Did I Mention…?
The Up’North fleet is growing by one this season. My father recently placed the final piece on his 22ft cedar strip canoe, and if all goes well we expect it to be river ready by May.
Tick, Tock.
Stay tuned for a timeline of the build, as well as some exciting news regarding Up’North’s upcoming 3rd birthday!
Cast the dust off! Spring is closer than you think!
-Ben
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
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
“Historic Routes”
For decades, rail and water were the only way to transport goods or travel in northern Maine. Winding along the Fish River, these tracks once shouldered the weight of passenger trains shuttling citizens to and from towns across Aroostook County. I can imagine my grandparents as children, their faces plastered to the windows of the moving cars, watching with excitement as log drives of the time bulldozed the banks with timber headed to area sawmills.
Time and technological advancements have changed the logging industry as well as the way we travel, in turn changing how we use area railways and rivers. The logs now travel a similar path, loaded onto the bunks of log carriers that have replaced passenger cars on Maine’s railways. These days, most wood travels by truck from Maine’s working forests directly to area mills. Rail service is scarce now, and rarely the cheapest or most time effective method of transporting lumber. Rivers play a far different role in the logging industry during modern times; typically avoided in order to protect the natural environments and the many plant and fish species that call them home. Log drives are a distant memory that very few can say they’ve seen firsthand, though signs from this historic operation can still be seen if you know where to look. Area fishermen spend more time on the water than loggers these days, casting bulky flies and lures to landlocked salmon and native brook trout that call the Fish River home. It’s no secret that my favorite river in the area is the Fish, and I can’t help but wonder what the fishing might have been like before log drives and the industrial boom of the early 20th century. I guess pictures like this one hold more history than initially meets the eye.
Happy Castings,
-Ben
Money Money Money
I don’t share a ton of secrets on here, so consider this a little Christmas gift from me to you. The streamer on the top is the latest rendition of my “money-maker,” a proven pattern I am continuously building on season after season. Trial and error have really done the trick for this streamer in recent years, and this version will be the end-all of this pattern. A peek is all you get, so analyze away. The colors are simple enough, but no less than 7 different materials form the tail (a little long here, chop by half), wing, and neck. Tie it weighted if you see fit, but I never felt the need. Trout seem to be first at the table for this meal, but salmon are always a welcome dinner guest.
The soft-hackle pattern is simply braided red/green 70-denier thread with a red neck and tail. It seemed like the obvious “just for fun” wet to tie on Christmas day, but I can see it working come mid-June. Tis the season!
-Ben
Changing Gears
Trust me, I’m working. The past few weeks have seen me plugging away at my laptop, trying to revamp a design that I’m not sure needed revamping to begin with. Up’North had grown sluggish, so much so that it became a hassle to post simple photos or write simple reviews. Ads made things sluggish, links failed to function, and traffic dumped due to less-than-lightning page loads. At the end of the day, I had grown tired of driving on four blown tires.
I can promise big changes for the new year, more so than what can be seen even today. To be honest, who knows if the recent changes will even stick. My goal in this transformation is to simplify the site, bringing a more rich and focused experience through writing and photography. Nothing is set in stone, but I do have some exciting ideas that I hope you’ll enjoy. For now, be patient and bare with me as I learn html, css, and how to remain calm when looking at large pages of letters and numbers. I never intended for this transformation to “simplicity” to be so complex, but I have faith that these changes will be for the better. In the meantime, I welcome your comments, suggestions, and constructive criticism.
Happy Holidays,
-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
It’s Rollin’ Round the Bend
As I continue to organize and edit photos from my recent trip to the Big Eagle Trains, here are a few more shots from my journey back into the beginnings of northern Maine’s logging industry.
The Big Eagle to Umbazooksus railway operated two trains on 13 miles of tracks from 1927 to 1933. A awe-inspiring site to behold today, one can’t help but wonder how truly magnificent it must have been to see this operation in full working order. Most accounts say that the two cars would run around the clock, passing each-other on opposing lines as they shuttled wood between Big Eagle and Umbazooksus lake, where a large unloading trestle was constructed to offload the timber. To help make the daunting task of unloading less strenuous, the trestle was built with one rail raised a full six inches to actually tilt the car. Additionally, each twelve-cord capacity car was assembled with a 12-inch pitch at its base. Once offloaded, the logs began their long float towards the Penobscot River, where they would eventually arrive at Bangor area lumber mills.
Nearly 80 years later, walking along these once lively rails is a haunting experience. Each car, each switch, and nearly every piece of equipment sits idle, waiting for work that will never come again. Victims of industrialization and rapidly changing technologies, the cost to move these items out of the remote wilderness, including the two locomotives, proved too much. Rendered obsolete, the cars were backed into the yard one final time in 1933 where they remain today, linked up and ready roll. Nearly all of the 13 miles of tracks still exist today, though badly damaged and all but swallowed up by the aging forest. Massive hardwoods stand strong between the rails, their roots weaving between the ties. The extreme remote location allows for a level of preservation not possible in more accessible areas, safeguarding this unique and rare piece of history from treasure hunters and the pressures of population growth. Few places offer such a memorable experience, deep in the heart of a century-old working forest.
This switch is by far the most preserved on the line, only yards from where the two locomotives sit today. As the track winds through the dense forest, the iron rails become more difficult to make out under thick moss and fallen trees. Take it from me, few things are as haunting as stumbling across a set of railroad tracks in the remote wilderness.
When not in operation, the 60 rail cars were backed into this yard. While their largely wooden bodies have weathered away, they still sit perfectly upon the rails. Standing between the two lines, one can easily make out the seemingly endless line of dilapidated cars. By far my favorite view of the experience, pictures simply don't do this scene justice.
As the cars sit idle in their final resting place, massive trees stand proudly between the rails of this once busy line, a stern reminder of just how far back in time this living museum reaches.
Stay tuned, this journey is far from over.
-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
Free Flowing Lies, Rhyme & Reprise
Photography by Benjamin Rioux
Early to bed and early to rise
Sipping hot coffee and making up lies
Writing raw feelings, rhyme and reprise
I’ll paint glowing pictures like rich autumn skies.
Unwind and unravel that picturesque dream
A thousand small wishes that glimmer and gleam
Outstretched like a swift flowing freshwater stream
The simplistic chaos of a more complex scheme.
Swift and unchallenged yet brazen and bold
Each jagged bend a new story is told
Rushing so freely, a sight to behold
Staying on course but still breaking the mold
A timely new lesson to learn from the wise
An irony born right in front of your eyes
It may seem to some, such a pleasant surprise
That such beauty can come, from making up lies.
A poetic mess full of rhyme and reprise,
With a stream and a dream under colorful skies
From an author, who wrote this, I’ll have you realize
After one cup of coffee, and a handful of tries.
The Chase
Can’t you see the sky is falling
Breezy bitter Winter’s calling
Early darkness quiet appalling
Reds and yellows drifting, stalling.
Grounded graceful calming hues
Crunching underneath my shoes
What a pleasant path to choose
Autumn colors, absent blues
Perfect painted fading sun
Light escaping, on the run
Soon the friendly chase is done
Day defeated, night has won.
Rematch sees the morning break
Frozen fingers, shiver, shake
Remaining leaves begin to quake
Flurries near, make no mistake.
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
When Old means New
- The last time I could call Fort Kent home and actually mean it was early September, 2006. That was the year I left the Saint John Valley for the first time in my life, before this website was ever a thought. 5 years, 3 cities, dozens of fly rods, and 2 Bachelor Degrees later, it seems this lost dog has finally found his way home.
More than half of Fort Kent still thinks i’m only home for an extended vacation, which I can certainly understand. Moving from Portland to northern Maine on just two days notice hasn’t left a ton of time for reflection or questions. Two weeks into my first full-time teaching job, I still can’t believe how quickly my life has changed. A few key, calculated decisions have planted my feet firmly in native soil, and with a little luck my time as a County boy “transplant” in various parts of Maine has finally come to an end. New memories, new career, and a new chapter. It’s hard to believe that all of my hard work has finally paid off, and I can say with confidence that even in the utter chaos and confusion that comes with being a first year teacher, it was worth every headache and hardship. The late night study sessions, missed fishing trips, and time away from home were all necessary sacrifices, and those sacrifices are without a doubt what having me sitting here today.
As I continue to make adjustments and get comfortable, things will gradually pick up around these parts and the content will start to flow at a more regular pace. Some extremely exciting times are ahead, including a foliage and fly fishing filled September, and my first full hunting season in nearly five years. More photos, new gear reviews (its a big list), trip reports, the return of the “Fly Box” page, and so much more!
So sit back, relax, and enjoy the ride. This is a new beginning, and things can only get better from here!
Tight Lines,
-Ben
“Simple” B&W
A little photographic love to show that I’m still alive and very much kickin’. It’s been a slow process changing gears back here in the County. Hold tight for some big news, exciting new ventures, and a few fancy changes.
These Boots
Big announcements coming in the next few days…..involving new stomping grounds…..or old stomping grounds. Lets just say that our upcoming content has some seriously rich and exciting potential. More fish, more photos, more of everything that helps to put the “Up’North” in Up’North Maine Fly Castings. Check back soon for all the details!
Poetic Justice: “Home”
I find myself compelled to tell
A tale of weather, fish, and flies
Of orange autumns and painted skies
The place my memories dwell
Now far removed but close at heart
I sift through dreams that draw me near
To spawning trout and ghostly deer
A past, a present, worlds apart
Where life has grace and time stands still
And simple pleasures foster smiles
Dirt roads and hardwoods stretch for miles
Leaves fall in silence, icy chill
A single breath soon shows its path
Floats like clouds so brisk and bold
Unforgiving frigid cold
Fall retreats from winter’s wrath
I close my eyes and let thoughts roam
To all I’ve loved and left behind
A peace of mind I’ll never find
Return to all I’ve known,
a place that I call home
County List
It’s been a solid six months since the last time I’ve assembled any sort of list on Up’North. Over the course of two years you’ve seen fly rod lists, shotgun lists, various holiday lists, streamer lists, and even the occasional beer list. Seeing as how my recent ventures only put me in the County on a limited basis, I thought it only fitting that I piece together a list of ten random luxuries I miss from the northern reaches of our great State.
The Original Up'North Banner
- Fireside Chats- Random shenanigans and various follies around a real northern campfire. No silly rings, pits, or city ordinances. Using hardwood and cedar you cut during the day from the back of the house. Adirondack chairs, fresh cut steak, homemade wine, and beer that isn’t “brewed” in Germany or Ireland.
- 15-Minute Fishing Trips - Random, unplanned, unprepared fishing trips for no rhyme or reason. Chasing trout and making the most of remaining daylight as the sun fades behind backwoods ridges. Forgetting fly boxes, making the best of knotted and worn leaders, and still feeling completely satisfied when the fish don’t cooperate.
- Porch Sitting- No interstate traffic. Scratch that, no traffic on any kind. Watching the grass grow around my black lab while she sleeps. Tying flies on the picnic table. Old school country, old and new friends. Sleeping where you sit.
- Cruising the River- Stand up carving in an Old Town Canoe. Johnson 8 runs perfect, Johnson 8 wont start. Bringing more fly rods than any three people could ever need. Forgetting food, coolers, but never beer or whiskey.
- Family- Gramp’s stories, Gram’s cooking, hockey with dad, coffee with mom, piecing together the night’s events with my younger brother.
- Ghosts- Not Caspers; Grey Ghosts, Green Ghosts, White and Marabou Ghosts. Size 2-6. Salmon candy. Spring runs, chilly evenings, flannel shirts and tandem streamers. Knowing that your fly is money in all conditions.
- Dirt Roads- Dodging logging trucks, Marine and Murs antennas on the roof of the pickup. 10 ply tires, Katahdin truck racks, rusty ratchet straps, Cooler parties on the tailgate. Endless miles to nowhere.
- Hunting Beard- Sporting the classic Fall scruff. Itchy face for the first few weeks. Not shaving because “it helps keep you warm” on the trail. “Picky” on the ladies’ cheek. The first clean shave after you hang the gun up for the season.
- Fall- The season that sets the standard for all others. Late nights and early mornings at hunting camp. Not too warm, not too cold. Crackling leaves, Autumn colors, camo and fluorescent orange. Trout and Salmon moving back into the rivers. Cast and blast. Seeing your breath on a crisp October morning, lighting the first fire in the wood stove that same night.
- Less is More- Best friends, fishing, hunting, food, family, and everything else is well within reach. It takes 2 minutes instead of 20 to drive 4 miles. No malls, no crowds, no need to lock your truck or house. Everything you need, less of what you don’t. Money in the bank.
The list goes on, and on, and on, but then it wouldn’t be a top ten….with more than ten.
See ya!
~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
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
Worth the Wait
I’ve been a busy man as of late, not that I’m making excuses for my absence. Recent weeks have been something of a Maine tour, moving from Orono to Fort Kent, then eventually down to Portland where I will remain until god knows when. Still, the northern rivers have allowed me a few solid days on the water, and I couldn’t be more happy with my fishing season thus far.
Last Friday evening I caught two decent fish, including a beautiful brook trout and a feisty landlocked salmon. I also managed to convince good ol’ Jon to leave his gear rod home and swing some streamers, and the river gods afforded him a great brookie for his efforts. A few good fish were also lost at the boat, and several were seen (yes, seen) cruising the more calm corners of the river. Getting out on the river with Jon is always a blast, and for some reason we always muster up what it takes to catch some decent fish.
Saturday afternoon I was able to reunite with Lucas for another river trip chasing trout and salmon. While Lucas and I also have our fair share of success on the river, putting us in a boat together has proven outright dangerous. After a brief wrestling match in a tree just above some rapids, and a heroic rod-saving reach at full speed by yours truly, I managed to ice my motor troubles early enough that our trip wasn’t a total loss. The river dropped noticeably from the night before, and the usual streamers failed to produce the usual results for the most part. Lucas hooked up to a hefty salmon early-on who rocked his world, and nearly broke himself off on the prop before we got it safely aboard. He opted to keep his first fish of the season, and having seen him throw back dozens of trout and salmon over the years, I say this was a meal well deserved. His fish would be the only one of the outing, but it was a great one.
This weekend I get to enjoy some family time before making my final retreat to Portland and a new job. I’ll be sure to squeeze at least a few hours on the river for one last Spring fling before the Summer sets in. Rumor has it that the Stripers are starting to move on the coast, and I can’t wait to go play in the salt with some long lost friends.
See you on the river, see you on the road!
-Ben
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.
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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
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