Miramichi Salmon Fishing Trip

To fish crown reserve waters in NewBrunswick you must be a resident of N.B..  You have 7 picks which entails you choosing one of the 20 7 km stretches and one of the scheduled dates. If you win the draw you get aware a camp and  approximate 7 km of water for your party to fish for three days.  We got chosen for Groundhog Landing Aug 29,2015.  As always my buddies Chad, Aaron,  Denis and myself had a great time, staying up late playing guitar, and fishing most of the day.  We ended up with 10 hooked and 7 salmon landed. Chad got a beauty about 15 pounds.

A late but beautiful night on the river . We fished well after dark

A guy with a crazy sense of humour.  We used ATVs to get to the pools thus the helmet.  Helmet 

and fishing glasses makes a funny combination but not really a fashion statement.

We enjoyed some incredible camp food.

Some flies I tied up for the trip.

Goddard Caddis

green machine

The successful flies were the Carter's Bug, this orange bug,  and the L.T. Special.

Here is a great fly rod for salmon fishing the Miramichi and other such rivers.

tying the Goddard Caddis

A great little trout fly that seem to work anywhere is the Goddard Caddis.  It is tied on a dry fly hook from size 8 to 14. The body is deer hair with a brown hackle collar. Some tie them with two antennas but it does not seem to matter so most times I do not bother. A picture paints a thousand words so here is a couple I died up.

Three days in Elgin, N.B. 2015

Bad luck with co-ordinating enough vacation days forced us to skip our planned canoe trip and stay at Aaron camp in Elgin, N.B. for two nights instead. Doesn’t seem to matter where we end up we always have a great time. 

Aaron’s sons in there teens were old enough to experience what we do on our fishing trip so they came along.  A km or so up the road Aaron’s uncle has a camp.  We all ended up at Aaron’s camp with guitars and songs.  Aaron’s uncle surprised me because he knows every Stoppin Tom song and sounds just like him when he sings them.  Many songs, many beer, and many laughs were had.   

The morning was tough but after a quick stop at Creg’s to get some tylenol we were off like the horse poop and we hit the dusty trail.   We rode many beautiful trails in the Elgin, N.B. area, stopping to catch tasty brook trout along the way .  Here I experienced some of the most beautiful trails that I have been on.  The trails took us under huge virgin forest meandering along the Pollett River.  We came to an area where 4 nice camps sat in the mids of this beautiful trail system.  A family owned several hundred acres and never cut any more then what they needed for firewood and to make the trail.  The property is worshiped by this family and they refuse to sell it to anyone especially a big logging company who would destroy it in a matter of a few months.  A unique, winding, majestic trail indeed.

The second day and night repeated itself with more song, guitar playing, ATV and fishing.  As they say, “all good things must come to an end”  and this was no different.  I bid farewell to my buddies with a sense of loss for I would be heading to Cape Breton, 500 km away and would not see them again until our coming 5 day remote fishing trip in the last of the summer 2015. Until then I will sit at my fly tying bench tying flies and swapping emails with my good friends in N.B. 

Doing such trips is more enjoyable when you have a GPS.  You can go with confident that you are not going to get lost and when you get home, you can download the track to your computer.   It is always interesting to view your path on the big screen.  It displays better mapping details and shows where  you have been in relation to the area.  You can share your tracks with your friends so they can follow your path.  I take one with me when ever I go on an adventure.  

Warren Power - The man behind the hermit

The Tribute To Warren Powers

The man behind the hermit.

Like most people who live as a recluse, there is a mystery about them. Questions of why and how they lived liked they did. I think it would be unjust to put them under one category and call them crazy hermits for they all have their own story which is as unique as their own individual lives.

Warren was born in the United States, his mother a clearer his father a chauffeur. At the age of three years old, he was sent to live with his uncle who was a McAuley in Big Baddeck, Cape Breton, Cabot Trail Nova Scotia. The census of 1921 had him at 10 years old living in McAuley’s car. He was student.

Best to my memory he died in 1980 which would make him around 70 years old when he died but I feel he was old then that. Perhaps the census or the information I got about the census was incorrect.

Most of Warren’s adult life was spent as a recluse in the woods in the Big Glen area 20 km outside of Baddeck, Cabot Trail, Cape Breton, Nova Scotia. He came to Baddeck to pick up supplies once a month. I assume a small pension check was his only means to money. When he arrived in the village of Baddeck to pick up his supplies, there were people who were all to ready to take advantage of Warren’s good nature and asked him for money. Warren being a generous man would always reach into his pocket and give them something.

I remember he would sometimes walk the 20 km trip from his cabin in Big Glen into Baddeck with a knapsack on his back. It would be a four hour walk for a younger men then he. If the local gentry seen him walking on the lonely county road, they would pick him up and drive him to town. Most trips into Baddeck he would go to my grandmother’s home. After his visit, if Dad, Uncle Wilfred or Uncle Johnny were available, they would drive him to the road nearest his house. It would still be a long hike into his cabin for the average 15 year old gamer of today, but for Warren it was just a short jaunt.

Warren was a good Christian and knew the bible. He frequently would discuss it at Grammy’s house because there the bible was a frequent topic of conversations. I remember Warren telling my brother John P. and I one day, “It seems some people are in a boat rowing against the current; they are rowing in life but they are not getting any where”. I suspect he meant that they are not growing mature or getting anywhere spiritually. Perhaps that was one of his deep observation that he was having when he stood staring with a distant look on his face as some people made fun of him. Some locals though he was spacing out when he did this; it is not my belief that he was. Perhaps deep in pain or disbelief from how he was being treated or maybe just deep in thought and disappointment with humanity’s cruel ways - a very hard thing to say for sure. In my opinion I believe Warren was a man of deep thought and great intellect and never really space out at all. He was a man that searched deep into his sole for the truths before he spoke - a deep methodical thinker; careful with his words, true to his life’s unique wisdoms - a wisdom that could only be achieved by living a painful life that was so ever searching for the truth while living as a recluse in his lonely cabin in the woods.

Some that did not know Warren well and lack the maturity or time to try to understand him, dismissed Warren as just an old hermit. Some even called him crazy. Yes, he lived alone in the woods and perhaps the isolation allowed him to forget about the egotistical shallow ways of society. He forgot he was to groom his eyebrows, dress in certain clothes, speak a certain way, and speak without thought like most people do. Not that he didn’t have what it takes to blend in to society but where Warren spent most of his time isolated, his interaction skills were outdated. Warren was a very clean, cleaned shaven man. He dressed in a clean jack shirt and sometimes wool pants even in warmer temperatures. He smelled like the woods - not a dirty smell but just woodsy. His supplies for the month was organized in his back pack that he toted - the pack seem to become a symbol of his uniqueness - a back pack I would love to have as a keep sake. For those who new Warren he was lovable, kind, very knowledgeable about nature, survival, life and God.


His voice soft and gentle, his laugh was a unique one simple “huck” sound. For such a simple sound it was sure memorable. His unique character, unique way of living, and wisdom was dearly missed but no place cries out the missing of Warren then the people of Big Glen and the people at Grammy’s house.

Lorne, a friend and distant neighbour of Warren put it elegantly; “Warren was a unique man harmless in his ways. He liked people very much but did not always understand their ways so he preferred to live alone”.

Perhaps we could all learn from Warren but it would not be an easy task to follow his foot steps. I suspect it would be a painful journey to live a recluse’s life so humble, modest, and kind. I suspect a modern man attempting to learn from Warren would find it most difficult to put aside his egos and inflated sense of self worth. RIP Warren.

I survived the Pollett River Run 2015

The water was high and fast but just about right, at least for the canoes that could stay away from the cliffs and sweepers. There were people that got wet and the water was very cold. We collected a few beer that was lost from overturned boats. I do not have many pictures because I put my phone in a plastic bag so it would not get wet and the pictures did not turn out. I will however share a gps map of the route that was taken while on the river. It is a 16 km trip. With this high water, at times we were going 13 km/hour but overall average speed was about 8 km per hour. It was faster then normal. Most years it take about 3.5 hours canoe time and about 4 hours for beer stops. This year about 2.5 hours of canoe time and 3 hours of socializing on the banks.

The hydro sensors 01bu002 petitcodiac near peticodiaclevel read 1.8 meters. For further reference that means high water levels on the Pollett. There were 3 to 4 foot high rooster tails that slapped the bottom of our boat like a sledge hammer but the old town 20 foot tripper handled it well. We got some spray but stayed afloat.

The snow was just after leaving the take out/mud bogging field so the entire field was mud. There were sure some beautiful trucks hitting the mud.

All and all it was a great day.

Pollett River Run 2015

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The start.  Hordes of people will be gathering for the big river run on the Pollett River;put in is in Elgin, N.B. , April 25,2015. As always, the Pollett River Run is the last Saturday of April. This year the last Saturday of April happens to be on April 25,2015. That is next week and there is still a pile of snow on the banks to melt. In addition to the spring run off, the forecast is melting temperatures and rain. I am expecting the ride to be very fast, deep and wild.




Breakfast Is Served.
We usually stop at the Elgin Firehall for a great breakfast. The firemen put this on to raise money for their hall. After breakfast we head a km or so to the put in where people drag to the river, their canoes and homemade rafts made from just about every material known to man. Beer is opened, yahoos are heard,

Things you will need to take.

1. Canoe or raft  complete with boat pole or paddle.

2. It is an all day event so bring some snacks.

3.  Life jacket could saves your life.

4. Lost of people get wet so bring extra clothes. Dry bags full of warm dry clothes tied to your boat saves the day.  The weather is usually about 10 degrees which is very cold when you get wet.

Amazon has some good prices on some dry bags, life jackets etc.

Have fun and play safe.

Cain River Trip 2014

After a long hard Canadian winter, the warm sun on our backs was welcoming and brought on a flood of river memories and emails. Our cravings to indulge our thoughts deeper into a trans of the coming river trip dictated that we meet and spend a few hours together for some planning. Well as usual laughter and beer over shadowed our planning process and a couple of hours later we walked away not knowing what the hell our plans were except that our busy scheduled coincided on June 15 to June 19 of 2014.

June of 2014 arrived and with it organizing, planing and training had to begin. My training aids was my pipe, pipe tobacco and beer. I had to build up my endurance for I knew I would be exposed to more of the same during the trip..

After performing a refit on my canoe(patching a hole and repainting), I carefully organizing my supplies into the dry bags and felt I was ready to go. Now the challenge was to endure waiting for three more days until we set sail.... a feeling that a small child has for his wait for Christmas day.


We arrived at the put in under the Doaktown Bridge on route 123. We bid our driver Albert farewell(which is Chad's good friend)and guaranteed him we would meet him at Salmon Brook Pool at 7:00 P.M. five days from now. Albert knows his way around this neck of the woods and we could trust him to find his way into Salmon Brook Pool through old remote logging roads that were barely on the map.

The Cains is a slow moving river. To canoe it without scraping on rocks, water levels has to be above summer levels. The excitement of fast rapids and falls is non existent from the Doaktown Bridge down to the mouth but it is a river where you can enjoy the scenery, friendship and fishing without having to break for precariously navigating through white water rapids riddled with boulders and big drops.

Typically, we like getting our tents set up around 4:00 pm cook some trout then have the evening for fishing, camp fires,lies, guitar playing, and a few refreshment well into the night. Our energy runs out long before our conversation and laughter,  but as soon as we awake we start all over again. The first night, June 15,2014, was no exception. Around the Upper Trout Pool Area, under the comfort of the hardwood trees and a roaring camp fire, we partied well into the morning before cashing in and calling it a day.

The second day was colder then average for this time of year - around 15c. Early morning a moose crossed 150 meters downstream from where I was fishing. The day progressed with lots of stops and the cooking of freshly caught trout. The day came and went in a flash and before we knew it we were setting up camp again. We tarped our tents to shelter us from the rain.
A few showers didn't stop us from the usual guitar playing, having a warm fire and cold beer. We all slept well and stayed dry.

We awoke to a warm hot day. Mid morning Aaron's neck was getting burnt so he borrowed my hat. Denis's forearms were getting burnt so he borrowed some wet grass from mother nature and tied it to his arms. Our third night camp was near Blackville at a pool I think is Dr. Island Pool. The camp spot was up a hill about 150 meters away. Dragging the cooking gear would of been a task so we cooked and ate our supper by the river's edge. Despite the dropping temperature, we had a bath in the icy water. I am not sure what was worse, the cold water or hauling the camp gear up the hill. It was however a nice place to camp and worth our efforts.

The forth morning greeted us with a bright sunny day. I dressed light thinking it would be warm. It started to rain, the temperature dropped and we all got wet and I got very cold. The down pours caused the day to be rained out as far as fishing was concern. We paddled hard for several hours until we got to Fin Pool where we found a wet campsite up on a hill. We pulled our gear up the bank and about 100 yards into the wood, quickly got a fire going and pitched our tent complete with an over head tarp. I changed into dry cloths and put on my rain gear and started cooking supper. The rain let off and although it was not an ideal camp site we though it would be decent spot to spend the forth and last night of the trip. Well we got more then what we bargained for because about 3:00 a.m. we all awoke to strange screeching noises and branches being broke by an animal that would have to be as big as a bear. Now folks we are not new to the woods so we figured the screeching may have been an owl, but the breaking of big branch and trees had to be by something big. I joked a big foot but the boys settle there minds to be a simple old black bear with no claws and dull teeth. The sounds seem to go away and we fell back to sleep for another couple of hours.

The 5th morning was cold and I dressed for it. I used my neoprene waders, a sweater and an oil skinned rain jacket. Despite the cold and rain we were all fairly comfortable and enjoyed the day fishing and floating down the river. Early afternoon the temperature dropped again and we had one heck of a hail storm. The pellets were bouncing off my hooded rain coat like a rubber ball on pavement. We sat in wonderment of the storm and somehow enjoyed it's splendor.

After the storm we continued our way downstream. I spent an hour or so fishing at Pickards Pool which is about 1 km upstream from our take out at Salmon Pool. I caught a few small trout and like most of the fish we catch, I released them back into the river to live another day.

We arrived at our takeout at Salmon Brook Pool. We walked our boats up Salmon Book about 100 meters to a steep embankment where we unload our gear. Off in the distance we heard our drive coming up the woods road. The timing was perfect so it wasn't long before we had our boats and gear loaded on the trailer and heading back to Moncton. The trip back home was endured with many colourful stories each replete with exaggeration and humour.  I am not sure when we will be back but I will sure miss this 40 km, 5 days on the Cains River.
This book will surely kindle your sense of adventure.

River's Lament

River's Lament

The things that I am feeling, I must have to turn and face..

So what is this since of yearning, for a lost time and place?

My life lay before me, from now until the end.

So this yearning of nostalgia, this pain I have to mend.

We’ll cast our line upon the water, and chat upon the shore.

We’ll share our catch around the fire, and never ask for more.

We’ll stay at river’s edge till dark, walk to camp by light of moon.

We’ll cook over fire pit, eat with finger we forgot the spoon.

We’ll laugh about the day’s events as the salmon splash in pools.

We’ll hide our heads inside sleep bags; the night is brisk and cool.

We’ll be awakened at the crack of dawn by the singing of the birds.

We’ll lay in bed and listen to, the sweetest songs that can be heard.

We’ll fish the pools we’ve grown to love, net each others trout.

We’ll not count on luck to help us; we will help each other out.

We’ll be sad to see this trip come to end, the memories will transcend

Then my yearning for this lost time and place; will soon begin again.

By Ray Asaph