Composed by: Philip Monahan
Photography: Charles Hildick-Smith
Libby Camps is woven into the material of the area’s storied sporting history.
We had to do with 4 hours into an all-day walking, fishing our method upstream on a stunning brook-trout and landlocked-salmon river in a remote corner of Maine’s Baxter State Park, when guide Jeff LaBree stopped beside a relatively boring stretch of water and motioned for me to begin casting. I took a look at the shallow, rocky bend and after that back at Jeff. Before we ‘d left the lodge that early morning, he had actually worried that the secret to our day would be time management: there’s a lot excellent water that you need to require yourself to keep moving or you’ll never ever make it in time to satisfy the float airplane home. So why the hell were we losing time here?
Noting my uncertainty, Jeff took the stogie from his mouth and stated, “Humor an old guy, would ya?”
If I ‘d found out something throughout my years as a fly-fishing guide in Alaska and Montana, it was Constantly trust your guide, so I hopped below the bank and began removing line off the reel. At water level, I might all of a sudden see what had not appeared from above– a large, much deeper pail on the within the bend that would provide fish reprieve from the present and a stable supply of food. On my very first cast with a smelt replica, I felt a thump midway through the swing, and a good brook trout rolled on the surface area. After a brief battle, Jeff netted the muscular, foot-long fish and rapidly launched it. “Go once again.” The next 3 casts produced 2 more wild, native brook trout about the very same size.
As we waded back to the bank, I stated, “Excellent call.” Without missing out on a beat, Jeff responded, “No sh * t.”
Into the Woods
Northern Maine has a long history as a location for adventure-seeking anglers and hunters, starting in the late 1800s. However in the early days, merely getting to the area was a trial: tourists might take the train just as far as Bangor, where they would board a stagecoach for the 130-mile journey to Masardis. From there, it was another rough 10 miles in a buckboard to the town of Oxbow, where, in the late 1880s, C.C. Libby and his other half, Melissa, developed a remarkably well-equipped hotel using the last conveniences of home before one headed into the wilderness.
The arrival of the Bangor and Aroostook Railway in 1895 turned the drip of visitors into a flood, all of them excited to take part in the riches of the area’s waters and wildlife. Historian Paul Schullery has actually highlighted the function of the railway in the growth of American fly fishing, as brand-new railway enabled city occupants and suburbanites access to wilderness further and further afield:
By the 1850s, trains were transporting eastern anglers to the edges of preferred fishing premises on Cape Cod and Long Island, and even getting them near the Catskills, the Poconos, and the Adirondacks of northern New york city. However it was the speeding up railway boom after the Civil War that took anglers to a lot of areas that had actually run out reach and even unusual. (” Riding the Bed rails,” in American Angler)
C.C. Libby and his children were more than pleased to accommodate these tourists searching for a real wilderness experience, and over the next couple of years, the Libbys constructed an empire of more than 50 sporting camps throughout 3 counties. (In Maine, an easy cabin, typically ignoring water, is referred to as a “camp.”)
The crown gem of their operation was a collection of 16 peeled-spruce log cabins on an attractive island in Millinocket Lake, a two-day canoe journey up the Aroostook River from Oxbow. Like the hotel in the area, these camps offered a level of convenience and service unrivaled in the location, amidst a landscape of impressive natural charm. In the mid 20th century, a few of the cabins were transferred to the mainland, along the lake’s northeastern coast, where Libby Camps is run today by Matt J. Libby, representing the 5th generation of his household to serve anglers and hunters in the area. (The J. differentiates him from his papa, Matt P. Libby, who owned the lodge before him.) While completely improved, the camps preserve the beauty of a time passed, with gas lights, no tv, and wifi in the primary lodge just. The sensation of disconnection from the tension of the modern-day world is liberating.
The place is perfect, sitting right at the entrance to the 3.5 million-acre North Maine Woods (NMW), a large area of business forest land that’s likewise handled as a sportsperson’s paradise. A couple of miles to the south, the enormous Baxter State Park provides a lot more alternatives for remote fly-fishing experiences. The NMW is criss-crossed by a system of rough, gravel logging roadways, which enable access to a large variety of rivers, lakes, and ponds that hold wild, native brook trout, landlocked salmon, and the last populations of arctic char in the Lower 48. Early and late in the season, you can drive for hours without passing a soul, and when you get to your fishing area, there’s a likelihood you’ll have the location to yourself. Although it’s difficult to call the NMW real wilderness– the majority of the lumber has actually been cut 2 or 3 times over the last century and a half– you can notice the remoteness in the quality of the air, the absence of the noises of civilization, and the spectacular views.
Inhaling
My very first journey to Libby Camps remained in September 2019, for a cast-and-blast combination in which we fished the last 3 days of the fishing season and went after grouse for the very first 2 days of wingshooting season. It was a remarkable time to be in the Maine woods, as the foliage was nearing peak and the weather condition was that terrific mix of crisp, cold early mornings and warm, warm afternoons. Having actually experienced the tail end of the fishing season, I wondered about the spring chances, and LaBree guaranteed me that the fishing might be even much better in Might and June.
So on Might 21, I made the almost 10-hour drive from southwestern Vermont to Libby Camps, in addition to my young professional photographer pal, Charles Hildick-Smith. It’s just about 330 miles as the crow flies, however as we state in New England, You can’t get thayah from heeyah It’s a simple journey to Oxbow, where there is a gate at the entryway to the NMW, however the last 18 miles on gravel roadways takes almost an hour, as you need to steer around big rocks, deep ruts, and the periodic muddy bog. As quickly as we got out of the car at Millinocket Lake, nevertheless, any road-weariness was right away removed by the fresh breeze off the lake and the anticipation of the days on the water ahead.
We were welcomed by Darren, who brought a wagon to carry our equipment to “Glover,” among the initial 1890 camps that had actually been transferred to the mainland. The cabin has a sensational view of the lake, along with of Matt J.’s Cessna 185 floatplane, which would be our ticket to remote waters. Among my preferred features of angling travel is getting all my take on and flies gotten ready for the next day, which truly constructs anticipation and enjoyment. I constantly spread my open fly boxes out on the table, so I can ensure myself that I have not left any trump cards in the house and make a psychological brochure of my alternatives. My hope was that we ‘d experience some mayfly and caddisfly hatches that would bring fish to the surface area, however I was likewise all set to go deeper with a range of conventional Maine banner patterns.
Charlie and I hoofed it approximately the primary lodge before supper to see if there were any guides around, and sure enough, there was my old pal, Jeff LaBree, parked in a comfy chair in front of the fireplace. LaBree is a bear of a male, with an open, ruddy face framed by a white beard, and he frequents the wilderness. A native Mainer, he talks to an r-dropping mid-coast accent of open vowels, and he likes some excellent on-the-water small talk. However do not let the happy-go-lucky mindset fool you; he’s a killer angler who has actually been directing in the North Woods for more than twenty years. He might be smiling when he informs you to fish a particular method or strike an area with your cast, however he’s not joking. Based upon a hot pointer from another guide, who had actually experienced a killer caddisfly hatch on a remote pond, Jeff recommended we begin there the next early morning.
Swings and Misses
After breakfast, we filled our equipment into Jeff’s truck, called The Fight Wagon, for a brief drive over logging roadways. Our convoy likewise consisted of guide Nate Wight, a.k.a. The New Guy, along with fellow lodge visitor Jerry Birchmore and his guide, Pete Koch. We parked at a nondescript area and treked a couple hundred lawns to the pond, where the lodge has a number of canoes stowed away. It was a stunning piece of water, ringed by conifers and including a shallow flat at the back. We saw an increase or more as we prepared, however figured the awaited hatch would take place later on.
Storyteller: it didn’t.
Over the next couple of hours, Nate paddled me all around the pond– in a canoe made simply a couple hours south in Old Town– as we cast dry flies, nymphs, and banners. Erratic increases kept our hopes up that the reported hatch will pop off, however the clouds of caddisflies never ever emerged. It was the traditional “You need to have been here the other day” situation familiar to all anglers. Thankfully, a couple of fish wanted to consume banners, so we got our very first take a look at the wild, native brook trout that make this area popular. Born and raised in New England, I have actually constantly been a brookie guy, and the stunning red-and-blue areas and white fin edges of these trout activate something deep in my subconscious.
The very first wild trout I ever saw was a three-inch brook trout that jumped out of the water after my Mepps Black Fury spinner on New Hampshire’s Saco River in the mid 1970s. I had to do with 9 years of ages, and the vision of that brilliant, vibrant phantom left me enthralled, questioning if what I ‘d simply experienced was genuine. Though at the time I didn’t truly comprehend why, I understood that I ‘d glimpsed something unique, and when I attempt to trace my long-lasting love of trout and the rivers they live in, I constantly wind up back at that wonderful, short encounter. And though I have actually been fortunate enough to capture huge rainbows in Alaska, brown trout in New Zealand, and cutthroats in Yellowstone National forest, brook trout will constantly be my favorite.
After lunch back at the lodge, we filled into 2 boats on the beach right in front of our cabin for a brief trip to the end of the bay, where a rickety, old wood dam is the start of a brief stretch of stunning river. We treked downstream a couple hundred lawns to where a side channel returned to the primary stem, producing an intricate mix of currents, eddies, and joints. Jeff discussed that for years the area had actually been referred to as Elsie’s Hole, called for Matt J.’s granny, who would typically capture sufficient trout there to feed the whole lodge.
Although there was no requirement for a long cast, the discussion was hard, so Jeff talked me through it. I had actually begun with a Golden Retriever– a Woolly Bugger alternative developed in Virginia for smallmouth that has actually ended up being a Maine staple– and right away landed a little brookie. Jeff recommended that we include a smelt replica as a 2nd fly in a tandem banner rig. I cast upstream into the side channel, high-sticked the flies around a deep eddy, removed two times, and felt an effective strike. After a brief fight, Jeff netted a sensational brook trout, with broad shoulders and marvelous areas on its sides. Although barely a prize fish, it overshadowed the wild mountain brookies I’m utilized to capturing back home in Vermont.
Time Management
The next early morning dawned clear and calm, best flying weather condition. I have actually enjoyed float aircrafts because my time in Alaska, and I was delighted to get a bird’s-eye view of the huge woods and mountains around the camps. As soon as you’re in the air, you get a real sense of the extensive forest that spreads out in every instructions. To the south, Mount Katahdin increases high above the smaller sized peaks around it, and the landscape is veined by various streams and dotted with ponds of all sizes. Although there are no towns or settlements, the tradition of logging appears, in the method stands of forest are plainly of various sizes and ages.
Matt J. made a smooth landing on a long, glassy lake, the headwaters of a sensational freestone stream that drained pipes northward. Our flight had actually taken us from the MNW into Baxter State Park, another 210,000 acres of remote wilderness, which was reserved for entertainment in 1931. After dumping all the equipment and viewing Matt J. remove, we started a single-file, mile-long march along a rugged path that paralleled the river. The strategy was to fish our method back to the lake, preferably in the nick of time for pickup.
We lastly stopped on a long gravel bar, and I set myself approximately swing a smelt replica through a deep run along the far bank. On my really first cast, a trout took a huge swing at the fly however didn’t consume it, a phenomenon that would occur throughout the day. However a couple of casts later on, the brookie smashed the fly with negligent desert and after that ran hard throughout the river, where Nate netted it. It was an advantageous start to an amazing day.
For the next 7 hours, our 2 fishing groups leap-frogged each other upriver, capturing trout in practically every area we stopped. Whereas I’m utilized to capturing most fish as a banner swings throughout the present, these trout were vulnerable to strike as the fly came straight upstream, typically needing some imaginative mending to attain simply the ideal angle. The fish were big by my Vermont-mountain-stream requirements– primarily 10 to 14 inches– however we didn’t hook any of the brutes that make this area popular. We did move a couple of much larger trout, however like that very first trout of the day they would not dedicate to the fly, possibly since they felt risky in the brilliant, warm conditions.
If we got too concentrated on a particular swimming pool or run, Jeff would declare, “Time management!” and require us to resume our inexorable upstream march. By the time we reached the lake, we were heavy-legged however in high spirits. I had actually brought a minimum of 2 lots brook trout to hand, each as beautiful and stunning as the last, the huge bulk handled Jeff’s top-secret smelt replica. I practically dropped off to sleep on the brief flight back to the lodge.
Searching For Landlocks
For our last day at the lodge, we entered search of bigger landlocked salmon, which needed a longer fly-out to a river significantly further to the west. While the rest people delighted in a leisurely breakfast, Jeff and Pete leapt in the Fight Wagon at the daybreak to make the three-hour drive on logging roadways to satisfy the airplane. After an eye-popping flight, Matt J. put the 185 down on yet another lovely remote lake, and we taxied cab to a cove next to a dam, where the guides were waiting. Pete and Jerry remained to fish the top swimming pools, while Jeff, Charlie, and I headed downstream. We crossed the river as soon as before winding up at big swimming pool listed below a multi-tiered waterfall. Several currents came together and swirled around stones and trees in the river, that made for some complex discussions, however the fish wanted to strike my banner when I ‘d made the correct casts and repairs. I landed 4 or 5 landlocks in the 12- to 14-inch variety and had about the very same variety of missed out on strikes.
We worked our method upstream, capturing salmon from practically every location we stopped, typically hooking and landing several more. As they had actually been the previous day, the fish appeared commitment-shy, typically slashing at however not taking the fly. At one point, we enjoyed a big brook trout– the greatest fish of any kind that we had actually seen up until now– charge out from behind a rock to chase my fly, however it simply would not consume. When we lastly made it approximately the top of the stream, I swung banners through the swimming pools simply listed below the dam, ending the session with another 3 or 4 salmon and trout.
We fulfilled Pete and Jerry under a lakeside shelter and started to stow our equipment in the truck, because the airplane was due any minute. However the idea of our journey ending without a really big wheel stuck in my craw, so I hatched a shrewd strategy that I proposed to Jeff. Although Charlie and I were set up to make the return flight with Jerry, we offered our seat to Pete. Then Charlie and I hopped into the Fight Wagon, so we might stop at one more area before going back to the lodge. We were trading a beautiful, 25-minute flight for practically 4 hours of driving and treking, however the opportunity of capturing more fish and experiencing a brand-new piece of water made it look like a good deal.
To ride with Jeff as he navigated through the holes, mud puddles, and rocks that positioned consistent risk was to enjoy a master at work. The drive was an education and experience in itself. Big stacks of logs all set to be transported out lined the roadways, and at one point, a young moose trotted out in front of us before startling and vanishing into the brush. We took down a spur roadway, parked, and came down a high path to the water.
A substantial swimming pool listed below a dam included numerous joints developed by 5 spillways and a main maelstrom covered in foam. Right at the base of the path, I landed a good brook trout, and after that we crossed to the opposite. Jeff had me drop my tandem-streamer rig into the eddy in between spillways, and I felt a practically instant strike. The experience of strong headshakes let me understand that this was a big wheel, which was verified when a large brook trout swam out from underneath the roiling present. I battled the fish right to along with the bank, whereupon the hook took out and we enjoyed the prize swim away.
I invested the next half hour introducing long backcasts into the baffled currents in the center of the swimming pool, landing 3 more trout, however absolutely nothing to match the size of the one that escaped. Lastly, Jeff needed to drag me out of the water so we might return to the lodge before dark. It had actually been a long, impressive day, a fitting end to our Libby’s experience.
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IF YOU GO
Travel: Getting to Libby Camps is simple, although the last 18 miles on gravel roadways. You can drive the entire method, or you can fly into Portland (a five-hour drive), Bangor (3 hours), or Presque Island (under 2 hours) and lease an automobile. If you wish to prevent the rough part of the drive, you can charter a flight from Bangor right to the camps.
Seasons: Fishing season ranges from late May through September 30. Monthly provides various conditions, with the very best hatch activity from June into July. The river action decreases a little throughout the canine days of August, however fishing on ponds at this time can be incredible. As the weather condition cools in September, the river fishing can be lights-out.
Equipment: Due to the fact that you might be fishing a range of waters, it makes good sense to bring rods from 4- to 7-weight. (I brought 4,5,6.) A drifting line will serve practically all your river-fishing requirements, however you’ll require a sinking line for a few of the much deeper ponds.
Flies: The season determines fly choice, so speak to the lodge about the very best options for your journey’s timespan. The lodge has a well-stocked fly store on the properties. For subsurface action, take a choice of popular banner patterns– Woolly Buggers, Golden Retrievers, Gray Ghosts, and so on– in a range of sizes. Mayfly and caddisfly replicas are your best options for dry flies and nymphs. The guides at the lodge have a number of “supersecret” patterns that they more than happy to show visitors, although you will be testified secrecy.
Contact: www.libbycamps.com; (207) 435-8274. Each year, there are 2 Orvis Week journeys. Click here for more information and dates.
This story formerly appeared in Gray’s Sporting Journal
