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A Trip Into The North Maine Woods
My good friend Matt and I packed up the truck early Monday morning, May 20, 2002, to head north…WAY north, up past Baxter State Park to Munsungan Hunting and Fishing Club. Jim Carter had written late last year, and invited me up to catch a few fish. We got the timing worked out, and mid-May it would be. Jim expected the fishing to be hot at this point, and we were certainly excited in the weeks prior to the trip. The excitement was only slightly dampened by the forecast and the weather in the couple weeks preceding, in fact, Jim’s camps received an unseasonable 6 inches of snow less than a week before we arrived. We did arrive however to a snow-less camp, and weather in the 50’s, a far cry from snowing, but the toll had been taken, as the areas growth and more importantly, water temperatures were slow and low, about a week to 10 days behind Jim said. However, not even the sub-optimal weather conditions could mask just how beautiful the county is up there.
Jim’s camps are located at the outlet of Little Munsungan Lake, and the camp-yard descends into a pristine, picture-perfect salmon pool, right in the front yard. It was here that we took to casting, less than 30 minutes after our arrival, and not soon thereafter that I had caught and released our first nice salmon. Jim said that it was the first good fish of the year taken from the camp pool. I had cast a small gray ghost out into the current, dangling the fly below upon straightening it, and WHAM! a nice 16-inch beauty hit ferociously. After a quick but fierce battle, including a couple near tail walks, I had brought the fish to net, snapped a couple shots, and released the fish. This is what it was all suppose to be about I thought.
After another hour of fishing, and a near missed hit, we decided to retire for the evening. The weather was turning cold and windy. We headed inside to a fantastic steak dinner that Jim had been cooking up while we were fishing away. Steak, corn, and tasty potato’s were the course, all-mouthwatering and fantastic. Follow it up with a freshly baked blueberry pie, and I soon realized that the great fishing was followed by a close second to Jim’s incredible culinary skills, which were all done on his wood burning cook-stove in his rustic camp kitchen. How he was able to regulate the heat and cook up some of the awesome food we had those few days, I will never know. We were in the middle of the woods, 30 miles from the nearest paved road in Oxbow, enjoying backwoods camping in style!
Later in the evening, one of Jim’s guests broke out the guitar, and we settled into a good-old fashion North Maine Woods concert. Good food, drinks, music and hospitality…What more can you ask for in a fishing trip I ask? We soon retired for the night, looking towards the next day in anticipation of more great sights and more big fish!
Up a little later than early the next day, things started off cold, and got windy. This was not going to be one of your ideal fly fishing weather forecast days. This was going to be a tough day to fish. The water temps had remained a steady 48 degrees, just a little too cold still for the hot fishing to explode. We fished hard in late morning in the camp pool, and surrounding stream area, and managed a couple small brookies. If only we had made this trip a week later we thought, as Jim described to us the fishing picked up when water temperatures were above fifty, and things were “on”. But that’s why they call it fishing and not catching, I suppose.
After lunch and a mid-day stroll down the camp road with Martha, the camp dog and Jim’s faithful companion, we were surrounded by sights and sounds of woodpeckers, spring songbirds, and squirrels which Martha enthusiastically chased up nearby trees. A look higher to the skies brought into view a pair of hawks, not identifiable, at least by my naked eye. Lining Jim’s road up to his camp were fiddleheads, and the peace and quiet that everyone’s doctor orders them to get when setting out on a trip up into Maine’s backwoods.
The winds had subsided a bit during the early afternoon, and we headed up to Big Munsungan Lake in Jim’s new 21’ Scott Canoe. Jim had picked this up from Two River Canoe in Medway, just a few weeks earlier. This big-lake worthy boat was outfitted with a 15 horse Mercury, and handled the rough water of the big lake quite well. I was definitely impressed. And the boat is also Allagash-legal, this model being built specifically to be so.
We trolled streamers across the lake, and soon found ourselves at the beach of Bradford Camps. Jim introduced me to Igor Sikorsky, proprietor of the camps, who was very pleasant and offered to show me around himself. Bradford Camps is a century old business, and Igor is the 5th owner, having bought the camps back in 1996. The camps consist of a handful of cabins for guests, a main lodge and dining hall, and ice shack and wood storage. Another plus here is the Cessna Floatplane that Igor has parked out front. New to the camps, the capability to fly folks into remote ponds will surely be a big draw for future guests.
We picked up a few more trout that afternoon, and a nice salmon that went 18 inches and was netted by Jim. That salmon took the line behind the canoe right out of the water, and then proceeded to show off with several 2-3 foot acrobatic leaps before he was subdued and released. We were soon back to camp for the evening and another fantastic meal of baked haddock, rice and a lemon meringue pie that was to die for. With that, and the breakfast and lunch that I have forgotten to mention, I think that I have eaten better up here, deep in the North Maine Woods, than I have in a long time.
We retired earlier the second night, with hopes of getting up to fish the sunrise. When 6:00 AM rolled around, and we rolled out of bed, the sun was out, and clear skies above, but temperatures still cold. The water was unchanged at a steady 48 degrees, and I worked the camp pool hard for an hour or so in the morning. With slow fishing at the pool, I searched out other areas for other fish, and found a nice dark hole that served up a handful of 8 inch Brookies, eager to take a Mickey Finn. I knew that I soon had to leave, and this was a nice way to wrap up this trip, pulling in a few native Square-tails.
It was soon late morning, and time to head back to the real world, at least the real world for most of us that is. Jim Carter’s real world is these woods, and as a Maine Master Guide for more than 40 years, Jim knows these woods better than anyone. As I was leaving, it was only with the thoughts of someday returning to catch the fish that I had left that soothed my return to the buzz of cars and trucks on the highways, the 40 hours a week in the office, and the dreaming of the next trip (back into) these woods. I can’t begin to thank Jim enough for his wonderful hospitality and the great time I had while fishing at his camp.
For more information on the Munsungan Hunting and Fishing Club, please see their website, at www.munsungan.com.
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