Since reconnecting with pal George Quimby a number of months in the past on the Cabin Fever Reliever, he has been decided to get me out on the water.
He has the boat, the gear, the motivation and the time to go fishing, which is certainly one of his passions. The Brewer resident has efficiently fished throughout japanese and northern Maine, together with latest forays to Lengthy Lake in Aroostook County, Department Lake in Ellsworth and Brewer Lake.
We had talked a couple of go to to a Bangor-area lake looking for salmon or trout. However information of a promising early striped bass run within the Penobscot River this yr led George to counsel we give it a attempt.
Not one to cross up a chance to focus on stripers, I gladly accepted the invitation.
It was an excellent day for it: plentiful sunshine, temperatures within the mid-70s and a cooling — and typically gusty — south wind.
We’d troll the Penobscot from Hamlin’s Marina in Hampden as much as the positioning of the outdated Bangor Water Works dam, and again. Although the aim was to catch fish, it proved a pleasant sightseeing tour as properly.
We rigged up three rods, together with a fly rod off the strict with leadcore and certainly one of George’s hand-tied streamers. I opted for a jointed chartreuse Rapala, which he had fitted with a few small spinners and dressed with crimson hair on the rear hook. George began off with a spoon.
With the rods located within the rod holders, I started utilizing my telephone and digital camera to snap images and seize some video. We handed the large cranes on the Cianbro facility in Brewer and shortly stumbled on Fisherman’s Park, additionally on the Brewer shore.
Not even a half-hour into our journey, my rod was bent over by an enormous strike. At first, I used to be sure that I should be hooked on the underside. I snatched the rod from the holder and set the hook.
Immediately, the resistance was gone. The brand new 8-pound-test chief had snapped underneath the pressure. Pleasure turned to dismay and George’s lure was gone.
Since I had left my fishing gear at camp, he had generously provided to supply the rod, reel and lures. I felt terrible and shortly apologized.
“Don’t fear about it,” George mentioned.
We agreed that a big fish had induced the commotion. We had been trolling in 20-plus toes of water utilizing a lure that was fluttering barely under the floor, the place there have been no obstacles.
After checking the drag, it was decided that it most likely was set just a little too tight. So we backed it off a hair.
George produced certainly one of his lure containers, from which I tentatively plucked one other smaller Rapala-style lure, this one vivid blue. I commented that he ought to select a lure for me — one which he wouldn’t really feel dangerous about shedding.
He insisted that he wasn’t in the slightest degree involved about that risk. He most likely ought to have been.
One other much less spectacular strike quarter-hour or so later didn’t yield a fish. I continued capturing pictures of the historic Bangor waterfront as we motored underneath the Veterans Remembrance Bridge, then previous the Joshua Chamberlain Bridge.
It’s wonderful what you’ll be able to overlook, even when it’s proper underneath your nostril. I’ve lived in Bangor my whole life, but had solely been on the Penobscot twice beforehand.
A type of instances got here almost 50 years in the past on a visit from Brooksville to Hampden with childhood pal Bobby Twitchell. I had by no means been on this stretch of the river.
I marveled on the views of downtown Bangor, and the sight of Northern Gentle Medical Heart — the place I and each of my sons had been born — within the distance.
The attitude offered a brand new appreciation for the great thing about the waterfront from an angle that may’t be achieved apart from from the water.
Subsequent factor I knew, my rod doubled over once more. I grabbed it, stood up and once more should have set the hook too aggressively. This time, the SpiderWire snapped a lot nearer to the rod and the road recoiled again by way of the interline rod.
Each the bead chain swivel and the lure had been gone. I hung my head, pondering again to the inexperienced child who had snagged hooks, damaged off line and misplaced lures whereas studying the ins and outs of fishing.
Once more, I apologized to George. Once more, he shrugged it off.
Since he hadn’t introduced alongside the machine used to string the road up by way of the within of the rod, he put it apart and informed me to seize the fly rod.
I eliminated the streamer and reluctantly requested him to pick the following lure, which nearly actually would turn into lodged within the jaw of a feisty Penobscot River fish and be misplaced eternally.
I had tousled and I needed to personal it.
“ what they are saying,” George mentioned.
“[Expletive] occurs?” I guessed.
“Yup,” he mentioned.
Embarrassed and considerably defeated, I used to be sure that the run of dangerous luck would proceed. All I may consider was, “I hope I can discover these lures so I can change them.”
As we handed the hospital, the fish began hitting. As I reeled in my first, George caught one concurrently.
They had been small smallmouth bass, quite than stripers, nevertheless it didn’t matter. We loved nice motion for some time as George pilotted his 16-foot boat up towards the dam, round and again towards city.
We landed a number of bass and misplaced a number of extra, which fortunately took my thoughts off the sooner woes and helped restore my shaken confidence.
The return journey to Hampden was made heading right into a stiff wind, which created extra uneven circumstances. I completed the run by throwing on a nifty streamer tied by George.
It featured a big eye and deep purple feathers topped by some glittery inexperienced materials and white marabou feathers, topped by some greenish ones. The hooks additionally had been wrapped with sparkly thread onto a chunk of copper-colored steel wire.
I didn’t catch any fish on it, nevertheless it survived the journey and didn’t meet the identical future because the ill-fated lures.
As we handed the out of doors decks on the Sea Canine in Bangor and Excessive Tide in Brewer, George recounted having generated some cheers from the patrons prior to now when catching a striper in entrance of the institutions.
There could be no such celebrations on this specific day, however the recollections of seeing the waterfront from a ship and spending time on the Penobscot with a pal shall be lasting ones.
Hopefully, George doesn’t cross me off his record of potential future fishing buddies. Within the meantime, I plan to replenish on lures.