The Enduring Allure of Landlocked Salmon Fishing
This feature delves into the captivating pursuit of landlocked salmon, drawing inspiration from a classic 1953 piece in Outdoor Life. It highlights the enduring appeal of these feisty fish, detailing the unpredictable nature of the sport and the passionate, often conflicting, methods anglers employ. From braving tumultuous waters to mastering various lures, the narrative emphasizes the unique blend of challenge and exhilaration that defines landlocked salmon fishing. It also explores the historical context of the species and the evolution of fishing practices over the decades.
The journey into landlocked salmon angling begins with an immersive account of a fishing trip on Moosehead Lake, Maine, in 1953. The author vividly recounts a tumultuous day battling a fierce northwester, guided by the seasoned local, Tom Hardy. Despite the challenging conditions that would deter most, Hardy, with his weathered wisdom, declared it 'salmon water,' instructing the author to cast a 'Black Ghost' streamer perilously close to the rocky shoreline. The ensuing struggle with a 5.5-pound salmon, described as 'silver dynamite,' left an indelible mark, showcasing the species' acrobatic prowess and tenacious fight. This encounter served as the author's initiation into the world of Salmo salar sebago, a species whose uncompromising spirit he would come to appreciate in numerous other Northland waters, including Rangeley and Grand Lake.
One of the most intriguing aspects of landlocked salmon fishing is the division it creates among its devotees. Anglers hold fervent, almost sacred, beliefs about the optimal techniques, leading to diverse approaches that range from surface and deep trolling to fly casting and bait fishing. Some prefer rough, windy conditions, while others seek calm, serene waters. This variability is mirrored in the salmon's feeding habits; they can be selective, favoring smelts, worms, or insects, yet at other times, they ignore even the most enticing lures. The author humorously notes that questioning an angler's doctrine on salmon fishing can unleash a fury unmatched.
The origins of the landlocked salmon itself are shrouded in mystery, sparking debates among scientists. Some hypothesize they are descendants of Atlantic salmon trapped in prehistoric spawning beds, while others propose that all salmon were initially freshwater species, with the Atlantic variety later migrating to the sea. Regardless of their lineage, landlocked salmon thrived in Maine and Quebec's river basins and are now widespread across the Northeast due to stocking efforts.
Locating these elusive fish presents a constant challenge. Unlike other game fish that inhabit predictable territories, landlocks are migratory, moving frequently. The author recalls an embarrassing incident on Sebago Lake, where his presumed expertise led to a fruitless Memorial Day expedition with a friend, while an elderly guide effortlessly found salmon for his clients, demonstrating the importance of understanding the fish's seasonal movements.
However, there are times when finding landlocks is simpler, particularly during the spring smelt runs. When smelts ascend rivers to spawn, salmon follow, leading to concentrated fishing opportunities. The Songo River, a key location for this phenomenon, once witnessed excessive catches, prompting authorities to implement restrictions. Despite these regulations, the flats near river mouths become bustling battlegrounds for anglers, where lines cross and tempers flare amidst the fervent pursuit of salmon.
Early spring fishing often involves targeting landlocks near rocky shores in shallow waters, especially on windy days when they seek wind-driven smelts. Both trolling and casting streamer flies, such as the Green Ghost or Dark Tiger, prove effective. The ideal strategy often combines both, with one angler trolling while another casts towards the shore, effectively covering a wider area. Trolling carries the risk of equipment damage due to the salmon's aggressive strikes, but a properly set rod can allow the fish to hook itself, signaled by the thrilling 'zzzzzzz' of the reel.
The necessity of ample backing on a reel, even for seemingly modest-sized fish, underscores the landlocked salmon's powerful runs. The author recounts losing a large salmon at Upper Dam when it stripped 90 feet of line and 50 yards of backing. Beyond streamers, sewn smelts or small spinners on fly-rod tackle are also viable. The fight with a landlocked salmon is intense, characterized by spectacular leaps and evasive maneuvers that challenge even seasoned anglers, making the classic advice to 'keep a tight line' often impractical.
On calm, mirror-like days when salmon retreat from the shoreline, innovative techniques are required. Phil Grant demonstrated a method of deep-water fishing on Rangeley Lake, using small flies like the Silver Doctor and Jock Scott, allowing them to sink deeply before retrieving them with gentle twitches. This technique proved successful, producing strikes even when surface fishing was unproductive. Another effective tactic involves trolling lures in the bubbling wake of an outboard motor, particularly at high speeds, as salmon are known to strike swiftly moving streamers.
Action is paramount for any lure, whether it's live bait, flies, or plugs. While some plugs have inherent action, flies often require manual input, such as raising and lowering the rod tip. However, rough waters naturally impart motion, and the propeller wash assists in calm conditions. Yet, true salmon water is rarely calm, except at dusk, when fishing can be slow but occasionally yields a surprising catch, as evidenced by a memorable incident on Mooselookmeguntic Lake where a sudden strike broke hours of calm, resulting in a three-pound landlock.
Sadly, old-timers lament that landlocks are generally smaller now than in previous generations. While 10 to 15-pounders were common decades ago, and a world-record 22-pounder was caught in 1907, the average weight today is under six pounds, primarily due to increased fishing pressure, reduced food availability, and the widespread use of smaller St. John salmon for stocking. Nevertheless, impressive catches still occur, with some anglers joining Maine's 'One-That-Didn't-Get-Away Club' for landing fish over ten pounds, and a rare 22-pounder being observed during a fall spawning season operation.
As summer advances, salmon move to deeper, cooler waters, providing opportunities for metal-line anglers who use elaborate rigs with flashers and baited hooks in 100 to 200 feet of water. While less exhilarating than top-water fishing, this method remains effective. With the arrival of autumn and cooling waters, salmon are driven by primal instincts to ascend streams for spawning, mirroring their spring migration for smelt. Anglers, with their theories battered but spirits undimmed, return home, ready to debate their strategies until the lakes freeze once more.