The Annual Guides Drift

It’s an excursion that we’ve been doing for maybe five years now.

A celebration of another fishing season under their belts (I’m the only one in the party that doesn’t guide for fishing, preferring  the woods in the fall for guiding hunters for upland birds) and another guiding season that is only six weeks away from ending. They’re slightly weary from the trials and tribulations of another season of guiding, and it’s apparent. Weather worn hats and sunburnt faces give it away – the toils of manning the oars of a drift boat day after day, providing clients with good fishing and a great experience in general has taken their toll.

A couple of the guides accompany wading fishermen and women on the river too – you can tell they are perfectly happy to be riding along in a drift boat today, relieved at not having to stumble around the Trophy Stretch with clients in tow for another day.

While the lineup has changed a bit through the years, a couple of things haven’t – lots of good natured ribbing and a general appreciation that we all have it “pretty good”.  While everyone has a great time being together again, it is still not a day for the faint of heart. The slings and arrows from your boat mates can be vicious when your cast doesn’t reach expectations (those are pretty high, and closely scrutinized – every single cast), you make the unforgivable mistake of trout setting instead of strip setting, or even when you happen to be in the middle seat, rowing.

Piloting a drift boat for effective fishing is a balancing act of being close enough to the bank so that an average caster can get his fly in to the right position, but not so close to the edge that you spook the fish. Improper positioning of a drift boat, even when the captain isn’t a seasoned pro, is dealt with like Biblical justice … swift and sudden. A thick skin is definitely required on the Guides Drift.

The lineup for this year’s drift included Jon Howe (Tall Timber Guide Emeritus), Bill Bernhardt (Head Fishing Guide at Lopstick Outfitters), Dave Poole (Tall Timber Fishing Guide), Chuck Degray (North County Fly Shop & Guide Service), Mickey Cunliffe (Tall Timber Fishing Guide) and myself. Two boats, countless fly rods, and not enough Tylenol to numb the pain of thousands of casts …

This year’s safari was different than past years. Instead of drifting down the Connecticut River in search of trout, we opted for drifting down the river in search of northern pike. Pikes! Yes, the water wolf himself, the Esox Lucius, was our prey. In case you haven’t read previous entries about my experiences pursuing pike, they can be a frustrating quandary. Some days, the fishing is “good” – by good, I mean that you might see/spook/turn ten fish. That is not fish in the boat either, it just means that we contacted that many pike, which is considered a good day by most northeast pike fishermen. Other days, you would think that there was no such thing as a pike, and I’ve had more than a few of those.

Why do they turn on and off for apparently no reason? Explanations are myriad, but it seems as though two of the anglers on the Esox Research Project (a locally promoted organization that professes great knowledge regarding esox, with few statistics to back them up) espouse the idea that the lunar cycle plays a large part in pike feeding activity. Whatever the real reason is, pike fishing can be frustratingly addictive – the darker the struggle, the brighter the victory, or some kind of drivel like that.

We had two boats going down the lower Connecticut River, so lots of information would be gathered during the Guides Drift … It didn’t quite start that way, as Mickey was the only angler to have any action, landing a fine smallmouth bass not too long in to our voyage. Eventually, we started seeing glimpses of esox however – sometimes fleeting, but we knew they were there. Our first pike finally was brought to justice by Mickey, after a couple of missed opportunities by other anglers in our boat. It was a fine specimen, in typical “pikey” looking water – behind a log jam, in slack water, slamming Mickey’s well placed offering.

Things started happening at that point, somewhat consistently at times – we would seemingly find a few wherever we found one (thanks, Chuck), which helped keep the spirits of the boats up when it appeared to be getting dire. The largest pike was Jon’s 38″-40″ trophy slab of an esox, and the smallest was my 16″ pipsqueak, landed with great effort as daylight waned (sorry folks, no picture).

Fishing for pike means endless casting and, for that case, wonder. While some pike fishing involves top water presentations with fly patterns designed to do so (poppers, gurglers), a lot of the action takes place beneath the surface in dark depths. The pike angler fishing below the surface with a sinking line often wonders what exactly his fly (okay, these are not Soft Hackle Streamers – think one to two lengths of your hand) is doing down there as it makes its way back to the boat. The sinking lines vary in sinking speed – yesterday we used 250 grain and 350 grain sinking lines – bring ’em all because you might just need them at some point in the day.

Once the cast is made to the bank (pike are ambush predators, often lying near structure or waiting at drop offs for their next meal), stripping the fly back at varying speeds, incorporating occasional pauses can induce strikes.  Or not. Did I mention that there’s a lot of casting? The real challenge to pike fishing happens when your line suddenly stops on its retrieve with a violent jerk and you keep your composure to jerk back with a strip set. Directly in opposition to all of the trout angler’s instincts, the moment of the strip set often determines if the esox will make it to the boat for a grip-n-grin photo. Many pike have been lost with an ill-timed trout set and raise of the rod.

It was good to see a variety of sizes in our day on the water – evidence of a healthy fishery. The grand total for the two boats was 11 pike landed and released, with at least as many lost or otherwise contacted. Pretty good day pursuing the esox, and I expect another installment chasing pike next year.