Mention striped bass fishing in this neck of the woods and you can bet your tackle box the ensuing conversation will flow directly to the Kennebec River. But when Joe Rego of Prospect called me to set a fishing date recently, he scarcely mentioned the Kennebec’s world-class striper fishery.

“I’ve been fishing the Damariscotta River and taking some big fish on flies and Binky tubes,” said the veteran guide whose business card reads Rego’s Live Bait. For the uninitiated, a Binky tube is a lure fashioned from a piece of plastic tubing with a strand of wire running through it. A barrel swivel is attached to one end of the wire, a 7/0 hook to the other end. Lace a bloodworm to the hook, put a twist in the wire to make the lure swim eel-like when trolled behind lead core line, and you’re in business.

“In July, clients I took to the Damariscotta caught several fish in the 30-pound class” Joe continued. “The biggest was 38. Now, would you believe I’ve had the river all to myself? Once in a while I see another boat but that’s about it. Some different than the Kennebec.” If you’ve launched a boat at the public landings in Bath or Phippsburg, you know the state could solve its budget problems by charging fees at those locations.

Right about now, someone reading this is thinking: “Cripes, Hennessey’s giving Rego’s favorite fishing grounds away.” To the contrary, the good-natured guide thinks the Damariscotta’s striper fishery deserves more attention. “It’ll take the pressure of the Kennebec and people will have a better time fishing,” he allowed. “All you hear about is the Kennebec. Sure there’s a lot of fish there, and big fish. I took a 53-pounder there last year and a 42-pounder this year. But I’ve found big fish all the way from the New Meadows River to the Union River.”

While fishing off Castine in June, for example, Joe’s clients arm wrestled 30-pound-plus stripers that took bucktail jigs trolled on wire lines and deep-running plugs towed behind lead core.

“Let’s fish the Damariscotta Monday,” Joe continued. “Bring Jeff along. I’ve got something else I want you to see, too.”

Something else was a 24-foot “jet boat” housing a 260 horsepower engine. Built entirely of welded aluminum, the boat was as solid as a ledge and its 9-foot beam provided a fishing platform as stable as a sidewalk. Running his hand along the sturdy bow rail, Joe said, “A Texas client of mine builds these boats. He gave me a good deal on this one, provided I’d fish him every year.”

Minutes later, the boat’s shallow draft showed its worth as, comfortably, we eased up to granite structures garlanded with rockweed. Directly, Jeff and I began casting bright yellow and green bucktail flies to where dark water marked dropoffs along ledges and rocky shelves. We were fishing with sinking lines, which, you may know, is like casting a cable. Practically all of the line has to be stripped in before it can be lifted from the water. It wasn’t long, however, before a striper emerged from a shadow, flashed at my fly and streaked back to shelter.

“Damn!” Joe exclaimed. “I thought we had our first fish of the day. This fly fishing is something, isn’t it? I got hooked on it a couple of years ago and I haven’t picked up a spinning rod since. Seeing those fish smother a fly in a big bulge of water – there’s nothing like it.” Amen. But the stripers we raised in the next half hour or so refused to take. Joe’s exasperation was evident when he thought aloud, “What in hell’s making these fish so spooky?”

“Beats me,” I answered. “But I know the tendonitis in my elbow is telling me to take a break. Let’s troll some Binky tubes and see what happens.”

When the lures were baited and tossed overboard, Jeff and I streamed three colors of lead core off the star-drag reels. Handy to where terns were working a school of britt (young herring), we trolled within a few feet of a long string of ledges. So help me, we hadn’t fished 50 yards when Jeff’s rod bucked and bowed; and while reeling in, I became the victim of a hit-and-run collision with a striper that got away. Jeff’s fish turned out to be a 19-inch “schoolie.” In short order, we released 10 more, including one a tad shy of 28 inches. Referring to the legal length slot limit of 20 to 26 inches, Joe said, “It’s hell when you have to release a fish because its too big.” It’s also legal to keep a striper of 40 inches or more.

Back to fly-fishing. Although I released two schoolies and lost a much stronger fish that made a long run before coming unstuck, it was obvious the stripers weren’t overly interested in our cast-and-strip offerings. Back to Binky tubes and steady rod-bending action. But even at that, we had a lot of hits and bumps that didn’t hook up. “Something’s not right,” Joe allowed. “These fish aren’t as fierce today as they have been.”

“Could be the front coming through,” I suggested. “The weather forecast calls for rain and cool weather coming in tonight. Maybe the change in air pressure’s affecting them. The water’s murky today, too.”

“I don’t like making excuses,” Joe replied. “But those sound like good ones to me.” Laughter filled the boat as we went back to fishing: casting flies that were ignored and trolling Binky tubes that weren’t. By midafternoon, the wind was rising with the tide and the terns were hunkered down on the ledges. Without going overboard, Jeff and I figured we caught 35 stripers, give or take. All but one, a 25-incher kept for filleting and frying, were released.

Joe was disappointed that we didn’t catch any “submarines,” but I called it a good day’s fishing. And would you believe the only other fishermen we saw were wearing feathers?

Tom Hennessey’s column can be accessed on the BDN internet at: www.bangornews.com.