Troutless in Timbuktu

By V. Paul Reynolds

If you were to drive your dinged up old Chevy pickup, or even your shiny new Ford 150, to my favorite remote trout pond near Timbuktu, Maine it would take you about the same time as a driving trip to watch the Boston Red Sox at Fenway Park.

You get the idea. It is a haul, a lot of it on dusty logging roads where heavily log laden Peterbilts may be just around the corner or over the brim of the hill.

But, if you like to catch trout on a fly, it is worth the trip. Or, at least it has always been so.

Back in early June my sons and I made our annual pilgrimage to Timbuktu and “the pond” for our trout fix. There was no disappointment. The brookies were as accommodating as they have always been this time of year over the more than half a century that I have fished this Heritage Water. Only one fly was needed when the fish were feeding. A #14 or 16 Hornberg with a yellow body filled the bill for the duration.

This year, for the first time ever, Scotty and I decided to try the pond in early July. Of course, we realized that the fishing might be slow due to warming waters. But the old timers always maintained that on this particular trout trove you could always manage a hookup all summer along, at least during the evening rise. We knew, too, that a vaunted Green Drake hatch was always an alluring possibility.

A wise man once said that “Disappointment is simply expectation meeting reality.”

It was not to be, this dream of ours about revisiting our delightful June trouting experience on the pond. Reality came upon us in a variety of ways, mostly weather related. The forecast for a “chance of showers” in northern Aroostook County turned into a mostly drizzle with a few breaks in between for setting up our tents and camp. We got on the pond with fly rods just before dark, but no matter how much you gink up your fly, it is not easy to get a good float in a steady drizzle. Scotty tried a Maple Syrup with a sinking line, but to no avail.

We turned into our camp tents fishless, but not before we found some solace in pan fried moose steaks, a few cribbage games and a couple of Old Stumpblowers.

On day two, the weather looked like it might break. The sun peaked through and with high hopes we spent the morning fishing nearby pond number two, which seemed to have cooler water. Again we tried them all: dry flies on top, fast stripping the Black Ghost and assorted wet flies, and even down below with Maple Syrups, Golden Retrievers and Wooly Buggers. Nothing,  nada.

And then, mid day, the wind began to blow. Blue sky transformed itself into low hanging, fast moving clouds with dark edges.

We checked the forecast on our weather radio, “Severe thunderstorms expected in Northern Maine with wind gusts to 75 mph. Possible tornadoes.”

Fishing trip over. Time to pack up. Those skimpy, nylon Big Store tents with the pathetic toy stakes don’t do well in high winds, not to mention a tornado.

Timbuktu is a long way to go for just one night, fish or no fish. On the trip home we looked at each other with slight  smiles of resignation, unspoken acknowledgement  that fishing can be like that, and at least we tried.

Fishing writer and arm chair philosopher Arthur Macdougall, Jr. hits the proverbial nail on the head when he opines that “ If we knew all there is to know about fishing for trout, would we not give it up for something more interesting?”

Golf is fun, but I would still rather fish for trout if given a choice. That special pond near Timbuktu is not going anywhere, and one fishless July day there does not dampen our passion. It only makes us count the days and months until next June when the hatch is on and the trout are active once again.

The author is editor of the Northwoods Sporting Journal. He is also a Maine Guide and host of a weekly radio program “Maine Outdoors” heard Sundays at 7 p.m. on The Voice of Maine News-Talk Network. He has authored three books. Online purchase information is available at www.sportingjournal.com, Outdoor Books.