07-01-2014, 11:31 PM
This is back from mid-May.
Neither of us had seen the Atlantic Ocean before so we decided to head east. An eleven hour drive brought us to a small campground on the outskirts of Greenville, Maine. We spent the first day canoeing through several bogs and driving old logging roads with the hopes of photographing a moose and glimpsing Stephen King. Finally, at the end of the day we saw this cow on our way back to camp.
The next morning I killed a few hours casting into Moosehead Lake from the Greenville docks. Moosehead is Maine's biggest lake and has a good population of salmon and white perch, but they wanted nothing to do with me. The lake had only been free of ice for 10 days at this point.
Getting skunked at Moosehead Lake.
Next stop was Acadia National Park near the town of Bar Harbor (local pronunciation: Ba Haba). This is an interesting area as it seemed to have a bit of everything Maine has to offer -- ocean, mountains, forest. The hiking is pretty good here with something picturesque to see around the bend of virtually every trail.
I got skunked microfishing for unidentified microfish at the mouth of a tidal stream flowing into the Atlantic.
I got skunked bottom fishing at the Somes Sound.
I got skunked vertical jigging off the docks in Bar Harbor (sorry, no photo).
The Ocean pissed me off so I rented a pontoon boat with downriggers on a small inland lake. Two lake trout and two landlocked salmon made it over the gunwale. All were caught on mooselook wobblers. I've caught lots of lakers, but the salmon were a new species and very acrobatic fighters to boot.
The second laker could be a natural splake. Hard to tell in the photo but it was burgundy in colour and the spotting was less dense than on any lake trout I've seen.
We said our goodbyes to Maine and were on the road again, back across the border into New Brunswick. New Brunswick is what happens when the flyfishing folks form too strong a lobby. Provincial angling regulations include: no fishing from bridges, no jigging, and if you're from out of province it's mandatory to hire a guide to fish the large "salmon" rivers. Anyways, first stop was on the Kennebecasis River. This river has a healthy population of Shortnose Sturgeon and I had high hopes for meeting one. To my disappointment, the spring flooding was in full force and the Kennebecasis was unfishable.
Onward to the Bay of Fundy and the village of Alma. The next morning I fished the mouth of the South Salmon River on an incoming tide. I actually got a bite too, and it turned out to be a lifer Atlantic Tomcod. After the first one, they came in droves. Interesting thing about this fish is that it is found in a number of freshwater, inland lakes in New Brunswick. So much for Burbot being the only freshwater member of the Cods.
This is about as big as they get...
There were supposed to be eel here, but not for me. Talking to the gas bar attendant enlightened me to the fact that the eels usually start showing up mid-June. Too early, especially this year.
I photographed my first ever hummingbird, and not at a feeder either.
Hopewell Rocks. Location of the world's highest tides. This place manages to be awesome yet mundane and 'tourist trappy' at the same time. If you've been to Niagara Falls, you know what I'm talking about.
We were sitting at a picnic bench in Alma eating icecream cones when I noticed the bankside puddle looked like it was boiling. Walking up to it, I spooked about a million small fish to the opposite end. Quickly coming back with the micro rod, I got my three-spine stickleback. It was obvious that these fish were spawning. The males were on nests and would chase away other fish that came too close.
Female
Male
Next stop was Prince Edward Island. This is our smallest and most densely populated Province, with fishing, lobstering, and potato farming being economic cornerstones. For such a small bit of land, PEI boasts a number of surprisingly large, fishy looking rivers.
All the locals were busy fishing for sea-run brook trout. Local bait of choice was "gudgeons" (stickleback). Not being in a particularly trouty mood, I opted to jig from a local pier for something salty. Good decision that was too, as on the second drop the swimbait stopped dead and I raised what I for a split second thought was a snapping turtle. It turned out to be a lifer Shorthorn Sculpin.
I had a hunch I might encounter this species on this trip so it was very satisfying. After the sculpin, I kept getting strong hits that I could not set on. Time to pat myself on the back for bringing the crappie box, tie on a smaller swimbait, and bring up one of many Winter Flounder (local name: blackback).
The lobstermen use these to bait their traps.
I returned the next day for four more sculpin and a bunch of flounder.
We spent the last two days of the trip camped in Kouchibouguac, New Brunswick. The hiking in this park is spectacular with beach, bog, and woods all in one area. Birding was't too shabby either.
Carnivrous Pitcher Plants.
Morels were abundant on one trail and in the evening we ate like kings. I also perfected my deadliest invention yet -- the chocolate chip cookie smore.
Chickens kept running through our camp three in a row.
I soaked a shrimp for hours in the Kouchibouguac River hoping for an eel before moving to the pier at the river mouth. I was being harassed by juvenile flounder while watching a large school of stickleback go about their business when the school suddenly scattered. I immediately cast the swimbait into that area and got hit. After a spirited battle on light line I lifted a small searun brook trout onto the pier. Not the lifer Sandlance or Sea Raven I was hoping for, but catching a coaster trout out of the Atlantic Ocean is cool in its own way. This was my last fish of the trip.
Overall, a fun adventure with very little tourist traffic.
Neither of us had seen the Atlantic Ocean before so we decided to head east. An eleven hour drive brought us to a small campground on the outskirts of Greenville, Maine. We spent the first day canoeing through several bogs and driving old logging roads with the hopes of photographing a moose and glimpsing Stephen King. Finally, at the end of the day we saw this cow on our way back to camp.
The next morning I killed a few hours casting into Moosehead Lake from the Greenville docks. Moosehead is Maine's biggest lake and has a good population of salmon and white perch, but they wanted nothing to do with me. The lake had only been free of ice for 10 days at this point.
Getting skunked at Moosehead Lake.
Next stop was Acadia National Park near the town of Bar Harbor (local pronunciation: Ba Haba). This is an interesting area as it seemed to have a bit of everything Maine has to offer -- ocean, mountains, forest. The hiking is pretty good here with something picturesque to see around the bend of virtually every trail.
I got skunked microfishing for unidentified microfish at the mouth of a tidal stream flowing into the Atlantic.
I got skunked bottom fishing at the Somes Sound.
I got skunked vertical jigging off the docks in Bar Harbor (sorry, no photo).
The Ocean pissed me off so I rented a pontoon boat with downriggers on a small inland lake. Two lake trout and two landlocked salmon made it over the gunwale. All were caught on mooselook wobblers. I've caught lots of lakers, but the salmon were a new species and very acrobatic fighters to boot.
The second laker could be a natural splake. Hard to tell in the photo but it was burgundy in colour and the spotting was less dense than on any lake trout I've seen.
We said our goodbyes to Maine and were on the road again, back across the border into New Brunswick. New Brunswick is what happens when the flyfishing folks form too strong a lobby. Provincial angling regulations include: no fishing from bridges, no jigging, and if you're from out of province it's mandatory to hire a guide to fish the large "salmon" rivers. Anyways, first stop was on the Kennebecasis River. This river has a healthy population of Shortnose Sturgeon and I had high hopes for meeting one. To my disappointment, the spring flooding was in full force and the Kennebecasis was unfishable.
Onward to the Bay of Fundy and the village of Alma. The next morning I fished the mouth of the South Salmon River on an incoming tide. I actually got a bite too, and it turned out to be a lifer Atlantic Tomcod. After the first one, they came in droves. Interesting thing about this fish is that it is found in a number of freshwater, inland lakes in New Brunswick. So much for Burbot being the only freshwater member of the Cods.
This is about as big as they get...
There were supposed to be eel here, but not for me. Talking to the gas bar attendant enlightened me to the fact that the eels usually start showing up mid-June. Too early, especially this year.
I photographed my first ever hummingbird, and not at a feeder either.
Hopewell Rocks. Location of the world's highest tides. This place manages to be awesome yet mundane and 'tourist trappy' at the same time. If you've been to Niagara Falls, you know what I'm talking about.
We were sitting at a picnic bench in Alma eating icecream cones when I noticed the bankside puddle looked like it was boiling. Walking up to it, I spooked about a million small fish to the opposite end. Quickly coming back with the micro rod, I got my three-spine stickleback. It was obvious that these fish were spawning. The males were on nests and would chase away other fish that came too close.
Female
Male
Next stop was Prince Edward Island. This is our smallest and most densely populated Province, with fishing, lobstering, and potato farming being economic cornerstones. For such a small bit of land, PEI boasts a number of surprisingly large, fishy looking rivers.
All the locals were busy fishing for sea-run brook trout. Local bait of choice was "gudgeons" (stickleback). Not being in a particularly trouty mood, I opted to jig from a local pier for something salty. Good decision that was too, as on the second drop the swimbait stopped dead and I raised what I for a split second thought was a snapping turtle. It turned out to be a lifer Shorthorn Sculpin.
I had a hunch I might encounter this species on this trip so it was very satisfying. After the sculpin, I kept getting strong hits that I could not set on. Time to pat myself on the back for bringing the crappie box, tie on a smaller swimbait, and bring up one of many Winter Flounder (local name: blackback).
The lobstermen use these to bait their traps.
I returned the next day for four more sculpin and a bunch of flounder.
We spent the last two days of the trip camped in Kouchibouguac, New Brunswick. The hiking in this park is spectacular with beach, bog, and woods all in one area. Birding was't too shabby either.
Carnivrous Pitcher Plants.
Morels were abundant on one trail and in the evening we ate like kings. I also perfected my deadliest invention yet -- the chocolate chip cookie smore.
Chickens kept running through our camp three in a row.
I soaked a shrimp for hours in the Kouchibouguac River hoping for an eel before moving to the pier at the river mouth. I was being harassed by juvenile flounder while watching a large school of stickleback go about their business when the school suddenly scattered. I immediately cast the swimbait into that area and got hit. After a spirited battle on light line I lifted a small searun brook trout onto the pier. Not the lifer Sandlance or Sea Raven I was hoping for, but catching a coaster trout out of the Atlantic Ocean is cool in its own way. This was my last fish of the trip.
Overall, a fun adventure with very little tourist traffic.