As a photographer and travel writer, I’ve visited 30 states across the U.S., each boasting its own unique charm. Yet, few jump out to me like a hooked bass on a warm spring day in the state of Maine. Despite weathering my first nor’easter, Maine joined that list of top states on my radar, and I’d like to share my adventure.
When crafting my adventures, I hope for four things – interesting
people, stunning scenery, delicious food, and a solid tug on the end of my line.
Maine delivered on all fronts, living up to its motto, “The Way Life Should Be”
Let me take you along on my journey through the 23rd state in the country
where I was warmly welcomed, feasted like a king, fished inside a marine layer,
and explored one of the coolest national parks.
Let’s start with the food: I’m a sucker for seafood, especially shellfish and while Lobster tossed in mayo didn’t sound that appetizing at first, I had to try the legendary lobster roll and picked one up as soon as I landed in Portland. Cold lobster lightly tossed in mayo and heaped onto a toasted, buttery bun. It was pure mouth bliss. Come to find out, everyone has their twist but my favorite is lobster-hot or cold-drenched in melted butter then piled onto a thin layer of lettuce and placed into a toasted bun. Life-changing!
My culinary adventure didn’t stop there; I indulged in
haddock sandwiches, clam chowder, scallops, crab cakes, and my favorite,
oysters in a half shell. I went on a true seafood extravaganza, blowing through
and beyond my food budget and it was worth every penny for this landlocked seafood
enthusiast.
Now, for the people. New Englanders are fantastic. In a way, they have a similar vibe to Texans. They’re a mix of hard-working, kind, and witty. Mixed with a quiet arrogance. When I reached out to the Maine Yak Anglers group to find a loaner boat and people to show me the water Jason Gardner reached back out and was kind enough to orchestrate two different loaner boats and hooked me up with a few options to get on the water to fish. Also, while traveling around and visiting various pubs, restaurants, and watering holes, I could always find a willing participant in the conversation and pick up a few travel tips, all in that charming New England vernacular that excludes the letter between Q and S replacing it with the letter A. Even while talking politics one evening with someone on the opposite side of the aisle, we managed to keep it cordial.
Leading up to the trip, I anticipated clear skies and pleasant
temperatures for the full seven days. But upon landing, I received a text from Robert
John LaFreniere -my salt fishing guide and new fishing buddy- saying that
a nor’easter was rolling in and our plans would change a bit. I had never experienced
a nor’easter nor even really knew what one was but hey, I was in Maine and
ready to try something new.
I woke up in the dead
of night to the sound of rain pounding on the thin exterior of the van. The echoing
throughout gave me caution, but I thought to myself, “I’ve fished in worse”. When
morning came, I crawled out of my tin box and was greeted by a young man
with a thick red beard reminiscent of the Gorton’s logo - tying on a fly in the
heavy, wet fog. “We’re in a marine layer,” he said as moisture quickly collected
on my water-resistant hoodie. It wasn’t quite raining but the air was thick and
sodden.
With my camera
secured in my waterproof housing inside a dry bag, we launched into the skinny
channel, where the rising tide carried us into “The Pool” away from the
Atlantic in Biddeford. As we cruised along with the current, Robert mentioned
that there was a small watercraft warning for any boats under 48’ that day but
assured me be protected in the bay. We paddled past mooring boats and up into a
shallow flat to fish. Excited by the perspective of the monochromatic day, I
kept pulling my camera out to grab shots. It was difficult taking photographs
in the haze because as soon as I pulled out my camera, a thick layer of water would
cover the entire housing giving me only a few seconds to focus and grab a few
shots before I’d have to wipe it dry.
We sat casting,
blowing in the wind, and watching the banks on either side of us slowly
submerge as the tide rose. “This will be 6’ deep when the tide is high. That’s
when the striped bass come in to chase bait,” Robert said. I was casting a
large white swimbait on my spinning reel and Robert, a crab pattern on the fly.
We fished for about an hour before I got a big slam – no go, I missed her. Shortly
after that Robert gets hooked up. And like a pro, methodically lets her take it
and run for a bit keeping the line tight, he eventually brings in a twenty-nine-inch
striper. We fished another hour or so without any hookups so, with our clothes
soaked through and our bellies empty, we decided it was time to grab a bite to
eat. The tide was still surging into the bay through that narrow channel that
we launched so we hugged the bank and gave it a go but we just couldn’t fight the
wishy-washy current back to our launch. Giving up on that struggle, we chose to
paddle around to nearby park to pull our boats out there.
We stopped at Docks for some seafood then through downtown
Portland. We cruised up and down the dock side of downtown. Despite being “the
touristy” part of town, it had a fun vibe to it and without the small
watercraft warning in place, I’m sure there would have been a lot more action
coming from the boat docks.
If you know me, when I travel, I’m always trying to avoid
the tourism dupes and look for that authentic, local vibe. It was about the time when I was satiated with
the area that we walked by an ally that was a little less kempt and my
intuition took control. I stopped Robert and pointed us down the alley where we
found a great little local bar with oysters, a cool little kayak shop where the
attendee gave us each a 5x7 painting that he’d worked on that day, and my
favorite, the Harbor Fish Market. My
intuition was spot on and for a minute while examining the fresh fish, oysters,
clams, and live lobster, I daydreamed about what it would be like to live within
walking distance of this amazing little slice of heaven.
I parted ways with Robert and headed north to join The Maine Yak Anglers group for a tournament on Messalonskee Lake. However, I did have a day to unwind and thaw out, so I swung into the state jewel, L.L. Bean, found some raw oysters, and a parking lot near Popham Beach State Park to park the van for the night. The next morning, I was ready for a quick dip in the ocean but as I pulled in, the ranger at the entrance warned me of a red flag day. It would have been nice to take a swim but I’d just have to do with some sand between the toes and an icy cold outdoor shower in the cloudy, windy nor’ easter weather. From there, I headed to Messalonskee to catch the last few hours of daylight and a few fish out of the yak -Yes! The sun had finally come out.
I knew Jason and I would be up
north near the damn the following day so I went to check out the south end of
the lake where largemouth and pike were rumored to be. I’ve found that in most
lakes with both largemouth and smallmouth - the smallies stick to the damn side
and the largemouth get pushed to the inlet- I launched into a channel through
thick, tall grass then it opened up and the water looked fishy.
My goal was to catch a pike, so
I started slinging a Whopper Plopper around every laydown and down every
grass line I could and quickly I hooked up with two decent pike. Doing a little
more exploring I followed the inlet under a bridge and into an area that
brought back many fond memories of fishing that skinny water down in Texas. With
boat docks, laydowns, and grass all over, I had so many things to cast at. As
the sun sank, I started heading back to the boat ramp when I saw a large Y-shaped
laydown up against the bank. I cast my swimbait perfectly into the Y and Whammm!
I caught a solid largemouth. I cast back into the same spot and Whammm! I got
hit again. The second one slipped the hook after a couple of seconds but that
tug sure felt good.
Tournament days are always buzzing with energy. Participants have studied the lake, cleaned up their tackle boxes, bought that new widget that’s going to help them catch fish, and devised plans A, B, and C. A cloud of exhaustion and excitement is in the air as I get out of my sardine can at 5 AM at the boat launch halfway up the long, narrow lake. After meeting Jason and putting together my rig for the day, I started walking around, meeting people, and checking out their boats. The last time I entered a tournament, they had just started letting participants use trolling motors, but I wasn’t sure that even a peddle drive was considered a kayak and everyone here had trolling motors and elaborate fish finder setups. One guy even had three fish finders with three screens attached to his NuCanoe. Are these still considered kayaks?
I sat down in the cushy, high-set
seat of my loaner rig on this chilly, windy, and mostly cloudy morning, hit the
handheld controller and flew through the water. I caught up with Jason about a
mile down and followed his lead. We fished shallow, we fished deep, and we
fished transitions in every direction and with every lure on board. It was a
slow morning. I did manage to pick up one smallie on a white spinner bait after
seeing her on the graph, casting back into the area, and slow rolling it. Jason
was struggling to get on the board so after a while, I decided to leave him to
focus on fishing while I grabbed shots of other anglers. I went cruising from
angler to angler and everyone seemed to be struggling and focused on their fish
finders. Towards the end of the day, the trolling motor went out in the middle
of the lake, making me have to paddle the 300lb rig about a mileinto the wind. Finally,
another angler came by and offered to tow me in. At the weigh-in, I found
out that the guys fishing down south beyond the bridge, ended up getting into
them and landing most of the top spots and a few anglers up north hooked up on
soft plastics under boat docks. With my fishing license expiring and the open
road calling, I set my sights on Acadia National Park.
On my way north, I stopped at a
few forts. Maine seems to have a lot of forts for a state that was never in any
war. I asked around and found out that they were mostly built to protect the
lumber industry from the French. These relics of the past are fun to explore
Acadia was a great place to
start the end of my journey. Most of the park is on a large island called Mount
Desert Island with four towns and several villages. Bar Harbor -or Baa Habaa- a
cute little town filled with restaurants, gift shops, and silver-headed
looky-loo’s is the main town on the island and entrance to the park. I was
there between the summer rush and fall peepers season, but it was still jam-packed
with people, so I headed for the trail for refuge. After talking with a park
ranger to get some insight into the best hikes in the park, I headed to Thunder
Hole to watch as the waves crashed into the rocks and then jumped over to Gorham
Mountain for a hike. For the next 2 days, I hiked and explored the steep hiking
trails and rugged coastline. I could have spent another two exploring the
abundance of biodiversity and amazing viewpoints but sadly I had to make my way
back to Portland to catch my flight home.
On my way back to Portland, I cruised down the coast making a few stops along the way. One notable bay that I spent the afternoon in was Boothbay Harbor. I was able to find a public shower, walk the interesting town, and grab some grub. At one point, I was looking out the window of a local restaurant onto the bay where the oysters on my plate were harvested. -It doesn't get fresher than that.
On every dock, in every bay, I
would (as usual) look down into the water hoping to see sea creatures and I
never saw even one bait fish or crustation. I thought it was the strangest
thing. At one point I was questioning if the seafood that I had been eating was
real. Then, on my last night, while staying at Thomas Point Beach and
Campground, the ocean came to life. I had pulled in a couple of hours before sunset
and was cooking up the last of my food when I started hearing a lot of splashing
from the water. The striped bass were moving in! You could see them balling up
and chasing baitfish all over the bay. I finished my meal and walked down to the water
to watch, looked down and I saw three horseshoe crabs just off the beach. Then
I started hearing bigger splashes in the distance. It was a seal chasing
striper. After going days without seeing anything in the water, I had hit the
jackpot! The seal was far down this peninsula but with a quick map search,
I found that I could get close by van. So I drove down the peninsula to find a
thick forest between me and the water, parked the van, checked for no
trespassing signs, and ran down to check them out. Note: in Maine, you can
access any body of water through private property that is not marked by a sign or
purple paint on the trees. By the time I had reached the shore the seals (yes
now I could see two splashing) were on the other side of the bay. I sat
and watched for a while hoping they’d come back my way for a while before
heading back to camp for the night. Later I spoke to Robert who confirmed that
the nor’easter had driven the Sealife north and now they were making their way back
south.
The next day, I had just enough
time to grab one more lobster roll and drop off the kayak before my flight.
How I Traveled in Maine-
Once again, I rented a cargo van from U-Haul as my “tent on
wheels.” I like a cargo van because it offers absolute freedom. Of course,
you’re not supposed to camp at most trailheads or beaches but if you park in the
darkest corner of the lot and are in late and out early, you’ll never get
harassed. Not having a hotel room not only saves money but allows me to explore
wherever I want late into the evening and not have to worry about getting back
across town. Plus, there’s enough space to haul a kayak around.
Thanks for reading.
For more of my work you can go to: www.doskophoto.com
You can also see the fully edited version of this story through: https://kayakanglermag.com/
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