WRITING ON THE FLY
By GEORGE LISET
A Fishcation? I’m sure that you never knew it was a thing. Neither did I until I had one. Usually when I go on a fishing trip, it is a “fish until you drop” kind of adventure. Usually a trip like that is a result of not being able to get on the water enough during the year so you try to make up for it on a three-day trip.
Fishing trips take on a personality of their own. The “Weathers” have a big impact on the trip. The weather being if the weather is good and/or whether you are catching fish. You can usually fish through one or the other, but both become problematic.
I earned my camping stripes through being a long-time Boy Scout. In college I also did some wilderness training, so bad weather doesn’t throw me. I just read that Millennials were asked how long they thought they could survive in the “Wilderness.” Most thought two weeks. Maybe they thought that the “Wilderness” meant going without their IPhones and Lattes.
Going without catching a fish is a different problem. It is more psychological. Your mind starts playing tricks on you. You first wonder if there are any fish in the water, then you wonder if it is just you stinking up the place. Then, if you hear of anyone else catching fish and you are not, that is the worst because then you know it might be you. Also, there are those trips, which are few and far between, when everything goes right. My fishcation was such a trip!
It started when I made the reservation for our cabin. I was a little late in booking because of my son’s work schedule. When I called, they only had a cabin with a hot tub left for an added few more dollars. No problem. I reserved the cabin figuring that we might use it. My son was excited about it.
The day of the trip arrived and I got up early to pick Reed up and we got up to Pittsburg, NH, at about 11 a.m. after we visited my friend Frank Gray in Colebrook. We pulled into the area around the Junction Pool and noticed a bunch of cars and the New Hampshire Fish and Game stocking truck. Apparently Trout Unlimited was hosting a youth camp and were helping to stock the river.
We decided to head up river to below the dam and try our luck. So, we geared up and rigged our fly rods and hit the water. Reed and I caught and released more fish the next four hours than we did the last few years combined, and we did well last year too! I started nymphing using a tungsten bead head pheasant tail with a San Juan worm dropper. Two minutes later I was into a nice Brookie.
We each got a number of fish, both Rainbows and Brook trout. Reed switched his rig over and started catching fish left and right. He yelled over to me to switch over to a Hornburg and let it swing with a little action and then strip it in. I began catching fish on almost every cast. I remember reading Lou Zambello’s book on catching trophy trout. He was a big proponent of the Hornburg.
We went to check in to our cabin and grab dinner at the Buck Rub Pub. After dinner we hopped into the hot tub and planned to fish for a few more hours. We know about the best laid plans. Needless to say, we didn’t leave the hot tub. The moon was full and the Sox were on the radio.
The next morning after breakfast we hit the Bridge Pool. I still had on my Hornburg and Reed put on an ant pattern. We caught even more fish than the day before. Reed went four casts in a row catching fish. We never laughed so much. If there was a fishing heaven, I think we found it. My friend and guide Patrick Ard came down the river with some clients and he was having as much luck as we had.
We drove back to the cabin to grab some dinner and look for moose. We had all good intentions of going fishing again but the hot tub Siren was calling us again. Now I know what Jason and the Argonauts had to endure.
After breakfast we packed the truck up, checked out of our cabin at the Lopstick and went back to the river. I was still fishing the same Hornburg until a Salmon snapped me off on a branch. About that time we decided to head home. My fingers were sore from removing so many hooks.
Driving home I commented that I had never been so rested coming home from a fishing trip, I mean a “Fishcation.”
George Liset of Dover is an outdoor writer and avid fly fisherman who shares insights of his time on the water exploring New Hampshire streams and rivers as well of those around New England. George is a graduate of Wheaton College, Illinois, and the University of New Hampshire.
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