We begin with this report from Doc at his summer home south of the ‘Nocket in the “you must be shitting me” but you are not, since Doc is utterly reliable:
“Windy conditions with no bugs suggested streamers and wet line.
After half an hour of changes of fly—grey ghost, dead smelt, Micky Finn, Hornberg—I dug out my last black ghost. Third cast, stripping, WHAM! Nice 16 inch (estimate) fatty leaping and running. Great fight, me happy. After a five minute or so battle he heads up river 10 ft. away and makes one last leap to freedom.
To my total amazement an adult otter comes out of the river chest high and grabs the salmon, brings him under, surfaces 30 feet down river with fat boy sticking out of each side of his mouth, and snaps off my line. I see him come up again 40 yds. away still with his breakfast.
Nature’s revenge, but he may not enjoy digesting that black ghost.”
I received this amazing report after returning from Cobscook Bay Maine, near Eastport, where the Professor and much of his family spent camping over the 4th of July and after. The coast was ghostly but beautiful:
The next day we headed over to Grand Lake Stream—about an hour and some odd minutes inland. Jeff, the superb innkeeper at Weatherby’s—the great old Maine lodge that is the first-class and homey place to stay in Grand Lake Stream—was kind enough to let us know that salmon were still about, and on dry flies. After showing my beautiful wife the splendid cabins to lure her into a future visit (the meals here are terrific as well), we headed down to a well-known pool. The water was gorgeous:
There I picked up a nice rising eighteen inch salmon by getting a fly known as “the haystack” to drift properly. The picture wasn’t worth too much but I will leave dedicated followers of the Fishing Professor with this picture of the statue in Eastport, Maine—your captions are invited and winner will be announced on this blog: