Saturday morning dawned gray and chilly – the kind of salmon-fishing day that would have tested the mettle of anglers in years past.

Jeff LaPointe of Orrington looked up from his plate of eggs, ham and home fries and explained the lengths fishermen like him will go in order to spend time on the water.

“In past years, when there was fishing, some of us would have slept here last night,” he said, as others nodded their agreement at the packed Penobscot Salmon Club.

The breakfast, after all, heralds “opening day” at the venerable Brewer club. Since the Atlantic salmon season has been closed on Maine rivers, all that’s left for avid anglers like LaPointe is opening day breakfast … sharing memories … and planning trips to Canada’s salmon rivers.

LaPointe grew up on Clover Lane, a mile or so distant from the fertile salmon pools off North Main Street.

He remembers riding his 10-speed bicycle to the club, sitting on the riverbank, and watching veteran anglers attempt to entice salmon with flies fashioned of feather and fur.

Back in 1975, he borrowed an old fly rod from his father, strapped it to his bike with rubber bands, and pedaled to the river to give salmon fishing a try.

To his surprise, he hooked one. Then it got ugly.

“The fly line was all rotten, and [the fish] pulled the barb out of the line,” he said with a chuckle. “The line went off down the river, and I went home and told [my father] about it. It was hard for him to believe that I had hooked a fish.”

LaPointe didn’t actually land an Atlantic salmon until 1978, but it’s safe to say he was firmly hooked by the sport that first day.

Over the ensuing years, he learned the different pools, and where fish were likely to lie. He learned which flies to use, and how to use them. He learned which of the older anglers would give him advice … and which would keep that hard-earned knowledge to themselves.

And eventually, he caught a fish that further cemented his relationship with salmo salar. Twenty-five years later, the memory remains fresh.

“I was fishing with Joe Eremita. He netted the fish. It was the first week of June in 1978,” LaPointe said.

“It was unbelievable.”

LaPointe said that even after watching plenty of men land salmon, that didn’t prepare him for what he experienced that day.

“I was used to trout fishing, where you’d hook a trout, yank him out of the stream, then run into the bushes and get him,” LaPointe continued. “[It was amazing to] have a fish that could actually fight you and run line off your reel.”

Claude Westfall of Veazie carried on a similar relationship with the thoroughbred game fish over the years.

A member of the Veazie Salmon Club, Westfall’s spring and summer plans became quite predictable each year.

“I’d come down early in the morning and I’d bring a lunch and I’d stay here until [my wife] was ready to come home in the evening,” Westfall said. “I fished every single day during the season for years. I very seldom missed a day of angling on the Penobscot. I was very lucky to be able to do that.”

On Saturday, anglers like LaPointe and Westfall flocked to the Penobscot Salmon Club for breakfast and camaraderie.

The lawn was transformed into a museum of salmon-fishing equipment, as Thomas rods and antique flies attracted plenty of attention. The club’s old logbooks were on display, as was a scrapbook documenting its rich history.

Later, after the dishes had been done, Gus Frey Jr.’s name was drawn as the grand-prize winner in the club’s popular annual raffle. Frey, who lives in Brewer, chose a rod-and-reel combo from among the three possible prizes that included a weathervane and a canoe … each of which were worth more than $1,500.

While many were eager to fish, the mere act of heading down to the club and visiting with old friends was enough for others.

Charles Colburn of Bangor, a spry 80-year-old, said arthritis in his casting shoulder has tempered his enthusiasm for fishing … but not for fish.

“With me right now, [not having a salmon season] doesn’t bother me so much with my age,” Colburn said. “If I used a spinning rod, I’d be OK.”

But Colburn came to the breakfast fully equipped: The trunk of his car was packed with flies and supplies that have served him well over the years.

“See that?” he asked. “That’s a Colburn Special. My uncle [invented it], but I was the second one to ever catch a fish on it. That was one of the best flies to ever come across the pike.”

Colburn reached deeper and deeper into the trunk, fishing out metal fly box after metal fly box … all of them filled with antique flies.

“They all catch fish, you see,” he said, pointing out his individual favorites.

“Some of those, they catch trout, but they’ll catch salmon,” he said. “That one right there with the red on it? I hooked a 10-pounder on it. With a six-pound tippet.”

Each fly had a story, it seemed. And though Colburn didn’t want to monopolize anyone’s time, he had plenty of tales to share with those willing to listen.

That, after all, was what Saturday’s event was all about.

“I just thought, since people were telling stories, I’d tell you this,” he said after relating one such yarn.

Nearby, LaPointe talked to some old friends he doesn’t get a chance to see very often any more. Not since the season was abolished. Not since anglers have been forced to head north to find Atlantic salmon.

“This was a cool place to hang out,” LaPointe said softly, shaking his head back and forth. “There’s a lot of history here.”

John Holyoke can be reached at jholyoke@bbangordailynews.net or by calling 990-8214 or 1-800-310-8600.