By Stu Bristol The scenic overlook was crowded on the day we stopped for a break. The other tourists spoke in hushed voices as if in church, pointing and swooning over the panoramic splendor of western Massachusetts' Berkshire Hills decorated in fall colors. Although I grew up in nearby southern Vermont, I was still impressed by the foliage, but perhaps a bit more jaded than my fellow travelers, I figured for having driven up from New York City or Boston. Instead of the foliage, what took my eye was a shimmering trickle of water far below and what might be hiding under the bubbling cascades. It was spawning time for native brook trout and having a brace of them on a breakfast platter was too great an urge to pass up. In the trunk, alongside the spare tire, was an ultra-light spinning rod wrapped in a blanket and an old fishing vest I've had since a boy. Surely there would be something in those fish-stained pockets that would aid my quest for trout to grace the baked beans and home fries awaiting tomorrows campfire breakfast. My wife didn't put up much of an argument, given the dozens of gift shops along the trail, and she welcomed my desire to walk the stream instead of tagging along, eager to hurry her out of each. The history of the 65-mile long, Mohawk Trail began as a Native American footpath across the Berkshires and was used for trade, hunting, and social calling by five tribes, including the Pocumtuck and the Mohawk. After the colonization, the trail was successively widened and repaved, and its route altered to accommodate changing modes of transportation. All the stages of the region's economic life are represented: wild forests and mountains, colonial trading and farming villages, 19th century manufacturing towns, and the 20th century retrofitted rust belt. In 1914, at the dawn of the automobile age, the Mohawk Trail was declared a scenic route, the first such one. It was now afternoon and not the best time to fish but by the time a license agent was found and enough rocks were flipped to provide bait, the low angles of drooping sunlight camouflaged my presence on the stream. Using techniques learned as a boy, I hooked a tiny earthworm, barely two inches long and pale gray in color, on a size 8 barbless hook and laid it, so gingerly, into the flowing water above the head of the pool. Without weight on the line it took several casts to lay the offering just far enough upstream so that the current sucked it down under the bubbles to where it was quickly snatched from the current. In Maine, where I now live, the tiny trout that stretched barely two-thirds across my outstretched palm would be scoffed at and ditched back into the pool. That's the difference between a man who fishes for himself and for the enjoyment of a native brook trout breakfast and one who emulates the Saturday morning fishing shows and needs an audience to applaud his angling skills. A walk along this historic pathway combined with feasting on descendents of the same trout, no doubt, that fed the Native Americans I had come here to visit, was kept a private affair, something for me alone to relish. The tourists who peered down on me from the overlook appreciated, I'm sure, my presence on the stream. The angler, positioned in this wilderness setting, amidst the fall colors, would, I'm sure, make a splendid photo for the family room. Being a morning person, and my wife not, I knew it would be as late as 8 a.m. before I could begin the meal. Still, a cup of hot coffee and a walk through the magnificent Mohawk Trail State Park, where we camped, would suffice until I could safely rattle pots and pans. Native Americans probably enjoyed a trout feast, but they missed out on our modern conveniences. The cast iron skillet is the only way, in my mind, to cook trout, and then fried to a crispy brown, gutted and washed, but heads and tails intact, in real butter after being rolled in cracker meal. In a separate pan, the potatoes were cut and cooked with just a light covering of butter, as homefries, and in a crudely-made Dutch oven of aluminum foil, the biscuits were not homemade but from a mix. What a luxury to take advantage of modern conveniences. The beans were maple-flavored and I don't recall the brand but I remember the bacon was so thinly sliced I cursed the company who packaged the meat so that only the best cut showed through the window. The outing, and the subsequent breakfast feast, was unplanned. I'm sure the outing can easily be duplicated, even by those not as well-versed in angling as I. All along the Mohawk Trail, known today as Massachusetts State Route 2, that stretches from Greenfield to Williamstown, is met many times by babbling brooks that hold populations of native, as well as agency stocked trout. You really won't need a topographic map and compass for this roadside adventure although you may recognize other points of interest not in the tourist brochures. The entire trail is ripe with Native American artifacts. Arrowheads, flints and remnants of Native American culture still lie in the surrounding woodlands.  State law prohibits anyone from disturbing ancient burial grounds of historic sites, but artifacts scattered by native travelers are free for the searching. My good friend and noted Massachusetts Wildlife artist, Randy Julius travels the state looking for artifacts and today owns one of the most extensive collections. More details on collecting artifacts may be obtained by contacting the Massachusetts Archaeological Society, Inc., P.O. Box 700, Middleboro, MA 02346, phone 508-947-9005. As with other states, a fishing license is required before wetting a line. License agents are located at most sporting goods stores and gift shops along the trail and from town and city municipal offices. The number of mouths to feed back at the campsite can easily be quelled by the state's liberal creel and possession limits on brook trout. Fishing remains open year-round in the state with a daily trout limit per day of 8 fish in brooks and streams from January 1 through September 10. After that, the daily limit is cut to 3 fish per day, still enough for a great meal. There is no minimum length limit on trout caught in streams. The state offers nonresidents a choice of license options ranging from a 3-day permit to a full season. Children under age 15 do not need a license and those between the ages of 15 and 17 may obtain a license at a reduced rate. Visit the Massachusetts Division of Fisheries & Wildlife at www.state.ma.us for details and purchase on-line. Other Activities along the Mohawk Trail So many of the outdoor activities along the trail can be more fully enjoyed by camping at one of the many state parks and forests. For more detailed information, contact the Massachusetts Division of Forests & Parks at 413-442-8928. Also, from the town of North Adams, hikers will want to make a trip to Mt. Greylock State Reservation. At 3,491 feet, Mt. Greylock is the highest peak in Massachusetts. Acquired by the Commonwealth in 1898, it was Massachusetts' first state park. For years, Mt. Greylock has inspired artists and writers, including authors Herman Melville and Henry David Thoreau. After arriving at the summit by foot-trail or auto, you can see a panorama of five states. Bascom Lodge (Appalachian Mountain Club) Summit Road, Adams, MA summer 413-743-1591, winter 413-443-0011  Bascom Lodge, built by the Civilian Conservation Corps (CCC) in 1937, provides overnight accommodations and meals at the summit during the summer and fall. The reserve includes 45 miles of trails. The Appalachian Trail also winds its way through. Thirty-five campsites are available. You can hike to the top of Mt. Greylock from the town of Adams by following the Cheshire Harbor trail that starts at the end of West Mt. Road. Every year on Columbus Day the local chamber of commerce shepherds the Mt. Greylock ramble, when upward of a thousand hikers of all ages make the summit. Visitors' Center, Rockwell Road, Lanesboro, MA, phone 413-443-0011; Clarksburg State Park & Forest Middle Road, Clarksburg, MA, phone 413-663-8469. Rte. 2 to Rte. 8 north, follow signs. Open summers.  Savoy Mountain State Forest, Central Shaft Road Savoy, MA, phone 413-663-8469. From Rte. 2, travel south on Central Shaft Road, follow signs.  Mohawk Trail State Forest Charlemont, MA, phone 413-339-5504 Rte. 2 east.  Windsor State Forest River Road, Windsor, MA, phone 413-663-8469.  Rte. 8 to Rte. 116.  Natural Bridge State Park Rte. 8 North Adams, MA, phone 413-663-6312 Rte. 2 to Rte. 8 north, follow signs. New England's only natural bridge is found at nearby Natural Bridge State Park. The park is situated in a large marble quarry that was active from 1810 until 1947. The quarry is probably the most interesting feature of this park. The natural bridge is displayed as a tourist's curiosity, with chain link fencing all around and a walkover with handrail and steps.  Grafton Lakes State Park Grafton, NY, phone 518-279-1155.  Rte. 2 west. The town of Florida, ironically one of the coldest spots in Massachusetts, is near Whitcomb Summit, the highest point along the Mohawk Trail (2,240 feet). The first overnight cabin in New England was built on this summit. Florida is the gateway to the Hoosac Tunnel, a 4.7-mile railroad tunnel completed in 1873 at the cost of 196 lives. The tunnel workers nicknamed the burrow "Bloody Pit." It was on the Hoosac that nitroglycerin was used for the first time in an industrial application. Mohawk Trail State Forest Charlemont, MA, phone 413-339-5504 Rte. 2 east. Further along the road, you'll drive through the Mohawk Trail State Forest whose 6,457 acres joins the 10,500-acre Savoy State Forest, forming the largest tract of open space in Western Massachusetts. Many of the old Indian trails still exist here, including a portion of the original Mohawk Trail footpath.  With 18 miles of rivers and streams flowing through it, the Mohawk Forest is famous for its trout fishing. If you make it over to the Savoy Mountain State Forest, you'll want to seek out the half mile hiking trail that leads to Tannery Falls, an 80-foot cascade that tumbles eventfully over cliffs and ledges.  You can stay overnight at the 45 unit campsites, located in an old apple orchard. For real luxury, especially in the winter, rent one of the three log cabins with stone chimneys overlooking South Pond. The cabins can be reserved up to six months in advance.

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