“March is Melting Away”
I’m not sure if the 70 degree weather has anything to do with this, but the sunset tonight was unbelievable. Only 9 more days until I get to enjoy the scenery on the river with a fly rod in hand. Who needs Christmas countdowns?
“The Alaska Chronicles”
It’s been nearly three years since “The Alaska Chronicles” was published, so you could say I’m a little behind. After battling a barrage of college history books, my love for reading suffered a brutal blow and has since endured a lengthy and strenuous recovery period. I was cruising Amazon a few weeks back and came across Mr. Nolte’s book completely by accident. I’d be withholding information if I didn’t say I instantly had one of those “have you been living under a rock” moments. In the process of ordering “The Alaska Chronicles,” I noticed it was conveniently available as an ebook. I downloaded it and subsequently finished it before I went to sleep that night.
- Click to Purchase!
Books of this nature are typically a difficult read for me, I’ll be the first to admit that. Reading about someone else’s adventures on the water seldom holds a candle to enjoying those experiences myself, so I generally avoid the genre altogether. Miles Nolte may be an experienced and well-respected guide, but if he can cast a fly as well as he can write, he deserves an Alaskan river named in his honor. From the opening line to the closing paragraph, The Alaska Chronicles was so beautifully written that it rendered me sleepless when I finished it, a feat few novels from countless bestselling authors have ever managed to accomplish. But the genius of this story wasn’t accomplished with loaded words, embellished descriptive paragraphs, or any sort of artsy literary work at all. Simplicity paved the way, a simplicity that helped me experience Alaska at a level that could only be bested by a plane ticket and a guided trip of my own.
Miles Nolte’s “no bullshit” approach to writing was refreshing, and his story reads as what I can only dare to imagine is the definitive truth behind the highs and lows of working as an Alaskan river guide. He manages to portray his clients in a way that is as respectful as it is critical and humorous. The dip-spitting rednecks, the grateful (and sometimes ungrateful) executives, and the arrogant “pinner” show us that guiding is nothing if not brutally challenging at times, while at other times humbling and rewarding. He manages to highlight the “not so glamorous” side of guiding in one of the most beautiful places in the world, a task not so easily accomplished when addressing what many see as the dream job of all dream jobs. But in an inexplicable sort of way, Miles Nolte makes the experience more desirable. In reading, you feel for him when the fishing fails to cooperate, and you celebrate his triumphs as if you are standing beside him, waist deep with net in hand. Many authors can immerse you in a world of fantasy or terror, but few in my experience can make such a simple reality so overwhelmingly gripping. Every rainy day, every cheap cup of coffee, every moment of motor trouble leaves you wishing you could share in the misery. The Alaska Chronicles is uncut, unaltered truth at it’s finest; and you can’t help but appreciate Nolte’s attention to detail. The lack of polish is ironically what makes this story shine, and the only fault I dare point out is that the story could not avoid an ending.
Two thumbs WAY UP for Miles Nolte and “The Alaska Chronicles.” Looking back, I regret not taking a day out of my busy schedule to read it sooner. Upon completion I immediately ordered a hardcover copy for my ever-expanding library, and I urge anyone who does not own a copy to do the same. The Alaska Chronicles is a must-have book for any fly fisherman, avid or otherwise. Crawl out from under your rock and read it, I couldn’t be more happy that I did.
See you on the river,
-Ben
Happy 3rd Up’North!
As you’ve undoubtedly heard time and time again over the course of three years on this site, time moves slowly in my neck of the woods. But that’s not to say that it drags. This week makes three years since Up’North officially grew it’s wings, and I count this website among the aspects of my life that have flown by. Come to think of it, “time moves slowly” seems awfully inaccurate. Time is constant; it’s what you do, where you live, and who you spend that time with that really determines the quality and pace at which you move through life. If Maine won any superlatives in a yearbook, it would probably nab most laid back. I’d like to think my life, and this site, live up to that superlative. If not, I’ve got some serious work to do.
I started writing the standard “I’d like to thank everyone…” post to commemorate Up’North’s third year, but half way through, a lethal combination of sinus medication and boredom locked me up in a deep slumber and threw away the key. Simply put, you know who you are. If you’ve ever done anything to support Up’North in any way at all, I am sincerely thankful for your contributions. If not, I take cash or credit, literature or gear.
I’ve learned a lot about the bloggin’ business in three years, and not all of it brings a smile to my face. One thing I know for certain is that at some point, posting on a daily basis simply started to suck. I wasn’t excited about waking up early to sit at my laptop anymore, go figure. The pressure became unnecessary, and Up’North became more taxing than fun. I had to make a change. Year three for Maine Fly Castings was a year full of changes, eventually leading to the simple looking blog I present to you today. My goal was to capture the bare essentials of fly fishing in northern Maine. The sights and the sounds through photography and creative writing. The world through my eyes. I feel like I’ve accomplished that goal, and readership has shown I’m headed in the right direction. People ask me often if I believe my blog is successful, and I’m honestly never sure what they want to hear in my answer. Up’North will never make me rich, but I let that dream go early on. What I believe makes Up’North successful stems from the relationships it has helped me form, and the opportunities it has generated for me in the world of fly fishing. I’ve met some amazing people simply because I love fly fishing, and not all are directly involved in the industry. Some are fish bums just like me, others are photographers, and many others are talented writers, poets, or just plain interesting individuals. Some I have had the pleasure of meeting, some I no doubt will meet sooner than later. So do I believe Up’North is successful after 3 years? Definitely. Anything that further enhances my love for fly fishing is a smashing success in my book. Below you will find a number of things I’ve learned in my years at the helm of Up’North Maine Fly Castings. Some good, some not so good. This isn’t meant to be a guide by any stretch, just some simple observations that I feel have helped me stay sane since this all began on a cold February night in 09′.
- Up’North’s Original Graphic: Circa 2009
- It is beneficial to write ONLY what you know, and think about the audience you wish to reach. Everyone wants thousands of views a day, but have you ever stopped to think about who those people actually are? I hope to reach those who truly love fly fishing, regardless of where they live. These people typically enjoy nature in general, so they usually stick around when I veer off to write about hunting, or simply focus on photography for a few weeks. If I have nothing in common with the people viewing my materials, what good does it do me? By writing what you know and finding your niche, your audience may be small, but I guarantee they will be more engaged. I don’t want people to read my posts in passing, I want them to sit and think about the content and experience my experiences for themselves. If I can do that, I’ve accomplished my goal.
- With that said, I’ve learned it’s important to listen to my readers. Answer emails, entertain phone calls, and be respectful of their opinions. That’s not to say I write or post something simply because someone asks for it, but I have been known to answer requests from time to time. Chances are, my readers favorite posts are also my favorite posts to write. This type of personal attention can open many doors, and I cringe to think at the opportunities that may have slipped by had I not opened a certain email or replied to a comment.
- Dictate your own direction. You wouldn’t believe the suggestions and offers I get from people and organizations on nearly a daily basis. Promises of higher web traffic, increased income from advertising, and free products or discounts in exchange for a post about camping or their snazzy new trolling motor. Don’t sell out and stray from delivering on the image YOU wish to portray. Can you really use a 10% discount at crazyboatingdeals.com? Follow your own path, and I promise you a better deal will come along. The most successful blogs are usually the most personal ones. People may read recycled garbage that you pulled from other sites, but they won’t remember you for it.
- Just because it’s free, doesn’t mean you have to enjoy it. Fly fishermen are creatures of habit, a fact that is reflected by our gear and the locations we frequent in search of fish. In three years I’ve had the opportunity to fish dozens of fly rods from many reputable brands. I am extremely grateful that these companies continue to allow me the chance to test their products, but that doesn’t mean they all get a sparkling review. Admittedly, a fly rod has to really make a first impression if I’m going to take it out more than a handful of times. The rod I purchased before Up’North was even a thought is still a frequent companion of mine on even my most demanding trips, an honor than only two high-end rods have earned in a span of three years. It’s not that I don’t appreciate the advantages of new technologies, I just enjoy casting something that feels familiar. If it doesn’t offer a significant advantage to me on the water, I probably won’t give it a second look.
- It’s perfectly acceptable to leave the camera home. Some days on the water I prefer to keep just for me, and that’s alright. I no longer stress about taking photos, or documenting the days events as soon as I get home. I do this because I love fly fishing, but I refuse to let a constant need to “capture the moment” ruin my experience. Personally, it’s the moments that I can’t explain through words or photos that allow me to love what I do. No amount of promotional products or free gear will ever dictate what you see on Up’North. It’s all about being on the water, documenting what you feel is worth documenting, and simply enjoying life at your own pace.
- Just because it’s been done, doesn’t mean you can’t do it again. True, people have written about their experiences on the water or photographed their dog on the hunt, but sometimes a different perspective can be refreshing. Outings in Montana are different from outings in Maine, and the Summer sunset in Aroostook Country casts a far different shadow than the one in Bozeman. It’s not always about finding something new, sometimes it’s about looking at something familiar in a not so familiar way. Change angles, change perspectives, and people will genuinely appreciate your creativity.
- Take a break. You can’t force creativity, sometimes you just need to sit back and let it come to you. Some of the best authors in the world spend many years on a single novel, and some of the best photographers take thousands of pictures to capture that one perfect shot. If you aren’t happy with your work, how can you expect that from others? A half-hearted piece of writing is like a half painted house. You get a glimpse of what it could be, but in the end it’s still an unfinished product.
- Read more, write more. Read anything and everything you can get your hands on. Read about fly fishing, read about hunting, read about time travel, read about law. Whatever your interests, reading is a great way to strengthen your vocabulary and develop your own style. Writing is a progressive art that will only improve with effort and persistence. I’m no Hemingway, but I do feel I’ve come a long way with my writing simply through reading and learning to appreciate the styles of other authors. Write often; notes, letters, stories, and poems. Create a word document and save any and every idea, phrase, or quote you think up or come across. Keep a notepad by the bed, in the car, and most importantly in your river gear. You are bound to remember the details of your day that stand out, but sometimes the underlying details are the ones that make the best stories. You will never truly appreciate this advice until you put it to practice, trust me.
- Don’t be selfish, pay it forward. Share your experiences and ability with fellow bloggers and outdoorsmen (or women). I was lost when I started Up’North, and if more experienced bloggers wouldn’t have come to my aid answering emails or phone calls for help, maineflycastings.com would be dead in the water. Share your thoughts often, offer constructive criticism, and take criticism from others willingly and with appreciation. I am forever in debt to those who weren’t afraid to hurt my feelings when suggesting changes or improvements to Up’North. In fact, many of those changes are what make my site so successful today.
- Don’t take yourself too seriously. Blogging about fly fishing is a lot like fly fishing in itself. Above all, the experience is supposed to be fun and rewarding. If it stops being fun, take a break and give yourself time to recover. Shit happens, and no one expects you to blog through the most testing trials and tribulations of every day life. I didn’t get into fly fishing because of blogging, I got into blogging because of fly fishing. I’m no professional, just a well-versed country boy who enjoys chasing fins and telling tall tales. I have no interest in living up to the expectations of others when it comes to fly fishing, and this blog is no different. Up’North gives me the freedom to express myself and share my views on fly fishing and all things related with the world. No work, all play. I enjoy what I do, and feel privileged that so many others seem to enjoy it too.
At the end of the day, Up’North is toast without its readers. Nothing makes me happier than meeting complete strangers on the river or in the street who happen to visit my blog regularly. Interactions like those are what keep me going, and I feed off the inspiration I gain from other anglers and bloggers. I’m not sure where Up’North will be a year from now, but I look forward to what it can potentially become. Thank you for coming along for the ride, it’s been a true blessing since day one. Look forward to big, big things in 2012. Settled down and focused on the task at hand (with summers off), I should have no problem logging 150+ solid days on the water this season.
The fly boxes are being filled and April is right around the corner; this will be my fly fishing comeback.
Here’s to another 3 years! Tight lines,
-Ben
Love is Blind (and slimy)
Most people don’t get it when we tell them we love fishing. They think they have it figured out, but they seldom do. It’s the kind of love that ignores the obvious annoyances like biting black flies, soaking downpours, and relentless winds. The kind that gets us up early, keeps us out late, and wreaks havoc on our bank accounts by preventing any sort of monetary growth. We dodge ice chunks in early Spring, brave blistering sun in the dead of Summer, and travel to some of the most remote (and not so remote) waters in search of trout, salmon, and muskie. We miss family functions, skip out on work, make lasting memories, embellish those memories to spin a good fishing tale, and spend every day on the water as if it’s our last.
I know very few people in this area who love fishing as much as I do, but Alex Plourde is most certainly one of those few. Ice fishing has always taken a back seat to fly tying in my book, but Alex truly loves pulling fish through the ice in sub-zero temperatures. Nearly always practicing catch and release, here is Mr. Plourde planting a kiss before releasing a feisty salmon back to the icy depths. Love is blind, and in this case slimy.
See you on the water, whatever the weather.
-Ben
“eMag eXcellence”
February is typically a difficult month for me. By now winter has landed a few lucky punches, school is rolling at full steam, and every body of water I fish north of Bangor is caught in an unrelenting icy grip. March won’t likely prove much better, and opening day in April never seems to coordinate with ice-out. Time moves slowly between the hunting months of Fall, the holidays, and the fly tying season in February and March. Routines become monotonous, void of excitement or surprises.
Enter fly fishing eMags.
I follow very few online fly fishing publications, but “Catch” and “This is Fly” have long remained two of my all-time favorites. The photography features in both are always original and stunning, the articles are on point, and the addition of videos (eat your heart out print) has proven to be a nice finishing touch. Simply put, every issue leaves me wanting more.
Check out the two latest issues below, and remember, a brand new fishing season is right around the corner.
Click to Read
Click to Read
Last Light
And the show goes on…..
Five more shots to close out the “Sunny Daze” series. No fancy explanations, not hidden secrets, just photography. A few of these shots were taken as far back as 2002, and all but two were taken with a beat up 5MP point-and-shoot. Just goes to show you, big expensive cameras aren’t always what make good shots. More times than not, nature plays the most significant role in the process. I guess I’ve just been lucky enough to have a camera handy when the show starts.
Enjoy!
Sunny Daze: Part II
Welcome to round two of Up’North’s “Sunny Daze” photography feature! The following three photos were shot (descending) on Long Lake, along the historic Allagash Wilderness Waterway; on the Saint John River near Frenchville; and at a Summer camp on Little Sebago Lake in Raymond. All photos share a common trait in that each scene was enjoyed among a group of friends during long weekends that turned out to be some of the most memorable of my life.
It may sound arrogant, but sunsets like these are what I’ve grown to expect living in Maine. Regardless, it goes without saying that every new experience holds the potential of being more breathtaking than the last. Occasionally during the editing process I’ll make alternate versions of the same image in trying to portray or hint towards different feelings or emotions. These attempts can be seen in the first two images, and their stories can be found within the captions below.
When first viewed, this image was more dull and gray than it was warming. I saw things a little differently and went to work trying to optimize the sun's reflection off the water. This was the end result of nearly two hours of trial and error.
The bright colors of this image happened purely by accident as I was trying to create a silhouette with the birds and church. I liked what I saw and decided to run with it. The end result remains one of my most memorable photos.
The final image is special for me because it is actually my first attempt at introducing live subjects into my scenic photography. She didn’t know she was being include in the photo, but I hope she is pleased with the end results. I opted to darken the tree-line and her silhouette, while at the same time upping the saturation (only very slightly) of the fading sun. I regret not capturing more of the dock, I think that might have helped take some focus away from the sunset, while drawing more attention to my subject’s silhouette. Then again, it’s difficult to be dissatisfied with this image as a first attempt.
Check back soon for the final installment of Up’North’s sunset feature, and for some exciting news regarding a new partner, and a whole new slew of new viewers that I look forward to welcoming to the site in the coming months.
Tight Lines,
-Ben
Sunny Daze
I love taking pictures. No particular rhyme or reason as to why, I just enjoy being behind the lens. For some people I guess taking pictures could be about showing off, and I can see that. Living in a beautiful place is nothing to be ashamed of, and even I have been known to snap the occasional “look where I live” photos when the opportunity presents itself. Photography is like fly fishing for me in that I am constantly learning and growing every time I’m in the field. Each outing I appreciate the process a little more, and every new photograph feels more polished and refined than the last.
Every photographer has a signature style or element that is readily apparent in all of their work. For me, that element has always been clouds. Adding clouds to any backdrop introduces a highly manipulative element that can give photos personality and depth. I live for partly sunny days when the cloud cover is sparse and well-defined, stretching endlessly across a deep blue sky in dancing streams of white and gray. But above all, I love shooting clouds during the final moments of daylight. The special relationship between cloud cover and the fading sun is one that I’ve grown to appreciate deeply in recent years. Sunset backgrounds cycle and disappear often, only allowing precious moments to get that prime shot. I feel blessed to live in a place where the sun always sets against a stunningly beautiful, natural background. I do my best to capture those pristine moments before they slip away, and over the years have managed to photograph more than my fair share of sunsets in what I regard as some of the most relaxing and remote locations in the world.
The photos below are some of my favorites, and the moments they were taken are moments I will never forget. Over the next few days Up’North will roll out 12 never before seen sunset photographs taken from 2009 to 2011. Some are completely natural, never altered or touched up in any way. Others have alterations in contrast, saturation, and exposure. I take great pride in these shots, and appreciate any and all reader comments or constructive criticism.
As always, thank you for visiting Up’North Maine Fly Castings. Check back soon for new updates, and be sure to check out the gallery for my complete collection of outdoor photographs and landscapes.
Tight Lines,
-Ben
“When I Grow Up”
….I want to be part of the research and development team for Loon Outdoors.
No seriously, whoever originally pitched this idea at the Loon product meeting should get an instant induction into the fly fishing hall of fame. Something so simple, so useful, so brilliantly perfect in every way. It’s like they followed the Up’North crew on a fishing trip, reviewed the footage, and designed a product based on what they felt would make our time on the water more enjoyable. The R&D for these nippers must have been priceless, how could it not be? They probably didn’t need to test them on the water, but who would pass up that opportunity? I’ve always been a fan of Loon products, but this addition tops them all. Extra wide thumb pads, hook-eye clearing needle, and…….a bottle opener. This nifty little tool is a long time coming in my neck of the woods.
- Click to purchase the Loon Outdoors “Nip N Sip” tool!
The people at Loon Outdoors undoubtedly realize that R&D doesn’t stop once your product reaches fly shop shelves. Constant testing in the harshest of environments is a necessary part of product development, and I for one would be more than willing to lend a hand in the process. What better place than northern Maine to put your gear through the necessary paces? No such place exists. Please note, I accept free samples for testing purposes. Just sayin’.
In all seriousness, this product is one of those little innovations that just seems to make sense. I commend the people at Loon Outdoors for bringing some refreshing (no pun intended) originality into the nipper department. This is sure to be a huge product for them in 2012, and is already creating a worthy buzz among industry insiders and average Joes alike. Just another “must have” tool to have handy when the Spring salmon run pops off (again, no pun intended) after ice-out.
Pray for hasty thaw!
-Ben
“Hardly Hunting”
Sitting silent listen closely whisper windswept wilderness.
Frozen fingers each breath lingers cotton cammo woolen dress.
Warmth a mystery ancient history snow falls steady forest floor.
Miles from nowhere movement somewhere listen closely breathe no more.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Densely darkened daylight dimming vast horizon fading fast
Sunshine struggles falling farther treeline silhouette is cast.
Honest hours watching waiting notice nothing clear dismay
Deadline drawing nearer precious time ticks hopelessly away.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Hardly hunting seldom shooting simply sitting solitude
Finding joy in failure crisp clear mind inspired pleasant mood
Empty handed hasty headed home down back roads steady roll
Surely passing time descending purifying country soul.
“Go West Young Man”
Maine is a long way from the western steelhead rivers that haunt my dreams. One day I’ll live my dream and hoist chrome for the first time, mark my words. When I do head out west to knock fly fishing for steelhead off my bucket list, I want Ian Majszak of Detonation Studios there with his camera rolling. What excited me more than the fishing in this video is the sheer camaraderie surrounding this epic fishing trip. Nothing I have ever experienced on the east coast seems to hold a candle to what you will witness in Ian’s video below. To be completely honest, I’m not sure I even know enough dedicated fly fishermen in Maine willing to organize a fishing trip of this size. Almost makes me wanna pack up and head west! Almost.
Tribute..steelhead camp from Detonation Studios on Vimeo.
Seriously though, big props to Ian for this latest video. Detonation Studios is set to have a huge year in 2012, and I for one cant wait to see what the next twelve months bring. Heres to hoping we can toss a line together someday, somewhere west of my snowy Maine home. Thanks for keeping Up’North “in the know” as you continue to drop new, inspiring material for us to enjoy.
Tight Lines,
-Ben
Thanks, But no thanks.
-Howdy folks.
It’s been quiet the year, and this season has given me much to be thankful for that I didn’t have before. I found my way home, secured a teaching job back in northern Maine, and made some memories to last a lifetime both in the woods and on the water. 2011 didn’t find me fishing nearly as frequently, but the times I did get out were extremely successful. Luck played a big role (or the only role) in that success, but I have no problem pretending it was all raw determination and talent.
As Winter continues its devilish dance with the remaining guardians of Fall, fly fishing in northern Maine shifts gears as the season grows cold. Fly rods bow down to tying vises, reels and fly lines take a back-seat to streamer hooks, threads, and feathers. Tying is typically a relaxing way to burn a few hours (and a bottle of wine) and nothing is quiet as exciting as filling those badly depleted fly boxes for the upcoming season. Looking past the obvious benefits, sitting down at the vise also allows for abundant time to reflect on the dying year. With only one month left until we close the books on 2011, I can’t help but reflect on everything that I’ve enjoyed since November one year ago. What many people fail to realize is that joy doesn’t have to be one dimensional, and that hatred can actually bring an extremely satisfying sense of joy on many occasions. With that in mind, enjoy Up’North’s first EVER (oh yes) “Thanks, but no thanks” list. Call it what you want, but know that my opinion (while typically correct and of sane nature) is simply my opinion. You don’t have to like it (you should) or agree with me (again, you probably should) but at least by the end I’ve hopefully helped you think about what might bring you joy during this holiday season. Here. We. Go.
- Crocs — While comfortable and convenient, Crocs get a bad rap for a number of reasons, the most obvious being that they make anyone who wears them look like an idiot. Beyond being detrimental to your social life, studies show that Crocs are actually detrimental to your health and life-skills as well. Tripping becomes a frequent occurrence, and several people have reported actually losing the ability to tie their shoes or even fasten velcro.
- Easy Loops — Most fly lines come with a “quick loop” at the end to fasten a leader quickly and efficiently, but I’ve discovered that it actually hinders my fishing more than it helps. Some of my worst knots on the water have formed AT this convenient loop, and this season I finally did away with the loop altogether on all but my heaviest setups. Well-executed nail knots allow for clean, crisp presentations, and cause a minimal disturbance on the surface when picking up the line. Just snip it.
- Bemini Tippets — I hate them, very much. They knot, sometimes before they even touch the water. They don’t help me cast further, they don’t make changing tippets more convenient, and they cost 100% more than they are worth. No thanks.
- Decaf Coffee — You are an impostor. Stop tying to be something you clearly are not. You don’t even attempt to give me energy, just sitting there in the pot pretending to be your useful, delicious relative. You will never cure my headaches, you will never join me on early morning commutes, you will never enjoy morning fog on the river, or grace the dash of my pickup during hunting season. Just go away.
- Ethanol – You take up 10% of my gas, but I don’t recall inviting you to my tank. You play crude jokes on my motors, cause more harm than good when it comes to the environment because of your lengthy manufacturing process, and fail to increase my gas milage regardless of what I put you in. You eat up government subsidies that would be better wasted elsewhere, the key term here being wasted. I like corn, but would gladly give it up if it meant I would never have to deal with you again.
- Honorable mentions — Pop tarts (you make me fat), whole wheat pasta (gross), cheap fly reels (you’re a drag), machine tied flies (with love from China), unpaid vacations (time is money), pants you have to iron (usually means I’m not fishing), candy corn (tastes like?), hummus (all flavors are equally gross), and flooding (rain isn’t always a good thing).
So there you have it, short, sweet, and on the money. Feel free to add your very own in the comments section below, and remember that joy is what you make it.
Happy Holidays, and all that jolly jazz.
-Ben
I Hear that Train a Comin’
Today I took a walk with my father and a few friends to take in some truly breathtaking history deep in the North Maine Woods. Along the famous Allagash Waterway, between Big Eagle and Chamberlain Lake, lies the remnants of a logging operation dating back as far as 1902. Two massive steam locomotives, over 40 rail cars, 13 miles of rail, and literally hundreds of additional artifacts from lombard haulers to a 3000 foot tramway, lay scattered over a massive area between the two lakes. A stunning glimpse into a time long forgotten, an entire operation that was capable of harvesting and transporting hundreds of chords of timber now sits dormant, swallowed by the remote wilderness.
I’ve been pouring through 300+ photos for the last four hours, and I still haven’t finished the organization and editing process. It amazes me that such a large piece of history can even exist at all, and my pictures honestly don’t do it justice. As I continue to pick and choose my favorite photos for a more in-depth feature to come later, here is a little sneak peak to hold you over. I really can’t stress how extremely remote this area is, the entire historical context of this place simply blew me away.
The remnants of a 3000 foot steam driven log tram that operated from 1903 to 1909. The tram system shuttled over 500,000 board feet of pulp per day between Eagle Lake and Chamberlain Lake. The logs were then floated through a chain of lakes until they reached the Penobscot River, where they began their long journey to Bangor Area sawmills.
These two locomotives hauled 40+ cars over more than 13 miles of track between 1927 and 1933. Hauled in by lombard log haulers from Quebec, they were assembled in the remote wilderness without the help of cranes. At their height they transported over 100,000 chords of pulp to Umbazooksus Lake. Ruled obsolete, they were backed in and parked in what used to be a maintenance shed for the final time during late 1933. The area has been abandoned since.
A single line split into two so the trains could pass each other as they shuttled logs back and forth during the 13 mile journey to Umbazooksus lake. Dormant since 1933, the forest has taken over and large timber now grows around, and in between the rails. Here is a shot looking down the tracks toward the final resting place of the two locomotives. Truly a sight to behold.
And there is plenty more where that come from! Stay tuned for a more complete photographic history lesson in the coming days!
-Ben
Catch #20
Everyone knows that the big #21 is the number we all wait for, but I have a difficult time imagining that the fellas at Catch can top the photographic greatness that exists as issue #20. Highlights include a stunning feature on the color blue, another breathtaking collection of photos from Alaska (I can relate when it comes to all of those busted props), and a superb spread of British Columbia photos that will having you planning your next vacation, instead of finishing those quarterly reports. Now might be a good time to book a ticket for your boss!
So what are you waiting for? Click the cover and let the good times roll.
Click Me!
Tight Lines,
-Ben
Many Miles
I typically don’t introduce or explain my photos, most of the time I feel like they do just fine telling their own stories. I enjoy shooting in black and white because I find the photos less distracting, and at the same time more entrancing. The absence of color is always something I’ve been drawn to in photography, so it seems only natural that I shoot and edit my photos in the same fashion.
These shots were taken along a stretch of railway that follows the Fish River near Fort Kent, Maine. For nearly a century these rails have played a vital role in northern Maine’s working economy, shuttling various goods and even passengers years ago, and transporting timber to area mills to this very day. They represent American history in it’s purest form, stretching for miles along pine ridges and through rustic communities. Every mile tells it’s own unique story, and pictures here are worth way more than a thousand words.
Swaying Silhouettes
Pressed against a fading sky,
A darkened day,
Light won’t comply
Trees cast shadows, outstretched high
Black branch swaying lullaby.
Burn a Candle
There are only a few remaining sporting camps in the North Maine Woods that can trace their true roots back to the 1950s. These extremely remote, remarkably eloquent Historical landmarks are truly frozen in time, rarely disturbed time capsules preserving a piece of Maine’s culture that so few are fortunate enough to recall, let alone experience firsthand.
Well, count me among the lucky ones. Full story coming soon, consider this photo a teaser!
Watch us like a hawk, big things dropping in the coming days.
-Ben
Less False Casting
- Today I finally dusted off the fly rods and went fishing. It wasn’t a long trip by any measurement, but to say it was needed would be the understatement of the century. With only a few hours of daylight left to burn, I spent some time casting off the cobwebs and dragging on a cigar as the pond mirrored the autumn sky. The theme of the day was simplicity, and I feel like my late afternoon adventure captured that perfectly.
Nature's Mirror
No fish to speak of on this trip, at least not on the end of my line. (Here come the excuses) Typically this late in the season finds me more researched and organized, but this whole “real life” routine I’ve found myself in these past few months hasn’t left me with a ton of time for trial and error. I always have a special selection of flies for Soldier Pond….this year, not so much. I ate through my leader tying on a buffet of streamers, wets, and dry flies, getting only a few nasty flashes for my troubles. I guess it’s true what they say about getting back what you put in.
Like most return trips after a long absence on the water, my first dozen casts were anything but elegant. Throwing line off a bridge is a different game in itself, so some minor adjustments were inevitable. The one problem I’ve identified time and time again with my casting technique is with the number of times I tend to false cast. It’s almost as if I feel the need to adjust and readjust my stroke, which only compounds any errors resulting in a lackluster cast when I finally do shoot the line. I began limiting myself to no more than two or three false casts and saw immediate results in both distance and accuracy.
Thats when I started thinking about the concept false casting more than I probably should have. By now most of you non-fly fishing types are probably completely lost, but I’m pleased you’ve read this far regardless. False casts are the casts you make with a fly rod before eventually releasing line onto the water. A few false casts are almost always necessary for loading the fly rod and making lengthy casts, but how many largely depends on your technique and skill level. When I found that only a couple well executed false casts made my presentation more accurate and gave it more distance, I started to think about how I might apply my false casting theory to daily life. Less is more?
The great thing about practicing your cast is knowing that no matter how proficient you become, there is always room for improvement. Small, subtle changes can result in significant improvements, and improvements are all you can ever hope for. Practice doesn’t make perfect in fly casting, because new advancements in gear force you to continuously adjust. You get older, stronger, weaker, and are sometimes forced to adapt when conditions change or new waters present unique challenges. I’d like to think I can approach life in the same fashion, making minor adjustments while avoiding situations that might result in wasted time or energy. In short, less worrying about the minor details, and more focus on the bigger picture.
Less focus on the false cast, more on the final presentation. Sounds like a plan.
-Ben
Lesson Learned
- Americans don’t need to be told why today is important, it’s not something we struggle to remember. We don’t need reminders about the cost of freedom, or the countless sacrifices of so many who’ve put country first on the front lines. We don’t need lessons on how to be American, we tow the line every day.
The freedom I enjoy.
A day that needs no year to be instantly recognized, the 10th anniversary of September 11 means many different things to many different people. After a sunrise coffee and morning mass with the family, I spent most of this bluebird day watching football and pouring myself over lesson plans for the upcoming week. This planning session took on new meaning, as I found myself struggling with an unexpected question; How do I teach my students about 9/11 when they have little to no personal memories of the attacks themselves? For my generation, it can be almost haunting to recollect the hour-by-hour events that unfolded before us on that faithful day. Personally, I can’t help but feel so utterly selfish when I think about how insignificant my problems seem when placed next to the hardships of those who have lost and given so much. If 9/11 has taught me anything, it’s that time is precious and tomorrow is always a new day. Looking back on those events now should only provide the necessary strength and courage to look ahead, and a sense of pride that comes exclusively with being an American. United we stand, defiant and bold in the face of faceless enemies.
This week I finally get to step away and visit some of my favorite fishing holes, but I do so knowing that across the world there are thousands fighting for my freedom to get out on the water. This may be a “day of remembrance,” but most American’s have remembered, and will continue to remember those lost on that day ten years ago for the rest of their lives. My students may not have vivid memories of their own, but they can all personally relate to the pride that comes with being an American citizen.
My only issue now? Americans are born with that pride, it’s not something they need to be taught.
…Square one. God Bless!
-Ben
And It Rained.
- Not much to talk about on the fishing front, record rains over the last few weeks have all but washed away any chance of a successful river trip. It started long before any hurricanes crept their way up the coast, and the relentless wrath of mother nature is showing no signs on letting up.
Cabin fever is setting in and my patience is wearing thin. With a mere 25 days left before I’m forced to hang up the rods, it’s a scary thought that the fishing may NEVER recover during our short stretch to October. I’ll never give up, but a battle of epic proportions seems imminent.
Focus.
Calling this season a wash might be an understatement, but lets reflect. Given my days on the water and my success rate, I’d hesitant to blame anything other than location and scheduling conflicts. Maybe conflicts isn’t the right word, but you get the picture. Regardless, all of this time indoors has really allowed me some freedom to dig down deep and reflect. Being home is clearly a good thing; friends, family, and a familiar environment have really taken me back to the golden years. But things are clearly different, not that different is always bad. Like I said, rain makes me think.
Years ago on a pond in the middle of nowhere I found myself in the center of a sudden downpour that I won’t soon forget. Casting quietly from a short aluminum canoe, I was taking advantage of a bright spot that fought its way through an otherwise dismal day. The season was coming to a close, the weather virtually mirrored what we’re seeing this year, and I was in desperate need of some time on the water. After about twenty minutes (and twenty jumping ghost fish) I sat puzzled as to why I wasn’t having any luck. The glassy surface said rain, but at that moment no drops were falling.
Blitz
While the brook trout danced mockingly around me, I ate through my leader changing flies until my fingers went numb. Then, as I was tying on just ONE MORE, someone turned the switch off. The surface of the pond mirrored the hardwood horizon, unbroken and eerily still. Thats when I heard it, a low rumble that seemed to be gaining steam. My instincts told me logging truck, but as the noise intensified I quickly nixed that thought. I clipped the tag on my latest knot and turned my attention to the tree line behind me. What I saw was the most magnificent, awesomely powerful wall of water I had ever laid eyes on. Like a blanket quickly covering the forest, I watched as the sheets of rain raced towards me at full sprint. I flipped my hood up and turned my shoulder as mother nature dumped buckets of water into my canoe. Relentless, unforgiving, cleansing. Time stood still as driving rain played a deafening tune on the back of my jacket. Paddle in hand, I pointed my canoe towards the cabin and the promise of dry cloths and a warm meal. Minutes later found me chatting over some drinks with a few good friends while our clothing and gear drip-dried around the wood stove.
What I experienced that day is something I’ll remember for as long as I fish, and in that long list of memories this one ranks close to the top. Sitting here today, I can honestly say that there isn’t a rainy day that goes by when I don’t think of my experience on that pond. A remote location at the end of the world, the end of my world. Ancient Chinese philosopher Confucius said “No matter where you go, there you are,” and the philosophical redneck in me would have to agree. Lately, rain to me means a fresh start, a clean slate. Here I am, enjoying my little piece of heaven in the only place I know how to be truly content. Here I am, and here I’ll stay.
The sun might not always be shining, but I get along just fine in the rain.
-Ben
Assembling an Army: Fall Colors
- Fall colors for Fall fly fishing, say howdy to the ladies of Autumn! This simple, stripped down “Ghost” pattern is a go-to for me in a variety of conditions, but Fall typically finds these favorites at the front of my box. Make no mistake, these babies work wonders under the right conditions. Simply find the color your trout fancy and pound the banks. Floating line with a light leader-tippet setup is typically my winning combination, but feel free to experiment based on your home conditions!
It really can be that simple, trust me.
Army of Ghosts
Tight lines and happy September!
-Ben
Taking Time
We don’t have beaches in Fort Kent, at least not what someone from the Maine Coast would call a beach. Life is certainly different in the southern region of the state, and lately I’ve noticed the subtle differences more frequently than in months past. Some might regard me as an overly critical person, and on some days I might agree. I’ve always been the type to overanalyze even the most simple of situations, so god help me when the right combination of heavy and hectic suddenly find themselves front and center.
Northern Maine is nothing if not simple, and beyond the countless fishing spots I still see in my dreams, I miss having the option of stepping away from reality for a while. Life moves too quickly down here, and my mind just isn’t wired that way. I pause and ponder like a 90 year old man, constantly taking in my surroundings and wondering what I might be missing. Caring too much in a hectic world causes one hell of a headache, and I’m definitely guilty as charged. City livin’ certainly isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.
Years ago when I found my mind staggering in a similar fashion, a fishing buddy turned my attention towards a beach not far from the city. His intentions were purely fishing related, but I discovered so much more in the process. Casting into an escaping tide, all that weighs on my mind is suddenly caught in the rhythmic motions of the retreating sea. It isn’t the northern dwellings I prefer, but something about this beach puts my mind at ease. I may not know what the next day, month, or years will hold, but I find myself oddly at ease with all that is unanswered and gray. The good most certainly outweighs the bad, and I would hesitate to call anything about my experience truly bad at all. Different is probably a better description, and in my book different is almost always preferred.
For those who missed the underlying message, I’m fly fishing again.
-Ben
~DayDreams~
This little number has been in the works for nearly two weeks, which says a ton about my attention span. I finally managed to piece together something worth reading (I hope) in the wee hours of yesterday morning. I hope you enjoy it!
Photo by Alex Mitchell-Up'North Maine Fly Castings 2011
Let’s pretend for a moment, that this world disappears.
No more fun, no more fish, no more beers, not more cheers.
Wouldn’t that serve as the sum of all fears?
Maybe then we’d step back, reassess, and change gears.
What if one morning, maybe even today,
Birds didn’t sing, and the sky remained grey.
The sun never rose,
And the wind had no say,
In the way the trees swayed, or the leaves fell away.
And in that still moment,
When we’re searching for truth,
Would we look to our neighbors to help us get through?
Would we look to our families, our friends from the past?
Or just stand there and wonder how long it might last.
I’d like to think that I’d wipe the slate clean
Step back to what matters,
Erase the obscene.
Look down at the water, as it glimmers and gleams
And slip into a world where fish fill the streams.
Maybe it’s not quite as hard as it seems,
To live your real life, based on scenes from your dreams
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