It was meant to be

The glow of my small reading light cast a slight shadow on the bedroom wall.  It wasn’t very late but the mid January cabin fever was starting to set in so I figured I’d go to bed early and read one of my many fly fishing books.  As I turned the pages a stiff cold winter wind continuously pressed against the window above my head.  In my mind I could see the bright green landscape and rushing waters as I buried myself deeper into each chapter.  As my eyelids began to get heavy I decided to call it a night.  Like so many others I decided to scroll social media one last time before I went to sleep.  With a swipe of my thumb I found a new video that had just been released out of Maine.  I laid there, quietly watching a pristine forest backdrop and shimmering water produce some of the most beautiful brook trout I had ever seen.  Clip after clip I watched water drops cascade off the backs of these fish as the sun shimmered on their wet skin.  When the video was done I closed my eyes and peacefully fell asleep.  The next morning I woke up still thinking about that video.  I decided to share it with a small group of friends on Facebook.  Everyone agreed that it gave them the itch to go fishing.  But, for me there was something more.  There was something calling to me.  Finally I made the comment jokingly that I felt a road trip was in my future.  My buddy Sean had commented back that he would be all in.  As the day wore on I found myself staring at maps of Maine.  I zoomed in on the satellite views and saw pond after pond, river after river, and stream after steam.  With no idea of exactly where to go I took a random picture of a location and sent it to my cousin Matt who lives in Maine.  I asked him if he knew anything about the location I had found.  His response back was “Are you planning a trip to that area?”  I shared with him my dream of trout fishing in Maine half expecting him to say that all fly anglers dream of that.  To my surprise he said “ I have a trappers cabin in that area and you are more than welcome to use it.”  I sat there with my jaw on the floor thinking there is no way that I had  just selected an area out of the entire state of Maine that I could have access to a cabin in the woods.  My brain raced with wonder and excitement so I instantly messaged Sean.  Sean is young and single so his reply was “No way, when are we going?”  The responsible adult in me juggled the words family, kids, work, money, bills, around in my head while the adventurous side of my brain was saying fish, mountains, steams, cabin, BROOK TROUT.  After a couple of deep breaths my middle aged responsible adult brain decided it would be best to run this crazy idea by my wife.  That evening at the dinner table I casually approached the topic with my wife.  I explained to her the crazy series of events that had unfolded from the video I watched to the conversation with my cousin.  She looked right at me and said “ You should go.”  Trying not to act like a five year old on Christmas morning I pressed the uncontrollable kid in me down deep and told her I’d have to do more research before I made any decisions.  Instantly I was messaging Sean.  Within an hour dates were set and travel plans were made.  I spent  the next several months tying flies, studying maps, and reading everything I could about fly fishing in Maine. 

Finally the day had arrived. It was time to make this dream a reality.  

The first stop on the six and a half hour trip was at the border crossing in Cornwall. 

After a quick conversation with the border agent my next stop was to pick up Sean in Lancaster.  With the truck loaded up with all our gear we headed east.  We traveled down the 401 highway towards Montreal.  As the kilometers passed by the roads went from highway to back country roads.  We traveled through small communities and farmlands throughout Quebec.  We excitedly discussed where we would go and what flies we wanted to use.  We had three full days of fishing and we wanted to make every second count.  The mountains in the distance slowly got closer and closer the father east we went.  Once we crossed the border back into the United States a sense of calmness overcame me.  It was something that I had not expected but it was very welcomed as it was something that I hadn’t felt in a very long time.  We made a quick stop in Jackman for food and gas then we drove south on the 201 to The Forks.  The road weaved through the mountains and along the Kennebec River.   We looked for river access points as the pin drops we had made on our maps finally became reality.  We watched a moose munch on a tree high above us on a hillside.  “This is it” I thought to myself, we were really doing this.  We made it to Pleasant Pond and found the sign for Hangtown Rd. 

My cousin had warned me about this road.  He made it very clear that it was a four wheel drive road and you need to take it really slow.  His words to me were “If you think you’ve gone too far, keep going, you haven't gone far enough.”  For close to a mile and a half we crawled through mud holes, over rocks, and a wooden plank bridge. 

The tree limbs rubbed along the side of my truck as we crept along.  Finally we found the driveway to the cabin and pulled in.  I couldn’t believe it. In the middle of nowhere a beautiful little cabin emerged. 

We got to work unloading our gear and getting everything set up for the next few days.  With a quick dinner in our bellies we had a few beers and drifted off to sleep.  Morning came early with the peaceful sound of birds chirping.  I was expecting to be giddy and all excited, but instead I had found that the strange calmness that had come over me the day before had settled even deeper within.  Don’t get me wrong, I was extremely excited but there was no anxiety or stress, just a peaceful sense of enjoying every minute that passed by.  We loaded up and headed north to find a place to fish the Kennebec, but first we had to make one quick stop.  The road to camp crossed the Appalachian Trail and I had to see it for myself. 

Soft white clouds passed overhead as we walked down to the riverbank.  As far as I could see there was only rolling forest.  The water gently drifted by my waders as I tied on my fly.  Cast after cast I lightly placed

my fly on the water's surface.  Slowly it drifted downstream. 

We fished this area for an hour with no luck so we decided to head farther north.  We parked at the bridge in West Forks and hit the water.  We were told this was a popular place to fish but in the back of both of our minds we were thinking about our next destination.  With every cast I made I found myself wanting to explore new territory.  After 45 minutes of fishing we both agreed to move on.  We turned on to the logging road and started the 13 mile drive back into the middle of nowhere.  Other than the one logging truck we saw no other vehicle or buildings anywhere, just the winding gravel road.  Maine is very different from New York; they don’t have the huge state forests we have. The majority of the forests there are privately owned by logging companies.  However it is all  accessible to the public. We found a place to park and started down the trail.  We had hiked for about a mile along the Dead River when the sound of rushing water started to echo through the woods.  Around the bend the Grand Falls came into view.  We stood there and watched the 40’ waterfall crash into the water below. 

We were told the best way to fish this area so we set up our rods and got to work.  One after another we had hits to our flies.  Finally we both connected again and again.  Those beautiful brook trout I had seen in the video were now at the end of my line.  I gently picked one of them up and admired the bronze and orange dots along its body. 

After fishing for quite a while I placed my rod on the bank and took a few minutes just to take in my surroundings.  I couldn’t help but smile.  There I was in the middle of nowhere fly fishing under one of the most beautiful waterfalls I had ever seen.  This trip was turning into something more than just a fishing trip, it was a life changing experience. 

Content with the day we had had on the water we headed back to the cabin.  We were met there by my uncle and cousin.  We ate dinner and drank a few beers while Sean and I told stories about our day next to the campfire.  The next morning we said our goodbyes and headed to the East Outlet of the Kennebec. 

The hour and a half drive flew by as we were greeted with views of Long Pond, Little Brassua Lake and Moosehead Lake.  The parking lot was filling up with other anglers as we pulled in.  We stopped to look around and talked to a few other fishermen.  Then we pulled out of the parking lot and headed down the dirt road we were told to go to.  The beautiful thing about having family with special fishing locations is you get to know how to get away from everyone else.  We parked where we were told to and walked down to the river bank.  When we got there we found a fishing guide there having a shore lunch with his client.  They had just pulled in with their guide boat and were willing to discuss the success they were having on the water. 

After a 10 minute chat we started fishing.  The bright sun shined overhead and a light breeze kept the bugs away.  This great day of fishing turned into a perfect day of fishing when Sean got into two landlocked salmon. 

We decided to explore deeper into the woods so we drove the truck until we came to a gate.  We got out and bushwhacked our way down to the river.  Stepping through the trees into the water I couldn’t help but stop in my tracks.  The landscape before me was beautiful.  There was something special about this place that I just can't describe.  I found myself just staring at the sun, the clouds, the trees, and the water passing by.  The calmness that had been flowing through my veins had reached a whole new level.  After fishing for a while I couldn't help but give in to my fascination with this place.  I sat upon a rock in the river.  I watched the current flow by my boots as my legs dangled in the water.  The wind brushed against my skin while the sun touched my face. 

If Zen had a physical location I had found it.  At that moment the fishing didn’t matter to me, I felt like I was just meant to be there at that moment.  Sean and I savored every moment we could as we sat there silently.  I took in one more breath of that clean mountain air in hopes of carrying it with me forever and we headed back to the cabin.  Our evening again was full of laughs and stories.  With one day of fishing left we plotted our next day and headed to bed.  Our last day of fishing we decided to check out one last place we wanted to see, Moxie Falls. 

Sean had done some research and wanted to fish the area where the Moxie Stream fed into the Kennebec. We pulled into the parking lot to find only two other vehicles there.  We hopped into our waders and headed down the trail to the falls.  The mile long hike to the 90’ waterfall was beautiful.  Once there we snapped a few pictures we started the long hike down to where we wanted to fish.  This was the first time on the whole trip that we had run into any bugs and they all seemed to be at this one place.  Once we got down to the river bank we noticed an older gentleman fishing by himself.  We crossed the sea of rocks and started to rig up our lines.

Sean pointed out that the other angler was heading our way.  I decided to meet him halfway since he was struggling to maneuver over the piles of rock.  When I finally got to him, he smiled and said “Have you guys fished here before?” I said “no” and he looked at me and said “ I’m sorry to tell you this but, this river is going to be unfishable in five minutes.”   He told me that there was a dam release two hours ago and it would be hitting this area soon.  I yelled to Sean to grab my rod and meet me on the bank.  As I walked with the old timer to the shore he explained to me that the dam release takes two hours to hit this location.  Like clockwork he said “here it comes.”  The sound of a wall of water crashing through the trees could be heard racing downstream.  Within seconds the place we had been standing only five minutes before was flooded.  It was unreal.  My cousin had explained to me that the dam releases happen several times a day and they can be big but I never expected anything like that. 

After a nice conversation with our new friend we decided to slowly make the steep climb back up to the car.  We were a bit disappointed we couldn’t fish there but we came up with a plan to head back to Grand Falls to finish up our last day of fishing.  We again made the 13 mile drive back on the logging road.  Once we made it to the Dead River we found that it too was flowing high and angry from a dam release.  We found one little area we could fish from and took turns casting.  After a while of not much luck I noticed something sounded different.  The water was making a different noise.  We realized that the water was receding.  We decided to make the hike back to the falls.  We couldn’t quite make it to the place we had been two days ago but we both found a place to fish.  As the afternoon quickly turned to evening we both managed to catch one more fish.  Satisfied with the day, we decided to head back to the cabin.  Even on our final night there we couldn’t help but look through the maps to try and find more fishing locations.  The next morning we packed up our stuff and shut down camp.  I was expecting to have a bit of sadness since our trip was over, but I wasn’t.  That feeling of peacefulness that had come over me when we first hit the Maine border was still alive and well within me.  On the way home we discussed making a return trip next year. 

We had such a wonderful time that we can’t wait to go back.  We only made one stop along the way home.  We had to stop in Quebec for some authentic poutine.

This part of my blog I usually give details about how to get to a certain location.  However, this time I’m not going to.  You see, this trip was a bucket list item for me.  For years I dreamed of making a fly fishing trip to Maine.  I always figured I was too busy and there was too much going on to make it happen.  But when everything falls together like this trip did, well…. It was just meant to be.  I encourage everyone to check off a few destinations on their list.  Find the time to make it happen.   I want to thank Sean for making this trip with me. I look forward to traveling with him again.  We have some other plans in the making that I hope we will make reality.  I want to thank Matt for welcoming us into your cabin.  It was so nice of him to share this special place with us, we will be back.  Finally I need to thank my wife.  She, without hesitation, supported this trip from beginning to end.  This is one adventure I will never forget.

Aaron Hardy

Northern NY Adventures

“Make Life an Adventure”