Haddock, Cod, and (almost) Hake on the Fly

After tooling around southwest Maine somewhat aimlessly for a day and a half, Noah and I found ourselves in the quaint little town of Ogunquit among a very un-quaint, very annoying crowd of tourists. I'm not a fan of tourists. Noah and I technically fit the definition of tourists but we don't look or act like them, to the extent that wherever we go we at some point end up being mistaken for locals. As such we believe we've earned the right to bass the kind of tourists that walk slowly down the middle of the road or poke a Portuguese man of war while taking a photo of it with their phone... Noah and I are idiots but I'd like to think we never look that dumb. We also try to avoid tourist traps as much ass possible, it was part of the reason we didn't spend much time in Acadia.

But there we were in Ogunquit during tourist season, getting annoyed by all the other people that were there. We didn't have a choice though, that's the town out of which the Bunny Clark runs. Noah and I had been talking for a while about booking a headboat trip in Maine. We knee it would be a good way to knock out some new species that we just wouldn't be able to catch by our own means. I was fully prepared to use conventional gear if need me, but I'd fished for tautog and seabass with a fly rod and artificial flies in 60 feet of water. With a very heavy lead and modifications to my bottom fishing rig, I figured I could potentially fish up to 200ft. The problem would be fly line... Fly line is thick and get pushed by current. It would be the biggest issue in presentation, because I refuse to count fish caught on a rig that doesn't utilize fly line as a key part of the equation. I opted for a long length of braid ahead of the fly line, allowing enough of the full sink fly line in the water that it would impact my presentation. In fact, every inch of mu fly line would be in the water, and it would prove to let me bounce my rig around in a very effective way.

The big question was, would the crew actually let me use a fly rod?

We'd booked the afternoon four hour trip. It didn't seem to be quite full but there were enough of us to take up most of the fishing space on the deck. After the first mate and captain, Anthony and Ian, had given a quick talk about what we were going to do and Ian had distributed gear and teasers and whatnot, I made my proposal. Unsurprisingly, it took them both a little by surprise. But I was given the green light as long as I got up on the bow. Braid tangles easily, being further from everyone else made sense regardless of what kind of rod I was using. When we got about 16 miles off shore, Noah and I took our place on the bow and got ready to fish.

I let my two fly rig, weighed down with an awful lot of lead, plummet to the bottom. It felt like it sank forever, but eventually my weight clunked onto the sea floor, 160 feet down. My fly line caused the line to bow, so when I lifted and dropped, my rig moved probably 4 feet laterally. That was great, my fly line was allowing me to actually cover water a bit. Unfortunately that also limited me, because after a few lifts and drops, or just a little while letting the rig sit, I lost all sense of contact with my rig. And cranking it back up, with or without a fish on, was hell.
It didn't take long at all for me to get hits though, and in no time I was pulling up something. Unfortunately, it turned out to be less than a whole red hake, so I can't really count it as a new species. It did give me confidence though... I could do this with a fly rod.

1/3 of a red hake, Urophycis chuss

Noah caught the first whole fish, a really cool looking cusk.

Cusk, Brosme brosme

In a short time I felt a take, slammed it, and cranked from the depths a new species.

Lifelist fish #139, haddock, Melanogrammus aeglefinus. Rank: species

A short time later Ian moved the vessel to the next spot. My first drop went without a take, but as I brought it back up I felt something take and start to fight. It ended up being a much larger pollock than any of the little harbor sized schoolies we'd caught in Acadia.

A few drops later I really got rattled, and after some serious cranking, brought up a cod pollock double! I was very pleased with the cod, it was quite a handsome fish.

Lifelist fish #140, Atlantic cod, Gadus morhua. Rank: species

Although it felt like barely any time had passed, it wasn't much longer before it was time to head back to shore. Noah and I were already discussing plans to return. Though we each only got a small number of new species, we'd seen a number of things caught by others that were strange to us, and one sea robin that was nothing like anything listed from the Gulf of Maine at all.

We'd already known the potential to catch a ton of new species, but now we had some understanding of how we could better get that done. Besides that, the crew was great, the boat itself was great, and the price was great. I'd go back just for the fun of it. Noah and I both plan to make the trip again just to fish on the Bunny Clark. 

That evening we fried up the cusk Noah had caught. It was one of the best eating fish I've ever had, no question. Just delicious. The next morning, after an unproductive stop in Kittery hoping to find some winter flounder, we were on our way home at last. Maine is amazing. Just an incredible place. I can't wait to go back.
Until next time.
Fish for the love of fish.
Fish for the love of places fish live.
Fish for you.



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