It was definitely a “senior” trip. Three of us, ‘old’ friends so to speak, went north for some late-summer trout fishing and Bob,the youngest of the bunch is now eligible for Medicare. This writer has just celebrated his 77th birthday and the third friend, Howie, in between us in age, only recently became a widower, still dealing with the grief of losing his high school sweetheart and life partner
We all live busy lives, some more than others. And we all know it’s important to take a little time off now and then. But here it was – mid-August – and one of the things that had eluded all us so far this year was a decent bout of trout fishing and the kind of time together that good friends should regularly share.
Sometimes you just need to put a stop to all the other stuff and take a break. We decided this was the right time, maybe the wrong time for serious trout fishing, but definitely the right time to get together and get outdoors for something other than work.
If you’re going to try and catch trout in New Hampshire in August, the best place to do it is in the North Country. We threw our stuff in the back of a pickup and drove up to a family cabin in Jackson to spend a weekend without the pressure of the workplace or the distraction of things like the TV, electricity or running water.
The rivers were running low in spite of all that rain in July. Surprisingly, the mosquitoes were nearly non-existent. The daytime temperatures were in the high eighties and low nineties, but the meteorologists promised a break halfway through the weekend. I don’t remember them saying anything about rain. One of us, I’ll let him remain anonymous, made coffee that was so bad we’ll be talking about it for years to come. I mean it was the stuff of legend.
The rain came in the form of sudden showers Saturday morning. The best thing about fishing in August is it’s almost fun to get wet. We’re not the kind of guys who wear waders when shorts and water shoes will do the trick. When the bottom half of you is soaked in stream water, it only seems appropriate to have a little rain wet the rest.
The trout cooperated. An early morning foray to Wildcat Brook saw each of us catch and release eight or more brightly-colored brookies as we carefully scrambled (okay, creeped and creaked) among the boulders and well-washed bones of the stream as only geriatrics can do, in order to reach the pools fed by fast water.
That initial introduction to warm weather trout fishing was followed by a streamside breakfast of bacon and pancakes cooked on a portable griddle in a turn-off next to the Ellis River with Mount Washington in the background. Just as the food came off the griddle the skies opened for some serious showering that had us chowing down in the shelter of the truck cab.
When we drove by the Route 16 entrance to Mount Washington one of the race cars was just starting its ascent in the annual hill climb to the clouds. We later learned that Travis Pastrana piloted his Subaru to a new record, reaching speeds of up to 140 MPH.
Then it was on to some barbless catch and release fishing for smallies in the dam tailraces of the Androscoggin in Berlin where we saw an osprey having lunch on a birch snag out over the river. When we’d had enough fun we had our own lunch of sandwiches constructed on the tailgate.
We had the time to talk and catch up on each other’s lives. We talked politics, current events, vaccinations and aging. We don’t agree on everything, but it’s good to hear other opinions. We shared hunting stories, of course. Over the years (a good many of them) that we’ve known one another we’ve helped each other scout and hang stands, blood trail, recover and drag deer, annoy the turkeys each spring and offer criticism and advice about our various outdoor endeavors.
Bob is the best storyteller of the bunch and he always has a good story. This time he had us all chuckling about his experience with the purchase of thrift shop shoes for his one-time stint as a pall bearer and how the shoes began disintegrating, piece by piece, as soon as he stepped out of the car at the funeral home.
We wrapped up the weekend with a return to the Ellis River where we found a few pools filled with hungry wild trout. Happy with the fishing experience we broke camp, had a big late breakfast at a restaurant and made the trip home feeling good about our relationship and hopeful for a future with a few more years of trout fishing.