Each September I have loved fly-fishing for Maine’s river trout and salmon, particularly from mid-month onward. Through the years, many fish-catching days have begun with weather like this a few days before:

Two low-pressure systems moving straight eastward from the Midwest have merged before hitting New England, or a line storm has raced up the Eastern seaboard to Maine. Either scenario brings heavy rain, raising our rivers and cooling water into the 60s.

Typically this week, stream thermometers register in the mid to high 60s, but by late September temperatures drop into the low 60s or high 50s. As water levels subside, colder water encourages salmonids to put on the proverbial feedbag and real fall fishing begins.

Which brings up an intriguing point:

I enjoy fishing micro flies now – size 20 to 24 dries or emergers on 6x or 7x tippets. When my stream thermometer reads 68 or 69 degrees, I can land 20-inch-plus browns or landlocks on a size 24 fly that matches the size of a mosquito. It’s not a slam dunk, but it’s quite possible to land the brutes.

When water gets close to 60 degrees, though, it takes luck and skill to land 20-inch-plus salmonids on a tiny fly on cobweb tippets, and no one can emphasize enough the role that luck plays.

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Particularly when “this” happens:

When a good-sized trout in 62-degree water takes a fly tied on a tippet the size of a human hair, it may not realize the danger. Because of the ultra-light tackle, lack of rod pressure from the angler makes the fish play slowly enough around the pool.

If a fly rodder happens to work the fish up close and lil’ Moby spots the angler, then all heck can break loose. When a panicked fish starts pulling on a short line, there isn’t all that much fly line in the water to cushion powerful, rocket-booster movements. That’s when life turns interesting.

Often enough, rivers flow too forcefully to wade, but I do it anyway. As the current boils around my waist, I never lift a foot to take a step until making sure the other foot stays firmly on bottom. Being particularly careful makes me feel infinitely safer.

Micro-fishing offers fun and more fun, but September also provides good, big-river fishing on size 4 streamers tied on 8x hooks and size 4 to 8 bucktails on 6x hooks, or my favorite choice, huge weighted nymphs.

I begin the latter with a size 4, 8x streamer hook with weighted, nontoxic wire evenly wrapped on the front third of the shank. After covering the wire and shank evenly with tying thread, it’s time to tie two black biots (not too long) for tails and then wrap a fur-dubbed, black or brown abdomen with copper-wire ribbing. (Grizzly or black palmering is an option.)

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My thoraxes often match the color of the abdomen. When the abdomen is black, a peacock-herl thorax works well for me, too.

The wing case is usually a slate-gray primary feather from a duck, coated with head cement. Then I like a grizzly or black collar.

Here’s how and when I like fishing this fly. A northwest wind often blows under a partly cloudy sky, and the water looks steel gray from blue light filtering through clouds. The day feels slightly cold from wading and a little foreboding, offering a sense of adventure.

This fly works OK with the old-fashioned presentation of casting the line quartering across and downstream. The line should land straight, so the fly immediately begin to swing in a tight arc until it hangs downstream before the slow, inching retrieve upstream.

But as I age, it is more satisfying to dead-drift nymphs. The fly weighs too much for my strike indicators, so I fish the submerged fly by feel without this visual aid. That works better than the strike-indicator crowd may think because the heavily weighted fly helps telegraph a trout’s strike.

This is when it gets fun. Excessive blue light on a late September day, cold water and heavy flow can ruin my confidence, but then a salmonid hits and the fight begins. Yes, the weather and water prove more conducive to success than they had appeared to a pessimistic soul scant seconds before.

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Fly-fishing in Maine feels good anytime of year, but these days, early spring and true fall offer certain thrills. We don’t expect fast action, but when a fish or 10 hit hard in an afternoon, it’s a certain promise of what’s to come next spring when water temperatures prove perfect.

And right now, the action can be fun enough and make up for those cold, fish-less fall days that are an inescapable part of the colder times in every season.

Ken Allen of Belgrade Lakes, a writer, editor and photographer, may be reached at

KAllyn800@yahoo.com


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