‘Pitlock proves to be pickerel, perch paradise Lake’s fish are big, fight hard

Over the years I’ve traveled hither and yon across the Pine Tree State to explore and enjoy any type of cast or blast adventure available. Whenever an opportunity has presented itself to participate in a different style of hunting or unusual method of fishing, I’ve been on board. A few of these ventures have been a “one-and-done” experience, while others have become regular pastimes, and a handful of special rod-and-gun excursions are now annual additions. Then, just when I think there are no more new regional outdoor options, much to my satisfaction and pleasure a novel adventure crops up.

Tom Wolters actually lives in Michigan, but from spring iceout trolling through autumn waterfowl season he makes several cross-country jaunts to his comfortable camp overlooking Madawaska Lake. It’s no coincidence that Tom’s regular visits to the Crown of Maine coincide with prime hunting and fishing periods since he is a dedicated outdoorsman. He and I have spent a good deal of time afield and afloat over the last five years, and not only is Tom amicable company and a good sportsman, but this Michiganite brings a few different fishing tactics and hunting techniques from his home state and this old dog has learned a few new tricks from him.

My stock answer when asked to be part of any outdoor opportunity is: “Sure, when are we leaving?” And so it was when Tom called to suggest a visit to Wytopitlock Lake to troll for perch and pickerel. As the conversation continued, I became even more enthusiastic since I’d never fished that particular azure-liquid gem and never even heard tell of trolling for those two particular species of fish. I’d caught plenty of perch through the ice and more than my share of toothy pickerel while casting for bass, but those fish were mostly incidental and actually trying to catch them was going to be novel.

Tom piqued my interest further when he related that on a visit to Wytopitlock the previous week, he and a friend had boated a few perch that were an honest foot long or better and water wolves that surpassed 2 feet in length. On top of all that action, the pair managed to put a couple of respectable smallmouths in the boat as well. Wytopitlock Lake is situated in a fairly secluded region near Glenwood and Haynesville and is moderately sized at 1,152 acres, but the surprise is a maximum depth of only 24 feet. There’s a gravel boat launch and sturdy wooden wharf, but don’t plan on launching boats more than 16 feet during late summer.

At 5:30 the next morning we transferred Tom’s gear to my truck and headed for ‘Pitlock, as the natives call it, hauling my 21-foot Scott canoe. About 90 minutes later we had the truck and trailer backed in so far the water was almost up to my exhaust pipe and the canoe still wasn’t afloat in the shallow cove. We finally had to wade in and haul it off by hand, then fully loaded with all our gear we slowly motored 500 yards through the skinny, rock-infested water of the launch area into the main lake.

Since Tom was familiar with the lake, I asked him to run the motor and navigate so I could get some on-the-job training. In the back of my devious little mind I also figured I’d get to do more fishing if I wasn’t steering, watching the fishfinder and keeping track of our trolling speed on the GPS. There was only one other boat on the entire waterway, and they were anchored and plug fishing for perch, with steady success we later found out. Zipping across the water to the eastern shoreline, we rigged up three rods and got our first trolling pass under way.

I used a 9-foot noodle rod, a long, limber spinning rod for 2- to 8-pound test line and 1/16- to 1/4- ounce lures. This extra-long rod would get my trolling line a good distance from the side of the boat and offer an exciting tug of war with our targeted quarry. Feeling a bit sentimental, I had ignored my selection of modern spinning reels and dug out one my Dad’s Mitchell 300s, an aged gear-driven relic that he purchased 50 years ago and what I learned to fish with as a lad. I carefully and lovingly took the reel apart to find all the cogs still packed with plenty of original grease, then painstakingly cleaned and lubricated the bail, handle and other exterior parts and reassembled the old workhorse for one more outing.

I’d no more than finished telling Tom about refurbishing and resurrecting the old family reel when it began to sputter and spit out line and the rod tip bobbed and weaved like a punch-drunk fighter. A good-sized fish had grabbed my large-lipped, crystal green, deep-diving plug that was running at a 7- to 10-foot depth, and was trying to run off with it. A few minutes later the net slipped under a hefty, beautifully marked chain pickerel well over 2 pounds. Despite lacking the smooth retrieve of modern high-tech ball bearing reels, the venerable 300 provided drag and dependability just like our outings four decades previously.

Tom was trolling a 10-inch spinner rig with three bronze willow leaf blades about the size of a 50-cent piece set 4 inches apart and a 3-inch piece of night crawler on a snelled trailer hook. In a rod holder at mid-boat, so either of us could reach it, was a third trolling rod, this one rigged with a garishly colored 41/2-inch plug that was really delving the depths, diving to 20 feet in search of bottom huggers. Worms, however, seemed to be the momentary meal of choice since Tom’s rod trailing in the boat wake got the next three strikes in about a 10-minute period. One 18-inch pickerel and a 10-inch perch got to the canoe and the third mystery fish departed mid-dance without so much as ever showing its face.

A few minutes later my little green lure was intercepted by another hungry perch, but this was a smaller specimen, so back it went to grow and fight again. Just as Tom was making a wide, slow turn toward the far shore as we reached the northern tip of the lake, the high point of our trip occurred. He got a solid hit on his worm rig, and just seconds later the stick in the rod holder doubled over and the reel began to whine. Tom jumped forward, snapped that rod free and set the hook, and as he sat with a rod in each hand my green-diving plug was walloped with a sturdy strike. We had a legitimate triple play on our hands.

Hooking the reel of one rod over a gunnel, Tom set to fighting his first fish and I did the same, and let me tell you these were no lightweights on our slender 4-pound line and limber rods. They thrashed, splashed and put up a great fight. Tom tried to stiff heel his huge perch over the stern only to have the hook pull free and the fish flop back into the lake. I used the long handled boat net on my perch, a beauty that just made the 12-inch mark and Tom finally landed its twin on the third rod, this time with the help of a net. Both of us agreed that the first perch was larger, and of course that’s always the one that gets away!

Over the next two hours Tom and I enjoyed steady action, boating half a dozen pickerel, eight perch and losing a handful of fish at various points during the give-and-take battles. It was a real challenge switching plugs to try and match the ever-changing depths of the fish showing up on the fishfinder. Frequently when we located a school of perch it was possible to make two or three passes and hook up at least one rod every time. As we loaded the canoe and headed home well before noon, I was already making plans for a return trip to this perch and pickerel paradise.

Unfortunately, Tom was heading back to Michigan two days after our outing, so I had to find another boat buddy for a rematch at Wytopitlock early the next week. It just happened that Roger Shaw, my regular bass fishing partner, called to confirm a trip to the Penobscot the following weekend and I related my perch and pickerel outing to him. That type of trolling was all new to him as well, but the results got him fired up and the idea of fresh-fried perch filets played a part as well. “When are we going?” he asked, and that quickly the next venture was in the planning stages.

Roger and I decided that evening trolling, especially after a hot, sunny day, might find the fish more receptive, and so it was that three days later we were hauling the canoe toward Wytopitlock once more. Always the efficient outdoorsman, Roger showed up with a pack basket and a knapsack to go with all his fishing gear. Since I was supplying the land and water transportation, Roger insisted that the least he could do was provide a shore supper. At that point I didn’t realize what a treat I was in for.

Remembering my tale of how difficult unloading the canoe had been Roger had worn shorts and brought a set of wading shoes. A good plan, because once again floating the canoe wasn’t an option and only man and muscle got the job done. By three o’clock we were in the main lake, but instead of hurrying to the other shore we began trolling at once since fish were showing up on the fishfinder. My plug hadn’t been in the water two minutes when a vicious strike snapped the tip downward and line streamed from the reel.

After four leaps and an extended battle that finally brought a 3-pound-plus pickerel alongside the boat four times before it could be netted, we had a great trip under way. For the next couple of hours we explored various parts of the lake, tried sundry plug sizes, colors and depths, and regularly hooked and played an array of perch, pickerel and – much to my surprise – a feisty 21/2-pound bass. Little did I realize that supper would be every bit as rewarding.

An old abandoned camp sat on the shoreline, so we took advantage of its porch to prepare a meal. An old Coleman stove, plates, utensils and cook pans all nestled together, and an old-fashioned campfire frying pan appeared from the pack basket. From the knapsack came new potatoes, corn and onions, steak, and a loaf of homemade bread, not to mention an array of condiments. Outdoor cooking has a flavor all its own, but even beyond that Roger proved to be a real cook-stove connoisseur and the meal was delicious.

After filling up and then cleaning up, we sat quietly for awhile, digesting, watching sunset and listening to the loon music. Finally we packed up and went back trolling, jousting with a few more silver, slab-sided perch, a couple of toothy water wolves, and one more acrobatic smallmouth. Fishing was great, but I’m not sure if it was quite as good as the shore supper, but all in all it was a fulfilling trip.

Any angler within a couple of hours of Wytopitlock should visit this great fishery, and those living in a different part of the state need to locate a perch and pickerel lake in their region. Deep trolling plugs during late summer and early fall offers sure action when other species aren’t cooperating. Oh, and don’t forget the fixins’ for a shoreline lunch, and if you can manage a fishing partner who cooks, you’ll have a trip worth remembering.

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