“There's a fine line between fishing and just standing on the shore like an idiot.”
- Stephen WrightHands down the best fishing quote I've ever heard. I can't say the best ever, because I haven't done the research, but this one really seems to fit for me. I've returned once more from the Great North Woods (of Maine again this year, as nearly every state along the Canadian border seems to feature some area called the Great North Woods). This year was the smallest crowd we've had in awhile, featured a new angler, the return of Boston Rob and the best take of fish we've ever had. I spent my share of time standing in the river like an idiot, but had some decent success, as well.
With my usual disclaimer apology to the Sports Guy for ripping off the running diary idea...
Wednesday 4 pm: Remember that scene near the end of the Blues Brothers where they are about to leave for Chicago in the middle of the night? "It's 106 miles to Chicago, we got a full tank of gas, half a pack of cigarettes, it's dark, and we're wearing sunglasses." Well, right now, it is 281 miles to Greenville, it is pouring rain, I have no top on my Jeep (not, I took the soft top off and need to replace it... I need to install it), I have two kids to feed and bathe, nothing packed, and about 30 hours worth of work to wrap up before I leave tonight. What could go wrong?
6:30 pm: Somehow, I've done it. The top is on the Jeep, work is done, the kids are clean and fed, Lauren will be home momentarily and I'll be off. I usually pack light, but I try to be smart about it. Since I haven't had time to think, I've basically just grabbed enough clothes to be gone for a month and stuffed them in a duffel bag. I'm hoping there is enough variety to tackle varied weather conditions.
6:45 pm: Vegas, Baby. Just like the scene in Swingers when they leave L.A. for Vegas. Road trips always seem like such a great idea until you are about halfway into them, but right now, I'm all optimism. We are missing all of the usual VT guys this year, so I am flying solo. I've told everyone no worries on that -- I'm looking forward to a few hours (6.5 to be exact) of solitude after a very busy few weeks. The open road beckons.
7:00 pm: I neglected to check the gas tank, so I'm up for my first stop. There's a cool store in Jeffersonville, though -- 2 slices of pizza, some caffeine and a tank of gas. This also gives me time to load up a live Phish show from 1990 that I probably haven't listened to in 10 years and would not get to listen to if most of my friends and/or family were riding with me.
7:40 pm: "Suzy! Suuuzzzy... Suzy, Suzy, Suzy Greenberg!"
8:10 pm: A relatively uneventful trip across VT Rt. 15 and over to the beginning of 4 hours on Route 2. Phish is still jamming "Good Times, Bad Times" when it occurs to me that it was a bad time to lose track of exits on I-91. I'm only on here for a few miles and if I missed Rt. 2 its going to cost me time I don't wish to lose... nevermind... there is my exit. Better pay closer attention.
8:15 pm: My God. I've only covered 60 miles in an hour and a half. Traveling East/West through New England is never fun. Doing it in a Wrangler with no acceleration and a top speed of 43 MPH is brutal.
8:30 pm: Wake up! I'm checking out a field of cows to my right (they do lay down when it rains) and as I look back to the road there is a HUGE bull about 18" off my right bumper. How did he get through the fence?
9:15 pm: Check in calls with the rest of the fishing team. Two guys already at the cabin. My brother and his buddy about an hour away. Me? Just four short hours to go. Vegas, baby.
10:30 pm: Stop for gas and coffee. The great thing about a road trip in a Jeep is that not only is it slow and uncomfortable, but my 8 gallon gas tank lets me stop once an hour for fuel. Gas is easy, coffee not so much. I ask the woman at the store if I should drink the gas station coffee at this hour... she wouldn't. Guess a Coke will do the trick.
11:00 pm: Our cabin is awesome. Huge place with a killer view, lots of beds, nice kitchen, two porches, air hockey and NO LINENS. Crap. I remembered a towel but no sleeping bag. I weigh the options of lost driving time by stopping at Wal-Mart against sleeping on a bare mattress using t-shirts for blankets all weekend. Wal-Mart it is. At least there are no lines at this hour. You have to love that place. Ten dollars and 88 cents later I am the proud owner of a new sleeping bag -- probably only rated to 56 degrees and highly flamable, but good enough for a fishing weekend.
1:30 am: Arrival. The last 2 hours were a brutal mix of bad roads, worse fog, drooping eyes and the nagging fear that behind each patch of fog was a waiting moose. My brother reports he and Kent locked brakes once on the way up, but I made it without a moose encounter. You see cautionary moose signs all over New England, but in the Great North Woods they mean it. Pretty rare to travel more than a mile or two up here without seeing one. So two hours in the fog and rain at 15 mph. Vegas, baby. A couple of beers with Gregg before heading down to my bunk.
Thursday, 7am: I'm feeling remarkably good. Ready to hit the river. A quick stop at Jamo's for eats and we are on our way.
9:00 am: We've had a lot of years with limited catching. Lots of fishing, but catching can be a rarity. Gregg snags a nice brown trout right away. I help with netting and release, Gregg casts again and BANG! Fish #2. Setting the bar pretty high for my taste, but congrats to Gregg.
4:00 pm: The team has been at it all day, and I'm pleased to report success for Gregg, Steve and Kent (yes, even the new guy already has a couple of fish). Rob and I have both struck out so far, and the pressure is mounting a little. I was the only skunk last year and I do not care to bring home the Master Baiter trophy again. We've now headed out to a smaller brook that a local told us was on the left, just under the "tressel". At least a 20 minute discussion during the car ride as to what a "tressel" is (its a bridge for trains) we find a little pool. My first cast is a dry fly and, yeah, there you have it, I've caught my first fish for the weekend. A nice little 12" brook trout. Monkey off my back, now I can relax and have fun. As a side note, I can also now root for Rob to catch a fish (which he does the next day). Its not that I would ever wish a bad weekend on anyone, but misery loves company and if I was going to get skunked, I was hoping not to be the only one. I caught another brook trout before heading home for the night. Life is good.
6:00 pm: I would be remiss not to mention that we dearly missed Sea Bass (aka Kevin Weimer) this year, who lacked the proper levels of accrued vacation at his new job to get away with us. We'll need him back on the team next year. At the same time, I feel like I know him a little better than I did before, as I had to borrow his wading boots and have now walked well over a mile in his shoes.
8:00 pm: Dinner and beers at the Stress Free Moose Pub. Sadly, Stacey the bartender doesn't really remember us from years past, but the fog lifts after a couple of beers. Now we are all friends on Facebook, so we won't have this problem next year. Sox win and I clean up the bar at the ridiculous trivia game we are all captivated by.
Friday, 7:00 am - Saturday, 11:00 am: Friday through Saturday morning are pretty much copies of Thursday. Differing levels of fishing success for different guys, but everyone had multiple catches. Lots of beers and one hell of a nice barbeque sponsored by Sean, who arrived late but made up for it by supplying a Friday evening feast. Saturday was spent primarily on the "World Famous East Outlet" of Moosehead Lake. This is my third year in Greenville, and I think I am the only person yet to catch anything in this world famous stretch of river. The smaller streams seem to work better for me, but I've had good success so far and I'm happy to spend the day on the big river.
Saturday, 12:00 pm: Gregg and I spent most of the day together, pretty much working the same spot, and weird karma surrounded us all day. We tried to poach Boston Rob's salmon spot at one point, and I casted to the exact spot Rob suggested, dropped a beer and BANG! I missed a fish while retrieving my beer. Damn. No futher action for either of us there. Then we returned to our featured location and spent a good deal of time just leaving a nymph out bobbing in the current at the end of a line. Not really the way you are supposed to do it, but just kind of taking a break. After about 30 minutes of discussion like this, Gregg told me to go get myself a beer, and I started to head to the cooler just as, BANG! Another missed hit. No more beers for me -- they are messing with my day. Still striking out in the East Outlet.
2:00 pm: A couple hours later we are still trying, but legitimately casting and retrieving again. I have decided that I cannot catch a fish on a streamer, certainly not a salmon (Gregg has netted two more), and that I may never have East Outlet success. But its still all good because I am outside and having fun. I have found a little pool where I suspect a dry fly might work. In reality, I think the current is too fast, but I want to try anyway. After about 10 or 12 casts, I look at Gregg and inform him that a dry fly really isn't the right option for toda.. BANG! Another missed hit. You would think I'd be paying attention by now. Karma is fubared.
4:00 pm: We've managed to stay relatively dry despite two pretty hard downpours and have been joined by Boston Rob. Rob is there just in time to a) catch a salmon right where I've been standing all day, and b) watch Gregg stumble into the river. As Gregg begins to float away, Rob and I both wonder aloud if he needs help or if we should just keep laughing. We agree that laughter is still the best medicine. Gregg's day is complete.
5:00 pm: Most have called it a day. Gregg, Rob, Steve and Kent have all packed it in, and Sean and I are getting ready to wrap it up at the favorite spot. I really would have liked to catch one today, especially having missed several opportunities, but it has been a great weekend and I'm pretty much ready to call it a day. I switched back to the streamer a few casts ago (surely I just need to keep practicing), but still no luck. I see the others heading toward the cars, and announce 'last cast' to myself. My cast is just about at the end of the point where you'd expect any action, and I take a step toward shore when, BANG! I finally got one. After countless hours in the East Outlet, I've finally brought in a salmon -- and a nice one at that. Probably 20" or so, a good fight and Sean helps with the net. A great finish to a great weekend. Karma is restored.
Sunday, 9am: The house is cleaned up, we're packed and on our way. Just 6.5 short hours until I am home. Vegas, baby. I do make the brilliant move of grabbing a handful of Maine lobsters and steamers on my way back and packing them well enough to have a Sunday afternoon feast with the family when I get home. No better way to curry favor with Lauren after leaving her alone with two kids and a puppy for four days.
The Annual Great Northwoods Fishout has never been about big catches, but I believe our total was up over 30 fish this year (all released -- we are responsible anglers). It's a lot more to do with getting together with some good guys and forgetting the outside world for a couple of days. Fish or not, it is always a good time, but having some success this year definitely added to the fun for everyone.
Gregg and I spent a lot of time talking about the fact that we both turn 40 this year, and the life implications of that. I don't feel old, but I do feel some concern that I am running through life. I was truly shocked last fall to realize 20 years had passed since High School, and I am concerned that the next 20 years will go by just as fast. I love that I get a few days a year without email, cell coverage and the stresses of every day life. It is great to spend real quality time with my friends and my brother -- none of whom I see often enough. I realize that my life is so nutty that sometimes I don't take enough time to enjoy day to day experiences with my kids, my wife, my friends or my dog. Fishing and skiing weekends reset my priorities nicely and I seem to move a little slower through life when I get back. If you don't have something similar, you should go find it -- you'll be glad you did.
