you’re looking for some of Maine’s biggest fish.
I typically don’t fish for trout and salmon in August because you can’t always predict the water temperature. Once the water reaches 70 degrees or higher, it can become very stressful for trout and salmon. Even though a fish may swim away after being released, it can still die from the effects of warm water and low oxygen.
The last few years, we’ve been lucky. The nights have stayed colder and the water has generally stayed cooler. Most of the time, it has only reached around 67 degrees. But I still don’t want to take the chance.
Michael is my first trout and salmon client every fall, and we’ve been doing it for about 15 years. He came up last week and, as always, asked me how the trout and salmon fishing was.
I gave him my usual answer: “You’re my first trip back up there since July.”
We left at 5 a.m. and were on the water by 7. The weather was perfect — overcast with a little rain and a light breeze. Every once in a while the sun would come out, and honestly, that part sucked because it got hot.
My plan was Blue-winged Olives. I was so confident that the BWO would be the fly of choice that I even tied another half-dozen the night before, figuring we might go through all of them. They typically hatch during rainy, cooler conditions, which was exactly what we had.
Boy, was I wrong.
As always, I started in the same place, confident we’d get a big fish right away and take the pressure off for the rest of the day. Instead, the fishing was slow. I moved to another section of the river, then another. Eventually, the rod bent and it was only a 10-inch salmon. Then another 10-inch salmon. Then a 16-inch chub, all on a BWO. It was a start, but it wasn’t exactly what Michael had flown up from Kentucky to catch.
We tried all the normal nymphs, dries and streamers, working our way down the river and stopping at spots where I normally know there are fish. Despite what seemed like perfect conditions, the fishing remained very slow. Eventually, I looked at the flies on the end of the line and realized none of the usual ones were working.
So what next?
About three or four years ago, Joe Brickham posted on Facebook that he had been testing a fly pattern and absolutely crushed the salmon on it. I reached out and asked him for the recipe. Not only did he give me the recipe, but he also sent me a couple of the flies. I stuck them in my fly box and looked at them plenty of times over the years, but I never really tried them.
It seemed like the time had finally come. I tied it on Michael’s rod, and on the first cast he had a hit. Then another. Finally, he hooked up with a nice 16-inch salmon. Was it just a fluke, or had I finally cracked the code?
Normally at lunchtime, I try to catch a fish while my client eats. I’ve been doing that for years, so I grabbed the nymphing rod because I didn’t want to hook a fish that Michael might have a chance at with the streamer.
Again, I looked into my nymph box. I had six flies in there that a client had given me a few years ago. The Perdigon is a very popular fly for Czech nymphing. My buddy Mike had also recently told me he had caught a few fish on one, so once again, I tried something I normally don’t use.
Instantly, I hooked a salmon. Then another, all while Michael ate his sandwich. It was getting interesting. Two flies I almost never use were suddenly becoming our go-to flies for the day.
As the day went on, we came to a spot where I seem to always catch big fish on streamers. I told Michael, “We’re going to test this new fly.” I cut it off and tied on a Woolly Bugger. Ten casts produced nothing. Then I tied on the Chicken and made another 10 casts. Nothing. Then I tried a soft-hackle streamer with the same result.
Finally, I tied on the Brickham. That’s what I’m calling it. I’m not even sure if the fly already has a name. On the first cast, Michael was hooked into a very nice salmon. It was 18 inches. I guess the test was a success.
We also picked up several brook trout on it, including one that grabbed the fly while it was dangling beside the boat.
As we were wrapping up the day, I told Michael we would float out and have him throw the streamer against the bank. We only had about five minutes of floating before we reached the takeout. Almost immediately, Michael yelled, “Got him!”
The fish jumped and it was huge. He turned and looked at me.
“Did you see that?”
“Oh, I did,” I said. “And it’s big!”
He got the fish to the boat several times, but it wasn’t ready yet. Finally, it slid into my large boat net — and it barely fit. It was a true trophy Maine landlocked salmon, measuring 23 inches.
We double fist-bumped after we released it.
The day started out painfully slow. I was using the flies and techniques I was confident should work, but the fish had other ideas. Then everything changed when I was willing to try something different.
Two flies I almost never use became the flies of the day. It reminded me that even after all these years of fishing and guiding, there is still plenty to learn.
It’s easy to fall into a routine when you know something works. But sometimes the fish don’t read the same books we do.
Maybe that’s one of the things I enjoy most about fishing. You can spend a lifetime doing it and still learn something new.
