Again, The Group was blessed with good fishing

For several years now, a somewhat rambunctious group of salmon anglers has rigged their rods at Millbrook Farm camp on New Brunswick’s Upsalquitch River. Like salmon returning to their natal stream, The Group, as it has come to be called, migrates to Millbrook from far and wide: Maine, New Hampshire, New Jersey, Texas. But in spite of living hundreds of miles apart, the members are as close as the coils of a nail knot.

Obviously, The Group is seriously afflicted with the virus identified as salmo salar, which, each year, sends them searching for relief on storied salmon rivers. Therefore, to a man, they are accomplished anglers who understand the importance of fly presentation and the value of angler optimism.

All well and good. But beyond that, when it comes to pure and absolute “fisherman’s luck,” The Group is truly blessed.

Two years ago, the Upsalquitch, along with other rivers in the Restigouche system, was thirsting for rain. Until, that is, The Group set a course for the Upsalquitch: their vehicles towed wakes of rain from Bangor to Millbrook. Combined with a full-moon tide, the bump of rain brought a run of fish into the Upsalquitch. Hence, when The Group headed for home, they’d had the best fishing of the season at the camp.

Last year, the Upsalquitch was running high and roily from continual rains. But two days before The Group’s arrival at Millbrook, the rains stopped, the river started dropping and salmon began settling in the pools. Again, The Group registered the most fish for the season.

Now, if you tie a turle knot as easily as you tie your shoes, you know that this year rivers are dehydrated and running temperatures because of an epidemic of warm, dry weather. But when The Group arrived at Millbrook last week, they found that, once again, Lady Luck’s smile was as wide as the Upsalquitch. A godsend of rain had raised and cooled the river.

When Millbrook’s owner, BDN publisher Rick Warren, greeted his guests, he answered the obvious question with a tongue-in-cheek, “Terrible. We only caught seven yesterday.” However, Rick’s fishing partner Bill Bullock, the “head guide” at Merrill Merchants Bank, warned that the fish were “taking short.” His words were proven that evening when several fish tapped and tugged at flies without being hooked. Fishing at The Crib pool, Stan Bogdan, the esteemed octogenarian reel maker from Nashua, N.H., was the only member of The Group to land a fish, a grilse that was released.

The next morning, Bill Bullock and I cast and cursed over 15-20 fish in Home Pool. We threw everything but our guide Bill Murray at them but didn’t get so much as a grunt from one. Although several grilse swirled for other members’ flies that morning, none were hooked and caught. Moving fish.

But, ah, that evening: At Moores Pool, I stung a short-taker with a Green Hornet, had another fish hit and run without being arrested, and caught and released a fresh-run grilse. Fishing in my tracks with a Green Machine, Lamar Underwood of Pennington, N.J. did exactly the same thing; and suffice it to say the grilse he hooked and landed was a handful. Like a gymnast doing successive back flips, the fish cartwheeled across the pool in three consecutive leaps. Before our guide Johnny Thomas netted it, the grilse punctuated reel-humming runs with four more arcing leaps in which its silvery flanks flashed like strobe lights in the smudgy dusk. No surprise was it that the fish was freckled with sea lice.

Because of the diminishing light, I decided to change to a darker fly and tied on a Jock Scott tailored to a No. 8 double hook – tradition is a tyrant. But lo and behold, halfway through the pool I saw a blossoming boil and felt the simultaneous tap and weighty pull that is the heart, soul and spirit of salmon fishing. After a give-and-take tug of war that thinned the reel spool several times, Johnny netted the fish and we released a 12-pound salmon fresh from the sea.

Later, while The Group relaxed in the warmth of the camp’s fireplace, Harbert Mulherin of Dallas, Texas and Drew Holl of Long Valley, N.J. recounted the events that led to their capture of a grilse apiece at The Crib. Five fish were registered that evening. Not bad considering the reports of hard fishing throughout the Restigouche system.

But knowing well that salmon are seldom cooperative two days in succession, The Group wasn’t surprised to find the temperamental fish anti-social the next morning. Yet while fishing at The Crib that evening, Rick Warren caught and released a grilse that swatted his Green Hornet.

Two more fish were registered the next morning. At Moores, a grilse again succumbed to the sting of my Green Hornet. Because, typically, the fish don’t travel alone, I thought Drew Holl, my fishing partner, would hook one for sure. Unfortunately, that wasn’t the case.

Now, go figure: On the two previous mornings, the fish stacked in Home Pool snubbed all invitations offered by The Group. But on that last morning, the fish in that picture-perfect pool were in a receptive mood. Harbert caught a grilse on a dry fly (Bomber), Stan lost one that took a wet fly and Lamar quick-released another that smothered a Bomber. But in the interim the anglers enjoyed fishing that was enough to make the priest leave the parish: heart-stopping rises, boils and swirls from fish that refused to take – until, eventually, smaller Bombers floated directly over their noses.

So it was that The Group’s total of nine fish took up the most space in Millbrook’s record book thus far into this season of hard fishing. Small wonder, then, that before going their separate ways, The Group raised a toast to another great trip and agreed it would be worth living another year just to try their luck again.

Tom Hennessey’s columns can be accessed on the BDN Internet page at: www.bangornews.com.