I.
- My mind has to be in the right place to write, whether its poetry, short stories, and even daily accounts on the water. I feel like this applies to all people, so I’ve never been one to immerse myself in guilt of grief over the fact that I can’t bang out gems on a daily basis. I started Up’North as a side project that would allow me to focus on my passion for fly fishing, photography, and of course-writing. It’s funny how one’s initial intentions always seem to take on a different shape over time. Graduation comes and goes, career opportunities present themselves, and that focus you were so sure about before becomes blurry and requires adjustments.
Consider this the first adjustment.
The fishing hasn’t changed in northern Maine, neither have the fishermen or the tall tales they always seem to tell. Early Spring is always money for salmon, brook trout always dive hard after the take, and the spots that don’t look at all productive are usually the ones that produce the best fish. My departure from northern Maine in May is one that I’ve taken unbelievably hard, even if I rarely show it. Beyond fly fishing, I long for the comforts of home just as much as the next guy. As a result, my time north is typically reserved for holidays and special occasions, most of which don’t leave much, if any room to wet a line.
Because of this, many have questioned my passion in recent months. I can’t say I blame them, people thrive on routine and grow stressed when popular trends are diminished. With so much going on, I simply have less to write about. I take less pictures, I test less products, and I have trouble finding time to take even day trips. But my first question for everyone remains consistent; how would you define passion? I get various answers, and nearly all of them are unique to the person depending on careers, families, and location. For me, passion means soaking up every special moment when I finally do find myself on the water. It means spending less time worrying about documenting every fishing hole, and more time basking in the simple elegance of a northern sunset, or the flowing conversation of a fireside chat. It means taking chances, making choices, and standing by them proudly even when others feel the need to criticize. I fish for myself, no one else.
I am extremely proud of my accomplishments, in fishing and beyond. I lifted Up’North from a cookie cutter template with recycled materials, and transformed it to something original and fun that people enjoy from Maine to Russia to New Zealand and back again. So what if I post less, fail to review your favorite insect-repellant t-shirt, or spend more time behind the camera than I do holding the fish. Up’North is me, and as long as I keep changing, you can rest assure that it will follow suit. Don’t like my perspective? Start you own blog, write your own materials, build your own networks, and find your own niche.
The next three months could go a number of different ways for me, and I couldn’t be more excited about how open ended everything is looking at the moment. I could stay in Portland, I could move to an even larger city, or I could find myself back in the familiar comforts of Fort Kent surrounded by family and friends. I might not update daily, but I’ll never let it die. So don’t form any expectations, just check back often and I’ll do my best to keep you entertained and informed with as much original content and nonsense as possible.
The only approval I need is my own, so that might explain why I don’t answer any hateful emails about “bad” reviews, or why I don’t cover bass fishing in southern Maine with the same level of “enthusiasm” as trout fishing in the North. My passion for fly fishing, like life, is real at an unimaginable level. Thanks for playing.
-Ben
Release
Release the stress
Release the tension
Release the headaches we won’t mention
Regroup your thoughts
Relive the bliss
Recover time
Release the fish.
S.I.D. 7
-If you haven’t already noticed, Sleeping in the Dirt: Issue 7 dropped on Thursday. As is to be expected, Aaron Otto and the gang bring us great photography, intriguing articles, and an all around polished digital magazine that lingers around the status of This Is Fly and Catch. SID7 is automatically my favorite issue of the bunch, but that probably has something to do with Up’North being featured in it (Pg. 44-45) for the first time ever. I consider this a huge honor, and on behalf of myself and the rest of the Up’North clan, I would like to thank Mr. Aaron Otto for including this humble northern Maine blog in his spectacular magazine.
Click to View
Something special sets SID apart from every other magazine out there today, digital, print, or otherwise. No, it isn’t the fact that it’s the only legitimate mag. to ever feature Up’North, although that argument could be made. Instead, something real, relatable, and almost comforting can be found in reading stories and looking at photos from locations people fish on a daily basis. Great moments in time forged right in the backyards of average Joes, weekend warriors, fathers, brothers, and sons. THIS is what Fly Fishing means to me, and so many others like me who don’t have the luxury of mixing work with pleasure, or traveling to Chile for a weekend getaway. The type of dedication SID represents to me comes in the form of men and women who have careers in everything other than fly fishing, or a family life that simply makes it impossible to spend every free moment on the water. Men and women who take advantage of every chance they get on the water, laying it all on the line for that fish of a lifetime, that moment of truth where every second counts and nothing else matters. Men and women who cast a fly to blow off steam, while making lasting memories in locations that don’t leave them with lasting debt.
At the end of SID: 7, AO writes, “You know SID, because you’re one of us too.”
Touche’ AO, Touche’
-Ben
While you were out…!
- Howdy,
Lots of exciting things happening recently in the fly fishing circuit, yet somehow I still feel like I’m on the outside looking in. While I prepare to re-enter the scene this weekend, swinging streamers on my home stretches, feast on this random assortment of thoughts, stories, and otherwise useful/enjoyable/better than work links.
First up, big shout-out to Up’North’s newest friend and colleague Rhon Bell of Caribou, Maine. Rhon runs the extremely enjoyable and appropriately titled blog Backwoods Plaid, and reading through his adventures recently consumed a good portion of my afternoon. A self-proclaimed L.L.Bean addict, he also dabbles in cooking, hiking, consuming various choice adult beverages, and casting a fly to unsuspecting brook trout. In short-Backwoods Plaid is a nice addition to your daily reads if you enjoy Up’North even a little (and you better). Head on over to www.backwoodsplaid.blogspot.com to get yourself caught up at once!
Click to Visit!
Moving on, I’ve been receiving a healthy amount of emails lately asking me what I recommend for streamers during early Spring salmon outings. Without being overly complicated, I have a few rules of thumb that might bode well on your next adventure. First, if the streamer has the word Ghost in it’s name, chances are it will catch fish in the fast Spring waters of Maine. Green, Grey, Black, Marabou, etc. etc., they all work. For whatever reason, my go-to streamers usually have a small red or yellow tail, and EVERY one of them utilizes jungle cock eyes. My streamer box doesn’t bulge with a large variety of meat, just Ghosts in various large sizes, a few Magogs in various colors, and the occasional Allagash Al.
Finally, sinking or sink-tip lines are NOT always necessary. In my neck of the woods I’ve hooked up to salmon in early May swinging a floating line and between 12-16 feet of leader. The cold water typically has these fish on the move at nearly every depth, so don’t be afraid to fish those large streamers right below the surface. Few things are more exciting than watching a 20+ inch landlocked salmon absolutely freight-train a streamer on the upper-deck.
Last, but certainly not least, head on over to the Fontinalis Rising blog to check out the lastest post: Floating Away. Jason Tucker has a way with words that can be captivating, and his love for fly fishing and everything that relates makes for a stellar blog to waste some time when you should be working. Check it out at www.fontinalisrising.blogspot.com, and try to hide your anger when you peep his “Jealousy Counter.” Jealous indeed Mr. Tucker, Jealous indeed.
Click to Visit!
Tight lines and best of luck in your early Spring adventures. Remember to always wear a lifejacket and use caution when fishing the frigid early season waters of Maine or anywhere else. A few simple precautions can make all the difference, and not taking them could have dire consequences!
Happy Castings,
-Ben
And The Winner Is…!
The cameras are down, the judges have spoken, and Up’North’s first ever photo contest finally has its first ever winner!
This contest has been extremely special to me for a number of reasons. My love of photography was spawned almost entirely from my love for fly fishing, and I know that there are many out there who likely share my story. Our stunning surroundings are always the first thing we seem to photograph, and most of the time they make the best pictures. The Cascading mountains, fall foliage, and backcountry ponds are, after all, what keep us coming back year after year. But when photography on the water goes beyond landscapes, some stunning images are born from the lens of even the most amateur photographers.
The images of Aaron Otto, Jason Morrison, and Brett Colvin are all superb examples of what a great photographer can do when he looks beyond simply landscapes. Some of my favorite shots from these guys come in the form of colorful fly reels, close ups of fish, and odd looking bugs that land on the brim of a hat. Professionals or not, these guys have an eye for photography that documents fly fishing and other wildlife in a completely unique and beautiful light.
All of the submissions I received in this contest were shot by a talented pool of people from all corners of the country. Each one is unique in it’s own way, each one tells a story, and each one looks professional. I have always been a landscape junkie, and many of the landscape shots submitted simply blew me away. But our winning photograph tells a deeper story. One of a father and daughter sharing a moment that is all too rare in today’s world. I would like to congratulate Mr. Brian Kozminski of northern Michigan for being the last man standing after the judging was completed. You photograph is inspirational, and I can only dream that one day I might share a similar moment with my children.
Up'North photography contest winner Brian Kozminski, looking on as his daughter makes her first casts with a fly rod.
I would once again like to thank all the photographers who took the time to submit their work for my humble little contest. If I had the money (or sponsors, hint hint) to send prizes to each participant I certainly would. Keep an eye out during the next week to see each and every photo entry, and please show these photographers the love they deserve.
Happy Castings,
-Ben
One Final Round
- In the summer of 2009 I was given the rare opportunity to work with one of the most respected firearms companies in the world. Bushmaster Firearms was founded in 1973, and in its thirty-eight year history has grown into the leading AR-15 type rifle manufacturer in the United States. The history of Bushmaster is full of monumental achievements. From world-wide military connections all the way down to individual consumers, Bushmaster has earned the respect of millions with a reputation for quality and friendly customer service. Simply put, Bushmaster Firearms is the real deal.
The Windham, Maine Bushmaster AR-15 "The Last Real Bushmaster"
In early December 2010 it was announced that Bushmaster’s owner Freedom Group would be closing the Windham, Maine plant. The sad news was conveyed to me shortly after my 23rd birthday, and the moment it was spoken to me is one I will never forget. The plant that started it all, the people who formed the very heart of Bushmaster, all of it was soon to be lost due to a corporate decision that few saw coming.
Corporate decision? Bingo.
When the dust settles, Bushmaster will be just another gun company. The blood, sweat, and tears that made Bushmaster Quality Parts a household name will be removed from the equation, replaced instead by a corporate move that reeks of mediocrity and lacks true heart. What the people at Freedom Group fail to understand is that Bushmaster Firearms was much more than a simple gun company. Bushmaster is nothing without the people who invest their lives into making it such a standout product, and a Bushmaster Rifle is nothing without ” Windham Maine” stamped into the lower receiver. The last real Bushmaster rifles will forever stand alone, models of perfection in an industry where quality is quickly becoming second to profits. Bushmaster was not the victim of a struggling economy, but the tragic results of a business move that failed to consider what made it such a successful company.
I for one will never fail to appreciate the hard work and dedication that went into making my rifle. The special attention to detail, and the strong sense of pride that went into assembling a Windham, ME Bushmaster AR-15 can never be recreated using machines, no matter the circumstances. Bushmaster will continue as a brand for years to come, but those who are lucky enough to know better will tell you that Bushmaster Firearms ceases to exist on March 31, 2011. The legacy remains alive in the eyes of those who dedicated their lives to quality for nearly four decades, and those who are truly blessed to own a Windham, Maine rifle.
I would like to thank, from the bottom of my heart, each and every employee who made Bushmaster the standout company that I will always remember. For four short months you took me in as family, allowing me the chance to be a part of something so incredibly rare and unforgettable. The experience changed my life, and I am truly grateful for being allowed to play my small role in such a special piece of history. With every round that passes through my rifle’s chrome-lined barrel, know that you are all in my thoughts and prayers. Know that your efforts and hard work at not lost on my ears, and that the impact of your lasting legacy will echo through the hills of northern Maine every time I pull the trigger.
See you at the range, to fire one final round.
-Benjamin Rioux
Felt Soul Gold
- This isn’t a review
I won’t tell you that Felt Soul Media’s latest flick Eastern Rises is the greatest fly fishing movie ever produced. I won’t tell you that bigfoot is real, or fake, or that Frank Smethhurst is the fly fishing equivalent of Jesus. I would never tell you that. I won’t tell you that Travis Rummel and Ben Knight actually put me in Kamchatca while watching this film, that would be silly.
1% For The Planet! Click here to Order Eastern Rises now!
What I will tell you is that Eastern Rises is about as close to perfection as I could have hoped for. Also true is the fact that they have far exceeded any expectations I had with this film; by a long shot. What I won’t hesitate to tell you is that I have never wanted to fish more badly at any point in my life, than I did after watching Eastern Rises for the first time. You may have seen the clips, you may have seen portions here or there, but until you have watched the film from end to end in its entirety, you simply don’t know what you’re missing.
Beyond the perfect location, trout the size of small (and large) dogs, and Soviet Era helicopters, Eastern Rises is simply a REAL fly fishing flick. It shows the essence of fly fishing beyond any movie I’ve seen before, standing alone atop a mountain of greatness with only Beaches of a Lost Coast there to keep it company in terms of realism. Eastern Rises is a 21 year dream realized, and a lifetime of memories that a majority of fly fisherman could only begin to dream about. I refuse to be part of that majority. You heard it here first, I WILL fish Kamchatca if it’s the last thing I do.
A monster congratulations to the fellas of Felt Soul Media for producing a spectacular piece of fly fishing gold. This is as close to a review as I’ll ever get, because giving up a single second of this film would ruin the experience for those still left in the dark. Spend the $25, it is honestly worth so much more. Call me a kiss-ass, these fly fishing lips are puckered!
Trout Dreams and Reel screams!
-Ben
Terrible Twos
- Hardy Har Har, Up’North turns two on this glorious day!
From the northern reaches of Maine, to northern California, to Alaska, to Finland, and even mother Russia, Up’North continues to reach a broad audience on a daily basis. Completely blowing away my wildest expectations, Up’North crushed my 100,000 views (in 2 years) goal in December, and welcomed over 24,000 unique visitors in its second year alone. Nearly 700 people follow my tweets, hundreds of guides, company reps, and fly fishing enthusiasts follow via Facebook, not to mention a large local following that includes the most supportive and entertaining group of fellas a fly fisherman could ask for. In the words of Bud Soucy, “CHAOS, WHOOOOOT!”
I am sincerely humbled by the outpouring of support that Up’North has received during the past year alone. L.L.Bean continues to be extremely supportive and helpful, and I would be lost without their guidance and the friendship-Thanks Mac! In addition, Up’North has added some new supporters to the mix during the past year. Life On the Fly Outfitters picked me up as a Fly Fishing Ambassador in October 2010, and owner Michael Davis has been nothing short of inspirational. I look forward to working more closely with LOFTO in the near future, and hope that our continued cooperation will bring rewarding experiences to all involved. Leland Fly Fishing Outfitters has also added me to their affiliate program, giving me access to colorful ads and great deals on thousands of products. In a program that could be extremely impersonal and bland, Ben Paull of Leland has been extremely accommodating and helpful, arranging ads that work for my site, and pumping me full of press releases and the latest gear info. I would like to thank Mr. Paull and the rest of the fellas at Leland for their support, you guys truly are a step above the competition. Graphic artist Steve Daigle at Paper Signs Ink in Fort Kent, for making me a killer banner, business cards, and the decals that grace the back windows of countless trucks in northern Maine and beyond-Thanks for the help spreading the love Steve.
Last but certainly not least, I would like to thank the sites and individuals who have given me support, inspiration, and in many cases, friendship over the last few years. Mr. Jean-Paul Lipton aka The Roughfisher has been a great friend since day one, my brother from anotha motha! Cameron Mortenson of The Fiberglass Manifesto, Lucas Jarrett-my daily fishing buddy during the summer months, and the only guy I know who loves fly fishing in northern Maine as much as I do. Jacob McGlothlin and the fellas at Chi Wulff, Nick English, Mac Mckeever, Michael Gracie of michaelgracie.com, Simon Graham of Pike Fly Fishing Articles, Mr. Brad Bohen of Muskie Country Outfitters, and anyone else who has ever offered up information, sent me flies, gear, or simply tolerated my learning curve when it comes to all things fly fishing.
And who could forget the Up’North crew, Alex Mitchell for accompanying me on backcountry trout ponds when the weather is less than desirable, Derick, Alex and the rest of the Plourde brothers for making catching a Muskie on a fly rod become more of a reality, Jon “Jizzon” Morin for finding the humor in everything and giving me company during those weeknight canoe rides on Soldier Pond. Gary Perry and the Gardner crew for introducing me to the Big Black, in what turned out to be my favorite fishing trip of 2010. Josh Caron for putting my 10wt Silver Ghost to work against some large Atlantic Salmon on the Miramichi. And of course, my family. My father for showing increased interest in the sport I love, and being there every step of the way to support my obsession (thanks for the truck). My mother for having patience with me when I left my waders by the front door, fly tying materials on the kitchen table, and fly rods scattered around the living room. I love you Ma! My brother for proof-reading my work and offering constructive criticism along the way, and anyone else I may have forgotten who has been there since day one. For your support I am extremely grateful, Up’North would be nothing without your continued involvement and inspiration.
At the end of the day, it’s all about the experience. On and off the water, fly fishing has been as much a part of my life as my morning coffee or my last name. To say I love to fish would be the understatement of the century; the locations, the friends, and the memories it has given me help to form the foundation of my life, my moral code, my reason for breathing. It’s not about looking the part, or making money, or gaining any sort of special recognition. For me its about trying to fall asleep at night after a day filled with hungry trout and large landlocked salmon. It’s that feeling you get every Spring when you cast a streamer at the start of another season, or when that fish of a lifetime comes unbuttoned right at the side of the boat. It’s the air you breath on a backcountry pond that just seems more crisp than anywhere else. It’s life, and I’m living the dream.
Thank you all for helping to make even my most distant dreams a reality, I am truly humbled. Look for big things to come this season, and as always,
Tight Lines!
-Ben
Casting For Recovery
- L.L.Bean is a proud supporter of Casting For Recovery, and now you can be to! Casting For Recovery is a program for Breast Cancer survivors that combines fly fishing, counseling, and medical information. The culmination of the program is a 2.5 day retreat where survivors can share stories, make new friends, and do a little fly fishing in locations from Argentina to Alaska, chasing everything from Brook Trout to Grayling. Head on over to the Casting For Recovery website to learn more about how to be part of the experience!
This year L.L.Bean is offering a nice collection of products stitched with the CFR logo, and will donate $2 of every sale of such products directly to Casting For Recovery. So whether you are a Cancer Survivor, a relative of someone who is, or simply a concerned fly fisherman/woman who would like to support the cause, this is a great way to do your part.
Click on the images above to read more, and visit L.L.Bean.com to view more great Casting For Recovery products!
Tight Lines,
-Ben
Use It.
- Ahhhh yes! Another Valentine’s Day is upon us.
Clearly this day is one of the more controversial holidays we celebrate, but who doesn’t love a little bit of controversy? The fact is, as much as we try to hate it, Valentine’s day is loved by all-deep, deep down. Every year countless men venture out into the terrifying abyss we know as the jewelry store, to blow their hard earned money on something they should be spending on a new reel, or perhaps some cozy new waders. To the untrained eye, it may appear as if, for once all year, fly fishermen are actually placing their other interests ahead of a favorite trout pond, or a peaceful day on the river.
Keep thinking that, please.
No matter how angry this message makes you ladies, you can't get angry. Look, flowers!
Valentine’s day is as much a tool for fly fisherman as is a pair of forceps or some nippers. We don’t spend money on flowers and chocolates, we spend it on vouchers that allow us one extra day of fishing, free from honey-dos or forced conversation at family functions. We spend it on that excuse to miss dinner, or your grandmother’s 130th birthday. Even Hallmark is in on it, did you really think we were that smooth?
Let’s face the music, Valentine’s Day is a Fly Fishing Holiday ladies and gents. Think of it as such, and your money is never wasted.
Tight Lines,
-Ben
This Is Fly: Vol 3-Issue 1
- Typically I post the magazine cover when This Is Fly drops and simply let you do the rest. Form your own opinions, smile your own smiles, grin your own grins. Well, this isn’t your typical issue. To say that this particular installment stopped my heart would be a bit much, but I am truly lost at how to describe the feelings it conjured up inside me.
Click To Read!
If any magazine has ever made you want to get back out on the water, this is it. From cover to cover, Volume 3-Issue 1 is solid gold. But if you take the time to travel into the depths of this gold mine, two real gems stand out among the rest.
Matt Harris has a way with words when describing his adventures that literally had me considering a move to Russia. His story “Where The Wild Things Are” is a magical account of his trip to the Yokanga River, in search of Atlantic Salmon few will ever feast eyes upon during a lifetime on the water. A truly impressive piece of writing, enhanced only by dream invoking photography.
And just when you convince yourself to sit back down and continue reading, Brad Bohen of Muskie Country Outfitters steps up to the plate and hits another one out of the park. My “muskie on the fly” outings have been largely unsuccessful and filled with frustration, but Brad’s article has my muskie fever burning red-hot once again. His feature film “Zero to Hero” drops in February 2011, and I simply can’t wait. Check out the trailer below.
At the end of the day, fly fishing is as much a part of me as my college degree, or my northern Maine roots. Sometimes the long winters can make me forget why I find casting a fly so exciting. I am thankful that there are anglers out there who dedicate their lives to reminding me.
Tight Lines,
-Ben
Horsing Around
- Howdy doody,
Things get pretty bland up here in northern Maine come January and February. Fly tying is always an option, but it hasn’t exactly held top priority with so many months to go until open water. To soak up the time, a few beverages and casual outings occur on a fairly regular basis. This is a time to speak about females, complain about work, and reminisce about the fishing seasons of the past. While safety is always the number one concern, occasionally we do horse around-literally.
The elusive Derplo has always been one with god’s creatures. When he’s not spending quality time with his brother’s pitbull Lexi, he enjoys taking long walks in the woods in search of pretty birds and squirrels. He partakes in hunting, but only to feed himself and his family. He would never carelessly harm any majestic creature, he simply loves them too much.
So Excited!
Recently we took a trip to Lincoln in search of a good time. After we went to church and volunteered our time shoveling snow for the elderly, we stopped by brother Shey’s family establishment to feed the horses. Derick was insistent that we feed them, his youthful enthusiasm was that of a young child’s on christmas. You can see for yourself just how comfortable and elegant he is around animals.
But be warned, the actions depicted in these photographs are demonstrated by trained professionals in a closed off area. Horses are extremely dangerous and WILL KILL YOU if you make them angry, or short-change them on hay.
Just another reason to love Up’North, you learn something new every day.
-Ben
Fly 4 A White Guy
- For all of those who don’t think fly fishing is cool, Nick English is eager to prove you wrong. He actually moon walks down to the river as well.
Bling Bling
Consider yourself schooled, Bozeman style.
-Ben
SID 5: Rich Issue
Click to Read!-Sleeping in the Dirt 5:Rich Issue
What To Do, What To Do?
- Christmas is right around the corner….but when does fishing start?
Here at Up’North, we look forward to time with family and friends, good food, and a few days of much needed rest and relaxation. It’s hard to believe that I haven’t picked up a fly rod in nearly three months, but I guess that comes with the territory when living in northern Maine. From closing day to Christmas is always the easiest stretch. Buying gifts and preparing for the holidays can be busy enough to occupy any water deprived angler, at least for a little while.
Merry Christmas!
What worries me is what happens after the holidays pass, when 2011 rears it’s ugly head and Christmas disappears in the rearview mirror. I know winter is a time to clean gear and brush up on the parts of life that don’t include fly fishing, but what happens when ALL parts of your life include fly fishing? I’m sure you can see my dilemma.
While I’ll eventually start tying flies again, filling my boxes with streamers, dries, and whatever else my mind dreams up, I still find myself daydreaming about the Spring thaw. I see myself dragging two or three large streamers on a sinking line up the roaring Fish River, chasing hungry landlocked Salmon with my father. I see myself casting large wets on a sink tip into Spring holes where hungry Brook Trout haunt the depths. But for now it’s not to be, todays winter storm reminds me of that harsh reality.
I created Maine Fly Castings to bring you my unique (I hope) view on fly fishing, but also to occupy my mind during the off-season. Writing about fly fishing is the best cure for this anglers aching heart, and Up’North gives me that little taste of fly fishing that I miss when the ice settles in for it’s lengthy stay.
It’s a beautiful thing to love something this much, and fly fishing will always hold a special place in my heart. But winter can be a blessing, even when it feels like open water is light-years away. Up’North leaves me with a fairly comprehensive journal of my past seasons, the successes and failures of a obsessed fly angler. Winter is a time to reflect on this years experiences, rethink past strategies, and place battle-torn flies on the brims of my fishing hats.
This winter I’ll rethink what has made me successful in the years past. I’ll sit down in front of maps and plan trips to new locations, changing plans only when the money runs out. I’ll take this time off to meet new people who share my passion, learning all I can from them before the season opens. This winter will make me a better fly fisherman, I can personally guarantee it. School is now in session, and I look forward to sharing a few lessons with all of you. So stoke the fire, put on your puffy slippers, and pour yourself a choice beverage.
Join me for the long haul, and make this winter the most educational one yet. Remember, just because you can’t go fishing, doesn’t mean you stop being a fly fisherman.
-Ben
Welcome Back!
- If you consider yourself a dedicated fly fisherman, you more than likely have a few favorite fly fishing blogs that you follow on a daily basis. My daily list is more than 12 strong, ranging from the Roughfisher to Moldy Chum, to Pike FF Articles and Michael Gracie. Every morning I get my fill, and every morning I feel a little better about fly fishing. Maybe I see a new fly pattern for the first time, or get a good laugh from a video or witty article. Whatever the experience presents on any given day, something about those sites keeps me coming back, and in the world of blogging, thats a pretty impressive feat.
Well, it looks like I’m adding another blog to my daily list. This one is a repeat offender, one that left us in March of last year and decided to make a return (much to my delight)! The fellas at Chi Wulff are back at it again, this time on location in the Loan Star State. I heard they are surrounded by beautiful women, which is a situation most all fly fishermen are unfamiliar with. The great content is already flowing, so you’d do yourself a favor to catch up now.
The Up’North calvary would like a extend a hardy Welcome back to the Chi Wulff crew. We cried the day you left, and we raise a glass to your return!
Tight Lines,
-Ben
It Never Changes…
- Hot off the press, here is the latest product from my creative writing class. For this piece I chose to take a more personal approach, not that any of my other stories lack a personal touch. Outside of fishing, life in northern Maine has really helped shape who I am as a writer, and more importantly as a person. I did my best to convey that message through this story. Feedback is welcomed and certainly encouraged, I enjoy reading what you all have to say! So without further ado, before it even graces the desk of my professors office, I give you my latest draft, appropriate titled: “It never changes.” Enjoy!
- It never changes. The breeze is still constant; the trees still grow lush with leaves during the summer, and then drop them like a bad habit in the fall of the year. It never changes, but I prefer it that way. Everybody knows your name, everybody knows your business, everyone acts like they don’t care; but you know they do. You know this because you feel the same way, you act the same way, and you live the same way. Life progresses like this for everyone, regardless of age, gender, or social demographics. It simply never changes, but at least you know what to expect. Or do you? Small towns have their fair share of drama. Liars and cheaters, unfaithful husbands and wives, and troublesome teens that can’t wait to grow up and leave, but they always come back. Why? Because nothing ever changes, and something about that gives people comfort and peace of mind, allowing them to sleep at night without worry or regret. Nothing ever changes, and we like it that way. Small towns are like math equations; add more numbers and symbols and you just complicate things beyond reprise. The same holds true for people, the more you add, the less life seems to make sense. At least that’s the way most people in a small town think; we’ll treat our tourists like gold until they decide to shack up and stay for good, then it’s a battle to save tradition and preserve normalcy. But as long as nothing changes, it’s difficult to find something to frown about. The economy might suck, you might be in debt up to your ears, and your wife might be cheating on you with one of your best friends, but at least you know about it. As fucked up as it is, it never changes. You’ve just grown to like it that way, or at least live with the hard truth.
My name is Benjamin Rioux, and I live in a small town. Don’t get me wrong; there is no place in the world I rather reside. Why, you ask? Herein lies a tricky question to wrap your head around. Unless you hail from a small town, the attraction most residents feel towards one can be difficult to grasp. For me its about the people, all so simple on the surface; but massively complex on the inside. All want something they can’t have, while at the same time doing so little to actually get it. Everyone wants to be rich, but no one wants to work. Everyone wants to find love, but most are too consumed in themselves to accept it into their hearts. Everyone wants to be your best friend, all the while searching for a way to get ahead at your expense. Well, maybe not everyone, but you get the picture. What most fail to realize is that the simple life is anything but. Sometimes giving people too much time to think can result in some pretty scary things. At least that’s my opinion; no one said you had to agree. We may not have gridlock or soaring crime rates, but we do have roads filled with moose, ungodly amounts of snow in the winter, and more potatoes that any one town could possibly consume. We may not have it all, but I still think we have more to offer than most. In place of chain stores and brand names, we have home cooking and Frenchmen fashion. A dazzling mix of plaid and flannel, work boots and dirty baseball caps are normal here, a classic mating of comfort and redneck style. We stand out in a crowd when we travel, but blend in when we dwell close to home. We listen to country music because it’s the only radio station that comes in clear over the truck’s radio. We’ve heard of other music, but can seldom relate. I guess some things just never catch on.
Today is the first day of the rest of my life, or the next day of the rest of my life, there really isn’t a difference out here. On this particular day I rose with the sun and stumbled to the bathroom, rubbing by eyes and cursing under my breath as the roosters sang their same old tune. Like every day before, I made a pot of coffee and sat down to the newspaper that my black lab Chuck had dropped at my feet. I never watch the news; why wait for the story you want to hear when you can just flip to that page immediately and skip all the garbage? Nothing new to speak of today, just more trouble in the Middle East, more political scandals, and more rallies for equal treatment and social justice. I guess that country singer was right; maybe it’s time for the whole world to have a drink. I poured a little brandy into my mug of coffee and raised it in the air, pretending to make a toast. “I’ll buy the first round world, I’ll buy the first round.”
I finished my coffee and poured myself another mug, the second of many that I would likely have throughout the day. Coffee has long been my vice, at least during times when drinking whisky isn’t exactly considered socially acceptable. Chuck ate his breakfast with the regular enthusiasm that he always brings to the table when a cup of dry food is poured into his bowl. It goes without saying, but I really hope that when I die, I come back as a dog. Chasing squirrels, mid-day belly rubs; food, and sleep are the only things he thinks about. Kind of sounds like the perfect day off, only he gets to live it on a daily basis. I’ll always be jealous of that dog, or any dog for that matter. I laced up my boots and whistled a tune, closing the door behind me as chuck darted out into the yard, barking and racing around the maple trees, announcing his presence to anyone or anything nearby. The day felt like a warning for the approaching winter, breezy and brisk. I pulled my zipper up closer to my chin and pulled down the brim of my hat; it was firewood time.
I finally reached the barn and located my chainsaw and pulp hook. After a quick sharpening of the blade, I loaded the pickup and drove into the lower field with chuck riding shotgun. Twelve cords of tree length wood won’t simply cut itself, but I didn’t mind. Like my father had done before me, every Fall I went through the motions, cut, split, and stack. I used to hate helping him with firewood; now I wished I had those precious moments back. It’s amazing the life lessons a young man can learn while cutting wood with his father. Everything from how to treat a lady, to how a garden should be tended was spoken of, and while I brushed aside those conversations in the early years, I still remember them like I had heard them just yesterday. The clouds began to roll in and the breeze started to pick up, the forecast called for flurries today. Chuck had located a groundhog and was busy chasing him around the far end of the woodpile, an activity that would ensure he slept well later that night. It put my chainsaw down and dug in my back pocket for a pack of cigarettes. Two left, I would have to make an unplanned trip to town for more smokes. I lit one up and began sucking away what remaining years I had left on this earth, thinking back to the first cigarette I smoked as a boy, clueless and arrogant in the bed of my buddies old Chevy. Back then they said that cigarettes could kill you, but no one ever believed they actually would.
The smoke danced through my fingertips and up into the autumn air, carried away by a brisk wind. In the distance I could hear the sound of a train, squeaking and squealing across the old tracks and echoing through the valley. I cast a gaze to the sky as flurries of snow began to float ever so slowly down to earth; the weatherman was right. Just then I felt a familiar brush against my leg that broke me from my trance. I took one more drag from my cigarette before reaching down to scratch chuck on the head. He glanced up at me, clearly feeling defeated by the groundhog, which had managed to elude him once again. I sat down against my fresh stack of hardwood and he took a seat directly in front of me, cocking his head sideways like he was trying to read my mind. But there was nothing to read, at least nothing worth any level of discussion. Looking out over the rolling hills and off into the distance, I saw nothing but god’s country; a vast array of trees, holding tight to their last bit of color before the Winter could set in and erase Fall. “We have it good”, I whispered to Chuck as I took in the panoramic paradise that was spread out before me. This is my life, nothing changes, and I like it that way.
Remembering 9-11
- It’s been said time and time again, but we all know exactly where we were 9 years ago to this very day. 9 years ago I had never even held a fly rod.
I was sitting in my 7th grade Science class, my aunt was actually the teacher. The entire group sat mesmerized around a single T.V., while the teachers paced back and forth wondering what sort of permission slip we should have gotten signed to watch this type of horror unfold. I remember feeling angry, confused, and even frightened at that age, clearly not grasping the gravity of the situation even then.
9 years, 2 wars, and a laundry list of political, economic, and social changes later, 9-11 still has a way of clutching to my memory. From the people we have lost, to the people who continue to give their lives so many years later, today is a day to be thankful for what we do have.
Today is a day where none of the World’s problems seem important in comparison.
Today is a day when casting a fly is about so much for than fishing. It’s about freedom, and knowing that being an American is pretty damn special. I may not have a suitcase full of money, but I’m free to do pretty near whatever I set my mind to. Millions of people around the world would die to be me, and with that knowledge comes a huge debt of responsibility. To live life to the fullest, and just work harder when things take a turn down unfavorable paths.
So whatever path you happen to find your boots stomping down today, know that thousands upon thousands have died to ensure that path remains safe. From every river, to every backcountry pond, enjoy a life made possible by sacrifice and freedom.
It’s all about bein’ free and easy ladies and gents,
-Ben
SID4: Kids Edition
http://www.myvirtualpaper.com/doc/SleepingintheDirt/sid4kidsedition/2010082602/
B&W
- So lately this has turned into a bit of a photography blog. I’m not sorry. The truth is, I really enjoy taking pictures in just about every location and situation I find myself in. Northern Maine is a beautiful place, an outdoor photographers dream of sorts. The landscapes are always visually pleasing, the wildlife is abundant, and the ever-changing weather makes capturing the perfect shot a never ending battle.
I’ve never considered myself a fantastic photographer, but I do enjoy attempting to be one. My final week home has spawned a fly fishing frenzy of sorts. I’ve definitely put some serious miles on the Chevy in recent days, visiting some of the most scenic corners that this state has to offer. The fishing is always spectacular, even when the fish are few and far between. Then again, when one is throwing a line in such a picturesque local, everything and everyone benefits in more ways than one.
It is said that a picture is worth a thousand words, and I would have to agree. A thousand is probably a bit steep, but I would certainly argue that actually showing my readers pictures of northern Maine goes much further than any article I could write ranting and raving about its natural and unique beauty. Today’s photos are in black and white because quiet frankly I feel they hold much more power in that light. The simplicity of these B&W photographs goes a long way towards portraying the overall mood and feeling of the locations in which they were shot. No crowds, no cell phones, none of life’s petty problems. Just peace, quiet, and the occasional brook trout. All watermark free for your unaltered viewing pleasure. Enjoy.
Landing a pesky Brook Trout (Photo by: Alex Mitchell, Edit by Benjamin Rioux)
Johnson 8-"Two Stroke Smoke" (Photograph by Benjamin Rioux)
Brook Trout on a Maple Syrup Wet Fly Variant (Photo by: Alex Mitchell, Edited by Benjamin Rioux))
"Blowin' Smoke" (Photo by: Alex Mitchell, Edited by Benjamin Rioux)
See you in the dark room!
-Ben
Throwback Fly
- A big Up’North apology goes out to Mr. Mike Webber of Belfast, Maine for not posting this incredible submission sooner. Picking Up’North’s contest winner was anything but easy, and the quality of the entries becomes crystal clear when one realizes that this submission was the first runner-up. A simple dialog accompanied by an almost haunting throwback photograph of Mike’s father made this submission an instant contender for the contest. Enjoy!
What does fly fishing mean to me?
It’s very simple, loving memories of my father and a family tradition renewed, an exploration of self on the cusp of my “golden years”, a re-connection to nature and a deeping appreciation for all the joy that being born and raised in Maine has brought to my life. Fly fishing has been a vehicle for me to re-explore long lost paths that I started down many years ago but never continued down. Thanks to fly fishing I’ve started along those paths once again. Like long abandoned wood roads, they are over grown and obscure but they are still there and I hope to be able to pass these on. So, hopefully, fly fishing will continue to be a family tradition for generations to come.
Photo submission by Michael Webber: 1966 Miramachi Atlantic Salmon
Tight Lines,
-Ben
Spiders in the Closet.
- When it comes to reader submissions, I’ve really dropped the ball lately. From time to time various readers from near and far send me pictures, stories, and various greatness from all corners of the world. Many find their way to the website eventually, but an unlucky few get lost in my inbox, or are simply forgetten for one reason or another. If you find yourself reading this going, “Your a jerk Ben,” this post is for you. Dating all the way back to Up’North’s “What does fly fishing mean to you” contest, over the next several days these reader submissions will finally see the light and get the recognition they deserve.
Because I tend to be a photography junky, two photographs from a few local talents kick off Reader Submission week. Enjoy!
Fly rod shots are a dime a dozen, but local fly fisherman Isaac Mitchell recently broke the mold. My favorite feature of this shot is the fly line, laying naturally along the dock. The cracks and natural grain of the wood give this picture a perfect blend of crisp detail and simplicity. Take notes, THIS is how you shoot a fly rod. Magazine cover anyone?
When local photography talent Kurtis Morneault hit the beaches of New Zealand, he did us all a favor and brought along his camera. While the fisherman silhouette gives this shot an unforgettable flair, I believe the sailboats dotting the horizon really give this picture an unforgettable finishing touch. If the chance to catch once in a lifetime fish doesn't make New Zealand appealing to you, beautiful landscapes and beaches like the ones in Kurtis's photography surely will.
Give it up for the local talent!
-Ben
More from Morr
- It’s been a while since we’ve checked in with fly fishing photography genius Mr. Jay Morr. I do my best to frequent his site on a daily basis, as it motivates me to take better pictures. Unless you’ve played with a camera outside of the “auto” setting, it is difficult for some people to grasp photography as an art. But even an expensive camera doesn’t make most people better photographers, contrary to popular belief. Having a trained eye and the creativity to get the shots that few would even think existed, regardless of the camera, however, does. Jay Morr is a prime example of a photographer who does his homework, and each shot is proof that he is indeed an artist in every sense of the word.
Just check out the shot below to see for yourself, and don’t forget to check out Jay’s blog FlyFishermanForum.com
Photography by Jay Morr-WWW.FLYFISHERMANFORUM.COM
Trip report tonight! Tight Lines,
-Ben
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