Over the years I’ve gotten into the habit of packing a set of fishing clothes, a four-piece fly rod, and a moderate sized tackle bag when I travel. Often there’s no time to fish, but occasionally I’ve enjoyed some great casual casting action, and once in a great while I even pre plan an outing. Prior to a recent business trip to Portland, I was on the phone arranging not only room, but also rod accommodations before hitting the road south.

This past May I’d received a call from my friend, Tim Rafford of North Yarmouth inquiring if I knew anything about a Restigouche River salmon camp called Cheuters Brook. Although I try desperately never to bring the subject up in his presence, Tim is a top rate boat captain and guide. He specializes in fly fishing trips, sight casting for stripers in southern Maine from spring to fall, and during the winter months Tim travels to Chile and guides sportsmen for big brown trout and rainbows. One of his Chile charters happened to be part owner of Cheuters Brook Lodge and as part of Tim’s tip for a very successful trip the man gave him three days of Atlantic salmon fishing.

As it happened I had fished the legendary pools of Cheuters Brook more than a dozen times and was able to fill Tim in on what to expect for June fishing. We discussed travel routes, rod selection and dependable patterns and sizes of flies. In the end I packed up a dozen proven favorites in size 2 to 2/0 doubles from my own inventory and sent them his way, with a note that said, “If these won’t take fish, the salmon haven’t arrived yet!”

Unfortunately the Atlantic salmon run hadn’t begun in earnest when Tim was on the Restigouche, but my flies and his arm got a good workout nonetheless. The camp, the scenery, the guides and the food were all fabulous however, so despite the lack of fish the trip was much enjoyed. My assistance was rewarded with a note in the box of returned salmon flies that suggested I call on my next trip to Portland so we could schedule a fishing foray.

Sunrise stripers

When I arrived at the Yarmouth boat launch on the Royal River just before 5 a.m., Tim already had his flats style boat in the water and waiting at the wharf. My frequent outdoor companion Buddy Horr of East Holden, climbed out of his truck to join us. After working a 12-hour shift at the mill and getting only four hours of sleep, he had left home at 2 a.m. to fish with us. Tim informed us he had woken at 3:00, couldn’t get back to sleep so got up and headed out.

While launching his boat Tim saw a couple of stripers rolled up the shoreline in the moonlight, so he motored up and caught two before Buddy and I arrived. We all agreed that hooking and playing striped bass on fly rods and light spin tackle becomes an addiction. Lack of sleep and long drives to productive striper waters are a mere inconvenience compared to the bites and fights enjoyed.

Sea smoke swirled around us as Captain Tim motored us along the river and into Casco Bay, the salt air and cool breeze a refreshing sensation. As we threaded our way among the islands heading for a likely striper hot spot on a falling tide, the first fragile fingers of dawn pulled at the curtain of darkness. It was going to be another blistering hot, humid day, and we were enjoying the best part of it. By 9 a.m. on this Saturday the ocean would be alive with pleasure craft, commercial fishermen and late starting anglers. Our trio had about four hours to bask in solitude and striped bass before things got hot and hectic.

We stopped in a small bay on the lee side of a good-sized island where half a dozen spectacular homes overlooked the ocean. Tim hefted his 18-foot push pole and hopped onto the meager-sized, raised poling platform. I stripped out a nest of fly line at my feet on the bow casting deck and Buddy stood amidships, Sluggo baited spinning rod at the ready. Until the sun got high enough to allow sight casting to fish, we would prospect the waters by blind casting and hope for a few surface feeding fish to give away a school’s location.

My Fly Du Jour was a 1/0 olive and white Enrico pattern that resembled a bait fish but was so long and fluffy it cast like a wad of straw. My first two casts produced nothing as Tim poled us along a likely dropoff where stripers often fed. Buddy wasn’t doing any better so I didn’t feel so bad, because striped bass will often explode and devour a Sluggo squirming across the surface and ignore all other offerings. Tim suggested I speed up my strip retrieve since stripers are really enticed by a fly that’s really racing, trying to escape perhaps.

Half way through my third retrieve a thug with fins tried to steal my rod – line, reel and all. The strike actually pulled the line from my stripping fingers and when I lifted the rod to set the hook, the tip was yanked right back down. Then just as suddenly the striper was gone leaving my heart doing a rather brisk conga beat. A couple of casts later a fish finally struck and stayed, and after a spirited tussle, Tim unhooked and released a 15-inch schoolie. It never ceases to amaze me how tough striped bass fight, as if they were twice their actual size. It you tied a foot-long striper tail to tail with a 12-inch brook trout and a 12-inch salmon, the single bass would out pull the other two every time.

Over the next 20 minutes we cast up and back along the cove to the sunrise music of shorebirds greeting the day and an occasional gull squealing and soaring by in search of breakfast. Buddy had two strikes, including a 20-inch plus fish that showed its entire side, but was of the hit and run variety. Half a dozen stripers grabbed my fly but only half made it to boatside, all in the 12- to16-inch range but feisty and full of fight.

The honey hole

Tim hop scotched us around the islands, under bridges and through passes, stopping for several casts here and there, and each seemingly indescript location held a few stripers and produced action. Unfortunately, my Enrico fly was only hooking a few of the taking bass, so Tim dug a small silver and white Clouser minnow from his arsenal of feathers and fur for me to try.

After motoring toward the rising sun with the visage of Portland’s skyline in the background, we stopped along a peninsula of land with another mansion at the tip. Although one spot looked just like the next to Buddy and I, Tim assured us a moderate dropoff and a deep basin that collected fish on a dropping tide lay right along shore.

I hadn’t stripped in two feet of line from my first cast when a serious strike put a dip in my tip. A reel-turning, rod-bobbing tug of war yielded a fat, colorful 18-inch striper. A couple of casts later I caught a smaller version, and soon after I hooked and lost a third fish after a short battle. Then it was time to motor back to the top of the run and start another drift along the underwater gully.

As the tide ebbed, our honey hole shrank and each drift became shorter, but every pass produced at least one striper on the small Clouser. Most were 14 to 18 inches, but a couple neared the two foot length. In all, I boated 15 bass from this special spot and lost a handful, now that’s thrilling, fast action on a light fly rod. Amazingly, Buddy got only two fish on his plastic eel, however they were both more than 20 inches and fought bigger.

Spot and cast

By 8 a.m. the sun was climbing a clear sky and the temperature was fast rising, but now we had plenty of light for Tim to pole the shallow shorelines in search of bass. Because of their light coloration and camo body markings, striped bass blend into vegetation and rocks and are often very difficult to spot. Tim has great eyes and years of experience however, knows what to look for and always finds fish. Often it would take Buddy and I a minute or so to finally pinpoint the striper Tim was pointing out, and on a couple of occasions we just had to lay out blind casts on his directions.

During the last hour we saw fewer fish, but all were larger, some in the 30- to 40-inch breathtaking and bragging size. One such brute actually followed my fly for more than 15 feet, nosing within six inches in the clear water but never striking. Now that will make you pant like a post race greyhound! I did manage to lure and land four stripers in the 18- to 22-inch class while spotting and stalking with Captain Tim’s sharp eyes, and Buddy landed two nice ones.

In roughly 31/2 hours of sunrise casting I caught and released 24 striped bass, and Buddy got five to the boat. Although he attributes my great action to being in the front of the boat, in truth it was just a perfect day for fly fishing and they wanted that Clouser minnow. My four piece, G.L. Loomis 7-weight rod and Scientific Anglers System two reel with floating line worked wonderfully, although if one of the big fish had struck I might have preferred an 8- or 9- weight.

Tim said it was a good day for late July, but his best fishing is in June and September. If your travel take you to the Portland area and you have a few hours to spare, call Captain Tim Rafford at 207-829-4578, or check out his Calendar Island Guide service at trafford@gwi.net. Tim caters to fly casters and provides all gear, but is rigged for spin fishermen as well.

If the fishing I enjoyed wasn’t amazing enough, it simply blew my mind that I could look in a full circle and have a vista of Casco Bay, Portland and city sky lines all the time. One thing is for sure though, these may be city bass but they fight like backwoods brawlers.

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