Four weeks had passed since the high water and cool temperatures of opening day. Prentice N. Largefonte and I found soon ourselves standing on the bank of the Wabishki River watching the still high, fast, and deeply stained water roar past our favorite entry point. To a couple of avid fly fishermen with aging legs and waning balance, the Wabashki resembled a Class V river on the International Scale of River Difficulty. Ok, that’s an exaggeration, but the high and fast water of the Wabishki quickly dampened our enthusiasm.
"Still running high." Largefonte muttered. "Do you know any ponds where we might find some Bluegills?" he asked. I mulled the question over for a while because I wasn’t sure of an answer any more. I spent the better part of 25 years pursuing, but never capturing, a career out east. My old haunts were now either eutrophied, closed off as private property, or had sprouted shiny new condos. It took me about 20 minutes to come up with a possibility.
"We might try Ma’ingan Lake." I said to Prentice as he turned the car toward home. "There may be a few early ‘gills building beds there." Ma’iingan Lake has a wide beach area and weed beds that make for high quality bluegill living, if a bluegill was of a mind to live there.
On the way, we decided to stop at a small pond north of Ma’iingan Lake. The last time I fished that pond the water was also high. In fact, the water was a foot or two over the road and the Bluegills had formed their nests on the gravel bed of the road. The fishing was fantastic back then.
We soon discovered that the roadbed had been raised and the road was now paved. There were no parking signs every 30 feet along the pond to prevent people from obstructing all the traffic passing by to reach the road’s dead end about 100 yards past the pond. The trees on the surrounding property were now amply decorated with no trespassing signs. On top of that, the deep center of the pond had disappeared and lush weed growth was visible across the entire span of water. On the positive side, the water was calm and inviting and we could still fish from the road. No waders required.
Largefonte parked along the road where there were no signs. We put our rods together and walked a few yards along the shoulder of the road to a spot where we could cast. After several missed rises, Largefonte and I successfully pierced the lips of two ‘gills just large enough to get the barb of the hook into their mouths, maybe 2 inches long. The gentle finesse needed to catch a fish of this size on a fly is something that only comes with years of experience and expertise. We loaded our gear back into the car and left for Ma’iigan Lake.
As it turned out, no Bluegills were of a mind to live in Ma’iingan Lake. At least, there was no evidence of it after donning our waders and wading a short section of the shoreline. A small bay near the beach was now weeded in and had become only a story about the big ‘gills I caught there 30 years ago. Prentice and I packed our gear, broke our rods down, and decided to call it a day well before dark.
At least we were able to test our waders. Mine has a small leak near the right heel. As I lifted my rod and gear out of Largefonte’s car he made the observation that I carried a lot of equipment for a 2-inch Bluegill.
Royal Dun
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