Taking the Grand Tour

The call came last Thursday morning. The voice on the other end said: “You want to go salmon fishing?” Naturally I said yes and than asked when? “Tonight”, the voice said. “Well I guess I should ask my wife first, what time do you want to leave?”, I said. “I’ll meet you at your house around 6:30 and we should be at camp around 3:00 in the morning” the voice replied. “OK, I’ll be ready”, I said.

The voice, of course, was my good friend Bill Franke and the destination was to be Bill’s camp on the Miramichi River in New Brunswick. Bill had an idea that the salmon fishing might be pretty good despite low water conditions on the river. The pools in front of Bill’s camps are at their best in low water. Janet, who understands these things, gave her permission without hesitation and the game was on.

The trip up was fairly uneventful. No trip on the Maine Turnpike is complete without a stop at Dysart’s for food and fuel. The rest of the trip consisted of lots of dark highway with little or no traffic at that hour of the day and an easy border crossing into Canada.

After a couple hours of sleep; we were up at seven, we made a quick trip into Blackville for fishing licenses and supplies. We stopped at the local fly shop, Curtis Miramichi Outfitters, for our licenses. Curtis is a must stop for visiting fly fishermen and certainly rivals the more famous W. W. Doak’s in Doaktown. The young lady that manages the shop, Cathy Colford, is also the in resident fly tier. This lady is one of the most productive fly tiers I know. Last year she tied 5000 Bombers. If you know what a Bomber is you know that this is no easy fly to tie. Aside from being a proficient tier each one of her flies are works of art. Needless to say I left the shop with a few.

After lunch we met our guide and headed for the river. The afternoon and evening proved to be fish-less, but it was great to be back on what I consider to be one of the most beautiful rivers in the world.

Saturday proved to be the better fishing day of the trip. I was given the opportunity to be the first through the pool in the morning. Half way down I struck what proved to be the only salmon of the trip. It was a grilse and he fought with great heart as do all salmon. I did my beast to land him as quickly as possible and after a quick photo op I released him. The fly was an M-1, a wet fly that Bill had a hand in developing and one he had tied.

Saturday afternoon Bill and I lunched at Trio Pizza in Miramichi. I have no doubt that the pizza is good, but the cheese burger is the best in New Brunswick. Latter we visited the Salmon Museum in Doaktown. The museum is small, but very nice and well worth the effort to visit. We also made the trip to W. W. Doaks’ fly shop. A visit to Doaks is a must when in the area. Around five o’clock we were back on the river. However our luck didn’t hold, although we did see one fish taken across the river by a fellow angler.

We were off the river around eight or so. That evening we engaged in effort to rid the camp from an invasion of bats. One of Bill’s partners in the camp had observed over forty bats leaving the eves of the house at dusk on his last trip to camp. Judging by the amount of bat poop around the camp it was obvious that a large colony had moved in. Bill shoved a bunch of screening up into the eves and shot expanding foam into any crevice that might allow a bat to enter. We had visions of a bunch of angry bats waiting outside for us the next morning when we got up. None showed up, so we either trapped them inside or they just went away mad.

We made one more pass through the pool on Sunday morning; again we hooked no salmon. We packed up and left around noon. At this point the real adventure began.

There are rules that must be followed in order to have a successful road trip. Rules like. never eat at a fast food joint and never return home the same way you came. Bill and I adhere to the same theory that the blue highways are the best and only travel the turnpike if time is a factor.

The first leg of the journey led us to the little town of Juniper; the object to seek out the source of the Miramichi. Down in Gray Rapids, where Bill’s camp is located, the Miramichi is a wide and mighty river. Up in Juniper you can pretty near spit across it. The early run of salmon had already made it this far up the river in anticipation of the spawn. We talked to a fellow who told us that there had been salmon under the bridge in town the night before. We stopped and took a look, but they had no doubt moved on.

After a couple of missteps (the Canadians are not big on putting up a lot of road signs) we crossed the St. Johns River and finally found Centerville and the border crossing back into the U. S. The border crossing was as easy as it had been Thursday night. It does help to have a passport

We than drove up to Mars Hill to check out Prestile Stream, which is one of Maine’s limestone streams and known for its good trout fishing. This day the stream looked a little boney and there were no visible signs of trout. It was interesting to see the wind mills on Mars Hill. It must have been a slow wind day as none were turning.

Around this time Bill called home to let his wife know that we had been allowed back into the country. When Bill told Karen where we were she said: “Oh, you must be on a tour”.

Back on Route1 we headed south. Around nine that evening we were back at Dysart’s having a late supper. At midnight Bill dropped me off at home in Freedom; the end of another great salmon trip.

I would guess that some might read this and say that was a long way to go for just one fish. They would be right, of course, but on the other hand they would have little understanding of salmon fishing or for that matter what makes a great fishing trip. Any salmon angler will tell you that even one salmon is a great accomplishment. They don’t call the Atlantic salmon the “fish of a thousand casts” for nothing. Hooking and landing an Atlantic Salmon takes as much luck as it does skill. OK, it is far more luck than skill; as Bill says all you need to know is: “cast and take a step”. I have been encouraging Bill to write a book on salmon fishing with the title “Cast and Take a Step”. I am sure that it would be as profound as all of the other books written on the subject and maybe even more so.

And that there is the trip itself; two friends sharing stories and talking fishing all night, perhaps for no other reason than to keep themselves awake, looking over new water seeing new country, having a meal at a favorite truck stop. It doesn’t get any better.

See you on the river.

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