Paul Kukonen and his secret fly

 When I was a kid Paul Kukonen had a fly shop on Green Street in Worcester. It was not like the fly shops you see today. His was a mess. There was stuff everywhere -- no fancy displays -- just shelves with plain brown cardboard boxes and coat stands with waders and rain coats randomly hanging from them. The front counter had a glass top and there were some fly reels and fly boxes inside. An old cash register sat on top at the end nearest the front wall. Despite the mess he could always be depended on to find whatever you happen to be looking for. I bought a saddle hackle once -- he poked a box down from the top shelf with a broom handle and caught it in his arms. There, inside was the saddle hackle I was looking for. I still have it. I think I was planning on tying a lot of dry flies. Now I have no interest in tying tiny dry flies but you never know, maybe I'll use those feathers someday. I don't know how old I was, I was probably in high school, but he seemed like an old man. And the other customers that hung out in his store were old looking too. I was told that Paul slept in the back room with his english setter. I wouldn't doubt it. He was one small step away from being homeless. 

Even though Paul was not well off financially he was kind of famous. Curt Gouty and Lee Wulff even  mention him in the film they made about fishing Minipi trout.  Paul also made movies and showed them around Worcester, Springfield, and Boston. My father who also made and showed movies back then told me that Paul used his original footage rather than spending the money to have a print made. He spent all his money, all his life on fishing. He was the archetypal trout bum.

Here is a good article about Paul that was published in the Worcester T&G, Feb 9, 2015:

https://www.telegram.com/story/news/local/east-valley/2015/02/10/outdoors-paul-kukonen-was-pioneer/35243156007/

Now that you have a mental picture of Paul and his store, I'll tell you about the secret fly. I remember the day that he explained it to me. A friend of mine, Steve and I stopped into Paul's store for something -- I don't remember what but I remember that there were no other customers in the store (which was rare). I took the opportunity to explain to him who I was. He had know idea who I was so I explained that my father was Carl Scott and our neighbor and good friend was Jack Swedberg. My father and Jack knew Paul very well from the movie making and showing circuit. There were times when they would all be at some sportsmen's club or church showing their movies together. Paul made fishing movies, Carl and Jack made wildlife movies. 

So now Paul knew who I was -- and knew that I was not just some random customer. We got talking about salmon fishing on the Dennys. He knew about it and had tried it but there wasn't enough action for him. He wanted to catch and eat trout. In all honesty he probably couldn't afford to spend a week staying in a cabin or hotel room hoping that he might catch one fish if he were lucky. He asked me if I had ever tried a particular fly that he had invented and that seemed to work on all kinds of trout and salmon. It called for a dubbed body of muskrat fur, a wood duck feather wound backwards and an another darker brown hackle wound the normal way over it. Barbules of that same dark brown hackle were also used as a tail. It was a very drab looking wet fly -- drab and very buggy looking wet fly. I did end up catching a few Atlantic salmon on it as well as landlocks and trout. I've never seen a picture of it or a description of it anywhere. My name for it is the PK Special. I am planning on making a video and posting it on my YouTube channel -- hopefully I'll get to it this week.

Packing for Belize Fly Fishing

 March 3, 2023 -- First full day back from Belize. Haven't even unpacked yet! Wanted to jot some things down regarding what I took on the trip, what I should have taken on the trip, and what I shouldn't have taken on the trip. Before I get into the details, let me give you some background:

First let me explain that the trip was not for the exclusive purpose of fishing. It was a family fun vacation with some great fishing opportunities thrown in. Secondly I am not a big saltwater fly fishing guy. I've fished for stripers and blues around Cape Cod and the Islands and I did one DIY bonefishing trip in the Bahamas about 10 years ago. Other than that I have very little saltwater fly fishing experience under my belt. My fishing partner on this trip, on the other hand, is really big into fly fishing for saltwater species. He talks about saltwater species that I've never even heard of. That being the case, and the fact that this was "his trip," ... his 40th birthday present from his wife (my daughter), I pretty much let him do all of the planning. He picked the place, decided what we would fish for and booked the guide.

Because this was a combination family trip and fishing trip, we decided on 2 days of guided fishing and the remainder would be DIY fishing around other family activities. We booked a 5 bedroom house on Ambergris Caye for a week. It was my daughter Jess, her husband Matt, their 3 year old daughter Carly, Matt's parents, me, and Jess's friend Trisha (who would help with Carly and give Jess some time to fish or participate in other adult activities aka bar hopping. The group dynamics worked well. Matt's parents, being a little older wanted to relax around the house and kept it clean and tidy, while the younger contingency went off exploring and generally making a mess of the house. I consider myself part of the younger contingency because I enjoy being on the go and really get bored just hanging around. 

Matt and I discussed the trip quite a bit during the year leading up to it. I had to try to tone down my expectations because he was talking about us each getting a grand slam -- meaning catching a bonefish, a permit, and a tarpon. He was imagining us catching all kinds of fish and I was rebutting with comments like, "it will probably suck -- we probably won't even catch a fish." My reasoning was that I would rather be pleasantly surprised than disappointed... and I explained that to him. He insisted on being very optimistic and I think was ultimately disappointed. The fishing was good, but not great. Because the wind blew hard (20-30mph) every day and had been blowing like that for 2 weeks the guides couldn't take us to the flats they normally fish -- the good flats. The only flats that would have given us a shot at tarpon. We were restricted to fishing in the lagoon behind Ambergris and there only on the lee shore.

With tarpon off the list we had no use for the 12 weight rods we brought. I had two with -- a Loomis graphite and one of my hand made bamboo rods. I can't call that a mistake because we had no way to know that tarpon fishing was not going to be part of the game. But I still brought way too much fishing gear. I envisioned that I would get a chance to test a lot of fly lines, so I brought 2 reels with different lines for each of the three rod weights I had with. Winter in New England isn't an ideal place to test fly rods and fly lines and I had a lot of testing I wanted to do. But because of the strong winds and the incestant inflowing mounds of sargassum there was no good place to fly cast near the house. That fact I probably could have discovered prior to heading down there but it wasn't something that I expected so I bought 5 fly rods, 6 reels with lines on them, and 3 additional lines. I ended up using 2 fly rods and two reels. That's a lot of extra gear to lug around, especially considering that I carrying all my rods and reels in one carry on case.

I purchased a Simms travel case for the rods and reels. It is designed to fit in the overhead compartment of an airliner, which it did and it worked great! But I think if I were to do it again, I'd take it but I'd check it. And I'd split my rods and reels up so if one of my cases got lost I'd still have another to fish with. The suitcase I used is designed to hold rods in the lower compartment and that worked great too. The only thing I did wrong was take too many rods, reels, and lines. Next time I might take 3 max but I would consider just taking 2 -- a 9/10 weight and a 5/6 weight. Only if I knew for sure that I would be fishing for tarpon would I take the 12 weight.

I also bought a Simms waterproof sling pack which I used for my "personal item" allowed to be carry on the plane. It worked great as a carry on pack and as a fishing pack. I'll do a full review Youtube of both Simms products in the near future. I'll also provide a complete packing list with details about every item along with the pros and cons of each item. 

Stay tuned ...

Fishing for Atlantic Salmon and Brook Trout in New Brunswick

 In 1985 ... June, the Dennys River was low and there were no fish to be found. We had fished all of the regular places, even the Downtown stretch. No one was fishing. It was if the river was dead.

Over evening cocktails we talked. What should we do? We could go bass fishing ... sightseeing? Ray Robinson had mentioned that Bartlet, Donald, and Lippy were fishing the Renous River in New Brunswick. We knew nothing about the Renous. My father had fished the main Southwest Miramichi years ago at Wilson's Camps; Jack Swedberg, my Aunt and my Uncle fished with Vince Swayze on the MIramichi pretty much every year back then, but we pretty much were clueless about the actual fishing. It was decided then and there, that warm June day, on the porch of Sear's Camp, with a gin buck in hand that we were going to drive up to the Renous and find Bartlet and the boys. We would hopefully catch them red handed in the act of fishing their secret pool on the Renous. Yeah right -- watch were the chances?

My father and I headed out the next morning. We figured we drive up, check out the area, and drive back the same day. It was 3 1/2 hours up and 3 1/2 hours back, that 7 hours of driving, leaving us a few hours to explore the area and learn something. And worse case, say we found that the fishing was awesome, we could always stay a night or two. My mother decided she would rather stay back in Dennysville. She had no desire to sit in the car all day. That's fine -- let's got!

I remember my father driving and that new Jeep Cherokee he had. We would have turned left out of Robinson's then left on route 1 and left again on 214. From there we passed the Moosehorn National Wildlife Refuge on the bumpy narrow road that wound its way through the thick conifer forest that covers the entire region. Crossing the border was easy back then. No passport needed, just answer a couple of questions and welcome to Canada. The roads are smoother, nicer in Canada. We drove through Fredericton, crossed the mighty St John, and continued up Route 148 on the west side of the Nashwaak River. When we came the bridge in Taymouth we stopped to look at the river and took note of the water lever and flow. It looked good! We were in salmon country -- our expectations were running as high as the water. 

We caught our first glimpse of the broad southwest in Boiestown and caught glimpses of it off to our our left as we followed it downstream to Doaktown. I don't remember stopping at Doak's Fly Shop but I'm sure my father pointed out the little white building that used to be Doak's back when he had been up here fishing. After crossing the Miramichi we continued on to Blackville and then Renous where we turned left on the Plaster Rock Highway which is not a highway--just a paved two lane road through the woods that goes directly to Plaster Rock from Renous.  On the map it's route 108. A couple miles up 108 we turned left and crossed the Renous, but before we crossed we pulled over and got out to look down into the water from the metal Bailey bridge.

When you look upstream you see a fairly wide river spotted with boulders that stick out of the flat flowing surface of the water like polka dots. It doesn't look like much -- no distinct pools, just a constant steady flow of water and those polka dot boulders. Looking downstream is totally different. The water drops quickly and swings around the corner through distinct pools. Standing on the bridge and looking down provides a crystal clear view through the water right to the gavel bottom. If there are fish to be seen you can easily pick them out. We both had on our polaroids and we must have looked like salmon fishermen, not only by our attire buy be they way we shaded our glasses to peer into the water. A car came by and stopped, rolled down the window and the driver asked: "Do ya see any fish?" "No, nothin." Was our reply.

We ended up chatting with the nice man for several minutes. He learned that we were interested in fishing and needed a guide. He said, "follow me. I'll take you to a guide that lives just down the road." Great. We got back into the Jeep, he turned around and off we went. At the end of the road he turned right, we followed. I remember the dust so the road was probably gravel back then. Now it's paved up to Pineville. We didn't go far before we saw an old Chevy coming the other way. We stopped. The guy in front of us was talking to the guy in the Chevy. Pretty soon the Chevy pulled up to us and the guy said something. We couldn't understand him but somehow figured out that he was going to be our guide. We followed him back to his house and got out to meet him. He was short and big ... wide with a big round gut. His faded blue work shirt was tucked in making his gut even more pronounced. His belt seemed to squeeze him into a smaller man below the waist. The end of his leather belt hung down about 6 inches and down past his crotch. He was a strange sight -- his big round head and a cap too small to fit it. But as strange as he looked he talked in some weird foreign language; a variation of english that sounded like a scottish brogue. He would talk, we would listen. Then we would try to figure out what he had said. We would repeat what we thought he said back to him and he would let us know if we were close. 

Somehow we had all decided to go fishing and that he would be our guide. There we stood, three guys, two cars, and a little house in the middle of nowhere with one common purpose -- to fish. To Leonard Munn fishing was his life. Sometimes "fishing" meant stringing a gill net across the river at night and at other times it meant sleeping in his Chevy while is paying "sports" fished. Leonard was overnight, out of shape and he had no toes on the foot that he had left hanging out of his car while sleeping one cold night. The toes froze and had to be amputated. He also had a heart condition which caused him to, in his words, "fill up with water." But despite these several physical handicaps he could out walk most people. We found that out on that same day when he took us into a pool somewhere on the Renous where we had to walk in the river upstream for about a half mile. I was 27 years old and in shape and had trouble keeping up with him. The only reason I could was because he had to stop once in a while due to chest pains.

More latter ...

Quarryville, Southwest Miramichi and Renous River

The Greenbrier Fly Rod

 

RScott Bamboo Fly Rods and The Big Bamboo Compay

This blog post is about my fly rod company, RScott Bamboo Fly Rods: https://rscottbambooflyrods.com/ and why I started it. 

I am one of those people who has too many hobbies, too many interests, too spread out, unfocused and when I do get interested in something I do a deep dive into it. I read everything there is to read about it. I watch ever video made on the subject, I attend shows, take classes, and totally immerse myself in it. I enjoy the learning process and I love the challenge of mastering new skills. It's kind of an exploration of the world, of reality, of what life is all about. 

Even as a kid I was always curious about things. I remember getting in trouble because I took apart my fathers pocket watch and couldn't get it back together again. I was constantly tinkering with things and I remember watching birds and being fascinated by flight. I built model airplanes from balsa wood and silk when I was 12. Then I learned how to fly them -- both control line and RC. Later I got my pilots license. I loved woodworking and making all kinds of things. I took up blacksmithing, built a forge, and made knives. Then I bought a lathe and taught myself how to machine parts. I learned how to solder, braze and weld metal. But all of these things were always hobbies, things I did when I was not working for a living. 

After a 40 year long career in finance and investing I had built a business that didn't need my full time attention and I knew at some point I would retire from it completely. In preparation for that day I made a New Year's resolution to "find my passion." I wanted to discover one thing that I really loved to do and to focus on that one thing. I gave myself one month to find it. I made a list of all the things I enjoyed doing and pondered each one of them to see if I would enjoy focusing on just one. 

I ending up choosing fishing because it checked off a lot of boxes. It involves being outdoors, it involves writing and photography, it involves travel and exploration, and it involves (or could involve) making fly rods. And making fly rods, especially making bamboo fly rods involves thinking. Unlike making fiberglass or graphite fly rods, making bamboo fly rods require an understanding of tapers and how they affect the action of the fly rod. Every rod I make starts with the design phase -- how long, what weight line, how many sections, what action ... etc. It can easily take a full 8 hour day to complete the design phase and it involves a lot of thinking, which I also enjoy. There is actually a philosophy component to rod design. 

The reason that I took up designing and building bamboo fly rods is that it gives me a chance to make something with my hands that I can see and feel. That's something I never had in my career. Finance is almost entirely a mental exercise and there is nothing to see except numbers on a page. I wanted to create physical objects and then use them in the outdoors and in far away places. Bamboo fly rod making is the perfect avocation for me! I wanted to make a business out of a hobby and a hobby out of starting and running a business. I've been self employed my entire life, so running a business is second nature to me but I've never run a manufacturing business. Making bamboo fly rods one at a time is not a complicated nor a big manufacturing enterprise but it is nonetheless manufacturing.

And the best part is that I don't need to make money at this enterprise. Part of the challenge is to sell a few rods, maybe a more than a few, but if I don't I can still afford to do everything I want to in life.

--RScott

Midges, Bantys, and Bamboo

 For those who may not have read my prior blog posts on how I came to prefering very light short bamboo fly rods to all others I will briefly recap now by taking you through the steps:

1) Learn how to fly cast and fish with an 8 or 9 foot graphite or fiberglass fly rod. I my case it was an 8 foot for 8 weight Fenwick.

2) After a few years of fishing for Atlantic salmon and reading about Lee Wulff's exploits I began to reduce the weight of my fly rods. My favorite for many years was a 9' 6 weight Sage. There is something almost magical about casting a light weight fly rod. It takes so little effort to throw a long straight line. And I discovered that I could play big strong fish on this rod simply by getting the butt of the rod into the action once the fish began to tire. 

3) More years passed and many more fish were brought to hand. It was getting to the point that it was almost too easy -- I needed a challenge. So I started using my 7 1/5 foot 5 weight Orvis trout rod for Atlantics. Now I had found a rod size that was testing my fishing skill but it was by no means even close to the lightweight bamboo rods that Lee was using. I wanted to duplicate his achievements.

4) I think it was shortly after we bought the Dungarvon salmon camp -- so late 80's early 90's that I picked up a little 6 foot bamboo blank from Jim Bender at The Lower Forty fly shop. I wrapped guides on it, mounted the reel seat and grip and started fishing for salmon in front of our camp. Back then we had good runs of grilse in July and caught fish pretty much every day. It didn't take long. I knew every lie in the pool. The fish took a hitched black bear hair and screamed down stream jumping as he went. I played him and landed him and I released him. In those days we killed a fish or two to eat but I wanted that first fish on that little bamboo fly rod to go free. I never landed a big salmon on that little rod but I had a lot fun landing grilse on it until one day I put a little too much bend in it and it snapped. 

5) When I started making my own split cane rods, I immediately gravitated towards the small and light variety. The biggest rod I made in those first few years was an 8 foot 8 weight. Most were 7 or 7 1/2 feet for 4 and 5 weight lines. Then I decided to try to catch a big salmon on a 6 footer. I called the rod that I made, the "L.W. Salmon." It was a 6' 3" 8 weight. That fall we went up and didn't fish much. No one was fishing Quarryville because there weren't many fish around. One day, just for the fun of being in the woods I took my old CJ5 up to Soldier's Pool, walked in through the wood and across a beaver dam to the river at the upper pool. As I walked out to the river I spooked a moose. Raven chased it and it stumbled up the river bank and out of sight. We crossed there, walked down stream, crossed back, walked past the middle pool, crossed again and started fishing the lower pool. About half way down I hooked a fish and knew it was a large salmon. I started my cell phone video and put it in my shirt pocket. I got one good jump on video then the phone fell and that was that. It was a great fish, a great fight, and I will never forget it. I edited a short video and posted it on YouTube:

Lee Wulff Tribute

6) I was never a big bamboo guy, but once I started making them I also began reading about them and became fascinated with Midges and Banties as made by the famous rod makers -- Orvis, Hardy, Leonard, Payne, and Young. Some people think that a Banty is just the mid and tip section of a 9' salmon rod. with a grip and reel seat glued onto the mid section but I've tried that years ago and it doesn't make for a very good fly rod. The little 4' 4" Banty was a specialty rod.This description is from the Classic Fly Rod Forum (sorry I don’t know who wrote this history):

" …(early 60's) Arnold Gingrich and cohorts promoted a small, 4'4" rod NAMED the "BANTY". Hardy built them (4'4") called the Phantom Hallokona and made some of the same exclusively for A&F labelled "Banty". Orvis joined in the game with their 4'4" rod named the "Banty" and sold it exclusively through agreement with A&F. Jim Payne made a 4'4" model named "Banty", also sold through A&F. AJ Thramer has tweaked the Payne Banty and developed his own 4'4" Banty for a#4 line, now sometimes called the "Thramer 444" as opposed to "Banty" but it's lineage is clear. And so, the time was when a gentleman fished a "Banty" fly rod, he was fishing a specific model that was 4'4" long and cast a # 4 or #5 line. As such these were serious, though specialized rods and came into their own on small, brush-choked streams. Pinpoint accuracy was one of their noted benefits but the short rod made the fish close to the angler's hand throughout the take, fighting and landing and made for an intense, extremely interactive experience with the fish. I am afraid an entire generation of fly fishers has grown up now unaware of these wonderful little "niche" rods and just how capable and fun they are to fish. Today, the term "banty" has become generic for those rods somewhat shorter than "midge" rods. But it's kind of fun knowing the originals were specific 4'4" rods for some pretty specific reasons and developed a serious, if small following. …..Why 4'4"? There's a whole story in itself surrounding that. Pick up some of Arnold Gingrich's books, most particularly the, "TOYS of a Lifetime" title and enjoy reading about the history of these diminutive little rods. …. They're coveted by their owners and seldom come to the secondary market."

The Road to Modern Bamboo

 In my introductory post I mentioned that it has taken me 50 years to learn how to make a modern bamboo fly rod. How can anything take 50 years to learn? It can take 50 years to learn anything if you had no idea what you were trying to learn it. When I started fly fishing 50 years ago I did not know that 50 years later I would be making bamboo fly rods. The only reason I even learned how to fly fish is that I wanted to fish for Atlantic salmon and the only legal way to fish for Atlantic salmon (at least in North America) is to fly fish for them.

My first fly rod was a Fenwick 8' 8 weight 2 piece fiberglass rod. When you only have one fly rod you really have no way to know how good or bad it is. I knew that all the good salmon fishermen had Fenwick rods--Bartlett, Lippy, Sam Ward, Doc Pason, and Robert Scott. The only thing that is important about a fly rod to a 15 year old is that you have a cool one and the cool one is the one that the really good fly fishermen used. You don't want to look foolish on the river casting with something that's not cool. The Fenwick was very cool. Way cooler than my dad's Orvis Battenkill. That's what I thought then -- now I think that Battenkill is way cooler than those old glass "clunks." 

Clunk is a term I learned from my father. A "clunk" is a crude, heavey, not well balanced fly rod or shotgun. A clunk is a Mossberg but the slim finely made, well balanced LC Smith is not. He didn't have a term for the opposite of clunk. Well made, nicely balanced, beautiful, tight fitting, finely crafted ... just really nice and usually these really nice things are expensive. I don't know where I got my bias towards really nice things, probably my mother, at least as far as the expensive part goes but my father has an appreciation for old school master craftsmanship. It's always better to save your money and buy one really good thing than to own a bunch of junk. 

"Understated elegance," comes to mind. Meaning it's not about being showy -- it's not about impressing others (at least not openly), it's about the feeling you get from owning something that is the very best in terms of functionality and beauty. This is about form following function. A finely made, well balanced side by side shotgun is at the top of the head when it comes to bird guns. It's at the top of the heap because it serves the purpose better than any other type of shotgun. It is light enough that you can easily carry it all day and it will still come up quickly to shoulder. It will swing easily on a fleeting grouse and points naturally to the exact spot that you are looking at.  It is quiet in the woods, no rattles, no loose parts. It opens easily when you need to safely cross over a stonewall. No need to eject a shell. It opens so perfectly that the barrels when open still catch and retain the two live rounds in their chambers. Open with just a tad more force and you can extract those shells easily. 

A handcrafted custom made bamboo fly rod is the embodiment of understated elegance in the fly fishing world. The highest level, state of the art, the crème de la crème of fishing if fly fishing and the pinnacle instrument in the art for fly fishing is the light weight, finely made, well balanced, beautifully finished, artfully embellished bamboo fly rod. Starting with the fiberglass Fenwick, evolving into lighter and lighter graphite, and finally refining, distilling, and extracting the very finest elements of the sport, you naturally and logically end up with this ultimate precision instrument. 

How is a "modern bamboo" fly rod better than a vintage bamboo fly rod? It is different only in the technology used to create it. In the area of adhesives science and technology has given us some of the strongest adhesives ever made. The old hide glues have been replaced by polyvinyl acetates and epoxy resins, shellac and varnish have been replaced by the far superior impregnation process, and cotton thread has been replaced by kevlar. And the treatment of the bamboo itself is more advanced and is still improving through scientific research. The improvements come more slowly as you reach the point of diminishing returns. 

I will cover rod action and casting techniques that are required in the proper use of these highly refined, very light weight and shorter fly rods in another post. 

Why Very Light Tackle Makes Sense

 There is a major misconception that light weight tackle kills fish. This misconception is based on a lack of understanding of the correct way to fight a fish. At this point you might be thinking, who says there is a "correct" way to fight a fish? We are all just having fun so why shouldn't we be able to fight a fish any way we want? You certainly "can" fight fish anyway you want but "should" you fight fish anyway you want? It's an ethical question. Should we fight a fish in such a way that it increases the chance that we will kill it when we intend to release it? In some jurisdictions you must release the fish you catch. In those places fighting a fish for too long a time period will wear it out to the point that it will not recover. And even though it is dying or even dead you must release the fish according to the law. 

If your intention is to preserve the resource then releasing fish in a very strong and healthy state will increase the chances of them surviving. I am not going to address the "catch and release" verses the "catch and kill" philosophies in this post but I will address it in another. 

Let's start with the assumption that your goal is to have fun, catch a lot of fish, and release them so they can be caught again. With that assumption, how in the world does using very light tackle make sense? It is assumed by most fishermen that you can fight a big fish harder with heavy equipment than you can with light equipment. That is only true at the extreme ends of the spectrum -- like trying to land a giant tuna with a small trout rod and reel. But for trout fishing and even Atlantic salmon fishing you can fight these species just as hard with a 4 weight as you can with a 9 weight fly rod. It is more about technique than rod strength. I have watched a lot of people fight Atlantic salmon. Most do not know how to fight a big fish. By big I mean 10 lbs and up. On a big river most people will use 10 lb test or higher leader/tippet strength. You can pull as hard as you want on 10lb test as long as you have some bend in the rod and the fish isn't really fresh. 

Most people hold the rod tip up high. That is a good idea when you first hook a fish and it is very strong and fast. You just let them burn off some steam and enjoy the show. Then you need to gradually start applying more and more pressure. There is a limit to how much pressure you can pull with the rod tip high. You just don't have enough leverage to pull beyond a certain level.* And if you are using very light gear you will break the rod before breaking the tippet. A fly rod is designed to have a strong butt section which then tapers down to a fine tip. The butt is where the strength is. So you need to play big fish from the butt of the rod and the only way to get the butt section to work for you is to point the rod more horizontally towards the fish. The rod is weakest when vertical and strongest when aimed directly at the fish so you can change the strength and thus its flexibility by simply changing the angle. A 9 foot 9 weight and a 6 foot 4 weight have exactly the same strength when pointed directly towards the fish. Of course when you point the fly rod directly at the fish you are actually fighting the fish directly off the reel. If you have read Lee Wulff's many books on Atlantic salmon fishing you will know that he proved that you can land big Atlantic salmon with only a fly reel (no rod). 

Based on the above logic you can see that very light fly rods can be used to pull just as hard as big heavy ones. The difference is that small light rods usually have small lightweight reels which hold much less backing. It doesn't make sense to use a very light rod (under 2 oz) with a big heavy reel--you'd be defeating the purpose. Since you might hook a really big fish that could spool you, you shouldn't use any stronger about an 8lb test tippet. That way, when and if the fish does spool you it won't pull the rod and reel out of your hands. Instead it will break off. Which brings us to another assumption that you must adopt if you decide to go to very light weight fishing equipment: you can't "need" to land every fish. And why should you need to? You can't kill large Atlantic salmon anymore anyway (at least in most places in North America), so enjoy fishing for them and if you hook one, watch it jump a few times be grateful! 

In conclusion the reason that using very light tackle makes sense, is because it's not that important to actually land the fish you hook. But it's very important that you enjoy and preserve the resource. So use the equipment that brings you the most enjoyment and is within your skill limitations. New flyfishers should use long rods because they are easier to cast but if you are a good fly caster and enjoy a challenge then using a short, lightweight fly rod and reel -- it will make every fish you hook a much more intense experience. 

Enjoy!

8 Atlantic Salmon Caught and the Lesson Learned From Each

8 Atlantic Salmon Caught and the Lesson Learned From Each

Fish  #1: Meathunters

Location: The Dennys River, Meathunters Pool. 

Date: Third week in June, 1972. 

Water conditions: Perfect (we didn’t take water the temperature of the water back then — we just

fished.

Method: I’m in the front of the canoe, my father is in the back. I’m fishing, he’s guiding. He knows

the pool and the lies within the pool. I’m doing what I’m told. The canoe is anchored so that I can

carefully swing the big 4/0 streamer called the Sam Ward Special (a very large Cossaboom)

across to where the salmon will sometimes be. We had already fished the upper part of the pool

and had dropped down. We were now at the tail. As soon as the canoe became steady I stood

and began to cast. We were anchored left of center in relatively smooth water, far enough from the tree lined bank that I could make a back

cast.

The river flowed from right to left so my back casts sailed between my father in the back and me

in the

front. As I write this I can only imagine what was going through my father’s mind as I swung that

big Sam

Ward Special back and forth in front of his face. The fly is not available commercially — it’s

basically a heavy pickerel hook with some squirrel tail tied behind the head. It could have easily served as some

kind of medieval weapon designed to extract the eyeballs from charging enemies.

After working out longer lengths of line with each cast the fly got close to the overhanging alder branches on the other side of the river. We could see the fly swinging just a few inches under the water. It had only swung a few feet when the fish charged out from under the alders and grabbed the fly. I didn’t have to set the hook. The line was tight and the fish turned on the fly and hooked himself. If this happens now I would immediately know what I had hooked and what to expect but this was my first Atlantic salmon. A ten pound Atlantic salmon is in a completely different league than a 10 inch brookie! A ten inch brookie shakes his head, a ten pound salmon shakes you. It shakes you, it shakes the canoe, and it shakes the guy trying to keep the canoe steady. 

This fish did not act like a normal Atlantic salmon. It felt heavy and pulled hard but it didn’t make the normal

high speed run, it jumped only once, and stayed below us in the pool. We still had our hands full and had to

make some quick decisions. We had the anchor rope to deal with. If we decided to try to land it from the

canoe the fish could easily go around the rope and break off. We could go to shore and get out of the

canoe — which in most cases is the smartest choice — but this fish didn’t seem to resist my reeling and

he came to the boat pretty quickly. Dad grabbed the net and scooped him up and all of a sudden there on t

he bottom of the boat was my first Atlantic salmon! We paddled to shore, got out, and celebrated with a

cigar. The mosquitoes prevented us from staying very long. Besides, Dad wanted to tell everyone back

at the camp about the fish. I, on the other

hand, made light of the whole thing. Teenagers will be

teenagers — I think I made off like it was no big deal

for a great fisherman like myself. I think I even

had on a brimmed hat like that of Edward Hewitt. 

The reason the fish hadn’t fought like a typical salmon was that he was hooked through his tongue. That big two ought hook had penetrated it completely and the fish must have felt like his tongue was being extracted.

Lessons learned: Local fly patterns can be effective. You don’t need to be an experienced/knowledgeable salmon angler to catch an Atlantic salmon. 

#4/0 Sam Ward Special with #6 Green Machine for comparison 

#2 The Rockpile

The Rockpile is a place on the Dennys where the water mounds up as it passes over a pile of rocks.

The water is rough and covered with white caps in an area about 10 feet wide and 20 feet long. It is not

really a pool – its a formation within a pool or stretch of water below the Denny River Club House. It rarely

gets fished – in fact in 15 years of fishing the Dennys I never saw anyone fishing that stretch of water.

So there must have been a reason that my Uncle Robert asked me if I wanted to go there and fish the

pool with him. He probably heard that someone saw a fish jump there or something. In those days, one

of the primary strategies we used was to collect intelligence about where the fish or where a fish had

been seen. If you saw one yourself, you marked the location and then keep that location a secret – telling

only members of your own fishing party. And then only after you had tried for the fish enough times to be

satisfied that it was time to let others in on the opportunity. Some individual fish were located or seen by

someone who couldn’t keep their mouth shut so basically everyone knew about the fish and everyone

tried for the fish when they got a chance.

Anyway Robert asked me to join him and we drove from Robbinson’s Cottages to the Club in his car. I

had my 8 foot for an 8 weight Fenwick fiberglass rod. It was my only rod and I used it from the first day I

ever fish for Atlantics until many years later when I could afford a graphite salmon rod. By this time I had

begun experimenting with tying different flies and had been spending a week or two on the West Branch

of the Penobscot fishing for landlocked salmon – which are pretty much the same genetically as an Atlantic

salmon. The only difference being that they were “landlocked” by some physical obstruction during the ice

age that prevented them from being able to run back out into the ocean. One fly that worked very well on

landlocks was the elk hair caddis so I decided to make a variation of it to be used on Atlantics. My variation

consisted of a big deer hair bomber with a deer hair wing laying down over the body. It was 2’ long and ⅝”

in diameter. The body had a dark brown hackle palmered over it. The fly was big, bulky and a boring dull

brown.

Top to bottom: Rockpile Caddis, Green Machine, Sam Ward Special

(#6 Green Machine shown for comparison)

Fish # 3 — The Machias River

One of the best Atlantic salmon fishermen that fished the Dennys and the Machias was Doc

Payson. My Uncle Robert Scott and Massachusetts Fish and Wildlife Photographer, Jack

Swedberg met Doc shortly after they had started fishing the Dennys with their fathers in the

50’s. They met him by accident when they came upon him with a fish on, at his secret pool.

Doc had snuck in on foot and had carefully tied back some of the alder branches so that he

could fish the pool. Robert and Jack had paddled up from Robbinson’s Cottages just to explore

the river. When they came around the corner they saw Doc standing out in the pool fighting a

15 pound salmon. Doc was not happy about being discovered but got to know Robert and Jack

and felt he could trust them. A life long friendship developed. 

Doc had built a cabin on the Machias River which was not easy to get to. You couldn’t drive to

it. You either had to hike in or take a canoe up the river. Since we wanted to fish a few pools on

the way to Doc’s we decided to canoe. There was no electricity or phone so if you wanted to

visit Doc you just showed up. Which is what my father and I did one gorgeous June day in

1980. We put in just above Whitneyville and began paddling upstream. As was the normal

routine, I’m in the front seat and “The Captain” as we now refer to my father, took command

from the rear seat.

The crisp early morning air and bright blue sky made the job of paddling up river enjoyable. We tried a couple of likely looking spots from the canoe but didn’t move a fish until the very last riffle before getting to Doc’s cabin. We maneuvered the canoe into position just upstream of the run. Captain held the canoe in position while I started to cast. Again I’m using my one and only fly rod and reel — 8 x 8 Fenwick with a Pflueger 1494 ½ reel. The line was probably a cheap double taper whatever and had been flipped end for end at least once. I’m sure it was cracked and dirty from use and the backing was a greyish white and inadequate at best. The leader was a ten pound test Berkeley 7.5’ tapered leader with a couple of feet of Maxima 8 pound tippet material tied on with a five twist blood knot. The fly was a hand tied very plain size 6 muddled minnow. It was either the second or third week of June, the water was at a very nice fishing height. It was basically a picture perfect scene — one that would make a very nice watercolor painting. Big boulders with water swirling around them. Dark blue water surrounded by sparkling splashes and white highlights. Bright blue skies filled with large cumulus clouds and the ever present sound of moving water that you feel more than hear. I knew enough to start with a very short line — just the leader. Still sitting I dappled the fly in the current next to the canoe then with each subsequent cast extended the line a foot at a time and covered more water, watching the fly intently, looking for any indication of a fish. A flash, a movement, a bulge in the water’s surface, anything out of the ordinary. Even if you just intuitively think you saw something you put another cast over that same exact spot, maybe also altering the way the fly crosses over the lie. When the line was too long to cast while sitting I stood and continued to swing the fly in every likely eddy and the little tailing runs that form downstream of every exposed boulder. Every submerged rock was covered by a cast, every dark spot, every inch … searching, watching, trying to see beneath the surface and then it happened. A flash of silver and a little bit of flesh appeared on the surface as the big fish took the fly. His nose has to break the surface in order to get his mouth around the fly. You can’t set the hook like you would on a trout. You must wait and let him take it fully into his mouth and let him turn as he attempts to get back to his lie. I knew nothing about strip sets back then, which would definitely work better than lifting the rod but that is what I knew so that is what I did. Set hard though, pull that sharp point through his jaw and make sure the barb has sunk deeply into his flesh. 

I didn’t need to learn the hard way about setting hard. I had heard the story many times about my father losing six salmon in a row from not setting hard enough with his Orvis Battenkill. I always set hard — eight pound Maxima tied with good knots will take a lot of pulling before it breaks. Probably more than I could apply with a bent rod set. I knew the salmon was hooked very well and there wasn’t a chance in hell that the fly was pulling out. I fought the fish, the Captain netted it, we dispatched with a Swiss Army knife, covered it with wet grass, and continued on to Doc’s. That’s when things got interesting, that’s when I learned a very valuable lesson. One that I use on a regular basis.

To Be Continued …

Just like fish #3 I just kept casting to the fish repeatedly. This time I didn’t even stop to rest

the fish – I just kept dropping cast after cast just upstream of the fish. Every so often – like

15 to 20 minutes or sometimes a little longer,  he would reward my efforts by coming up to

the fly and knocking it around with his nose. This went on for a couple of hours until it got

dark enough that it was time to call it quits. On my last cast, instead of throwing the loop I

fired a cast straight over the fish right to the bank. When the fly hit the water on a tight line

I immediately started reeling it in as fast as I could with that old Pflueger. The big bomber

hit with a plash and started waking its way across the lie. The fish charged at it, grabbed

it furiously in a huge swirl and took off down stream leaping out of water as it went. It was

a magnificent 12 pound bright male fish with sea lice still attached. 

#6 – The Scott Drift

“No, nothing. I only fished down through once though.” I said. Thinking back about this now,

I think they should have turned around and left me have the pool to myself. But they didn’t.

Instead they asked if I minded if they fish. I told them it would be fine. It really wasn’t fine but

I was intimidated and decided that I’d use the experience as a way to learn something.

These three guys fished together, a lot. Not only did they fish the Dennys together but they

also traveled to New Brunswick and fished the Miramichi together, so they must have had a

rotation to whom would go through the pool first. This time it was Lippy’s turn and he started

to fish at the head of the pool. I watch his small green fly swing across the pool. There were

no wasted movements on his part. Dead straight pick up and lay down casts one after another.

No false casting and every cast landed delicately on the water. He covered the pool very

thoroughly but didn’t move a fish. Donald went next and used a big Sam Ward Special.with

equal dexterity. I noted that he covered a few areas that Lippy had missed on the far side of

the run, but otherwise he fished the pool in the same manner as Lippy had. Third to fish the

pool was Ed who chose to use a small black bear hair on the hitch. Again he started at the

very top of the pool with a short line and gradually increased its length until he was covering

every inch of the pool. He did one thing a little differently than the other two – he fished the

pool farther down past the fast water into the dead water beyond the tail of the pool. And

when he did I saw a small disturbance near his fly. He looked back at us three observers

and said, “did you see that?” We all had. He made the exact same cast again and as the

fly came over that same spot a fish took his fly. The fight was on. Not only did they take my

fish but they used my canoe to land the fish! All three of those guys have passed now so I

probably should speak too harshly about them. 

I have no idea if I would have hooked that fish. I might not have even put a fy over it … but

it bothers me now that they took advantage of a kid to get a fish.

Lessons learned: 1) stand up for yourself – don’t get pushed around. If you are fishing or r

esting a pool don’t let someone else elbo their way in… unless you’ve fished it enough to

be satisfied or if you are just in a very generous mood. 2) It’s worth trying several different

flies and methods when fishing a pool. Go through the pool three or four times with different

size and color flies. Fish it in the traditional down and across with a wet fly but also tru the

hitch, try something big and something small. 

#8 – That’s Not a Salmon Pool

It looked like a damn nice pool to me and I just so happened to have my fly rod in the car.

So I left Dad and Leonard to talk and headed down to the river. I don’t remember how long

I fished for – it wasn’t long because I stood on the rocks in one spot. I hadn’t bothered to

put on waders because we weren’t there to fish – just look at the camps.Anyway a beautiful

16 pound salmon took my wet fly as it crossed the main channel and took off down stream

leaping a throwing shiny water droplets into the sun filled air. I fought the fish for 15 minutes,

got him into shore and released him back into the river. 

Lesson Learned: Know what kind of water salmon like to lie in. Through the years I’ve caught

many salmon in places that were not pools (they were pools they just didn’t have a name). 

The Bailey Bridge, looking down river towards Simon’s Pool

The Dungarvon Camp – Circa 2019. Bought in 1987

Leonard on the left, me on the right

Leonards Headstone with the picture that Carl Scott took of him holding a monster fish.

Robert started down through the pool first with a wet fly, swinging it across every inch of the

pool. He supposedly didn’t know where the fish was in the pool but I noticed that he spent a

lot of time casting directly over the rockpile and once he moved past that area he picked up

his pace. Robert was a very experienced and knowledgeable fisherman – one of those guys

who no matter what he is fishing for always catches fish when no one else can. Fishing is his

thing, so I figured he spent extra time swinging flies over the rockpile for a reason.

I started at the top of the pool, above the rockpile. The water where I started is technically part

of the next pool up from the rockpile. We called it, “The Slick” and that’s what it was, a wide

smooth slick of water coming around the corner near the clubhouse. If there was a fish in the

slick everyone knew about it because you could easily see into it from the clubhouse which

sat high up on the bank above the pool. The slick water is very nice dry fly water and my new

invention looked great as it floated down past me. I was casting what LaBranch called “the loop.”

It’s basically a mend cast that puts the leader upstream of the floating dry fly. Ken Sears had

taught it to my father and the other Wocester boys years earlier. Most of “the boys,” however, frowned on it and refused to accept that it worked any better than just casting a dry fly the same way they had been for years on trout streams. 

The easiest way to throw the loop is to use a long piece of level leader – maybe 10 to 12 feet

attached directly to the fly line. Then you make a big slow sweeping sidearm cast without any

snap at the end of the forward cast. The big fluffy air resistant fly would drag behind the leader

and not turn over the way you’d normally want a good fly cast to. If executed properly the fly

would land straight down stream of the long leader and drift drag free over the salmon. The

salmon then looking upstream would see just the fly and no leader.

I threw cast after cast like that just above the rock pile and slowly worked my way down the r

iver. When my fly started to bob up and down in the waves formed by the rushing water being

pushed up by the submerged rock pile I changed my tactics slightly. Instead of letting it drift

freely until the end of the drift, then picking it up for another cast, I let the fly free drift until the

line became tight then let it swing across in an arc on the tight line. During the swing it

skittered on the surface. As I tried to cover all of the water one cast landed the fly right on

top of the rockpile. The fast water quickly pulled the line tight and just as the fly popped and

just as it would normally start to swing a salmon took the fly. It’s amazing how fast the fish

had to be to take that fly in the rushing white water. But he did it with very little commotion—I

didn’t even see the take, the fly just disappeared. Again I did not need to set the hook. I just

felt the sudden hard tug and he was on. This fish was strong and quick and he was in fast

water so I had my nyophite hands full. Line ripped off the Fluegger Medalist as he ran straight

down stream. There was nothing I could do but let him run. He jumped twice during that first

run. Then just after I saw backing starting to peel off the reel he fortuitously turned back

upstream and stopped dead in the water as if he had found a quiet lie to rest in.

This was my third year into Atalntic salmon fishing, so even though I had only landed one

fish up to this point I had read several books on the subject and knew that one of Lee Wulff’s

tricks was to get alongside the fish – don’t try to fight him from upriver, he’ll just use the flow

to his advantage. So I walked down the grassy club path and reeled in line to get closer to the

fish. When I was beside the fish I just put a little pressure on him which pulled his head to the

side so that he couldn’t maintain his position in the river. This forced him to work harder which

ultimately tired him out and made him easier to land. While I was working my way down to the

fish, Robert had gone back to his car for the net so he didn’t see what happened next. The fish

apparently didn’t like having his jaw pulled on like I was doing so he made a sudden rush

upstream and out of the water in another high leap. “Bow to the queen” I told myself and I

did and he didn’t break off. After a while he came to rest again and again I pulled sideways

on his jaw. He moved off irritatedly but slower this time. I moved up and continued to apply

side pressure. This tired him and he began to come closer to shore in an attempt to reduce

the continuous pressure he felt. I tried to tail him a couple of times but each time I reached

down he saw me and moved away. Then he came really close and with one leg in the water

I grabbed his tail and threw him on the bank. When Robert got down to where I was, I had

killed it… the fight over. Robert is in his nineties now and still recalls how surprised he was

that I had already landed the fish by the time he had walked to the car and back. 

Lesson learned: Atlantic salmon react to flies in a similar manner as do landlocked salmon

and trout. The old traditional patterns may work on Atlantic salmon but there are lots of other

patterns and techniques that also work. Many have yet to be developed.

Fish #4 - 6 Sear’s Pool:

#4 – Because we stayed in a cabin on Sear’s Pool and the fish could be seen either from the

porch or the roof we learned a lot about what motivates a salmon to take a fly.We caught a lot

of fish there but there are three that were taken by using different and non-traditional techniques.

Before I get into the specifics I want to discuss some Atlantic salmon fishing basics. As you

probably know, Atlantic salmon, unlike trout and other freshwater species, do not eat food–like

insects and small fish, etc., while they are on their spawning run upriver. It’s theorized that they

don’t eat because if they did they would end up consuming the young salmon that spend their

early lives in the river. So why do they take a fly? There are many theories about this but I

believe they take a fly because seeing it triggers a reflex. The same reflex that helped to

survive up until now. The change that occurs in them that drives them to migrate from the

northern seas back to their birth river and then to run up that river and spawn also suppresses

their ability to eat but it doesn’t totally eliminate the reflex to try to catch something to eat.

The other factor to consider is that even though they are “running” upriver to spawn, they

don’t make one continuous run from the mouth of the river all the way to their spawning beds.

There could be a small percentage of fish that do, but for the most part the fish will stop and

rest in pools along the way. And when they do stop, they stop in one specific place, call a lie.

Once they are comfortable in that lie, they tend to stay there – at least for a while. We have

seen the same fish in the same place for several days. This allows the fisherman to try different

techniques on that one fish over multiple fishing sessions. Lee Wulff believed that if he could

get a fish to react to a fly in some manner, even if it was just a slight movement, he could

eventually get that fish to take. (I use “take” not “eat” to describe the act of the fish opening

its mouth, taking the fly, and closing it.) When I hear someone say that the fish ate their fly I

cringe!

Getting back to Sear’s Pool and the different techniques we used to catch fish there. I won’t

describe the standard accepted ways like swinging a wet fly or drifting a dry or even fishing the

hitch. I will focus on 3 fish and the specific ways they were enticed to take a fly.

The first one is very interesting because it’s one of those methods that you might have heard

of and maybe even tried but if you did try you probably gave up way before you should have.

I had seen a fish rise in the lower part of pool. I marked its exact location and started to fish for

it. I could not use the most effective dry fly technique that requires you to be beside or below

the fish. I had to fish from upstream. I started with a wet fly and made several good casts over

the lie then switched to another wet, and another–three different wet flies, resting the pool for

15-20 minutes between each fly. I didn’t discern any movement during this entire time. I the

decided to use a big grey and brown bomber. It was a 2” long size 4 hook tied onto an 8 pound

test tapered leader. The trick to dry fly fishing for Atlantic salmon is to get the fly to land just upriver directly in front of the fish and then have it float over the fish before the leader does. So you cast the fly with more power than needed to reach the fish then stop the line quickly so that the fly bounces back a little and falls. The shock of stopping the fly causes the leader to have waves in it that allow the fly to drift without any drag. The cast has to be very accurate – maybe 2 feet upriver from the fish so he doesn’t have any time to examine it – the fly lands and drifts quickly over him so he must react quickly, reflexively, if he’s going to take it. I think he sees the fly land and that is what triggers the reflex. If it comes down the river on the surface out of his sight he will see it coming for a long time and won’t be motivated by the reflex to take it (that’s my theory anyway). 

So I start throwing the bomber in this way. It lands where I want it to, drifts over him and he

doesn’t move. I let the fly continue to drift well past the fish before picking it up carefully for

the next attempt. That way the fish doesn’t get spooked by me loudly popping the fly from

the water. I make this same cast many times. I just keep dropping it as closely as possible

to the spot I believe is 2 feet in front of the fish. I did this for maybe half an hour before taking

a break. The cabin is right there so it’s easy to rest the pool and then return. I have marked

the spot by visually memorizing it position relative to branches and rocks on the shore. It’s

like a visual triangulation. I decided not to try wet flies any more. Instead I wanted to see what

would happen if I just kept casting the same dry fly and landing it right where he can see it

over and over again. I did this pretty much all afternoon – for 4 or 5 hours I fished for 30 mins

then rested him for 30 minutes. You’ve probably guessed by now that he did finally come up

and take the fly. And that’s exactly what happened. It he took the fly, I set the hook, played him,

landed him and released him.

#5  — This fish is similar to #4 in that all of the casting was with a big brown bomber to one particular fish. This time however I was using “the loop” as we called it. My father learned it from Ken Sear’s, who as previously mentioned lived on the river and is the namesake of this pool. Before I describe the cast, let me say that George LaBranche describes., “casting the curve” in his book “The Salmon and the Dry Fly.” He also says, “It is known on our streams and rivers as the ‘loop’ cast.” But when you read his description of how the cast is made it is very different from the way it was taught to me by my father. I never got to meet Mr. Sears, but according to The Captain this is exactly how Sear’s taught him. LaBranche’s loop is made by casting a wide horizontal loop and then checking the line so the fly kicks around and falls below the leader. He does not mention anything specific about the leader itself. The Sear’s Loop calls for long length of level leader in order that the fly does NOT kick around to form the loop. Instead the fly is cast with just enough power so that it reaches the fish but does not straighten. It’s like a drag cast at the shorter distances but with practice it is possible to shoot the line and maintain the loop for quite a distance - fifty to sixty feet without much trouble.

I suppose Sear’s knew about the effectiveness of the loop from reading LaBranche then modified the technique to suit the pool that he was fishing most of the time. The dragging side arm technique works especially well when the water is flowing from left to right for a right handed caster. For if it came the other way the right hander would have to make a backhanded drag cast which would be difficult. Anyway, back to fish #4 

(Note: maybe instead of numbering these as Fish I should number them as techniques?)

There were 3 very well established lies in Sear’s Pool. This fish was in one of the more difficult to reach lies. It was all the way across the pool – right up against the opposite bank. We never waded in this pool – it just wasn’t done for whatever reason. Occasionally we did make use of a canoe, but for the most part we just cast from the grassy bank which had been trimmed to allow for easy walking. The big pines had also been cut to open a slot for your backcast. – it was in line with the cast needed to reach this uppermost lie. 

One bright, sunny, and calm afternoon, we decided to climb up on the roof to watch the salmon. There were six fish together in the main lie which was a kind of underwater sandbar. I’m not sure what it was but there was something about that spot that was favorable to the salmon. Maybe it was the way the water flowed up and over the bar creating an underwater wave that enabled them to remain almost motionless in that spot. It was very enjoyable just sitting up there watching the fish through polarized glasses. The sun was directly overhead so the view into the pool was spectacular. You could see the slightest movement of fin, tail, or mouth. After watching for some time we decided it would be fun for one of us to stay on the roof and watch while the other went down and fished. Dad went down and fished while I watched and reported back to him where his fly was in relation to the fish and if I saw any indication of interest.

I wanted to stay up on the roof and watch so Carl climbed down, got his rod and headed to the pool. He started by casting down and across with a Sam Ward Special. The fly was easily visible as it swung across the pool, in front of the little pod of fish. It got absolutely no reaction from the fish. He tried a smaller fly and it also drifted by the noses of the fish without getting even a sideways glance. He tried several different wet flies and two dry flies, a fish flashed by turning on its side. “You got a reaction that time!” I said just loud enough so that he could hear me. Try that again.”

The next drift and the next got similar reactions from the fish. They moved at it and near it but would not take.Or in one case it looked like a fish took the fly but then spit it out – Carl never felt a thing. “Next time I’ll tell you when it is right in front of them. Stop the fly and pull it back towards you, like it’s trying to get away.” I was thinking about how you can tease a kitten into chasing a piece of yarn. As soon as he began retrieving the fly, a fish moved forward and took it and was hooked. Carl played the fish and released him. It was a great learning experience watching from the roof.

#7 – Bartlett’s Fish at the Narrows

I bring this particular fish up now because it is in a way similar to the previous fish in that I was watching someone else fish and again learned a very important lesson about fishing for Atlantic salmon.

The Narrows is a pool just upriver from Sear’s Pool. It was one of my favorite pools because I enjoyed canoeing up there and having it to myself. It wasn’t known to be the most productive pool and therefore didn’t get fished much. It would be more accurate to say it wasn’t known to be a productive pool because it didn’t get fished much – but that is not the way most of the fishermen thought about it.

One day I paddled up to The Narrows after breakfast. Beams of sunlight were just starting to strike the ledge on the west side of the pool. The pool itself was still in the shade of the high pines that blocked the morning light. I anchored the canoe on the east side in a good position to start fishing a wet at the top of the pool. Once I had enough line out so that I was almost at the limit of my reach, I’d move the canoe down and start again swinging the wet across the pool. It was very peaceful. The only sounds were birds and the water lapping against the canoe. To be successful at salmon fishing you have to be very focused on the fly or where you think the fly is as it swings. You basically stare at it intently and by doing so with the moving water as the only background it becomes hypnotic. The sound of water, a gentle breeze caressing the back of your neck, and the watery flow around the fly all combine and engulf you. You are literally in another world. I think that is why it is possible to fish for many hours and not be bored by the fact that you haven’t seen a fish. It’s actually very enjoyable.

After fishing the entire pool I decided to sit on the ledge in the sun and rest the pool. My intention was to rest the pool for a half hour and then fish it from shore which would have given me a chance to fish it and have the fly swing in the opposite direction. Needless to say I was more than a little disappointed when I heard a car coming down the old woods road. Then it stopped, its engine went silent and I heard three doors slam shut and talking. It was Lippy, his brother Don Cushing, and Ed Bartlett. These guys were undoubtedly the three deadliest fishermen on the river. Together they killed half of all the fish taken in those years. If the total fish killed was 100 in a given year they accounted for 50. (Note to self: check out what the bag limits were back then)

The three men knew me. I was either a teenager or in my early twenties, they were old enough to be my father. I had great respect for them because I knew they were considered to be among the best fishermen on the river. Ed spoke first, “Good morning Ron, how are you?”

“Good thanks, how are you guys doing?” I replied. We continued exchanging pleasantries for a few minutes, then Ed asked,”Have you seen anything?”

By the mid 1980’s the salmon fishing had all but ended on the Denny’s so we went in search of better water. 1984 was a particular poor year for fish in the Denny’s. Ray Robbinson told us that Bartlett, Lippy and Don were up in Canada on the Renous River. Dad and I decided to take a ride up and see if we could find them or if we couldn’t find them we thought we might at least be able to obtain some information about fishing the Miramichi system.

Back then crossing the border into Canada wasn’t a big deal. We didn’t need passports or covid tests or much of anything. The border patrol agents just asked us where we were going and how long we would be staying. From the border it took less than 3 hours to get to the Renous which flows into the SouthWest Miramichi river in Quarryville, which is a very popular public salmon pool. The dirt road that runs above and alongside the pool is a spectacular place to watch fishermen. In those days there would normally be 15 - 20 people fishing both from the shore and from boats. From the elevated road the view up the main river is absolutely beautiful. 

After watching the fishermen and seeing many fish leaping and a couple caught at Quarryville we drove up to the second bridge that crosses the Renous. It’s a Bailey bridge – a prefabricated single lane metal truss bridge that crosses just above Simon’s Pool and just below Bell Pool. We stopped and pulled over before the bridge and walked out on it to see if we could spot any salmon in the river. There was virtually no traffic in those days so we took our time, enjoying the sunshine and nice weather as we shaded out polaroid glasses with cupped hands while gazing into every likely spot.

Just as we were about to walk back off the bridge a rattling old pickup truck pulled slowly onto the bridge. We both stood back against the metal side to allow it to pass. The driver stopped and asked if we could see any fish. We told him that we hadn’t and he proceeded to tell us about a really big fish that had been lying just under the bridge for several days. Then we asked him if he knew of any local guides that might be available to guide us for a couple of days. He said there was a guy that lived just down the road. He would lead us there. Just follow me, he said. And we were off to meet the guide who we would employ for the next 30 years. His name was Leonard Munn. We met him about a mile from the Bailey bridge – he was coming the other way. The man in front of us stopped him and told him that we needed a guide. The next thing we knew he was in the back seat and we couldn’t understand a thing he was saying because of his heavy Scottish accent.

Leonard Munn was his name. Son of a very successful salmon guide. Now in his 50’s and very overweight he did not look like a guide – more like a local shop worker with his blue shirt and pants and long leather belt hanging down half way to his knees. That was in June of 1985 and it was the beginning of a 30 year long friendship. In addition to guiding for us, he also found us the camp we now own on the Dungarvon River. Although Leonard knew the river very well, I don’t think he understood Atlantic Salmon. One example of his lack of understanding was the day we went to the camp for the first time after we bought it. Cappy, Leonard and I were standing on the elevated bank overlooking what we now call Camp Pool. He flat out said it wasn’t a pool. He knew all of the pools – all 50 miles of them – but he didn’t recognize the water that flowed past the camp as a pool (probably because it didn’t have a name.) The cool thing about most salmon rivers is that all of the pools have names – and the names show on the maps of the river. To Leonard that meant no name, no pool.