Ice Fishing Fail

After the biggest outdoors letdown I've experienced in quite some time, I've tried to put together the pieces of my vacation that have included a family weekend in the big city of Bangor, an ice fishing venture at Matt Diesel's new camp, and an upcoming ice fishing trip with the Maine Outdoorsman to central Maine in pursuit of some northern pike.

However, I did manage to get both my beauties out for some ice fishing action today and found that things got interesting as my youngest daughter approached a tip up. So I fired up the new Canon Vixia HF 20 and began to video the landmark event only to discover that she was in fact trying to put the flag back down after kicking some slush onto the trap.

Long story short... no fish, no flags, and an early trip into the camp to attend to one very wet leg... all I need to say is been there and done that...

She's fine and says she'll go with me again if her sister stays home...

Take care,

The Downeast Duck Hunter

Left Behind...

This isn't exactly what I had intended to share in celebration of my 100 posts, but here goes...

It is with my upmost regret to inform my readership that my excitement and efforts towards the upcoming fishing trip to West Grand Lake have been halted.

Apparently our efforts towards the planning of this 4 day adventure neglected one key component- communication.

When scheduling this event, I honestly felt that the trip was to be from February 18th to the 21st. When I learned that my friends were getting excited about leaving on Thursday (today), I wasn't quite sure what was going on. To make a long story short, I had made all plans around the end of school vacation instead of taking time off before.

I hold myself responsible for this blunder, but can say I've got through the emotional states of failure. At first I was terribly mad, then quite upset, followed by an irritated frustration. Now, I am just bummed because all my planning has resulted in nothingness. But it is important to mention that I do hope my friends still have a great time, even though it stinks to know that I will not be a part of the good time.

We'll see how my vacation plays out...

On a side note, I have been working on moving my blog with a small twist- I'm dropping "the" and working on building www.downeastduckhunter.blogspot.com

Until next time, The Downeast Duck Hunter

Cathance Lake Special...

Yesterday, I took to the ice after a short hiatus from all things outdoors. The weekend weather systems haven't been all that pleasant, and I haven't had much time with the family as a result of my dual careers. However, once the word "salmon" was mentioned and with some planning, a cold day on the ice would be in order. I would ride with my uncle to meet up with my cousin and another good buddy on Cathance Lake in Cooper, Maine. It may sound strange, but I've driven by the lake many times and never even considered it a viable option. Trolling for salmon seems to be popular in the spring, but I never had a reason to go there especially since I could hit the salmon on Gardner's Lake which is 20 minutes closer. Anyways, back to the story...

Once we got to the landing and unloaded, we made a short jaunt to the spot chosen by the dynamic duo who put Liquid's truck on the ice. Aptly named the S(tress)-10, the teal green pickup has been highly modified as the sportman's dream. A pressure treated wooden flat bed trimmed with eye screws provide for any securement while the stick shift gives the driver the ability to draw arms as an old Ruger pistol grip meets the hand for speed shifting. If you can bog the motor down just enough and then gear from 4th and 2nd with a little extra pedal, you can experience some boom, boom, pow and feel the shock wave from miles away. Needless to say, I'd guess the truck would be worth more below the ice than above it. Just kidding Liquid, you ride is very well pimped...



The boys had already set out, so Uncle and I made quick work with the ice auger and got our traps set. I chose to run straight out from an island into deeper water in hopes of hooking a salmon that might be swinging by the point. This line was completed by 9:20 and by 9:31 as I began to return to our post, the first flag sprang into the air. Once I neared the hole protected by a freezing slush wall to fight the drifting snow, I noticed the Heritage Laker spool spinning with intention. You forget what it's like to hook a bigger fish, especially since I've been chasing brook trout for the last two years. But on any account, I let the line run a tad more and began to retrieve the fish which I knew was a landlocked salmon. At first it felt like a log, then there was no resistance, then it was going in all directions. Eventually, the mono filament pulled out of the hole and a beautiful 19 inch salmon shined against the blue bird sky...

Liquid would yank out a foot long brook shortly thereafter and that would be the beginning of the end as I only had wind flags and prank flags for the remainder of our stay. We spent much time moving the Stress-10 to block the steady but shifting wind. I'm thankful for my cold weather gear, it was below 10 degrees and the persistent breeze made for a bitter adventure...

We grilled bear and moose steak, while sampling some deer sausage on the side with some boiled coffee and Coca-Cola slush puppies. Needless to say, I'm pleased with the day and would consider it to be a great primer for the big trip in Grand Lake Stream. T-minus 12 Days!!!

Have a good one,

The Downeast Duck Hunter

Hitting the Ice... 2/6/2010

The forecast promised bluebird skies, a sharp wind, and some fairly cold temperatures, but it didn't stop the Four Icemen from traveling further down east for some salmon and trout action.

Liquid and Scooter planned to take off before daylight in anticipation of the early rush, while Uncle Pard and I would venture out a bit later in order to get bait and other provisions. I wasn't worried about lagging behind, it had been a rugged week work wise and the thermometer was floating below 10 degrees.

A fresh concoction of coffee awaited as I turned the corner into the kitchen and the cold weather gear found way piece by piece. Figuring I had accomplished all acts of readiness without stirring a mouse, I met my youngest in the hall as I was about to open the door. This epic failure only reinforced the inevitabe, whenever I've got a plan in motion and it could be better supported by my wife getting a little extra sleep- it always results in no dice...

No matter if I were hunting, fishing, or whatever you could imagine, I'd bet my left foot that something will wake my wife up. It will be either our children, a phone call, or the cat. I gave my girls a kiss and shot out the door, there was nothing I could do to improve this slight situation without forfeiting the day.

We got to the lake around 8:30, unloaded the truck, loaded the sled, and rode the ATV out to this island

Brought back to life...

Tim checking the track and other aspects of snowmobiling mechanics...


Before my father-in-law passed, he found it quite important to make sure what things were to go where. All things hunting, fishing, and outdoors related would become mine unless I had no need for them. He often mentioned, "There is no reason for you to buy that, take mine and bring it back when your done". Unfortunately, there is no more borrowing of his items of "outdoor affection".

Some sporting items are absolutely priceless to me such as his Winchester Model 94 given to him on his 16th birthday by his father and some fly fishing rods that even I wasn't allowed to use. But much of his gear (as I'll call it) was everyday, basic equipment that was usually found under the "right" circumstances. If my father-in-law was anything, he was a fixer and imaginary who believe everything had value or could be modified to perform any service. In addition, he knew when a purchase was "right" and how it would help better achieve his outdoor pursuits.

Enter the 1988 Yamaha Exciter snowmobile. About two years ago, Papa picked up a snowmobile that hadn't been used for two years prior. He and a friend spent a day spraying into the cylinder to free up the pistons eventually to get the sled running. It never had been used hard, and Papa took the 570 cc snowmobile for a 30 mile jaunt with complete satisfaction. He knew it had another life in it, however that would be the last time he rode the sled.

Last May, he gave me the sled and proclaimed that it would make a wonderful "toy" for ice fishing, short trips, and entertainment for the girls. I accepted simply because it was so important for me to have it, apparently he knew that I would be able to put it to good use.

I didn't get around to getting it until this past fall. With the hectic summer and trying to deal with the consequences of losing a most loved man, time got by me and eventually it got to a point that I discover whether or not this machine would be of value. Papa's purchase didn't ever worry me, it was the two years it sat covered in the backyard. The Yamaha again had frozen up, and there was little I could do at that point.

One weekend after helping with the woodpile, I concocted a crude pulley system where I actually pulled the snowmobile onto a trailer, then anchored the line on the plow truck and while I drove forward the snowmobile slid up the ramp off of the trailer and perfectly into my truck. I'm not sure if I even understand what I just wrote, but needless to say I was quite impressed with my rough engineering.

I found myself visiting my buddy Tim, a gas engine aficionado who loves anything dealing with motors. We began the process of troubleshooting and quickly "unfroze" the piston with some PB Blaster directly into the cylinders as I continued to turn the starting key. Slowly but surely, things were moving and we got to changing the fuel to see if the sled would start. In a matter of moments and with a degree of anticipation, the snowmobile was running and sounding surprisingly "excellent".

With this good fortune, I forwarded the sled to a local ATV and snowmobile repair shop for a carburetor cleaning, new battery, and overall inspection. The feedback was dismal at first as the two carburetors were reckoned unfit for service, but one day later the mechanic called to inform me of better news. With some replacement parts and some hope, the sled was fully operable and running well. What amazes me the most is that this sled is 22 years old with 7,600 miles on it, these statistics don't coincide with the fact that it runs perfectly and looks well kept. I guess Papa saw a deal the day he picked it up.

I've put about 50 miles on the sled to ensure that my trip to West Grand Lake may not end in a breakdown. About 8 years ago, I discovered that problem in the middle of the lake about 7 miles from the cabin. We'll hope I don't perform a repeat of that great act again and these four days for perfect running. I'm confident that the old sled will do well, Papa didn't intend for anything different.