The Miramichi Riverby Tim Jones "The Miramichi River in New Brunswick, Canada, is justly fabled as one of the great Atlantic salmon rivers of the world."
Twenty minutes into it, the fight was going nowhere. After two leaps which completely cleared the water -- unusual for a salmon this big -- the fish had run downstream in the heavy current, taking more than 100 yards of backing before my guide, Willie Bacso, could pull the anchor. We'd drifted down to the fish -- with me cranking furiously to maintain contact -- and re-anchored, only to have the fish take off again in a blistering display of speed, power and tenacity. For the last five minutes, however, the salmon had sulked on the bottom about 20 feet off the stern. No matter what I tried, that fish wasn't budging. Even Billy Pate's famous "down and dirty" technique--where you stick your whole rod down into the water and attempt to haul the fish onto its side--had no effect. Pate's tarpon don't have the advantage of a strong current. In my mind's eye, I could see the salmon cruising close to the bottom, with the green streamer in a corner of its mouth, and those wing-like pectoral fins twisting to let the force of the flow counteract all the pressure I could put on the 10-pound-test Mirage tippet with the Orvis PM-10 8-weight rod. "Has anyone ever told you that spring salmon don't fight?" I asked Willie, a Hungarian import who has guided in New Brunswick since 1969. "Yah," he replied, trying not to smile, "I've heard that rumor." "Do you believe it?" I asked. "Vell, no, not really," he answered in mock seriousness. "Clearly, nobody told this fish that it shouldn't be fighting this hard. Why don't you pull the anchor, and we'll get below it and see if we can get it moving that way." Ten minutes later, as boat and fish drifted together almost a half mile below where the fight had started, Willie managed to tail the lean-and-mean hen fish (she was much too big for the net) and haul her gently aboard. The barbless hook fell from her mouth as soon as I slacked off the pressure. Two quick pictures and a fast stretch of the tape measure -- a little better than 45 inches to the fork of the tail -- and she was back in the river, darting away cross-current with strong strokes of her big tail. The Miramichi River in New Brunswick, Canada, is justly fabled as one of the great Atlantic salmon rivers of the world. From mid-April when the season opens to mid-October, when the fishing closes on the last of the tributaries, the Miramichi is a dream river for anyone who lusts after silver from the sea, the magnificent Atlantic salmon, the king of all game fish. Actually, it would be more accurate to describe the Miramichi in the plural as "dream rivers" because the entire character of the fishing changes so radically as conditions change throughout the year, or as you move from the tidal reaches to the headwaters. You'd think you were fishing different rivers for different fish. Though I've caught in-coming "bright" salmon on the Miramichi as early as May 15, the salmon fishing year on the Miramichi really begins in late June or early July with the arrival of the first salmon from the sea. These fish have spent two or more years in the ocean and are now returning to the river of their birth. The earliest arrivals will move upstream occupying the headwaters until the fall spawn. They will be followed by successive waves of fish coming in from the ocean each time a rain raises the water levels, some arriving as late as the middle of September, so at any point in the year at any point in the river, there might be a fresh salmon just waiting to pounce on your fly. July is usually prime time on the Miramichi, and you pay for the privilege of fishing then. In a normal year, the water flows and temperatures are right, and the fresh fish are in. Salmon being salmon, there are no guarantees (remember, you are casting flies to fish that are not feeding!), but July is traditionally the time when the roulette wheel spins in your favor. But I'm a gambler when it comes to salmon fishing and I like the Miramichi in August and early September. Yes, the water is often low and clear--which makes for very challenging fishing with long leaders and small flies. But if rain happens to raise the water level while you are there--well, that's like hitting the lottery for a big one. In that case, you're almost guaranteed a day or two of fishing you'll remember for a lifetime. In the fall, things begin to wind down -- just a bit -- on the Miramichi. But if you happen to love both salmon fishing and chasing grouse and woodcock with a fine bird dog, well then early October is THE time to be on the Miramichi. Incredible bird shooting abounds in New Brunswick, and the river is as full of salmon as it will ever be in the last days prior to the start of spawning. The best thing about these "cast and blast adventures" is that you can make ideal use of your time, no matter what the weather. Start the early morning hours with fishing. Stay in the water until the sun has dried off the morning dew, then hunt birds until lunch. Take a nap after lunch, then decide whether the weather's better for hunting or fishing in the afternoon. Perfect! I caught my first-ever Atlantic salmon from the Cains River -- a Miramichi tributary -- in an October snowstorm after shooting a limit of woodcock in the morning sun over the best Brittany I've ever owned. That, truly, was a day to remember. But if you've never fished for Atlantic salmon, I'd recommend making your first trip to the Miramichi in the spring of the year, sometime between April 15 and the end of May. Why then? Because that's when last year's salmon are moving downstream. A number of myths surround the fishing for spring salmon -- which entered the Miramichi River last summer or fall, spawned in late autumn, overwintered in the headwaters. In late April and early May, just after ice-out, these holdovers head toward the sea, feeding on the way. New Brunswick allows anglers to fish for these downstream migrants beginning on April 15. Perhaps it's the ugly rumors which keep anglers away: "black" salmon are too easy to catch because they are actually feeding (horrors!); they are skinny, weak, dark, ugly, and don't fight well. Such tales sound plausible -- especially when committed to print by people who should know. I believed them, too -- until I realized that everyone I heard slamming spring salmon had never actually fished for spring salmon. Personally, I'm convinced it's all a plot on the part of the local anglers. They've fueled the negative image so they can keep all this great fishing for themselves. Yes, spring salmon do strike more readily than torpid summer salmon, about as well, in fact, as fresh-in-the-river summer fish on a rise of water. One spring, for example, I caught four salmon and two grilse in four hours of fishing one morning. That afternoon, I got nothing -- not even a bump. It all depends on -- guess what? -- timing, weather and water conditions. Every salmon angler knows that litany. Still, if actually catching two or three salmon in each day of fishing seems excessive, you probably won't like spring fishing. Spring salmon fight extremely well. Part of it is big fish using the currents to their advantage. But part of it is the fact that these are, after all, Atlantic salmon. Over half of the spring salmon I've caught and virtually all of the grilse went airborne one or more times, and almost all ran at least into the backing. Yes, spring salmon are slender compared to bright salmon, but there's still beauty and power aplenty. It's a little like comparing a sinewy martial artist to George Foreman. Incidentally, I have no idea where the name "black salmon" came from. Sometimes, you can still see a trace of the dark golden spawning colors, but the spring salmon I've caught have been bright silver and beautiful. In fact, I consider each spring fish a small measure of sweet revenge for the snooty summer salmon which ignore my flies. There's one advantage to spring salmon fishing that the critics never mention. Spring is great time to get a look at the Miramichi. In summer, each pool is a jealously-guarded private principality. You fish only the water you've paid to access. In spring, it's everyman's river, and boats from different camps pass each other with a friendly wave. Early in the spring, right after ice-out, I'd fish farther upriver at Pond's Resort in Ludlow, for example, or Old River Lodge in Doaktown. In May, Wade's Fishing Lodge in Blackville is ideally located about a hundred yards below the confluence of the Cains. Black Rapids Salmon Lodge in Blackville is perhaps the best spring salmon camp of all, located in the lower river where the hungry, outgoing salmon meet clouds of incoming spawning smelt. There are some down sides, of course, to spring salmon fishing. The weather can be downright awful. And the water is often high and essentially featureless. Much spring salmon fishing is done from a boat, and I would rather wade. There's an addictive magic about fresh-from-the-sea salmon that will keep me pursuing them as long as I'm able. But as far as I'm concerned, while spring salmon don't have quite the same magic, they're close. And you know what, the Miramichi is one of the legendary salmon rivers of the world. I'll be there seeking sea-run silver any time I can. Necessities for the Miramichi The Miramichi is fly-fishing-only. Any 8-weight or 9-weight single-handed fly rod will do. Wading, I prefer two-handed rods in the 8-weight or 9-weight range. Any reel for salmon should hold at least 200 yards of 30-pound backing plus your fly line. If your drag isn't polished smooth at the start of a salmon trip, it might be by the end. Weighted flies and weight added to the line or leader are illegal on the Miramichi, so it's up to your line and the hook to get the fly down. Most of the time, a floating line is appropriate. In the spring, you may want a full sinking line or a high-speed sink tip. In other words, bring 'em all. Leaders: standard is a 9-foot tapered to a 10-pound tippet. In the summer, you may need a 15-foot leader at 6-pound test. In the spring, short and stout -- 3 feet of 10-pound Maxima works well. Flies: Barbless, please. If I could have only one fly on the Miramichi, it would be a Green Machine in a variety of sizes. Your best bet is to stop at Doak's in Doaktown. They have flies that work and will know what the fish have been taking. Making Connections
New Brunswick Tourism (P.O. Box 6,000, Fredericton, NB, Canada, E3B 5H1; phone 800-561-0123) has lists of outfitters offering salmon fishing. Miramichi Angling Adventures (506-365-7115) is a marketing consortium of camps on the river. I've fished with four members of this association: Ponds Resort (506-369-2612), Old River Lodge (506-365-7568), Black Rapids Salmon Lodge (506-843-2346), and Wade's Fishing Lodge (506-843-6416). Each has its own distinct flavor. I'd recommend trying several until you find the one that suits you. Costs: Prices vary from lodge to lodge. Figure $300 to $500 U.S. per day for lodging, food and guide, and tips at a quality camp. Getting There: The Miramichi is about an eight-hour drive from Boston, 12 from New York. You can also fly scheduled airlines to Fredericton and rent a car. Some lodges will arrange transfers. Copyright © 1999 Tim
Jones. All
rights reserved. |
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