by Peter Patenaude on May 17, 2012
Sometimes it’s useful to explore a stream without a fishing pole, so we took the evening to walk along prospective waters. Access to the property had to first be gained by asking nearby homes– a friendly handshake and hello usually does the trick, and we were on our way upstream. Navigating our way was easy as the trees were mostly hardwood and there was minimal brush. We followed along the stream’s edge, taking notice of the abundant wool covered cinnamon ferns growing along the banks. I was hopeful to discover new fiddlehead territory, but none was found today.
Continuing our hike, my trail companion and I were excited to find the remains of an old saw mill sitting in the water– I wondered if there were any trout in the shadows of those large cut rocks. We followed the brook above the mill a touch longer before setting back home. It was beginning to get dark and we were getting hungry, so instead of following our path in we cut through the woods. I am looking forward to coming back to this spot with a line to test my brook trout theory.
by Peter Patenaude on May 8, 2012
My trail companion and I left to fish a local brook. The sun was high and hot today, but I would rather spend my spare hours with a line in the water than inside. Arriving at the shore, I tossed a hook behind a large rock in the center of the stream that has traditionally been good for a brown trout– I may be a fly-fisherman, but I still find enjoyment in using worms. We didn’t stay there long as a fish is usually taken pretty quickly in that spot and I thought we might have better luck upstream in deeper waters. I followed a small fisherman’s path into the woods that would take me to some well-worn ground by the water’s bank.
Settling in behind a newly fallen tree, I let the moving water take my line out. I started to feel a fish test the worm after sitting for about half an hour. Picking up my pole from a forked resting stick, I waited for her to commit to the bait before setting the hook. I knew she would not be big but I still like catching the small brook trout. After unhooking, she went back into the stream to grow larger and I was able to save my worm for one more fish. In only a few more minutes I felt a single strike. I had a suspicion of what she was and it was confirmed when she reached the surface. The sucker fish swallowed the worm whole but I did not have to cut the line as it snapped under her weight when I lifted her out of the water. Heading back for an early supper, we were glad we left with a few less worms than we had brought out.
Donn Fendler shares his story about being lost on Katahdin, Maine's largest mountain, when he was 12 years of age.
February 2012
