Our annual fishing trip to Salmon River is a highlight of the year, as much for the camaraderie as the fish, but some years when the salmon run cooperates its simply amazing...this was one of those years.
Paul and Jacob were not able to join us this year so the our fishing fire-team was Bill, Fritz, Henry and yours truly. After beating traffic out of DC well before the crack of dawn I met Fritz lounging against his bumper at our favorite parking pull-out at the top of the Upper Fly Section East of Altmar and just down stream from Salmon River Reservoir. Fritz and Bill had been fishing and visiting for several days and Fritz had the relaxed satisfaction of already having fought, landed and released some monsters. Some years we count success as a single fish brought to hand...this year we didn't even count. As we walked through the woods our senses caught the rush of the river punctuated by splashes from the jumping salmon and cries of 'Fish-on' from the resident anglers at the upper hole. At the upper hole hooking up and landing is a matter of location and drift. Fritz went about 5 minutes before his 8wt Recon bent with the weight and fight of a handsome Chinook (king) salmon, brought to hand on a salmon river flea a local fly tied the night before.
After 90 minutes Henry rustled through the woods behind us his hearty fishing smile letting us know he was happy to see us and to be off the long miles on I-81. We fished till sundown with many hook ups some foul but most fair until we couldn't see to tie on a fresh fly. Here's Henry in the darkness that smile as large as the hump on the king's back!
The next morning found Henry and I at the prime spots at Meadow Run. We hadn't started particularly early and were surprised that there was but one other angler there upon our arrival. As we watched our watches expectantly we finally made our first casts at whaat we guessed was 30 minutes before sunrise, the start of the fishing day on the DSR and then on my second cast with Salmon running right in front of my knees a King lit me up in the predawn light purple. He fought for a good 15 minutes and I was super happy to bring him to hand. As the day wore on we made the acquaintance of the other early morning angler and he was fascinating. He was (well he still is) an engineer from Quebec who fished for steelhead -- he catches some salmon but kind of considers them a necessary evil as they pave the gravel with eggs beckoning the Steelhead will to a meal. This fella more than ties his own flies but makes his own hooks out of stout chemically hardened piano wire! I might have called BS on the story until he showed us one of his many fly boxes...here's a picture of his art.
Henry soon brought a king to hand and with fish in the book and smiles on our faces we enjoyed the morning. Bill and Fritz arrived and for an hour or three we all enjoyed fishing meadow run.
Salmon River Flea -- Salmon Slayer
Henry Took the picture but is in the photo in spirit
The rest of the trip was spent visiting, eating and hooking into salmon after salmon, you'd bring some to hand, lose other good hooks and break off foul hooks. We split our time between the familiar haunts of the DSR and the upper fly fishing section 10 miles upstream. In the future we may forgo DSR passes and just stick with upper section if the salmon are in greater numbers further up. Several flies seemed to work really well, green and black zonker streamers were lights out as was the Salmon River flea a local creation discovered and retied by Fritz to all of our benefit.
Flush with catching all the Salmon we needed to we also enjoyed exploring more of the river in the lower estuary area and found dissagregated water, almost trout stream water holding monster salmon...what a treat!
This smaller salmon and Henry's monster below came from skinny water!
This Epic Photo will travel back to NZ to the Epic shop Henry visited and the Epic Owner
Watch out for your fingers!
We also really enjoyed the upper fly where Fritz in particular made a killing. Here he is working his drift to a tight seam in an otherwise stiff current.
Fritz surveys the run
works his drift along the rock bank to find holding water
enjoys the salmon of his labors
We had other great ties along the way incluoding seeing Henry fall (twice) in slow motion into a fast pool whole hooked into a big salmon -- yes he could have steadied himself and not dunked but that would have lost tension on the chinook so he dunked and skidded alongt the bottom with his right arm raised above the current keeping tension on that fish! Well played by fiend well played.
A large bow (not quite a steelhead) who came to play
Dead Kings were everywhere, note the birds had pecked out the soft eye tissue!
Henry -- salmon on -- the scenery was gorgeous
My stick an 8wt 11'6' ECHO switch w a 9/10 wt TFO prism reel pared with 540 grain shooting head
Sunset over Meadow Run
Salmon Drag marks lead the way home during a night time walk to the Jeep
Sunset at the DSR lot
Thanks for reading about this adventure -- for videos please see:
New Hampshire will always be my home. Even though I haven't lived there since 1979, I'll always consider it home. So when the opportunity for a two day late-September escape from the 90 degree temps in Florida, I jumped at the chance when my brother said come up for a couple days of fly fishing. When you have only two days to fish, you really don't want to spend much time exploring, so we headed to tried and true waters in Coos County at the headwaters of the Connecticut River.
When you mention Pittsburg(h), most people think of the Steel City in Western PA -- home of the Pirates, Pens, Steelers and Iron City Beer. But Granite Staters think of a different Pittsburg, namely the one that's the northernmost city in the state, and probably has more moose than people. With the rustic Buckrub Lodge and Buckrub Pub as our base of operations, we fished hard for two solid days.
Water levels were a bit low, and the 90 degree temps I sought to escape 1400 miles further south must have followed my north as Day 1 temps pushed the low 80s. Undeterred, Marc and I headed to our favorite remote brook trout stream. Marc fished with a 6'6" 2-wt and I had my Orvis Superfine 7'6" 1-wt rigged with an Elk Hair Caddis and Parachute Adams, respectively. Working our way upstream, we consistently picked up wild brookies in the 6-8" range. Brook trout are beautiful fish to start with - but fall brook trout are breathtakingly colorful.
After a few hours working upstream, and with another river to hit before day's end, we switched to steamers and worked our way back downstream, picking up equal numbers. The Golden Retriever was the go-to fly, but the Mickey Finn - the favorite streamer of my dad - was equally effective.
Here's Marc working the far bank.
The stream had some bigger water and 3-4 ft deep holes further upstream.
Nothing like having a stream 100% to yourself.
So after Working our way back to Marc's truck, enjoying an ice cold beer, we struck out for another favorite stream -- the Mohawk River. The Mohawk runs from Dixville Notch westward along Route 26 to Colebrook where it drains into the Connecticut River. With only about an hour to fish we fished downstream again, swinging streamers. I spotted a few trout finning in a long run, and while positioned above the stream-bank, directed Marc to the top of the run. As he swung the streamer on his first cast - bang! - fish on. That was pretty exciting watching the cast and hookset. And then we played out that scenario several more time, switching roles along the way.
These were rainbow trout. Again, absolutely stunning in appearance with their trademark pink stripe running down the length of their side.
Satisfied after landing that last fish and with the sun setting over the hills we called it a day, breaking down our gear and enjoying a cold one after an awesome day on the water.
Part of the allure of Pittsburg is the character of the region, and nowhere do you gain a greater appreciation for the area more than at the Buckrub Pub -- the one and only dining establishment / watering hole in town, and only a 30 second walk from our comfortable motel room. After a couple of Buckrub Brown Ales, we were ready to call it a night with expectations for another stellar day on the water.
The Connecticut River is special in so many ways. No two days ever seem to play out the same on the river - and this day was no different. Our plan was to head far downstream as this river gets pounded - hard. But before we struck out down, I had to take a shot by the dam as I usually have good luck just below the dam. I recently purchased an Orvis 9 ft 5 wt Recon and was anxious to give it a try. Within minutes I had fish on. But this day we were determined to walk far downstream so we hit the trail for about 30 minuted before dropping down in the water. The river here runs fast, and wild... and as I found out not long thereafter after a misstep -- cold!
Browns, rainbows and landlocked salmon ruled the day. Nymphs ruled the day. Copper Johns, BH Princes, Pheasant Tails and later in the day Marc tied on what I'd best describe as a Drowned Caddis which really seemed to work well. Enjoy the pics.
Marc with a nice Brown Trout.
The Rainbows were healthy, strong and colorful.
Marc landed the fish of the day - a gorgeous leaping salmon.And he lost a fish that was even bigger.
Enjoy the pics below.
Another fantastic day on the river. One year, I'd love to have about a week or two to explore this river. As incredible as the water is that we're currently fishing, I have to believe there may even be some more productive water either upstream between a couple of the other lakes or possibly several miles further downstream. There's so much water to explore not on simply the Connecticut, but nearby rivers and streams in this amazing countryside.
But after two hard days on the water, and having caught more than enough brookies, rainbows, browns and salmon it was time to pack up the gear until that next opportunity knocks.
Until that time, today's memories will have to hold me over.
The next morning found Henry and I at the prime spots at Meadow Run. We hadn't started particularly early and were surprised that there was but one other angler there upon our arrival. As we watched our watches expectantly we finally made our first casts at whaat we guessed was 30 minutes before sunrise, the start of the fishing day on the DSR and then on my second cast with Salmon running right in front of my knees a King lit me up in the predawn light purple. He fought for a good 15 minutes and I was super happy to bring him to hand. As the day wore on we made the acquaintance of the other early morning angler and he was fascinating. He was (well he still is) an engineer from Quebec who fished for steelhead -- he catches some salmon but kind of considers them a necessary evil as they pave the gravel with eggs beckoning the Steelhead will to a meal. This fella more than ties his own flies but makes his own hooks out of stout chemically hardened piano wire! I might have called BS on the story until he showed us one of his many fly boxes...here's a picture of his art.
