We all have our Spring rituals – and my O.C.D. ass is no different. My streamer boxes look almost artistic in early April, but seem to always fall somewhere between chaos and complete destruction by July. The streamer line-up and photo-op is an Up’North tradition, and each year my box looks a little more refined than it did the year before.
The boxes are full, the ice is receding, and the waiting game has commenced.
Water levels are unseasonably low for mid-April, and most of the ice left in the river can be found jammed up between Allagash and Saint Francis. Fishing has been slow for all species (tis’ what I’m told) and most people seem to agree that the conditions are screaming too much “late winter,” not enough “early Spring.” I’ll scout out a few spots this weekend and look to get my line wet for the first time this season. The forecast calls for snow, freezing rain, and wind; but my patience with mother nature is wearing thin. I just need to fish, so fish is what I will do. Expect lots of photos, plus or minus lots of fish.
Wish me luck, and stay tuned. The 2013 fly fish season has arrived, and Up’North resumes its weekly, regular programming starting now. This will be a season of new beginnings, and I’m glad to have you all along for the ride.
See you on the river,
Warm rain falling Spring is calling winter stalling, seasons change
Holding on dense snow fights melting, water pelting, rearrange.
Ice grips tight to grow by night but temps won’t fall or fade away
March walks backwards into April, pressed for time, a fight to stay
Sunshine smother like no other dueling, dealing final blow
Trees shake free of frigid cover, crisp cool lover, time to go
Nature waking dazed and shaking, Summer breaking great surprise
Heat replacing life erasing, blooming new before your eyes.
Miss me? So do I! They call it the offseason for a reason, but this winter has been beyond busy in the northernmost part of Maine. If we were called “Up’North Maine Daily Ramblings,” I might feel guilty about my lack of musings around these parts. Luckily, our title leaves me room for mental health breaks and the twists and turns of daily life. With fishing less than a month away, things should start to pick up around these parts in the near future. The new opportunities and experiences that this winter has afforded me will make you forget I ever left, and the changes you’ll start to notice will do more than enough to encourage the drying of your tears. Until then, take the picture below as evidence that the Up’North movement is still very much alive.
Clean those lines and stay tuned,
My vision has failed me, I struggle to focus on a horizon I can now see more clearly when I close my eyes. Against a towering pine I fall back and drift away, the river humming nature’s lullaby against the roots and rocks that surround my afternoon retreat. Free from the ever-tightening grasp of consciousness, my mind wanders aimlessly in a makeshift dream. Images fill my dream carrousel, my dusty thoughts resemble slides upon the reel of a projector from decades past. With each flash of darkness appears a once forgotten vision; my eyes flicker and my heart rate quickens. I dream in color, short journeys that rush in and quickly fall away without revealing any purpose. The sun rises high in the sky, blanketing me with a comforting warmth. Somewhere below, a hungry trout waits patiently for his next meal. A arrant gust of wind lifts my eyelids; all is forgotten as I arrive in a moment of clarity. I cast with new-found purpose, peeling line from my reel as I struggle to find a reliable footing. My fly floats flawlessly, dancing upon the same breeze that shook my slumber only moments earlier. It softly lands upon the surface, instantly one with nature as it drifts ever-closer to my unsuspecting friend. Has my dream spawned a new reality, or have they always been one in the same? Another question begging an answer, another answer that requires no question. No thoughts, no dreams, only the river.