Paul Higgins has seen plenty in his 88 years (“Eight … Eight,” he says, deliberately, when you ask if he’ll share his age).

Higgins has held a number of jobs, traipsed across much of the north country, and spent a lot of time trying to fool fish with flies and bait alike.

Higgins doesn’t hear too well any more. His face is a roadmap of lines that begin to dance when he smiles … or laughs … or begins to tell another story.

But he remembers. He remembers.

As a kid, he fished a lot at Second West Branch Pond.

“We used to have a camp up in there. But there were no motors then. You’d row all day,” he says. “Father did the fishing. You did the rowing.”

Back in ’34, he headed into the woods after his graduation from Bangor High. The journey took all day in an open touring car. Bangor to Abbot Village to Bingham and Jackman and Rockwood … and beyond. The forest awaited.

Back then, Higgins recalls, there was no road from Rockwood to Greenville. Travel was tough. The folks who worked in the woods were even tougher.

Higgins began as a “cookie” in the St. John logging operation, but quickly became a clerk.

He told me that the other day, after the two of us finally touched base after three weeks of trying.

Higgins had a story. He’d written it down. And he wanted me to give it a look.

Now, I don’t know about you, but when first-hand stories of life in the Maine woods are delivered to me … by the 88-year-old author … there are only two things left to do.

Sit down. And read.

Higgins had put nine pages of memories to paper, and offered them to me. Print them. Don’t print them. Tell me who else might be interested in them.

The choice was mine.

I told him the Bangor Historical Society might be interested in his tales. And I told him I’d share one story here.

“I’ve lived a nice life,” Higgins said the other day. “When I was at Bangor High School, I went to school a half day in the fall, and then I’d go out bird-hunting in Glenburn.”

In the spring, he headed to Kenduskeag to fish for trout.

And in 1934, he headed into the woods.

Here’s one tale from his logging camp days that you may find interesting.

“Bill Henderson was the state game warden for that area. Bill used to stop at the depot camp to eat with us at noon. He also stopped once in awhile for an evening meal. Bill stopped me one day in late summer and asked me if I could catch a mess of trout. I said I thought I could. Well, he said, ‘What about this coming Sunday?’ and I said, ‘Sure.'”

Higgins, you see, knew where to find trout. And while “Loon Stream Brook” ran through camp and had only crawfish in it, he knew the perfect place to land a state-mandated feed of trout.

“About a mile down the brook was a waterfall, a single ledge across the brook but about a three-foot sheer drop so that no fish could go further up the brook. At the foot of the waterfall was a pool about 25 feet in diameter and this pool was full of trout 5 inches to 9 inches in length.

“You could literally – and I mean literally – catch these trout on a bare hook. I had dug some worms at camp to catch Bill’s trout. I got up early Sunday morning, walked down the brook to the pool, and caught 25 or 30 trout [and] went back to camp and cleaned them.”

When the warden showed up with two female guests from Seboomook Farm, he found a wonderful surprise waiting.

“The cook fried them up a royal meal of trout, French fries and a vegetable, and of course, his pies and cakes,” Higgins wrote. “There was enough left over for the cook, Cookie, and I to have a feed also.”

While none of us would suggest pulling 25 or 30 trout from the same pool would be a good idea nowadays, it’s interesting to hear stories like this one, when resourceful Mainers relied on the bounty of the woods for their everyday needs.

For the record, Higgins still fishes as much as he can. He has two canoes, and still likes to get up to Second West Branch Pond. His tastes for angling have changed with the times, however.

“All I do is fly fish now,” he says with a grin.

With a little prodding, he’ll even share his secrets with you. There are, you see, a couple of flies that always seem to work for him.

“I like a Red Tag Muddler, size 12 or 14, and a Royal Wulff, size 12 or 14,” he says.

Thanks for your time, Mr. Higgins, and your stories. I’m glad you stopped by.

Fisheries issues are always a hot-button topic in Maine. Piscataquis County anglers looking to find out more about the lakes, ponds, and rivers in that area are encouraged to take advantage of a special event planned for Wednesday.

The public meeting to discuss fishing in Southern Piscataquis County waters will be held at 7 p.m. at the Piscataquis Valley Snowmobile Club in Dover-Foxcroft.

Department of Inland Fisheries and Wildlife biologists Paul Johnson and Scott Roy, along with DIF&W advisory council member Ray Poulin, will be on hand to listen to comments and concerns.

It promises to be an informative night … and who knows? Johnson and Roy may even share the location of a few secret fishing spots with you.

In this space on Thursday, you’ll hear about a productive fishing trip a Bangor man took last week.

The man ended up with two fish that weighed in at a combined 171/2 pounds … in an hour and a half of angling. We’ve got the photo to prove it.

Oh. One warning: The hefty brown trout and brook trout you’ll see may make you think twice about heading straight to work on Thursday. Plan accordingly.

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