Some of you may remember my last story about getting hooked in the thumb by one of my “sports” and landing in the ER to get the hooks removed. Everything is a learning experience and I think what happened on that day may have made me a little gun-shy and wiser of inexperienced fishermen. But even with these hazards, I enjoy guiding for smallmouth bass on the Penobscot River immensely.

Sharp hooks and soft flesh have plagued fishermen for years, but on the other hand they make interesting stories. Anyone who has spent some time behind a fishing rod can appreciate the dangers of these barbed demons. They serve us well when used properly but can really turn a nice relaxing day into one that you’d just as soon forget.

Sometimes just the wrong move or wild cast can get you into trouble. On a serious note, wearing eye protection, especially while fly fishing, is a smart move. Later you’ll find out to what extent I went to protect myself from the “wild-eyed southern boys.”

During the summer before last, two fellows from Atlanta made the trip up here to fish the renowned Penobscot River. Dick and Alex had read one of the many articles written about the huge fish in the river and wanted to catch a few smallmouth bass with their fly rods. They were referred to me by another guide in the Rockland area and phoned me one evening at home.

By talking to them, they sounded like fairly experienced fly fishermen who were asking all the right questions: fly rod weight, line weight, leader size and, of course, the flies to use. We chatted back and forth and swapped information about one another.

During this time I can usually sum up a potential sport’s ability and to what degree they may need help once we’re on the water. Sometimes, though, this can be difficult to tell until you have them in the boat. This turned out to be the case with Dick and Alex.

After meeting them off I-95 around 7 that morning, we headed to the boat launch near Greenbush and I got the boat off the trailer while they rigged up their fly rods. I suggested using a 6- or 7-weight rod with floating fly line. I like using a smaller weight rod because it’s more fun catching big fish on light tackle. With this, I like using a 9-foot, 10- to 12-pound leader. By using a larger tapered leader, there’s less chance of a breakoff and while it’s fun to play a fish in, if you plan on releasing the fish, you don’t want to tire it too much.

Now comes the fly selection. I prefer to fish for these bass on top-water flies. As I’ve said before, there’s nothing that compares with seeing your fish break the surface of the water as he’s getting ready to devour his prey. If the conditions are such that top-water flies aren’t working, then we can resort to sub-surface flies like streamers or small jig flies. But, generally, I will stay with top-water flies even if it means a slower day. I’d rather catch two or three fish on top than a dozen using subsurface tackle.

We tied on a couple of large hard-bodied popper flies, one black and the other a bumblebee pattern, and motored up the river to some large rapids. For the past few years, I’ve been using a 17-foot jon-style aluminum boat. With it, I run a 40-horsepower jet drive outboard that works very well in shallow water because it has no prop to damage on rocks. In the past few summers, we have seen incredibly low water levels in the river, so this outfit has served me well.

As we traveled upstream, my two sports were pleasantly surprised when we encountered two bald eagles and then a muskrat swimming across the water. In some parts of the river, you get the feeling you’re in another part of the world with the tree limbs hanging low and the steep banks of the land cut out by years of high water. There’s no shortage of wildlife on the Penobscot and the scenery is magnificent.

The weather was picture perfect that day with crystal blue sky and barely a wisp of clouds passing overhead. The wind remained calm for us and we sat for a moment and watched the sun shimmer off the wet rocks up ahead. Downstream from the rapids were some good eddies that would swirl and churn any food coming down through the fast-moving water. It’s here that we would look for hungry bass ready to pounce on their next meal. After taking in the scenery for a few more moments, I said, “Go ahead, boys, let’s see if any are laying in this slower water.”

Now I don’t want to sound too critical of these guys; they are real decent people and everyone has to start out as a beginner regardless of what the sport is. But if any of you have ever been in a boat with someone who is casting a fly for the first time, you know what I mean.

Alex’s first cast hooked my hat and sent it flying into the water. Later on he hooked my net and that nearly went in, too. Dick had the line wrapped around him like an Egyptian mummy and spent the first full hour getting untangled. Then Dick would hook Alex and then Alex would hook Dick. Sometimes they both had me hooked at once and other times had themselves hooked with their own fly. It really amazed me how many different things other than fish they could catch.

Later in the morning, Alex managed to drive a hook into his cheek. Maybe I should clarify: facial cheek. Carefully, I cut the line so that it wouldn’t somehow get snagged or stepped on and set the hook in deeper. Then with the needle-nose pliers, I grabbed the fly by the base of the hook and with some luck, got it out. After applying a Band-Aid from the first-aid kit, we resumed fishing.

On the very next cast, Alex managed to hook the fly into the Band-Aid on his cheek. I said to Alex, “At least you’re consistent with your casting,” and then we all sat down because we were laughing so hard.

My biggest concern that day was to make it home intact. It took most of my energy just avoiding each fly as it whizzed past my head. I kept laughing to myself because it made me think of some movie where killer bees get loose and they’re attacking me because I’m covered with molasses.

Although much of the day was spent extracting hooks from flesh and clothing, they did land some beauties. I think between the two, they caught 20 fish with some in the 3- to 4-pound range. I guess the boys must have enjoyed themselves that day. Before parting company, Dick shouted, “We’ll be in touch with you, we wanna book a date for next summer.”

“OK, give me a call,” I replied and drove back home shaking my head.

The following year, I met them at the usual place and told them to follow me up to the river where we’d be launching the boat. On the way up I kept thinking about the previous year and hoping that their fishing ability had improved some. But I was prepared in case it hadn’t….

Nope, it hadn’t!

It took only a few minutes to realize that things hadn’t changed. If anything, they were a tad more dangerous than the year before. I stopped the boat for a moment and said to them, “Do you guys mind if I get a little more gear on?”

They looked puzzled by my question but nodded OK. I had thought about bringing my motorcycle helmet with a full-face shield, but I thought that might be overdoing it. Instead, out of my storage compartment, I pulled a hard plastic safari helmet and a pair of clear goggles.

“This doesn’t offend you guys, does it?” I could tell by the big smiles on their faces that they knew how dangerous they had become and that it was probably a good idea.

So for the remainder of the day, I crouched down in the middle of the boat with my new armor on, while operating the trolling motor with my feet. I didn’t really get much into the conversation, but every now and then I would hear tink, tink, tink. That, of course, being the sound of a fly hitting the top of my helmet.

Happy fishin’.

John Gonya, a master Maine guide, operates Penobscot Guide Service from late May to late September. He can be reached at 207-989-8806 or by e-mail at Penobbyman@cs.com