Fishing on the St. John River,
Early Years, Part III

“John,” I yelled, “Look upriver... Look!.. Holy...It’s alive with fish jumping! What the hell is going on? They’re coming our way!!

John “Johnny” Pottle, nephew to Phil Carroll, had joined us that year for what was now the annual St. John fishing foray. Nice guy, quiet like his father, who was my Latin tutor in high school (How many of you remember when Latin was a required college prep course? Today I would take it again and work harder.) John was a fly fisherman and good except when things got a bit crazy as they did that morning.

Daybreak was overcast with a mild drizzle, not quite enough for full fledged rain gear. Thin windbreaker sufficing. We’d walked down to the river in front of camp before the elders had cleared their bunks, thinking we might just be able to put a few fresh ones in the fry pan before coffee’d begun to percolate. River water level was down so we could either jump from rock to rock or easily wade to get offshore a bit. Fly guys need a lot more space than us spin reelers so Johnny took the middle spot and I found a closer rock for good balance.

We settled in for about a half hour and caught a few keepers. Then, I happened to spot this upriver activity. Never seen anything like it before or since. Like a “Master Hand” had been laid across a section of our beautiful St. John summoning all trout to rise. Trout of every length and poundage were joined in a feeding frenzy. I couldn’t keep my rod going fast enough. Reel one in. Keeper, throw in creel. Cast again. Big beauties, little beginners. This was a once in a lifetime Mayfly hatch. Mayfly “eggs” were on the surface and they’d start flying just above as they’d hatch. Trout were jumping with perfect accuracy and just nailing them. Event couldn’t have lasted more than 15-20 minutes. Etched in my mind as one of the most significant fishing memories ever.

Among my casts, however, I look out at John. He had two good sized ones lying on his rock but was trying desperately to untangle his line. I kept wailing and by the time John had separated tangled line and was throwing fly again, the hatch had passed down river.....unbelievable!! Wished Dad and Phil could have participated.

If I tend to play the St. John Trips as having no defulgties, I simply have not gotten to that point, because there were a few. Namely minute, tiny flying black insects recognized as “BLACKFLIES”. Talk about one of God’s creations to unsettle or ruin a day blackfies can do it. In the North country they’re sometimes so thick it’s like breathing them in. Head net screens could at times just keep them at bay. On one occasion Johnny and I had taken one of the canoes over to Ross Lake for the day looking to snag a lake trout or some confused “Brookies”. Gorgeous day developed as morning wore on. Hot. So hot I had to put my shirt back on to keep the sun off.

I’d doused with fly spray earlier, and itched occasionally, not realizing I should have doused again. Lifted my shirt when we got back to shore after “High Noon” and my “tum” was a mass of red. Counted over 70 bites before I gave up. Thankfully, Dad had some various creams in his medical kit which took care of a goodly part of the sting, allowing a semblance of sleep at night. Another lesson well learned.

Speaking of lessons while I’m on the subject: Lionel Caron, State of Maine Fire Warden with wife Esther and son Arlo lived at the Warden camp there on Ross Lake. (I don’t recall any other camps at the time). Arlo, as he got older wanted to become a registered Maine Guide, guiding sports like us. Dad, I guess enjoying, the possibility of some different fishing tips and spots, had hired Arlo to guide us upriver to a particularly hot stream with his canoe. Fishing was good and the day a perfect, sunny, producer. Lunchtime, we pulled the canoe ashore, Arlo broke out an old black fry pan and a tea pail, and commenced along with myself to gather some dry-ki for a fire. (dry ki being a word for driftwood, perhaps Indian??) Peeled some birch bark for lighter and Arlo turns to Dad and asks if he has a match. Dad was incredulous... A guide asking a sport for a match. Whenever I went into the woods hunting or fishing, Dad had taught me to always carry a waterproof container of ‘Strike Anywhere’s.” I’d have some to spare if a guide ever asks. And I found the waterproof container I’ve had since a kid while going through some old gear.....still full of matches.

As I mentioned, I’ve not been a purist with a fly rod, rather using a spin rod for many years. Hate to think how many I’ve accumulated, especially at the yard sales in Florida. Camille, who I looked forward to seeing each year, kind of took me “under his wing” and taught me a lot about bait placement beginning with worms. Taught me how to look for the big rock eddies, the right banks and downed trees in “quiet” water, and for the deep holes. But one of the neatest lessons was slicing the dorsal fin with a strip of flesh from the underside of a medium trout. I’d use a bare hook behind a small spinner to catch their attention, setting the hook on the forward side of the fin for the bait instead of a worm. Became my weapon of choice and just now thinking of it I’m going to try same with bass fishing this summer.

Though I’ve not been back to the St. John’s since my first summer home from service in Germany when Dad and I camped at Red Pine Grove, I think of those great years. Unfortunately, the St. John’s is no longer the great watershed it once was. A few years ago, one of it’s tributaries which hosted a Muskie growing pond was blown out from a freak storm and as I’m now told, they are the “masters” of the watershed. No more ‘Brookies.”

Would that I could have taken a few of my “grands” to share this great experience. But then again, “It ain’t like it used to be” and they’d spend more time on the smart (dumb) phones than throwing lures at fish.

• R E C I P E •

From “The Maine Seafood Adventure”
1 ½ lbs. ocean perch (or another favorite)
½ t thyme
3 T oat bran
1 T lemon juice
2 T chopped walnuts
1/8 t salt
2 t olive oil
Pepper to taste

Preheat oven to 425 deg. Spray shallow baking dish with cooking spray. Place filet in dish, sprinkle with salt, pepper and lemon juice. Mix remaining Ingredients and combine with olive oil and spread over filet. Bake 10-12 min. until fish flakes to fork. Enjoy!!

Fair Winds and Good Roads
– Lee Wilbur