Throughout late April, most of May and now into June, weather conditions in central and northern Maine have been fairly dependable: rain, rain and more rain. The plague of cool, wet weather affected the turkey hunting to a degree and put a big damper on May’s spring trolling on regional lakes and rivers. Much to my surprise and great pleasure, the back-in-the bushes water levels didn’t ruin or end spring fishing, but only delayed it.

Last weekend’s short shot of sunshine and warm weather has the trout popping like dandelions on the front lawn. Waterways are still above normal levels and chilly, so fish are feisty, hungry and cruising just under the surface looking for lunch. Earlier this week I spent a morning lake trolling and an evening river fishing and found the brookies ready, willing and able to do battle.

Spoons and splake

While on an errand to the local sporting goods store earlier this week, a friend passed the word that Squa Pan Lake was producing some splendid splake and bragging size brookies. Later that afternoon I got a phone call from a fishing buddy passing along the same info. We had both figured that trolling season was fading, but rumors regarding cooperative fish shouldn’t be ignored. We made plans for an early morning outing squeezed in before the next day’s work schedule and appointments.

Squa Pan is a gorgeous V-shaped Aroostook waterway situated in the forested triangle between Presque Isle, Ashland and Masardis. Camps and year-around homes polka dot Walkers Siding and half of the western shoreline, but much of the lake is woods lined and pristine. As Dave and I launched my 20-foot Lund Alaskan the sun was peeking over the tree-lined hills and only the call of a lonely loon greeted our arrival. My Honda 75 four-stroke mumbled to life and we whisked across the lake to feed the fish near Bogan Brook in Big Cove.

I set a spinning rig trailing a Yo-Zuri purple holographic pin smelt into a rod holder and began scanning tandem streamers in my aged felt-lined fly wallet. Dave, who was dragging an orange Weeping Willow well behind the prop wash, rolled his eyes and gave me a look of empathy usually reserved for a slow puppy. Despite years of catching more trout and salmon trolling lures and plugs, I still feel the need to offer a selection of streamer flies. Regardless of the action on hardware, just one nice fish on my fly rod makes the trip for me.

My Hummingbird portable fishfinder was beeping like a rubbish truck in reverse, and fish images were at 2- to 5-foot depths, but none of the rods took a bow. At 6 a.m. after nearby 30 minutes of zigging and zagging, I pointed the bow north to offer our wares to less discriminating trout near Dunn Brook and Sylvester Point. A bit of a breeze had freshened from the northwest creating a perfect salmon chop, and the boat crabwalked from crest to trough offering extra rod tip action.

No sooner had we trolled abreast of the brook inlet, fish finder beeping time to the slapping waves on the hull, when Dave said, “There’s one.” As he played the fish, I reeled in the fly rod, put the motor in neutral, and grabbed the long-handled net. After a couple of short runs, some head shaking and swirls, I slipped the net under a 14-inch brightly speckled brook trout. Dave removed the hooks as I kept the fish partially submerged and after a few seconds the brookie sprinted out of the net.

I took the opportunity to put a Sutton No. 8 copper spoon on my spinning rod. Wind and waves had drifted well above the brook so I put the motor into gear, let out my fly line and steered us for another trolling pass in about 12 feet of water. Within two minutes the spinning rod bent sharply, then snapped back, the fish gone before I could reach the rod holder. As I was lamenting the quick visit, Dave hooked another fish, this one a 12-inch splake that he played and released as we kept trolling. As I glanced hopefully at my fly rod, line buzzed from my spinning reel and the rod bent and danced as I wrestled it from the holder.

I could tell at once it was a hefty fish, and saw it splash on the surface well behind the boat. Dave reeled in the fly line and I played the head-strong trout closer to the drifting boat. We both marveled at the orange belly and fin edges of the 18- inch, pound and a half finned football. Kneeling over the gunnel I quickly unhooked and revived that fat brookie and received a face full of water for my efforts as the fish swirled from my hands.

Once again, I got the boat under way and lines were deployed as we trolled farther north past several creek inlets toward Cold Spring Brook. We had to be loading the boat by eight o’clock to be back in Presque Isle by nine, so just over an hour of fishing time remained. We caught three more fish apiece, four splake and two trout, and Dave lost a nice fish right at the boat. Most were in the 12- to 16-inch size, except the last one of the morning.

I was finally rewarded for my faith and perseverance with a 171/2-inch splake that grabbed my Red and White bucktail streamer. My only fish on a fly, referred to as the “suicide splake” by my buddy, gave a great tug of war and was the perfect end to a too short morning outing.

The night shift

Later the same day a mid-afternoon phone call from my cousin Mike gave me a break from work and some interesting info. He and his buddy had trolled the Aroostook River the previous night with excellent results. I related the story of my trip to Squa Pan that morning. Mike lamented that the constant rain had his yard looking like a pasture and he really needed to mow his lawn that night. I agreed that my grass was ankle high as well and needed immediate attention. We then agreed to do the only mature, sensible thing and made plans to meet at 5:30 to hook up the canoe and spend an evening trolling the river.

By six o’clock Mike and I had stowed our gear in my 21-foot Scott square stern canoe, launched at the Caribou public ramp and the 15-horsepower Honda was purring and pushing us downriver. I was trolling a smaller version of the copper Sutton spoon that had worked so well on the lake that morning, and within 10 minutes a trout was hooked. In the high, fast current the foot-long brookie put up a great fight, but recovered quickly and zipped from my hand only seconds after the hook was removed.

Five minutes later Mike got a tug that pulled line from the reel, but somehow the fish threw the lure. A few minutes later my rod tip doubled over, then sprang back as a trout bought a ticket, but didn’t stay for the dance. The third strike was the charm as Mike hooked up with a headstrong 14-incher that was quickly released after a brief battle.

About a half mile further downstream, we were trolling along a shoreline slick when Mike spotted a fish rise. We both were surprised to see Mayflies hatching on the calm water as we looked closer, and then two more trout gulped down flies right beside the canoe. I made a wide turn to mid stream, motored to the head of the long, slow eddy and anchored to see if a pattern developed. Mike quickly rigged his five-weight fly rod and tied on one of his own Henryville Specials.

When a hungry fish slurped a May fly nearby, Mike laid his cast just above the rise rings. That trout came right back with a hearty splash and a hefty tug, and after a few minutes of give and take Mike put back a nice 10-inch brookie. Over the next 20 minutes or so we worked out way downstream 50 yards casting to rising fish. The presentation had to be right and the float high and upright or the imitation insect was ignored among the steady hatch of real Mayflies. We took turns casting and landed two more trout and hooked and lost a pair.

When our casting and catching finally put the fish down along that sector we moved farther downstream searching for more feeding fish. We found two more runs over the next hour with trout dimpling the surface feeding on the hatch. By the time the hatch finished and no brook trout were showing it was dusk and time to make the run upriver to the boat ramp. We had caught eight trout measuring between 10 and 14 inches, and hooked or raised just as many. We kept only one fish, and only because it was hooked deep and bleeding.

During our evening outing we saw deer, a bald eagle, beaver, muskrat, five species of ducks, a hawk and no less than 10 varieties of song birds. Driving home Mike wondered aloud how his neighbors would feel about him mowing the lawn after dark, and I assured him if any of them were fishermen they would surely understand.

If your spring trolling has been less than satisfactory due to unusually wet conditions, don’t throw in the towel just yet. Lakes and streams are still a bit high, and water temps are cool and conducive to good fishing. If conditions remain consistent without several days of 80-degree weather, there are at least two more weeks of spring type fishing to be enjoyed. Grab a rod and get out there soon and often. Take a page from my book and fish morning and evening, it’s a short season.

Outdoor feature writer Bill Graves can be reached via e-mail at bgravesoutdoors@ainop.com