Ah! Rangeley, Here I Come #73

For a number of years, I have been traveling to Western Maine, and in particular, Rangeley to hunt during the first week of deer season. I have to admit that I have been rather successful over the years, but that is not the only reason I go. First, I make the five hour journey to spend time with a good friend who also has served as a most gracious host. I always look forward to spending time with Jack and he always invites other folks to join us which adds to my excitement. Some of us have been going the same week for over ten years.

Now, I want to make it clear that some of the characters that I have come to know in that area shape the town and add to the flavor it has. People like Rooster, Auggie, and the three brothers, Batman, Hoggie and Rum Belly to name a few, grace the local establishments at night and share some very interesting tales. I tend to enjoy that as it serves as my way of catching up on what had happened during the preceding 11 months when I was not there. I quizzed Jack this year about whether or not he knew their real names. With a smile he showed me that he did.

Now the visit started off with me being taught a lesson. Before I left my home, I had neatly packed two plastic gallon sized bags filled with peanuts, cashews, raisins and chocolate bits. I had put them in a bag with a gallon of water and a plastic container of dry roasted peanuts. As I was unpacking at Jack’s camp, and in my haste to get in the woods after I arrived, I left the bag on the picnic table on his deck. Jack and I took off for the woods and upon our return that evening, I noticed something out of the ordinary.  The bag was gone and the top of the picnic table was littered with chocolate bits and raisins. On the deck under the table I spotted my plastic bags and the container with the dry roasted peanuts. The cashews and peanuts in the plastic bags were nowhere in sight. The peanut container had bite and claw marks on it, but the thief had not been able to get into it. And yes, the gallon of water was still where I left it. Ok, being the savvy wise woodsman that I am, I thought about what had just happened and what probably took place. First, I had been taught a lesson. Second, I had just helped a little chipmunk or a squirrel hit the jackpot. Yes, they had carted off all of the cashews and peanuts in the bags and left the raisins and chocolate bits for me as a consolation.  When I called TC to tell her the story, she jokingly remarked that somewhere you will envision a squirrel or chipmunk having his paws up on the couch with a cigar in his mouth and a smile on his face saying, I just hit the lottery and what a winter I am going to have. Now picture this, how many trips did that critter make back and forth from the table to his hideout?

Now, I do have one more thing that happened to me while hunting on this trip and it had actually happened to me once before in Rangeley. While I was in the woods one day, I heard something running towards me. Now envision this, I am on the edge of a chopping with large fir trees to my right and they are very thick so you cannot see inside, and the sound is coming from inside the trees. It kept getting closer and my heart kept beating faster as my mind raced about what it might be. All of a sudden and about 8 feet away popped out a coyote into plain view. When it saw me, it made an immediate left turn to evade me and out of sight it went. I moved to see if I could find it, but to no avail. I stood there looking in that direction to see if I could spot it again, but that did not happen. So, I turned around and started to walk again. I had no more than moved three steps when I heard a noise behind me. I spun around to find the coyote coming up from behind and looking straight at me. Now, I do understand that I am an odd looking character which often bears a second look, but this was too much. I raised my rifle to try to get a shot off, but that coyote was not hanging around and it turned and darted away, not to be seen again.

So, on one hand I had been taught a lesson in thievery and on the other hand I had been taught a lesson in quickness and cunningness. I guess the animals are still better at a lot of things than us so called hunters.

The time came for me to leave and I packed my stuff to go. Hunting had been slow and the temperatures had been in the mid to high 70’s all the time we were there. We had not seen any deer, but I had been taught a very valuable lesson. Never trust a critter with your food and watch out behind you for that four legged animal that wants a second look.  I guess if I were him and saw what I had seen, I might run away as well.

Don’t Shoot #72

I’m sure many of you have watched the show, “North Woods Law.” Each episode depicts the Maine Warden Service working tirelessly to protect and preserve our Maine wildlife. Each time it airs, viewers get a better understanding of what a Warden faces each and every day.  Having grown up in a Warden Service family, I am aware of the challenges they face and understand that their job takes a special person. One that has always resonated with me is that Warden’s, some assigned to remote districts, have little to no backup when they need it and face people on a daily basis that carry or have guns. Now, as I write this, a new law goes into effect today allowing anyone to carry a concealed loaded handgun without any background checks or a permit. That new law is for another day’s discussion, but it suffices to say that we just added one more stressful challenge to their job.

Now, I have been fortunate to have met some very good game wardens in my time and know a number of other ones still on the job. I have been checked by wardens while in the woods, but I have never had this happen to me before. I must admit that I have heard about it and seen it on the show, but never have I witnessed it, until now that is.

The story starts on a nice Saturday morning this past weekend. Our youngest son, Ryan had flown in to do a little bird hunting and we were on our third day in the woods. The grouse hunting had been slow, but the scenery was making up for it. TC was in the back seat with us enjoying the day. Ryan was the lone hunter today and I was the driver and TC, the spotter. I had brought my shotgun, just in case, but had not taken it out of the case. We had made a wide loop this day starting on the Pinkham Rd. Our travels had taken us over to the Fish River Checkpoint, onto the Rocky Brook Rd and over the Blanchette Rd to the Musquacook four corners.  The bird population had not been in any danger during our travels, we just were not seeing any. As we approached the four corners, and I must admit, I was driving a bit fast, Ryan yelled out “there is a bird.” I hit the brakes, jammed it into reverse and backup up on a tear. Sure enough, on his side of the truck on a grassy road sat what appeared to be three grouse? Ryan started to get out and turned to me saying, “Dad, I can’t shoot all three, get your gun.” Now to set the stage, remember, we had not seen any birds that day so far and had driven over 80 miles. So, we were a little pumped up. Well, Ryan started to get out and I opened up my door with the intent to open the back door of my truck and get my shotgun. As I got out of the truck and reached for the door handle, I looked over my left shoulder and catching some movement, heard these words. “DON”T SHOOT.” As I turned to see who dared to make that statement, I saw out of the corner of my eye a figure with green clothing coming out of the bushes toward my truck. Yes, it was a Maine Game Warden and yes, he had set out three decoys. The warden, very nice young man I might add, walked up to me and said that he was just checking to see if we had a loaded gun in the truck. Now, being a wardens son and a Registered Maine Guide, I always follow the rules and had taught both of my sons the same. Ryan was out of the truck, but had yet to load his shotgun. The warden looked into the truck, looked at Ryan's gun and seeing nothing out of the ordinary said thank you and wished us a good rest of the day. We all got in the truck and started off. As I looked back, I could see him going back to the side of the road, crouching down and then he was out of sight.  I’ll always remember the comment Ryan made as we continued down the road. He said, I wonder where the cameras were, referring to the show. We all had a good laugh as we drove on our merry way.

Guarding Maine’s game is a tough job, but a very necessary one. It insures that there will be equally as many chances to enjoy our rich Maine hunting and fishing tradition for years to come. I applaud the men and women in green and thank you for the effort you put in every day. And, oh, to those of you who laugh about our episode, and in our defense, they really did look real!

We dedicate this to you

At 6:30 AM on a clear crisp Saturday morning in Northern Maine with highs of 35 degrees, Therese (TC) and I decided to set out on a mission. That mission had a lot of significance to both of us, and our drive and desire was strong. We had made the decision together the night before. As we packed up our things and headed out, we reflected on the week we had had and the emptiness we both felt. This would not change anything, but it would help. The day before, we had packed up the canoe, the motor, and all of our fishing gear and drove to Fort Kent where we stayed the night. We looked through all of our flies and picked a few that we wanted to take with us. We put them in a separate container and Therese kept them in her pocket.

As we left Fort Kent, we could not help but think of all the times we had driven up the road to Saint Francis and into the area where we were planning to fish. Many a time, I had made the trip with my fishing partner, and often we had caught a few fish. There were, however more times than not that we came home empty handed, but neither one of us complained.

As we passed the Narrow Gauge in between St Francis and Allagash, I could not help but look left and right. On the left at the top of the hill lived two classmates of mine and I had often told him that. On the right was the mighty St John River. This morning it did not look to mighty, no, it was lacking water and the flow it normally had. It looked as though it would be very easy to cross at virtually any point.

As we got to Chamberlains store, we made our left and worked our way up the dirt road. Just before the gate, we hung a left, and up the hill toward our destination we went. We traveled for about 6 miles until we came to the road on the right that would take us to our final stop. As we drove in, I noticed that it had grown in a bit since I fished there with him, but that did not deter us one bit. As we came to the end of the road, I pulled the pickup around and backed it up to the landing. The view of the pond was spectacular with the fog just lifting and the sun shining bright. Therese and I unpacked, loaded the canoe and shoved off into the depths of the water, destined for the center of the pond. We paddled a bit around the entire pond, throwing our lines out to test the waters to see if any fish would bite, but to no avail.

Then the time was here. What we had come to do was now calling us both. I paddled to the middle of the pond, Therese took out one of the flies she had brought from one of her dad’s containers and then lowered her hand into the water to release it. The fly sat on top of the water and slowly moved away from our boat. We watched as the light current moved it further and further away. We looked at each other and then I paddled to shore.

We had accomplished what we had set out to do. It didn’t make it any better, but it felt like for a moment, we were connected to him.

Our mission was complete. We had gone to one of the ponds that Rosaire had fished a fair amount, Third Wallagrass Lake. Therese had fished where her dad had gone many times before. We had taken one of his prize muddler minnow flies, absent the barb, that he always told me I could not tie like him, and Therese had released it on the water. For Therese and I that had symbolized our great respect for Rosaire and that we were thinking of him and will always miss him dearly.

Written by TC and I

Rest in Peace Rosaire

Rosaire Angelo Cyr. I recall the first time I met Rosaire. From the beginning, I could tell he was a very shrewd businessman, well versed in how to handle people and how to get the most out of them. Rosaire was very protective and proud of his family, and was not really impressed when a longhaired boy with a pickup truck came a calling on one of his daughters. For a long time, I knew that he was watching me and that his main objective was the protection of Therese. Well, time passed and he became more comfortable with me and his shields started to drop a bit. Remember, I said Rosaire, Annette was another matter. That was when I really began to see the real side of this gentleman. One of his passions was to spend time with his boys making sure they had all the training they needed to be self-sufficient in the woods with a gun and a fishing pole. Each and every one of them learned the value of an honest day’s work. He prided himself on the fact that all of his children made their mark in some way on the ski slope.  And later on, when I met people in the Mars Hill area, they remembered Rosaire and his children for how they came, skied and took home much of the hardware.

Now, Rosaire had another side to him that many of you never witnessed. He was very competitive. If you ever mentioned that you had done something well and really was looking for some acknowledgement, you were in for a big surprise. He had done it better. And he would advise you on what you needed to do to better yourself. I once asked his brothers, Joe and Phil if he was that competitive growing up and with little effort, they said yes. Let’s examine a few things that will show you what I mean.

I have to credit Rosaire for getting me interested in tying flies. He was very patient with me and often would take me down to his bench where he had all of his material spread out. I would sit next to him and he would describe certain techniques he learned and impressed upon me why his ways were the only and best ways of doing it. I would go home and practice and try to tie the fly he showed me. Once I had done so, I was feeling really good about the result and could not wait to show him. Inevitably, every time I did that, he would look at it, think for a minute, say yea but you should have done this. And I really remember the words he spoke often. He would say, but they are not as good as mine. Keep trying.

I remember once finding him a john boat that had been hit by a car, and most of us would just plain throw it away. I don’t think Rosaire ever threw anything away. See, he would just fix it and make it better. Well, a couple of months went by and one day, there it was, all fixed and ready for its maiden voyage. He was so proud of the job he did on it. That was many years ago and that boat is still in service at Black pond.

Now Rosaire had a few favorite sayings that I am sure you all have heard at least once. My favorite was, and he said it a lot to me for some reason “Are you sick in the head” Ah yes, that meant that you had done something wrong. The next one was, this country has gone to the birds. He was very passionate about our country and it really upset him to see it as he called it going downhill fast. He was also well versed on current events, be it locally, nationally and globally. And if you didn’t know what he was talking about he made it a point to let you know.   You could agree, or agree to disagree. Sometimes he would end the conversation by saying Mark my words! This is what’s going to happen. You also might remember another saying he made famous, “It has no sense.” He was not known for his expertise in grammar, but his saying did in fact make sense. Then there was, “what you say is true.”

Later on, he found that Fox TV was his best friend, and that the remote was our worst friend. Rosaire had found a television station that he called fair and balanced. Yes, Fox network was on constantly in his house. When you tried to change it, it somehow found its way back on. He was also a master at running the remote. He had those keys down to a science. He was very familiar with the mute key most though. He did not like commercials and every time one would come on, the remote came up and the mute button would go on. Now, I remember one time where he was being Rosaire, and we were around the TV and he had it blocked with FOX. I think there was a game on that we all wanted to watch and he just would not give up the remote. For some reason, he got up for a minute and I vaulted over and grabbed that thing and changed the channel. Then I hid it. He came back and saw what was on and looked all over for that remote. We told him that he must have taken it with him and so he continued to look. We all sat there with grins on our faces and the remote tucked safely underneath my leg. That night FOX took a back seat..

Now let’s take a look at some of his fishing accomplishments. I was very privileged to have tagged along on some of his fishing trips. One day, we were sitting around and decided to go fishing at McKlein Lake. I had just bought a brand new GMC Pickup. It was all shined up and I was really proud of it. Well, I had never been there before and really did not know what to expect. I learned very quickly that there was only one way in and it was not the best. See, the road was grown in a bit with spruce and fir trees, not the best thing for a new truck. I started in and could hear the trees doing a number on the side. I recall saying to Rosaire, I am not sure if I want to keep going. I also remember his response. What’s wrong with you, this is a truck and it is meant to go in the woods. We are going in. And yes, we did. When we got out, without any fish, that truck looked like someone had taken a tree and run it down the side. Rosaire, politely told me, rubbing compound can fix anything. Several years later, we went back there with Paul and at some point, Rosaire told me to stop on the dirt road going in. He said park here. I asked why and he said the trail to the pond is right here. I then asked him, why didn’t you tell me that there was a trail there the last time we were here, and he just smiled and said I wanted to see what that truck could do. During this particular day, I remember Paul taking one of the canoes on the side of the pond and Rosaire and I going in another. As I left the shore, I asked Rosaire where we should go. His response was, you are the captain, go wherever you feel like. I recall fishing that day and not catching one fish. As we came to shore, Rosaire piped up and said, if you want to know where the fish were, you should have asked me and I would have told you. Typical Rosaire.

Rosaire was a great friend of nature. You could see that from the feeders he kept full with bird seed. No matter what, that was a priority and one he enjoyed. He would often tell me what types of birds came to the feeder and I could see that he was really enjoying their visit. There was one time that I recall so vividly where Raymond, Rosaire and I decided that we would go fishing at Black Pond. We made the trip in, pulled out the john boat and off we went onto the pond. We didn’t have much luck that day as I recall, but not that far away from us, was a mother moose with her two calves. It was clear that the intent was twofold. One was to cross the pond and the other was to give her calves their first swimming lesson. It began with mom jumping in the water and encouraging them to follow. One had a little bit more guts and did finally join the mother. The other was not too sure and stayed on the bank, from time to time dipping its hoof into the water, but pulling back. Then all of a sudden the calf waded in and it was so comical to see its front hoofs doing the dog paddle. They both were splashing for dear life. I watched Rosaire take it all in with a grin on his face and I could tell he was thoroughly enjoying it. Then off they went with the mother leading and the two calves not far behind. They then made their way up the bank and disappeared into the cover. Rosaire told me later that that was one of the highlights of his being in the woods and from time to time, he would bring it up.                                                                                                                 

On another note, I would like to add that just recently Rosaire and Annette celebrated their 64^th wedding anniversary. They have so much history together but the one thing that stands out for TC was how deep his faith was and that prayer was always a part of his life along with Annette. As TC would say, prayer helps to keep us strong, and to stay focused on the things that really matter. We all want peace and balance in our lives and prayer can help guide us in that direction.

I have been fortunate to be accepted into this family and equally as fortunate to have been able to learn and spend time with Rosaire. I will be forever indebted to him for all he did for me and will never forget his smirks and the fact that I was always welcome in his home. Rosaire, I know you can hear me and I want to thank you for letting me be one of your “outlaws”, like you always called us in-laws. I know that the gates of heaven are awaiting you and God is calling you home now, so go in peace and watch over us all from above.  You have earned it. Just one final sendoff that TC would like to dedicate to you.  It is a quote from a Native American proverb.

“When you were born,

you cried and the world rejoiced.

Live your life in such a way so that when you die,

The world cries and you rejoice.”

Dad, I know you are now rejoicing and I also know that your response would be, “what you say is true.”

Watch Out For TC #69

It’s hard to believe that four years ago, TC had no interest in fishing. I am not sure what happened, or if she was struck by lightning without me knowing it, but one day she decided that she would like to go with me in the woods. Now, I think she was getting a bit protective in that she really did not want me to go in alone and this was her way of making sure that I would be ok. Or the other side of me said that she really enjoys the outdoors and the ability to see wildlife in the woods while we travel, and I did not enter into her decision to become part of the caravan. The best answer is probably a combination of both.

I remember the first time very vividly. She brought a few magazines, sat up front in the canoe and read while I fished. I could see her raise her head and watch attentively as my line synched up with a fish on the end. Then as the year moved on, she spent more time watching and less time reading until the last day of that season as we were coming off the water. I remember her asking if she could try a cast or two. My reaction, being a warden’s son and a law-abiding citizen was, no you don’t have a license.

The following year, she took more of an interest and we purchased her very first license. She began to be a student of the art and really surprised me when she started her casting. To take it one step further, she decided that she was going to go to an LL Bean fly fishing school, so we drove to Freeport and she took part in an adventure school that taught her the art of casting. From that day forward, you could see that her goal was to understand what it took to make that fly sit on the water with as little effort as possible. I must say that she has come a long way and now she is working on longer casts and has really excelled in that as well. Her focus has changed from wanting to fish to catching fish.

So we move forward to catching fish. Now, TC can be quite competitive and has been almost all of her life. I have to admit she gets that from growing up in a family of ten children. Knowing all of them well, I truly understand where she was coming from and how she became so competitive. So it really did not surprise me what took place one day when we were fishing on Little Pleasant Pond. As I recall, the water was fairly calm that day and the fishing was pretty good. The limit on that pond is one fish and I had caught mine already. I kept looking out of the corner of my eye at a little cove in the pond where I took interest in a certain fish that just kept rising. TC saw it too and in no time asked me to take her over there in the canoe. As we got there, the fish continued to do summer salts in and out of the water. I planted the canoe at a safe distance where I felt we would not interfere or spook it. TC started her assault and was just coming up a bit short of the rings the fish was creating. She tried and tried, but had little luck in planting that fly in the ring. So, being the calm collected person she is, she blurted out, “get this canoe closer”. I responded by saying that if we got any closer, that fish would stop jumping. You could see that she was not amused with my response and without a word; she pulled that pole back and fired it at the ring just created. The fly landed dead center in the ring and in no time that trout grabbed the fly and took it under. Her eyes got two times bigger and she went to work trying to land that fish. It was not long after that, she reeled the trout in, and it was indeed a very nice one. My fish was lying in the boat and she immediately made me aware that she thought her fish was bigger than mine. And to her credit, she was right.

Now as time has passed, she has become more adept at how to use that fly rod. She has graduated to a large arbor reel, which helps with the retrieval. Her casting ability is getting even more refined and she always does a great job on the all-important presentation.  She is still learning some of the terminology and pole fishing technology, but I know she will get there. We are spending more time in the woods and we are both enjoying the time we spend there. She continues to ask me questions about how she is doing and what she can do differently. My responses are small with very little to offer or add. I am always mindful of the fact that she is dedicated to doing it right and to the best of her ability.  To that end, she has a big head start.

I recall recently while visiting her ninety year old father, where she spied some flies that he had been working on. Rosaire, knowing that his daughter really enjoyed fishing, reached over and took a couple and passed them to her. There was one, in particular that he pointed out, and as usual, told us that he was the only one who could tie it and that I would not be able to make it as good as him. Get a drift of where TC gets her competitive spirit? He put it in a cup and told her that she would catch lots of fish with it. The weekend after that, we decided to give it a try. TC tied it on and darn if he was not right. TC caught four nice trout on it before no time. I got to give him that one, but I did keep the pattern and when I sit down at the tying bench, I will make a few, and yes, better than Rosaire’s. There is one other thing I should mention on our day of fishing. When we got to the pond, there was another group fishing as well. I watched them as TC and I caught quite a few fish. They did not catch one. They kept coming closer to our boat and would stop fishing and watch each time we netted a fish. They must have gotten fed up with it because they eventually headed to shore, loaded their boat and left. TC also learned how to weed fish that day, dragging her fly in the weed bed. I recall her asking as she got stuck and eventually pulled up some weeds, if that was correct. I told her that was perfectly acceptable and that I had been told a long time ago by Rosaire that when the fish are in the weeds, you have to go in after them, and when you catch weeds, you are doing good.

As time marches on, I am looking forward to our time together in the woods and hope to continue it for years to come. I know that the competition for the bigger fish will subtlety be there and that is fine, as long as I catch it! My only question is, do I keep giving her lessons or do I just stop before she passes me? I think in some respects she has already driven by.

Has it been a year already? #68

Have you ever planned something a year in advance and said it was a long way off? Does the year seem to fly by and you suddenly realize it is here? Well, this is how it felt when our fishing group got together this past June. It had been a year since Matt, Roger, Jeff, Mark and Jon had last wet a fly. This year’s crew was much the same with a few new additions. Tom Lodge, from Pennsylvania flew in with Jeff. Matt flew in from Minnesota and Jon and Roger drove up from central and southern Maine. My brother in law, Paul got the call and joined the group. The rest of us are proud northern Mainers who live fairly close. It is written that the more you do something and the more you learn from your experiences, the less chance you have of making the same mistakes over again. Well, that held true for the most part when we set out to plan the meals. In years past, we had way too much food left at the end, not to mention Jon’s blueberry pies we get from a local restaurant here in town. So when Angela offered to prepare most of the food this year in advance, we took her up on it.

The trip started with our decision to meet at my home at noon on Wednesday. Yes, Wednesday, we decided to add another day on the front end. Once we got all of the food, clothing and fishing gear packed into the vehicles, we headed for the woods. Our goal that day was to stop at the camp, unload and do what we set out to do, some fishing. We made it to Mark’s camp without incident and lightened the load on the trucks a bit before we headed out. Our destination this day was Ragged Mountain Pond. Now, there is some prior history to this pond, and each time we go back, we remember that day. We were driving into the pond and noticed a couple of trucks on the road in. We recognized them right off by the Maine Warden Service emblem logoed on the side. Now Matt, being the TV buff he is, saw the Warden in the tree line between the pond and the road. The warden was watching a party on the water. In his infinite wisdom, Matt yelled out, “Warden Service.” The words could be heard for miles. And in this case, down to the Warden and the party on the pond. Well, I just about sank in my seat and reached for the window button to close Matt’s window so he could not make any further statements. We parked in the yard and started to unload when just what I thought would happen, happened. Down the road walked the Warden with a very angry look on his face. He walked by us and asked who had yelled out. Matt, to his credit piped up and said, I did. The warden’s response was not good, and he continued down to the water’s edge where he called in the party to the shore. Long story short, Matt and the Warden made up and we all moved on.

Now, on this trip, we reminded Matt to keep his window up as we got to the pond or to keep his trap zipped. Thankfully, there was no Warden this time, and we did catch a few fish, releasing them all back for another day.

There was one theme that held true throughout our trip. The wind was with us and just would not die down. If you want to test your fly fishing skills, there is no better way than if you fish in a stiff wind. That was what we did the entire trip.

We decided that we would take our show on the road one day and go where none of us had ventured before. So, we packed the truck and headed to Chamberlain Lake. To get there is fairly simple from where we were, turn right out of the camp road, head down the Pinkham Rd to its end, turn left onto the Telos road and drive to Chamberlain. What we did not realize, until we turned onto the Telos Rd, was that the road had not been graded since the winter and it was horrible. For almost an hour, we dodged pot hole after pot hole until finally, we came to our destination. Immediately, we found that the bridge going over Chamberlain was brand new, and the scenery was breathtaking. On the right after you cross the bridge sits a ranger station, and on the left is the parking area that has been used by so many as a staging area for their canoe and kayak trips down the Allagash Waterway. After a brief stop, we made our way into Coffeeloss. A nice pond loaded with big fish, at least that is what we had been told. When we got there, it was evident that we were not going to safely navigate our canoes on the water, due to the windy conditions. So we went to plan B, which was to find the thoroughfare between Chamberlain and Webster Lake. Roger, took charge of this expedition, having been told by a friend that it was a short walk in using a tote road. We found what we thought was the road, parked our vehicles and Roger, Paul and I started our walk in. The rest decided to stay at the truck and wait for us to come back with news. Well an hour and a half later, we arrived at the truck with news that we had found the water, but not the exact spot we wanted. We would have to drive to the next tote road just up a ways. As we walked out, it became really clear that Jeff had gotten into the cooler, and more than once or twice while he was waiting.

The next tote road was a bit more productive, and this time I stayed back to keep an eye on Jeff. Jon joined Paul and Roger this trip. Again, about an hour and a half later they emerged from the brush letting us know that they had found it, however, the water was way too high to wade. Once again, Jeff had hit the cooler and the truck was getting a whole lot lighter.

We then went to Plan C. Let’s head back up the Telos Rd, make the right turn onto Pinkham and then turn right onto a road that would lead us into Carpenter Pond. I had heard a lot about this pond, including the road into it. Seems as though it was not the best. However, Marks description about football sized trout got the better of me and we made our way in. It did not take long for me to find out that the road was everything that I had been told. Wet, rocky and grown in is all you need to know. When we finally arrived at the landing, Mark commented that I must have had a few choice words spoken on the way in, and he was correct.  We put out on the pond with again, the wind blowing. Finally, this was the only time during the whole trip that the wind eventually died down. The fishing was not that great, only producing one trout that Mark caught and immediately put back. And oh yeah, the road did not get any better on the way out, although it did seem to be a bit shorter. And it should be mentioned that the day’s events for Jeff finally caught up with him. As we headed out on the pond, we saw him head to an old aluminum boat propped up against a tree. He went out of sight, and was not seen again until we came off the pond. The proof was in the photo that Tom took where Jeff was fast asleep on the ground under that boat.

The remainder of the trip was uneventful, yet fun. We visited a number of ponds and caught a few fish to boot. During the final hour of the final day, Paul caught the biggest fish, eighteen inches.

Every year we wait with anticipation for this time and when it finally comes, it seems to just blow by. This year was no exception. We enjoy our time together and always come away with a number of new fishing stories. As in years past, we have learned one valuable lesson. If you want to be well rested, you had better come prepared. This year, Jeff was in charge of that committee. One day, I received a package at my office. Where I had not ordered anything from Amazon, I was a bit surprised and wondered what had been sent. When I opened it, there was a plastic bottle loaded with foam earplugs. Now, the proof would be in the pudding so to speak, and only trying them out would determine if they were worth it or not. The answer was quickly realized. They were worth their weight in gold. Once you put those in your ears, you were oblivious to any sounds. They worked great, and the kicker was that there were enough left over for next year!

Sunday rolled around and we packed up the truck to head out. Our time had gone quickly and another year had passed. Matt, Jeff and Tom needed to get to Bangor to catch their plane home. We all had a good time, the food had been great and the company was second to none. We plan to do it again next year, and know all too well that the time will pass quickly. At least we have some earplugs ready to go. Until next year boys when we meet again. Thanks for the memories.