My first taste of fishing 2012 #6

Generally, I don’t start fishing until sometime in May. Mind you, not because I don’t want to. No, it’s more along the lines of the woods having not yet gotten rid of the snow and the roads are so bad and muddy that you can’t get there from here. So when Mother Nature threw us a curve ball this year and left us with brown grass and semi dry roads, that became a recipe for early fishing anyway you could get it.

So, It’s late Friday afternoon on a mid-April afternoon, the sun is out and it is pretty warm. That, means I have to find a place to wet a fly line.  It really doesn’t matter if I catch a fish or not although I must admit that would be a bonus. The closest place for me to go is the Presque Isle Stream. Now, the Presque Isle Stream flows from SquaPan Lake down through Presque Isle into the Aroostook River. It has never been known, by me at least, as a stream with lots of trout. To the contrary, I have only caught a few fish in it over the years. But it is close and it is open water. That is two very important requisites today.

This early in the year, I anticipate fast moving high water in the stream, so I dig out my 8 weight fly rod, my Pflueger reel with my floating line and as many of the flies I made over the winter as I can put in my fly vest. My fly vest is next along with my water reservoir that I fill and put in the vest. Finally, I grab my neoprene waders and off I go.

I carefully plot where I will attack the Presque Isle Stream, and drive out into East Chapman and onto the dirt road for the first time this year. The East Chapman road has long been one of my favorite hunting roads. It leads from Chapman across to where it finally intersects with route 11 at the lumber Mill just south of Ashland. For this excursion, I am only driving about 6 miles in until I come to the bridge that crosses the Presque Isle Stream. On the way in, I come across a partridge in the middle of the road. I stop the truck in an attempt to get a better look at it and of course get a photo. The bird walks slowly off the road and into the branches on the side. I get out and walk toward it but notice that it is making its way down the bank. I watch it for a short time and get a few photos until it flies away out of sight. Once at the bridge, I make my way across it and go a short distance down the road to where the stream parallels the dirt road. It is there that I park. 

The first thing I notice is that the water does not seem to be as high as I thought. It appears that it is going to be good for wading. I dawn all of the fishing equipment and make my way down over the bank into the stream. I tie on a dark Hendrickson wet fly and wade out into the middle and make my first cast. All I can hear is the rush of the water. The sun is shining down upon me and I cannot believe that I am doing this is mid-April.  I hadn’t been in the stream long when I caught a glimpse of two people walking up the side of the stream towards me. Both had all of the fishing gear and I noticed that they were using spinning rods as their means of attack. As they got to me, I asked them if they had had any luck to which they replied they had not. They asked me if I could point them in the right direction to catch a few trout. I told them to work their way up the stream and just keep plugging away at it. We parted company and I watched as they walked a short distance up the bank of the stream above me and waded into the water. They continued to make their way up the stream until I lost sight of them as they went around the bend.

I went back to the task at hand, fishing. I continue to make my assault on the Presque Isle Stream for the next hour and a half. While I am in the middle of the stream, I recall a day two years ago when I was in the very same spot. I was about ready to cast my line out when I looked up and saw three ducks on a decent to my very spot. Surely they see me and will pull up and go around for another approach, but they just keep coming. I start to get a bit concerned that they would land on me and that is exactly where they seem to be headed. So, I announce my position by clearing my throat and that alerts them to where I am. They quickly pull up and fly right over my head and land about 20 feet behind me with a big splash.

Finally, it is time to call it a day. I haven’t had a single bite but just being here has been a victory. I wade out of the stream onto the bank. Take one last look and then walk to my truck. I have no regrets about not catching anything. To the contrary, I am just so happy that I could begin my 2012 fishing season this early in the year.  And, oh yeah, there is tomorrow…