The Ballad of Parker & Sage  #23

This is a short story about Parker and Sage as witnessed by me while fishing at Fourth Musquacook Lake this week. It is also a vivid reminder of the power of animals and what they can bring to us in terms of teaching tools.

Parker and Sage are very young in their life. They are both around 1 year old. Parker is the male and Sage is the female. Both are English Setters and are owned by Sherry Morris. Parker and Sage are brother and sister although they are fathered by the same dog, they have different mothers.  Sherry told me when she got them earlier this year, and I continued to watch them on Facebook where she posted updates about them and their antics.  TC and I stopped into Chandler Lake Camps earlier this year and met them for the first time. Clearly, Sage was the dominant dog and Parker the understudy. At an early age, I was told that Sage took to the water and really loved it. Parker not so much, and in fact he tried to avoid it at all costs. When I first saw them, it was clear that they were inseparable. They went everywhere together, did everything together and Parker listened to Sage all the time. Well that last comment was never so true as what I was fortunate to witness that day while fishing Fourth Musquacook Lake in the north Maine woods.  The bond that those two have formed was an inspiration and a lesson we should all take something from, I know I did. Let me explain.

Tuesday afternoon, August 21, 2012, we were at Fourth Musquacook on a fishing trip. We were staying there at the lodge run by Jason Bouchard and Sherry Morris. We were having a wonderful time and had been there since Monday. We had come off the lake earlier in the day, already having had some of the best fishing I had experienced in a long time. The four of us decided to go back out in the late afternoon hours and fish the same spot until dinner time. The first boat went out ahead of my boat; frankly I think to establish a toe hold on our fishing spot we had so much luck at earlier. As my boat left the dock, I noticed that the dogs were no longer there watching us, but gave it little thought. As we got half way to the location we were headed for, which is at the head of the lake, I noticed that Parker had been following the first boat by way of the shore. I commented to my buddy that I hoped they didn’t follow us all the way to the head of the lake because I was concerned they may not find their way back. We finally got to our destination and dropped anchor next to the first boat and began fishing.  It wasn’t long before I noticed Sage was on shore close to us watching our movements. I again commented that I was amazed that they had come all this way from the camp, but was concerned that they may try to swim out to our boats. Now, at the spot they were at, was a brook that flowed away from the lake. We were parked just off shore from that brook in the lake. I then noticed that Parker had joined Sage on shore, and they were both watching us. All of a sudden, Sage jumped in the brook and crossed it to the other side of the shore. Remember that Parker does not like water that much. Parker watched and then started to cross and stopped and turned around and went back to shore. He tried again, to no avail. Sage on the other hand was watching him and barking to him to get over here. Parker tried again and then just went back. He stopped and started barking and howling to Sage. Sage, in an effort to help, jumped back in the water, swam across and went behind Parker and nudged him with her nose to cross.  He tried again but would not. She then jumped in the water again, swam across the brook and turned around on the other side and just looked at Parker. Parker tried again but as soon as his paws were in, he jumped around and then retreated to the shore. He began to howl at Sage and she again jumped in and swam back to him, and tried to coax him to swim across. He would not. This time Sage swam across, sat on the other side and just waited. He howled and would start in and retreat until he finally jumped in and did a masterful dog paddle to the other side. Once there, they jumped on each other and then bolted down the shore and kept running until they were out of sight. I had never seen anything like what I had just experienced, Sage working hard to help Parker cross the brook. It was utterly amazing and of course, once again, I did not have a video camera. We went back to fishing and a short time later, the dogs reappeared on the shore at the brook. I commented that we were going to see the earlier performance all over again and that is exactly what happened.  Sage again jumped in and crossed and then tried to get Parker to follow. He took the same position again and she crossed and tried to encourage him to come back with her.  Finally again after two crosses by Sage and all of the whining and posturing, he jumped in and crossed. Once on the other side, they jumped on each other with joy and off they ran. I watched them follow the shore of the lake, over blow downs and back toward the camp. As I reflected on what I had witnessed, it was very clear to me that dogs have a very unique way of getting their point across. Sage was determined to not leave Parker there. She was going to do whatever it took to get him across that brook so they could continue that adventure together. For her, no obstacle was too high or too great and she was going to do what it took to have her brother be with her.

When we returned to the camp, there was Parker and Sage on shore. They had made it back and were there to greet us. They had explored that side of the lake and the main thing was they had done it together thanks to Sage.

Parker is the black and white dog, and Sage is the brown and white dog.

Mr. Officer  #22

On Thursday, I attended a celebration of life mass for a man who I have fond memories of from my earlier years in Presque Isle. A man that took his responsibilities seriously, and at the same time had a great deal of compassion for those around him.

Harold Stewart, or “Bud” as he was known, was well known in Presque Isle. He had done just about everything in his lifetime. He served his country, not once but twice. He was a father, a grandfather and a champion for folks who needed him. Yes, Bud was a local attorney in Presque Isle. He dedicated his life to helping those in need. He was a tall man that could put fear in your heart just by looking at him, but as you got to know him, you found that much of that was just a mask of his true identity, a caring smart man just wanting to be your friend.

Now, you might ask why I am writing about Bud, when most of my blogs are about the outdoors. Well Bud enjoyed the outdoors and enjoyed fly fishing. But the memories I have of Bud are not about fly fishing, no, it was more along the lines of how I met him. As I sat listening to his son, Hal, talk about his father, I smiled as I recalled how I first met him and how the meetings would go time after time.

See, many years ago, thirty one to be exact, I was a law enforcement officer for the City of Presque Isle. I was new to the City having just moved here to take that position. As a greenhorn, you were always the one to bear the brunt of the jokes by the older officer, and I was no exception. I hadn’t been on the job for more than 3 months when I was called to court for my first trial. I remember it as if it were yesterday. It was a traffic case where a guy had run a stop sign and I had ticketed him.  As the trial list came around, I noticed that he had pled not guilty and was being represented by Harold Stewart. At that time, I had no idea who Harold Stewart was. However, my fellow officers let me know that I was in for a rough time and to be very prepared as “Bud” would rip me to pieces once I got on the stand to testify. That rhetoric continued up until the day of trial. I showed up at the appointed time and took my place on the stand. The Assistant District Attorney walked me through the questions he had and then told the judge, who was Julian Turner, that he had no further questions of me. During my testimony and out of the corner of my eye, I had been watching this very tall dark haired man sitting at the defendants table. He had his glasses on the table and a yellow pad of paper in front of him. He had never looked up at me during my whole testimony, instead keeping his head down, while all the time seemingly writing on the pad. If you think, my fellow officers had prepped me to be afraid of him that was just an understatement of how I was feeling at that time. Judge Turner, then let it be known that it was time for cross examination and he said, Mr. Stewart, it is your witness. Bud did not move from his chair nor did he look at me for what felt like an eternity. Then all of a sudden, he picked up his glasses, rose from the table and walked over to where I was seated on the witness stand. With his glasses in hand, he began to ask me questions about what I had testified to. I was shaking all the while as he went through what felt like a long list of questions that I thought he had been writing down. As he approached the end of his questions, he stopped and said” Now Mr. Officer, he said this every time I had a trial with him. Do you expect the court to believe what you have told us? And do you want to stand on the testimony you have given this court today? My answer was Yesssss Sir. Then his final words were, do you know the penalty for perjury? Again, my answer was yes. He then backed up and gave me a very long stare with his dark eyes and looked at the judge and said, no further questions, your honor.

I had a hard time getting out of that chair, I was so scared. The judge dismissed me and I walked by Bud to where I was sitting. After the trial was over I left the court and was in the outer room, when Bud came walking out with a big smile on his face. He saw me and came right over and extended his hand to me saying you did a great job in there young fellow. I am proud of you. I have never forgotten those words to this day. What appeared to be a very tough, gruff man had taken the time to come see me and to tell me that I had done ok. From that day, on Bud and I met on a number of other cases and each time he used the same tactics as the first time I had met him. But it never had the same effect as the first time and I knew that after it was over, he would be my friend again.

I have watched his son, Hal; follow in his father footsteps, first working alongside his father as an attorney, and then taking over the family business. Hal is cut from the same cloth that his dad was and has a lot of the same qualities. In my mind, the legacy continues to live on.

May you rest in peace, Bud.

I Hear a Calling  #21

Each and every one of us hears a calling from time to time. We often take heed of that calling which helps us cope with our everyday routine. Fishermen are no different in that they know when it is time to pick up their rod and give it a go. Well, after two weeks without the woods or fishing, I heard that calling loud and clear. Maybe it was the loons darting under the water after fish and then coming up and letting their presence be known. Maybe it was the wind blowing its gentle breezes through the trees and moving the water so it slapped against the shore. And maybe, it was watching the animals moving gracefully, not caring if we were watching or nearby.

So, Friday, TC and I decided that we had been away long enough. It was time to head back in and try our hand at catching some fish. Our destination was going to be Ragged Mountain Pond in Piscataquis County. But first we had a few errands to run. I had heard that the fishing was not too good due to the hot weather we had been experiencing. Often, around this time of year, the weather is hot, the water heats up and the fish go down deep to stay cool. They might move around to feed, but chances are they are just too lazy and enjoy where they are parked.  

Our first stop was at Chandler Lake Camps to check in on Jason and Sherry. Jason was off doing what Jason does in the woods, but Sherry was there. We caught up on what had been happening and then decided to move on. It was now noon time and the sun was high in the sky. IT was over 80 degrees, and I knew the fishing was not going to be good, so TC and I decided to take a ride up to Churchill Dam. TC had never been there and I had a new appreciation for it having just finished a book entitled “Nine Mile Bridge” written by Helen Hamlin. The book detailed her time in the North Maine Woods, first as a teacher at Churchill Depot, and then as a wife of a Maine game warden, Curley Hamlin who was stationed at Umsaskis Lake. TC had not yet read it, but I thought that our visit might serve as a good backdrop for her when she did.

Our first stop at Churchill was the museum. I had not been there, but we really enjoyed seeing all the old implements that they used in the logging operations during that time. There were also many photos of the Depot and the people who made the area what it was. It was interesting to see Edward Lacroix and the others and I was really surprised to see a photo of Helen Hamlin and a brief synopsis of her book. I took TC around, visiting the dam, camping areas and the boat landing. We walked by the old boarding home, and then had a nice lunch while we listened to the water rushing through the dam. Once we had taken in all of the sites, we decided to stop one more time at the museum to check on something. When we did, we met up with Ranger Ed who was working there. We talked for a few minutes and I asked him if there was any way we could get to see the inside of the old boarding home. He finally said he would take us in, but it had to be quick. As he unlocked the door and we walked in, I felt like we went back in time to when the Depot was a booming bustling town. As we entered, we immediately saw the post office where all the mail came and went. We then went upstairs and saw the room where the people would stay. I learned that the boarding home was sectioned off into two areas. Upstairs on the left, were the rooms and on the other side of the building upstairs was a very large room where the men bunked all together. Ranger Ed pointed to the walls all around the room and asked us to look at the small dark spots approx. one foot apart, all at the same height. He told us that those spots were where the loggers slept and there head laid up against the wall. The spot was the grease on their hair that had left a lasting impression on the wall. It was unbelievable.  He then took us downstairs to where they used to eat. He pointed out a trap door in the floor and told us that was where the cooks used to throw the leftover food to the pigs that were underneath the camp. Time seemed to pass so fast, and as quickly as we entered, it was time for us to leave and Ranger Ed to go back to work. We said our good byes and thanked him for what was a very memorable trip back in time. He told us that at one point, a group had decided to restore the old boarding home and had shored it up. But, for some reason, they stopped and the renovation came to a halt. It was sad to think that this historic landmark may fall to the same fate that many other building up there did. I just wish there was something I could do to help get the project back on track and see it to completion.

We left Churchill Dam and headed back to our pond. Once there, we unloaded the boat and put on the water. I knew we were in trouble when I started my fish finder and it registered a hot 80 degree water temperature.  We fished for a while, but it was clear that we were not going to have any luck this day.

As we drove out, the conversation seemed to center around the day we had at Churchill Dam and what we had seen. I was elated to have been able to take a tour of the old boarding house. All of the reading I have done about it had only set the stage for what was a very memorable ten minutes. As I got closer to home, I thought to myself, maybe the calling was not for fishing this day. Maybe the plan all along had been to spend some time at the dam and have the pleasure of seeing the inside of the boarding home. For me, that was a calling I was glad to have listened too.

I need a new fly rod. But what type should I buy? #20

When was the last time you bought a new fly rod? Did the dealer tell you about the different kinds, and what they felt was best for you or did they tell you that a certain brand name was the best rod and the one you should have? Did they mention that there are different weights, lengths, and the most important part, the action?  Did you know that different action rods are made for different kinds of fishing, and that the action can be helpful in where you fish? Are you confused already? Well, I am no expert by any means, but I try to do my homework when it comes to purchases like these.

When it comes to the action of the rod, that is just a fancy name for how flexible the rod is. There are different actions, including fast, medium and slow. To drill down even further, Fast action rods are also called tip flex fly rods, Medium action rods, mid flex and slow action rods are called full flex fly rods.

Fast action rods are much stiffer and thus more powerful. That means that the rod is capable of casting the line further than medium or slow action fly rods. The stiffness of the rod helps generate more line speed during the cast. Fast action rods are also designed to help land larger fish. So, what are the advantages of a fast action rod? You get longer casts. You can land larger fish easier. You get better control in windy conditions and your casts can be much quicker. There are also disadvantages with a fast action rod. They really are not good when fishing smaller streams. They don’t work well with lighter tippet because the stiffness of the rod puts more strain on the tippet and they can be difficult to use for beginning fly fisherman. So, who should have a fast action rod? If you are looking for a rod that makes long consistent casts and you may be fishing in windy conditions, the fast action may be for you.

Medium action or mid flex fly rods, as they are also called, are rods that have a fair amount of flexibility, but are still somewhat stiff. The rod bends much more than a stiff flex. What this means is that the rod will bend for about half of its length from the middle of the rod to its tip. Medium action rods are the choice of most anglers and are sold the most in stores today. In the hands of a good caster, medium rods can make those long casts as well. If you plan to fish in a wide range of areas and conditions, the medium flex rod might just be the one for you. They are also suited well for beginners as well as long time casters. One of the benefits of a mid-flex rod is maximum versatility. If you can only afford one rod, this is the rod you should have.

Slow action or full flex rods are very flexible. The difference between a slow and fast action rod is significant.  They do not generate high line speed due to their flexibility. They are designed for anglers that need to make short very accurate and gentle casts. They can be effectively used on smaller rivers and brooks. They also work well with light tippet. These rods are excellent for beginners who are learning to control their line and make more accurate casts.  Advantages of this type include protecting light tippets while fishing. They are also very forgiving and are great for short casts. Disadvantages include slow line speed, not being really conducive to windy conditions and are not that versatile in different conditions.

Now, not to confuse you more but rods also come in different weights, and different weighs are used in different settings. Rods come in weights from 1 to 14, but the most common weights are 5-6.  This weight allows you the versatility to fish for small to larger fish at the same time accommodating small to larger flies. It also allows for longer casts at the same time performing well on shorter casts. My preference is the 6 weigh rod, but I must confess that I own a 5 and 8 weigh rod as well.  I have friends that use 3 weight rods and love them. Remember also that you need to match the fly line with the weight of your rod. So, if you purchase a 5 weight rod, you should purchase a 5 weight fly line. Some of the dealers tell me that you can go up or down one weight on line but I prefer to stay within the match.

This is just a guide of the different types of rods that you can purchase. I own a fast action as well as a medium action. Both have different uses and both perform very well in the environment I use them in. Both will act differently when you hook that fish and it fights you all the way to the boat.

So, the next time you feel you need a new rod, first determine what you will be using it for, what you want it to do, and from there what flex you would like. Then, go to the dealer and ask them to point out rods with that type of action.  Doing your homework will ensure that you have the right equipment, which translates into better enjoyment of the sport.  Most dealers can be a big help to you so use them. Good Luck and have fun out there!

I had a couple of friends come into town for our most recent fishing trip. They had not been here in some time, and the first thing they asked was where the old Roy’s Army & Navy store had gone. See, it used to be down on Main Street. I told them that it had been moved and the name had changed to Ben’s Trading Post. The new location was on the corner of Parsons Road and Parsons Street in Presque Isle. Ben LeBlanc is the owner and the store was fully stocked with anything you might want. Well, they just had to make a trip over there before we headed to the woods, which we did. Judging by the items they bought, they were not disappointed.

Now, I was into Ben’s the other day. See, I swear that the eyelets on those flies are getting smaller and smaller every season, so I bought one of those new-fangled magnifiers that clip on your hat. Ben saw me trying one out and began laughing. When I asked him why, he said that it reminded him of the time when he was fishing with a friend and he was trying to tie a fly on to his leader. The friend asked him what he was doing because come to find out, Ben didn’t even have the leader in his hand, because it was dangling off the side of the boat. Seems as though Ben thought he did.  Thanks Ben for making me feel better.

Guide to line weights

Fly Line Weight 1-3: Small trout, panfish, and other small fish. Used when casting small flies on short casts.

Fly Line Weight 4: Small to medium sized trout and other similarly sized fish. Used when casting small flies and medium sized flies using short to medium-short casts.

Fly Line Weight 5-6: The most versatile of the line weights. This line weight fishes well for all but the smallest and all but the largest trout. Also performs adequately for smaller bass. Fishes well when using small, medium and larger sized flies (not massive streamers, though). Allows for longer casts yet performs short casts fairly well.

Fly Line Weight 7-8: Designed for very large trout and large bass as well as some saltwater species. Used for pitching large streamers and large flies. Longer casts are excellent. Not the best for short casts, and most definitely not designed for smaller fish and smaller flies.

Fly Line Weight 9-14: Large fish territory. Mainly used for saltwater fishing and fishing for salmon.

FROM THE INBOX

I got an email from a gentleman who lives in central Maine and reads my column. He read the Churchill Dam blog and let me know that he was one of the truckers who hauled stone up to the train sites when Cianbro was hired to right and stabilize the trains on the tracks. He told me that he had not been to that area for some time but the blog and the photos of the trains brought back a lot of good memories. He is now thinking about going back up again to visit and he may bring his fly rod.  Mike, I hope you get back there soon!

I also got a number of emails on the story involving the Navy Seal and his dog. The comments you sent me were unbelievable and I appreciate you sharing your feelings. I did get a response from a reader who told me that he has a friend that is a Navy Seal and who was supposed to be on that chopper that day, but for some reason, was not. He was sent in to secure the scene after the crash. God Speed at all of them.

Web Address:

Ben’s Trading Post:

www.benstradingpost.com

Dogs Are Man’s Best Friend  #19

When was the last time you heard the statement, a dog is “man’s best friend”? Do you believe it? Is it true? If so, how can we prove that to be a fact? This blog is far from what I normally write, but something that I read made me think that this is an important topic. It is one that requires a bit of review and soul searching. So, here we go. I hope that once you read it, you will agree that our pets truly are, “man’s best friend”.

In May, I made my annual trip to Washington DC to visit the Maine delegation of Senators and Congressmen and women. I do this every year with a group of folks. During our visit, we were walking by the Senate office buildings, toward our destination at that time, lunch. As we got there, we ran into Congressman, Spencer Baucus from Alabama. Congressman Baucus, is the Chairman of the Financial Services Committee. He stopped and we talked for a while. I noticed that he was carrying several copies of a book called, Lone Survivor, written by Marcus Luttrell. He let us know that the book was about Navy Seals and their plight in both Afghanistan and Iraq. Come to find out afterward, he holds a book club luncheon where they get together and review a certain book every week or so. His comments really intrigued me, in that, on the way home in the D.C. airport; I searched out the book to purchase. Unfortunately, I did not find that particular book, but I did find the second book that Marcus wrote entitled, Service. I read the back and decided to buy it. The book was about the war in both Afghanistan and Iraq and how the Navy Seals operated. It spoke about the battles and about the loss of life. In particular, Marcus wrote about all of the navy seals in his outfit and what happened to them. It was a powerful representation of what we here in the US do not hear about or see. It documented their work and suffering in an effort to keep us here, safe and free. It made me extremely proud of the men and women who risk their lives for us every day. And, yes, we get a small dose of it from the media, but this book opened my eyes to what we do not know or see.

Well, as I got to the middle of the book, there were some photos with captions under them and then he wrote about each and every one. Keep in mind this page in the book, 246. It will have some significance to my writing. As we moved on through the book, I learned about one person in particular named JT Tumilson. He was a Navy Seal in Marcus’s division. He told us that JT was like a brother to him. JT had a brown lab dog that he loved. When JT would go off to deployment, Hawkeye, the dog, would stay with one of the Seals back home. JT and Hawkeye were inseparable when he was home.

Well, Marcus separated from the Navy as a result of injuries he had suffered over time. But shortly after that, Marcus got word that JT had been involved in a firefight while their helicopter was landing on a mountain in Afghanistan. He was one of 30 people on that helo that passed away that day when the helo crashed into that mountain from enemy rocket propelled grenades. As is the custom when a Navy Seal is killed or dies, the entire teams who are back home travel and attend the services. Hawkeye was now with one of the other Navy Seals, one of JT’s best friends who had promised to keep Hawkeye if anything ever happened to JT. Hawkeye attended JT’s funeral that day and was on a leash. The book tells us that as the service was taking place with the casket in the middle of the room at the church, Scott let go of Hawkeye’s leash, and the dog wandered over to the casket and laid down next to it. He laid there for the entire service, never moving.

The local TV station, who was there covering the service caught the entire thing on tape. They could not believe what they had seen. How would a dog know that was his master? Why would he go up in front and just lay quietly next to the casket? The only answer I have is true love for their master. And yes, page 246 of the book had the photo of Hawkeye laying down next to JT. It was so moving to me that I just had to write about it. There has never been any doubt in my mind that a dog, is man’s best friend and they understand and unconditionally give you love each and every day.

And as TC and my family have often expressed, when we lost our precious “Toby”, they are a “Peace” of Heaven.

If you would like to see the video taken that day, here is the link:

http://www.theblaze.com/stories/heart-wrenching-image-dog-keeps-watch-over-fallen-seals-casket-during-funeral/

Listen, You Can Still Hear the Echoes of Days Gone By  #18

Most people who pass through the gates of the North Maine Woods do so for the fishing, hunting or just to get away and do some camping. But, I’ll bet they never think about the incredible history that has been such a large part of that region.

As I spend more and more time in the region, I have developed a much broader understanding of life during the logging days many, many years ago, and their trials and tribulations in getting their most prized crop, the timber they had cut, to market. It has driven me to want to know more about them and what they did. There are a few books out there that give you some background and the Maine Department of Conservation, who now oversees this area through the Bureau of Parks and Lands, has some very good information on the region and what took place during that time.

One such place that I have tried to obtain a broader knowledge of is “Churchill Depot or Churchill Dam” as it is now called. Sixty seven miles up the Pinkham and Pelletier & Pelletier Road from the six mile gate lies Churchill Dam. Today as you drive through, it is very quiet with a number of camping sites, as well as a staging area for canoe trips by outfitters. They are painstakingly trying to maintain the historic flavor of years past, at the same time allowing the public to enjoy its beauty. Today, a few of the old buildings remain, but many of them are just a memory only seen in old photos.

Churchill Depot began its existence around the early 1920’s when Edouard “king” Lacroix opened his logging operation and headquarters there. The business was called The Madawaska Company. His main goal was to find a way of getting his logs downstream to the different mills he had contracts with. As part of his brilliant engineering strategy and forethought, King constructed a dam on the outlet of Heron Lake so he could raise and control the waters behind the dam. These waters included Heron, Churchill and Eagle Lake. By doing so, he could also raise the water level in Round Pond. As a result, King was able to use the lakes with their raised water level to float the logs south to a tramway they had built and eventually down to the Great Northern Mill in Millinocket. King also used a rail system known as the “Eagle Lake and the West Branch Railroad. Today, many of the old trains and cars still remain at the tramway and many people visit them just as a means of developing an understanding of their work efforts.

In developing Churchill Depot, a large storehouse was built to store goods coming in before they were sent to the lumber camps via water. They also constructed a garage that housed and allowed maintenance of the Lombard log haulers they used in the logging operation.

In the early 30’s about twenty families lived at the depot. Among the workers there, were Camp Superintendents, paymasters, boat operators, and scalers. At the peak of the operation thousands of people came through and were processed at the depot annually. Due to the growth of that location, schools, houses, offices, gas tanks and other structures were built. Today, only a few of the existing structures remain including the old boarding house and another structure that houses a museum. There is also a ranger station and the waterways supervisor’s home and office.

The first wooden dam was constructed in the 1920’s. In 1967, it was reconstructed and in 1999 it was replaced by a concrete dam. That dam remains today. In speaking with the Ranger during my visit, he told me that each day, they open the gates of the dam at 5:30pm to reduce the back water, and to allow canoes sufficient water to work their way down stream. The gates are closed the following day at noon. They remain closed from that time until opened again at 5:30pm.  I am told that when opened, there is an enormous amount of water that travels downstream. Most of my party there that day was taking advantage of the water by putting on their waders and fishing just below the red stakes of the dam. The ranger made sure to determine where we were going to be as he said the release of water at 5:30 could very easily take you downstream in a second. We told him that we would prefer not to go downstream without a boat and paddle and would be off the water long before the gates opened.

I would like to thank the Maine Dept. of Conservation and the Bureau of Parks and Lands for keeping this historic place so pristine. As you drive in, you cannot help but think back to the early years and think about how it must have been living there. It was once a desolate wooded area of Maine that turned into a small town as a means to create work and opportunity for many. You can still almost hear them as you pass through.

Research and photo of older depot conducted with help from the Maine Department of Conservation website listed below.

Train photos courtesy of Terri Hallowell

www.maine.gov/doc/parks/history/allagash/chdepot.htm

FROM THE INBOX:

I am told that people are spotting a lot of partridge and their chicks this summer. I would concur, as we are seeing them every time we are in the North Maine Woods. It also appears that there have already been a couple of hatches because we are seeing chicks that vary in size from larger to much smaller. While TC and I were fishing with our friends Jason and Sherry this past Saturday, we were on our way up the trail from the canoes to the truck when we ran into two different families of birds with their chicks. As we passed, Sherry stayed behind to watch the mother. She yelled to us that the mother had just come to within 10-15 feet of her and was hissing at her. When we walked down to see, the mother retreated back to the safety of the woods. Also, while fishing, we had a visitor. Here are a few photos of it.

Fishing has a large relationship building component    #17    

One of the things I have learned over the years is that it is very important to continually foster relationships. It is even more important to stay in touch with people you only occasionally see.  So, when a couple of my friends began talking about a 3 day fishing trip to the North Maine Woods, I immediately began to frame it as a relationship building trip that I have to go to, if nothing else just to foster those relationships.  I would slave through the fishing part for the good of relationship building.  Well, that was only part true. The relationships were a big part of the trip, but wild horses could not keep me from a three day fishing trip to the North Maine Woods.

The cast of characters was as diverse as the food we brought. There was Matt who had flown in from Minnesota, Jon from South Portland, Roger from Bangor, Mark and Scott from Fort Fairfield and Doug and I from Presque Isle, and who could forget Molly the black Lab, Scotts trusty and friendly dog. Plans began months ago and emails had floated back and forth on food menus, what we bring for rods, flies and clothing. One of the drawbacks to blogging about your fly selection is that these guys have been reading my blogs and knew that I had had good luck with a particular fly. The emails going back and forth all reminded me to bring them with me as sharing was extremely important.

Two of the members of our group owned a camp in the North Maine Woods, and that would serve as our staging area for the time there.  It wasn’t your run of the mill woods camp mind you; it had all of the amenities of home including hot water and showers to mention a few.

Thursday came and I was keeping tabs on the whereabouts of the folks coming from a far. We had decided that we would meet at my home and take two trucks in. Mark had already gone in that morning. See, for the past two years, he has been having a running battle with a web foot flat tail family that loves to dam up the water.  The problem is that the dam tends to include the road we get to the camp on. Now, I’m not talking a little water, this is up to your bumper water for about 250 yards of the road. The plan was for Mark to go in and break the dam out releasing the water. The problem was that it only made those critters more ambitious. When we got up on Friday morning, the water was already across the road again.

We left town and headed to the woods, Jon and Matt with me and Doug with Roger. We stopped in Ashland just long enough to pick up a sandwich and then made our way to the camp. We passed through the gate and headed down the Pinkham Road. The plan was to stop at the camp, unload and then find a pond close by.  When we got to the camp, we completed the drop and then made our way to a little pond a short distance away. Once there, we unloaded the boats, and kayaks and drug them down to the ponds edge. The water was calm and you could see a few rises. We paired up with the exception of the kayakers and fished for about 2 hours. The trout were happy to cooperate which resulted in many of us catching a few and then throwing them back in for next time.

We rose Friday morning, cooked breakfast, and laid out the plan for the day. We would drive over and fish a pond TC and I have been frequenting this year.  Once there, Matt jumped in the canoe with me and off we went. The fishing was as incredible as the day itself. We eventually decided that it was time to try somewhere else so we loaded up the boats and packed up our gear. Now, to get to this pond, you have to drive up a long road and then take a left and up that road to the campsite. While we were standing in the campsite yard, I looked down the road and noticed that a warden was walking toward us. He came over, greeted us and asked how we had done. I noticed on his shirt that his last name was Buuck.  He was a nice young man who told us that he had been a warden for two years. He checked our fish and gave us some pointers on which ponds were hot and which ones were not. Eventually, he bid us goodbye and as quickly as he had come down the road, walked back and was gone. I thought how good it was to see wardens patrolling that area again after not having seen them in there for many years.  As we drove out and came to the tee in the road, I looked to my left and there was Warden Buuck walking away from us with a large set of binoculars in his hand. It was clear that he had been watching us from some vantage point and when he saw us coming off the water had walked down to check us.

We left this pond and headed down the Pell and Pell road to our next conquest, the Curriers. We drove in, unloaded and made the short trip through the woods into the pond. This was my first trip to the pond and I was amazed at its beauty. The pond had an island in the middle and we were told that the best fishing was around there. Roger joined me this time and we made our way out to that location. Mark and Doug loaded up their canoe and headed out. Shortly after, Roger and I noticed that Jon and Matt were nowhere to be found. We circled back and there on shore was Jon sitting in the bow of the canoe with his legs hanging over and Matt sitting on shore working feverishly on his reel. It seems that he had some equipment failure that was causing him enormous heartburn. We also learned that the canoe they were using only had a seat in the stern so Jon was sitting on a log in the bow. Well the maiden voyage of the USS Jon/Matt never made it onto water as a storm was brewing and the winds were coming up. We decided to come off the water, pack up and head for the camp.  Once we got to the camp, we made supper and sat and watched the Red Sox. Yes, we have TV. We planned our Saturday and then hit the sack. Scott had joined us at the camp along with Molly.

Now, I know it is hard to believe but when you assemble a group like this, there has to be at least one in the crowd that has nasal problems that result in large noises during periods of sleep. Yes, I mean snoring, and we had ours. This guy had the capabilities of pushing the roof right off the camp. The bad part about it was that he wore an iPod to bed at night and kept the music going so he could sleep. During the night, Jon got up went over to him and woke him up. He came to, took the ear buds out and listened while he was told he was snoring. He politely said ok, put his headphones back in and was off and running again before Jon got back to his bed. Oh, well, I guess that is all part of camp life, but not really germane to relationship building.

Saturday morning, we got up and once again headed down the Pell and Pell road. Our destination was Matthews Pond. Warden Buuck had told us that the fishing was really good there. We arrived, unloaded and walked into the pond. When we got there, the sun was shining and the pond was just like glass. I had brought my small fish finder, so once on the pond I found that the water in the center of the pond was twenty one feet deep. We fished it and I was the only one to catch a fish. Mind you, it was not a trout, but what looked like a golden chub. It had a golden body with red under fins. When I got back home and went to the Maine Fish and Wildlife website, I looked up the pond from their list and found that when they surveyed it, they found what they called golden shiners. Maybe that was what that fish was.

Once we got our trucks loaded, we decided to run down to Little Pillsbury Pond campsite and have lunch. If you have not been there, it is one of the best campsites in the woods, and the pond is great fishing as well. After having lunch, we altered our plan to drive up to Churchill Depot and do some fishing at the dam. I remember my dad speaking often about this area because it was in his district when he was stationed there years ago with the Warden Service.  If you have not been to Churchill Dam, you are missing a great deal of history. I was so captivated by its beauty and history that I have decided to write about it in my next blog. Well we spent a good part of the afternoon there with our waders on. See, just below the dam where the red stakes are is where you can begin fishing.  We had an enjoyable afternoon and as it came to a close, we decided to drive back down the Pell and Pell road to a pond that reportedly has some very nice big fish in it.

As we got to our next destination, Roger told us that on the way over, the radio had been announcing a storm coming at us from the Churchill Dam area. The skies were very dark and we could hear thunder off in the distance. We stood by the trucks for a while contemplating if we should wait it out or just walk in. Now, picture this, seven guys waiting at their trucks with all their gear out trying to decide if we should go fishing or not. What would you bet on if you could? Yup, the go now crowd won out and down the trail we went. This pond is a favorite of the area sporting camps. The planes fly in and out all day long bringing in sports and taking them out.  With the storm clouds brewing, it would be a safe bet that we would not see any planes in the area which we did not. We got on the pond, paddled out to the island where the best fishing is and I immediately caught a nice trout. It fought and fought all the way to the net. When we got it in the boat, it must have weighed at least a pound. Now, you can only catch one fish at this pond, so I decided to put this one back in anticipation that I would catch another that might be bigger.  It’s similar to the mentality of a hunter that has the whole week off and one Monday sees a nice deer but passes, only to not see another one again. Well, the clouds rolled in and the sky looked ominous. Roger was in my canoe and all of a sudden let me know that he had just seen a bolt of lightning. Let me tell you, had we have been competing for a spot on the Olympic rowing team that day, we would have won. We paddled that canoe as fast as we could and did not stop until we got to the landing. The other guys must have seen it as well, because they were right behind us. We packed up walked out to our trucks and headed to the camp. Each of us knew that this was our last pond and our last fishing episode because tomorrow we had to pack up and head home. You could almost feel the sadness in the group that a trip we had started planning some time ago was here and almost gone.

Sunday morning came and we all rose and started packing for the ride home. You could tell we were not really ready to call it quits. As we left the camp, we came to the beaver dam. Yup, they had been out the night before and had the water up over the road again. It reminded me of a saying, “If you build it, they will come.”  Except my saying goes like this, “If you break it, they will come….”

As we drove home, Matt, Jon and I all commented that we had such a good time, we should make this an annual trip. Matt piped up saying let’s get it on next year’s calendar right now. Somehow, I think we have started a new tradition.  Oh, yeah, all the fish I caught that trip was on that special fly I tie in that little room in my basement.

FROM THE INBOX

Dick Fortier asked me to remind those readers that need to take a hunters safety course, that the Presque Isle Fish and Game Club will be holding one during the week of September 10. Dick tells me that he already has 18 people signed up. To learn more, contact Dick at bearfortier@gmail.com         

On another note, The Maine Audubon in conjunction with the Maine Department of Inland Fisheries and Wildlife and trout unlimited is conducting a survey of the trout population on some ponds in Maine and are asking for anglers help. If you are interested in learning more, you can visit their website at www.maineaudubon.org  for a list of the ponds or by visiting the Maine Department of Inland Fisheries and Wildlife website at www. maine.gov/ifw/. You can also email Amanda Moeser at Maine Audubon:  amoeser@maineaudubon.org