The outcome wasn't decided until the 11th hour and what a saga February was. You'll see many pics of Maine "open water" scenery that show my journey through a zero for 9 trips run. I'm not big on getting skunked, but it became routine with each passing trip and I remained focused on scraping up just 1 trout or salmon to keep my streak alive. On the first trip of the month, I missed a single brookie that bumped my jig late in the day. It wasn't big deal (or so I thought) until 8 trips in a row went by with absolutely no sign of fish life.
The saga included casts in 6 counties and 12 towns, with new spots and old. The weather and conditions were notably erratic and unstable, which upped the degree of difficulty.
Early in the month, we were in the midst of a very cold, snowy stretch that delivered a total of nearly 40" of snow, locked up a large portion of "flowing" water, and made the going difficult. Clogged cleats did little to enhance traction, and up and down flows in more open waters left hanging ice shelves
Even some dam-influenced flows locked up too much to be fishable!
The next try would be bigger water that usually remains largely open. One local I know said he hasn't seen it locked up like this in his entire life (30 plus years). The deep snow made getting around a real chore. When I get winded to the point of getting a bloody taste in my throat, I know I've had a workout. Deer tracks showed me it was tough on them, too, with break throughs in icy spots with air gaps .
When I reached the river, some of the water was marginally fishable, but ice floes made the chances brief.
And the normally good holding water with lighter currents had shelf ice that had built out 100 plus feet from the shore. I'm not big for walking and fishing around river shelf ice, particularly for that distance. In a move that was more stupid than anything else, I ventured out in search of fishable water. The cracks I saw were concerning, but I was pretty comfortable pushing on to the edge.
All went well until it warmed a bit and the ice edge started to bubble. As I headed off in the direction I came on, down I went. The water didn't top my waders and I managed to get to a solid stretch of ice to shore. Net result.....no fish, a lucky fisherman, and a lesson learned.
After that misadventure, I decided to head toward the coast where ice "should" be less of a problem. Nice try, Jim. I first tried a bit upland.
Then figured at least the tidal portion would be open and give me a remote shot at a sea run. Curses, foiled again.
OK, it was past mid-month, and I needed divine intervention to bring on a thaw. This ended up being one of those "be careful what you wish for" situations. In many spots, the thaw was only partial with lots of ice floes, sunken ice, and muddy run-off. Cold, muddy water rarely buys me much and the spots that did shed their ice flowed a bit too freely.
In one spot I came upon a white pigeon, but no luck did it bring. Heck, I even ran into what looked like an early mud season.
And although I remained fishless, it was was warm enough for a companion for lunch in the Subaru. My wife thinks he hatched out of the layers of mud on my floorboards, rather than coming in from the outside
I went back inland for my next foray to see if the thaw had changed things up. The 9th trip wasn't the charm either. This tail water is normally good for a fish, but not at flows that have the base of these trees under water
Trip #10 started out with promise. At least shelf ice had been replaced by pancake ice. Mucheasier to deal with. Flows were very high, but there was enough pocket water for decent drifts. Still no love. I kept the "Miracle Brown of 2015" in mind, when I saved that March by enticing an 18" fish to commit to a Countdown Rapala with little daylight left on the last day. Trip #10 for February 2022 was on the 24th, but a variety of factors made it likely to be my last trip of the Month. I had time for one more spot before nightfall. Flows were up, but clear. No sign of life for 0:45. With hopes fading, I slid back to a try a run I'd already fished before calling it a streak-ending day
I thought I saw a small fish move and flash slightly while holding tight to the bottom. Maybe it was a figment of my fish-obsessed imagination? I'll never know. What I do know is that about 0:10 later a large fish just came of nowhere to follow my small pink jig, shortly after I'd downsized my presentation. It stopped its pursuit in shallow water nearly at my boots. I stopped my retrieve, allowing the lure to drop. We were eye-to-eye, when the brown tipped slightly on its side in the skinny water and took. With a jig that small, and a big fish in tight water, things could have ended very badly in a hurry. He stayed pinned. How can one fish change everything? All I know is that I'd follow this quest all over again.
On to March, and who knows what. If I can pull it off, the streak will stand at 11 full years
