The Future of Maine Fly Fishing

By Joel Anderson

With all three sections of my latest cane rod prepared for glue-up, I decided to put that process on hold and head down to the local river to fish the last couple of hours of daylight. Sometimes I get so involved in rod building, I forget that they were actually built with a purpose in mind. It was time to exercise that purpose.

Arriving at the river, I found both the weather and the water level were perfect for fishing. Crossing the bridge above my favorite pool, I noticed it was occupied by a young fisherman. He noticed me and we exchanged waves. I thought this to be a nice gesture, because in today's world, many fisherman are extremely territorial, to the point that they don't want you any where near them. They purposely display a standoffish appearance to discourage anyone from encroaching. The dance can be very tiring. While there was plenty of room for two fishermen in that pool, I decided to leave it to him and head downstream.

While fishing the head of a big pool unsuccessfully, first with marabou muddler and then with a soft hackle wet fly, I occasionally glanced upstream to watch the other fisherman. He was obviously nymph fishing and doing so with great skill. His line mending skill was especially impressive and was rewarded several times by a taking trout. He was fairing much better then me.

A few good sized fish started rolling in the current, but my excitement soon turned to disappointment when I realized they were just spawning suckers. When I noticed the young fisherman vacate the pool and head my way, I started making my way upstream. He took a deliberate root such that our paths would intersect and when they finally did, we exchanged greetings. I was struck initially by his young appearance; I would have guessed fourteen. In actuality, he was sixteen. I told him how impressed I was by his fly fishing skill, and he humbly thanked me. There wasn't a hint of cockiness about this young man and he was very engaging, something rare in many of today's teens who barely look up from their cell phones to acknowledge your presence when you enter a room. His parents must be very proud of this fine young man. He explained that he was a self-taught fly fisherman since the age of 8 after a friend introduced him to the sport.

Brandon headed downstream as I headed upstream, effectively trading locations. After experiencing the same luck I had earlier downstream, my new fishing friend returned to my side and we continued our conversation. I invited him to share the pool. He asked if I had anything red, and I pictured an oversized red indicator fly sometimes favored by freshly stocked fish. But to the contrary, he showed me his skillfully tied size 16 red zebra midges that he had used successfully earlier.

I switched to a dead-drifted glass bead head Hickey's Auto Emerger, made popular by Orvis, and proceeded to hook a few trout. One fish in particular was a little more sizeable and, seeing I had no net, my fishing partner, now turned personal fishing guide, scurried from the other side of the pool to asked if I wanted him to net the fish. Then, and this part is an important potential breech of fly fishing etiquette, he handed the net to me. I thought that move to be very classy.

We talked a bit more about fly patterns and I gave Brandon a copy of the emerger pattern, which he promptly tied to the end of his leader. I then decided to call it a night.  Perhaps we'll meet again here another time, Brandon