HOME*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*8
8
8
8
8
Michael Tougias
Union News, CT, September 2000
Unlocking Secrets of Landlocked Salmon
Hiring a local guide can make all the difference when fishing the lakes of northern Maine.
North of Moosehead Lake, deep in the north woods, are dozens of large, deep lakes where landlocked salmon flourish with little angling pressure.
Almost all the lakes in the region are surrounded by land owned by paper companies, so the only development on the shoreline is a single sporting camp whose owner leases the land. The lakes are not easy to reach, some are 50 miles from the nearest paved road, where access is either via dirt logging roads or floatplane. I've visited several by car and floatplane, and believe me when I say the floatplane approach should be tried by everyone at least once.
Besides landlocked salmon, most lakes this far north have brook trout and lake trout. Many of the lakes have never been stocked, which usually means there are quite a few fish that have seen little angling pressure, but it doesn't make them easy to catch.
After the feeding frenzy that often accompanies ice-out, the fish can be difficult to hook. that's why hiring a local guide can make all the difference. I've fished with Dick Mosher in his homemade wooden canoe with motor and he taught me some techniques I never would have used on my own.
Mosher equipped me with a fly rod rigged with floating line followed by a Mooselook Wobbler used as an attractor. Attached to the Mooselook was about 12 inches of monofilament with a sewn minnow and hook at the end. Mosher explained that salmon first stun their prey by ramming it, them swing back a second time and swallow it. Therefore the first "hit" I feel is not an actual strike, and Mosher told me to ignore my instincts about setting the hook.
"When you feel the first tap," said Mosher, "that means the salmon has knocked your bait. Now you've got to make the bait do what it would do naturally, which is to stop swimming and flutter helplessly.
"To do that you've got to drop your rod tip and let out a little more line to offset the trolling of the canoe. This gives time for the salmon to grab your bait and you want to let it run. Don't try to muscle it. The salmon have soft mouths and we are using small hooks."
His advice goes against most of my fishing instincts, which are to set the hook as soon as I feel a strike. Mosher jokes that bass fishermen, in particular, have the hardest time adjusting to this technique. "Often times," Mosher said, "the first-time angler or a child does better with me that an experienced fisherman, because the fisherman tries to challenge the salmon and almost always looses."
As we trolled, the scent of pine, spruce and water filled me with well-being, and when the first salmon hit my bait, I forgot everything Mosher said and tried to set the hook. I challenged the fish and lost.
Fortunately, five minutes later I had another knock, and I lowered my rod tip, stripping out line. This initial hit had my attention but the real heart-pounding thrill is the agonizing wait to see if the salmon is going to come back and take the bait. I tried to picture what was happening: The salmon had slammed the bait, breaking its back, and now it was hopefully circling back to grab its dinner.
Five seconds went by, then ten, and I lost hope. That's when the salmon struck, zipping out line. "OK," said Mosher, "slowly bring line in but don't muscle it."
I started to reel but the line came in a little too easy, making me think the salmon was off. What the fish was really doing, however, was swimming straight at the boat then suddenly veered off making a strong run. My instincts took over and I raised my rod tip, and in that second the salmon was off.
"What happened?" I stammered.
"You tried to muscle him with the rod," Mosher explained. "Next time lower your rod tip and let him make his run. Remember the gentle approach." Mosher paused a minute, then added, "I try to remember the gentle approach with all of nature, accepting it on its terms, rather than trying to force the issue. I remind myself to go with nature's flow, embracing even rainy days, rather than moaning about it."
I was learning my guide knew as much about life as he did the outdoors. Mosher had been guiding 44 years, so I knew he had some insights based on experiences in the natural world that few of us will ever have.
The next salmon that hit my bait never came back for the meal. I looked at Mosher for advice, but he just shook his head saying that sometimes happens and there's not much you can do about it.
These salmon were more than I bargained for and again I tried to visualize what was going on under the boat.
"Why do they stun the bait instead of just eating it?"
"I'm not sure. I think it because they are a pure predator, like a cat playing with a mouse."
"If they are just slamming into the minnow, why does it feel like a tug?"
"It's because they are slamming into it from the front rather than the rear and that causes the bait to pull against your rod."
The rest of the afternoon held a few successes - four salmon caught - a few failures - five lost - and the calming effect of the water.
"Fishing gives you humility," Mosher said. "That's why it's good for the soul."