By Gary R. Akin
"It's a GOOD ONE ALRIGHT! And that's how one of the most memorable fishing trips I've had the pleasure to pursue turned out. We had just finished a five-day trip in Northern New York's Adirondack State Park that would be hard to beat anywhere.
I'm in the Air Force, stationed at Pease AFB, NH. And though I've experienced some fine fishing in the Granite State, every spring I manage to make my pilgrimage to New York in pursuit of great fishing in a true wilderness setting. This trip was no different. With me was Bob Baker, a government civil servant, flytier, and joker who was never at a loss for words. Bob and I have been working together for about six years and this was his fourth trip to New York with me. Also joining us was Dave (no relation to Jack) O'Conner. Dave had driven up from Texas just for this trip. Dave and I had worked together for several years until he was transferred. We had shared many memorable days busting through grouse cover in the fall and trying to catch trout in the spring. I hadn't seen Dave in two years so this was a reunion of sorts. My father and brother would also be up for the weekend. Everything looked prime for a great trip. Even if we didn't take any fish, with this crew there were sure to be some entertaining fish tales told after a day on the stream.
Preparing for a trip to the Adirondacks in the spring is an experience in itself. You can never be sure of the weather, so we always overextend ourselves on clothing. The temperature may be anywhere from the mid-twenties to the eighties, so we usually bring everything from long johns to Bermuda shorts. This doesn't include the tackle. Bob and I usually have great debates as to what the trout will be hitting best when we get there. After all is said and done, we readilly agree that they will probably be hitting minnows, worms, spinners or flies. Or maybe something else! So we bring everything we have. Dave, on the other hand, is a little more sure of himself. He brings spinners. Dozens and dozens of spinners. He may bring the fly rod along to justify his purchasing one, but I've only seen him use it once. He ran out of spinners!
As always, the five-hour drive to our first stop, the Schroon River just north of Warrensburg, seemed to take eight. We had planned to get there two hours before dark, hoping to get in some fly fishing that evening. Even as I parked the car I could tell this would be a good evening. Numerous rings on the surface indicated feeding trout. But, since I am not that confident of myself as a flyfisherman and we would be fishing for our supper, I told the others that I would start out with the spinning rod and switch over if I had any luck.
The action started in a hurry. Bob caught a trout on his first cast. I lost a pretty good fish on my second. Dave was still trying to tie an improved clinch knot with shaking hands. It turned out to be a pretty good start. Though the fish stopped rising, we still managed to come up with ten for supper. I don't care how you slice it, there is isn't a better first meal on a fishing trip than fried trout, baked beans, and lots of bread and butter. Of course, a little beer to wash it down didn't hurt things any.
That evening was spent at "The Camp", a small cabin built by my father and his hunting buddies. This was usually the base from which all of our excursions originated. The camp is ideally situated in the south central part of the Adirondack Park. It is simple in design, consisting of three rooms. Though there is no running water, it does have electricity and propane. Also a woodstove, which is great for taking the chill out after a day of wading and drying wet clothes. Its decor obviously implies that its principal occupants are outdoorsmaen. The walls are covered with maps, grouse and turkey tails, pictures of deer, gun racks, and bears taken in the area.
As usual, the first evening was spent reminiscing over past trips. The normal anxiety was already relieved, due to our successful start on the Schroon. We settled down to Bob's storytelling and making plans for the following day's events. It was decided that we would start out with a little fly casting for small browns up at Indian River, and if the weather looked good, we would then hike into the Hudson River for the afternoon. With that settled, we decided to turn in early in preparation for a big day.
The following morning I was up early. I'd barely slept because I was anticipating a great day on the Hudson. I had fresh coffee waiting for the others. After a quick breakfast of coffee and toast, we were off. The Indian contains mostly small stocked browns. We usually go there early in the trip to take some on the fly rod. This satisfies our egos. Though we may not be in the same league as Lee Wulff, at least we play the same game.
The drive to the river brought another unexpected event. I nearly hit a black bear that was determined to cross the road whether a pickup was in the way or not! I swerved to miss him, which I did, but it was close! This started the stories about black bears we'd encountered in the past. Though this one was big, he had managed to gain about a hundred pounds by the time we reached the river, easily making him the biggest any of us had ever seen. We all agreed that this had the makings of a special trip. We'd already taken some trout, now the black bear encounter of the closest kind, and it appeared the weather would hold.
As usual the Indian produced it share of trout. Bob put on a demonstration of his fly fishing ability. He was taking them on dries, small caddis imitations. Dave and I weren't put out to pasture, though. We managed a few. Dave even lost one "with shoulders on him" that he succeeded to shake off when he thought he'd snagged up. Not till his snag started to swim out from its lair did he even suspect a fish.
We kept a few trout to ensure another supper and released the rest. Now we were antsy for the hike in to the Hudson River. I have been fishing the Hudson for years but I'd never taken Dave or Bob in. Everything promised a great afternoon. We returned to the cabin to put our trout on ice, had a quick lunch and took off again for the trail leading to the river. I told the others that we'd probably have the river to ourselves because this was a Thursday. It was a two and a hallf mile hike in and most of the locals would probably be working or fishing roadside. I loaded my backpack with a plastic garbage filled with ice, soda and beer. This way we'd have refreshments in there and something to keep the trout cool for the pack out. All empty cans would be crushed and packed out on our return.
We took our time on the walk in. We planned on reaching the river about 2 p.m. and fishing till just before dark. I've been told that the state stocks this section of the Hudson River by helicopter. I don't know how they do it, but I'm sure glad they do. Usually the trout run from about eight inches up to about sixteen or so. These are mostly browns and rainbows. However, with the area as remote as it is and with with brown trout present, there is always the possibility of hooking up with one the size of a piece of cordwood!
No better sight could have greeted us when we finally dropped into the gorge and reached the river - a large pool with trout rising all over. They appeared small but we knew we'd see some action. Bob's leg had been acting up some so he decided to stay right there; Dave and I were going to go upstream and fish faster water. Before we split up, Bob took a small rainbow on his first cast, the second time he had done this upon reaching new water this trip. As he released it Dave and I headed upstream and he wished us luck. We agreed to meet back at the pool in a couple of hours to compare notes.
In the faster water Dave and I immediately started to catch trout. I was above Dave casting a #1 spinner into a deep run that eddied out on each side. It was unbelievable! I took six trout on six casts, then backed off. I told Dave to throw in there and hold on. They were small rainbows averaging from 10 to 12 inches. Dave came up and decided to throw a small jointed minnow in. WHAM! On his first cast he hooked into a nice fish! As he played it out, I waited patiently with the net. It was a rainbow, about 15 inches long with a lot of Adirondack spirit pumping through him. As soon as the fish was landed I kidded Dave about the poor manner in which he was treating his host. I invite him up to my "can't miss" hole and immediately he takes the best fish right from under my nose. Our spirits are soaring so I tell Dave to stand back and let the master work. I managed three trout on three casts, though nothing like the one he'd landed. We are sure if ever we were on one of those trips that fishing shows are made of, this was it.
The entire afternoon went that way. I don't know how many trout we caught, but it was plenty. I went back to check on Bob and though he wasn't having quite the luck that we'd run into he was taking some fish in the pool. I told him to come upstream but he didn't want to put too much pressure on his leg with another three days of fishing ahead. I headed back upstream and fished with Dave for a couple of hours before returning to the pool. Bob had left a note that he was heading up the trail early because of his leg but wanted us to stay and fish. "Nothing to worry about", he wrote. He did leave one nice brown trout on ice, so we knew there would be a story behind that one.
Dave and I fished for another hour before heading out. Bob had obviously been in good spirits when he came out. He'd been scratching arrows in the dirt to show which way he had gone and how far he'd made it! Upon reaching the truck we found Bob had been cleaning up and as we approached he met us with a couple of cold beers. Its great to go on a trip when everyone pitches in with the little chores. We asked Bob about the trout. He told us that he had been casting a Haystack pattern when he saw the brown take a look at it. It obviously didn't like what it saw so Bob began changing flies, going smaller and smaller till he had a size 22 midge on the end of a 7x tippet. Finally the trout took it, and Bob was so proud he kept just him as a remembrance of the Hudson River gorge.
That evening we all knew that we'd have no trouble sleeping so we had a quick supper of trout, toasted our good fortune and looked forward to continued good fishing. It hardly seemed possible that the near run-in with the black bear had occurred that very morning. So many events had occurred since then.
No trip to the Adirondacks is complete without spending a day on the West Branch of the Ausable River near Wilmington. The fishing stayed hot and I even managed to fool a few wary browns with a size 16 Hendrickson just before dark. My father would be up that evening with my brouther Tommy. I looked forward to seeing them and maybe learning a thing or two from my brother. He is an excellent fly fisherman and I hoped to pick up some tips on nymph fishing.
They were waiting back at The Camp. Once we got ourselves settled in the fish stories began. There was a lot of good natured badgering going on. My father took great pleasure in showing Bob how to make a proper "camp" fire. We had a good evening and decided to return to the Ausable the following day.
The weather took a change for the worse on Saturday but that couldn't dampen our spirits. We just hoped that things would ease up before dark. If so, the fishing might just go bonkers. It was really incredible how well our luck held this trip. Three hours before dark the rain stopped and the sun even tried to break through. Bob decided to fish just below the dam in Wilmington. Dave, Tom and I would walk downstream and work our way back. Pops would be somewhere in between.
The fishing was great with spinners and we were all catching fish. Tom decided to switch to mymphs and I settled down to watch. He didn't have any luck with a large dark stonefly, but as soon as he switched to a golden stonefly things began to really pick up. He almost immediately landed a beautiful brown with large red spots and the golden hue of a fish that had been in the river for awhile. The kid knew what he was doing. I enjoyed sitting back and just watching how he worked the large nymph around the numerous rocks and boulders. I am always amazed at how easy it is when I'm watching and how difficult it is when I fish. I just have to practice, practice, practice.
Originally we had planned to camp out at one of the local campsites along the Ausable that evening, but we finally had to make a concession to Mother Nature. The rain began falling just before dark so we decided to return to The Camp and dry out by the fire. Once we were back and in dry clothes we all agreed that though this had been a phenomenal trip as far as numbers were concerned, none of us had managed to land a trout of the caliber we all knew were here. Just two weeks earlier, on a trip I had made with my other brother, "Chester!", who couldn't be here now, I had taken a 21-inch brown from the Ausable. We discussed ways that might lead to one of these Adirondack lunkers.
Tommy and I decided to return to the Hudson River gorge for a crack at the big browns that we knew weere there. My father decided to try something a little radical. Each spring the rainbow trout from Lake Pleasant make a spawning run up the Sacandaga River near Speculator. Though we were a little late for the rainbow run it was clear that if a fish were hooked, it should easily exceed 15 inches. Dave was returning to the Ausable for another shot at the browns up there.
Tom and I had a great morning on the Hudson. We still didn't hook a tackle buster but we managed to land and release a slew of nice fat browns taken around the boulders. Dave did his usual fine job on the Ausable with his spinners. Bob, however, really put the icing on the cake. With my father acting as guide, since Bob had never been there, they must have made quite a pair. According to Bob later, my dad had driven him to the river, pointed at a shelf-like rock formation in the water and instructed him to "cast right there."
Nothing happened for a few minutes as Bob made cast after cast into the designated area. Finally, after what must have been the twentieth cast, Bob felt a solid tug on his line. That's when the events that I opened with transpired. It was a beautiful rainbow nearly 18 inches long. Bob was pleased as punch. It was the nicest fish he'd taken since we'd been coming up.
The trip home was both satisfying and disappointing. We were overjoyed by our success, but were a little disappointed that it had to end so soon. But the five hour drive home does provide one thing ... plenty of time to plan our next trip. Heck, in two weeks they'll be smashing minnows, worms, spinners, flies or maybe something else. We were already looking forward to another Adirondack experience.
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