There were a variety of ducks at the base of the rapids, which told me that finally, ice had captured most of the river, forcing the ducks to the fast-flowing water that rarely freezes.

Once the ducks appear in the rapids, you know it’s not long before the first smelt shack will appear.

I always say it is a brave man to be the first to haul a smelt shack out on the river. Others might select a different adjective to describe what it takes to drag a small shelter over black ice with a current ripping underneath.

Sure enough, two days later, the first shack appeared, and quickly was followed by another. So just what type of fish has anglers risking an icy plunge just to grab a prime spot on that deep eddy where fish seem to congregate?

It’s the rainbow smelt, an anadramous fish that returns to Maine’s tidal rivers in the winter as it prepares to spawn. This fish, which generally ranges in size from 7 to 9 inches, is prized for its sweet, white flesh. Smelt is the target of many anglers, from throughout New England, who flock to Maine in the winter season to fish for it.

Smelt was once abundant and its range extended south to the Chesapeake Bay. Currently, however, Maine is the New England stronghold for smelt, with few, if any smelt returning to rivers in Massachusetts and Connecticut.

Fortunately for those who don’t want to risk life or limb dragging a shack across the shell of ice, there are several commercial camp operations that operate in the Kennebec River watershed each winter. For less than the price of a lift ticket or round of golf, you can rent a shack for a full tide and try your hand at catching smelt.

Shacks vary in size and comfort. Some are roomy enough for six people, and others are cramped with two. What they all have in common is some type of heater, lines to fish with and open raceways along the length of the shack to fish from.

Cost is generally $15 per person. Some camps will provide bait, others will charge a small fee for a bag of bloodworms.

As you check in for your night of smelt fishing, do not be discouraged by the ever-present “fish at your own risk” sign. The ice, despite the groaning, gurgling, shifting and sliding is generally safe. I have only heard of one instance of a shack breaking free and floating down the river, and the anglers in it were rescued without even getting wet. However, a good rule to follow is to stay on marked paths, and just don’t wander too far from your shack.

Anglers fish for smelt in a variety of ways. You can use the house lines, which generally hang from the shack ceiling. Many will bring small jigging rods that have extremely sensitive tips or spring bobbers that can detect subtle strikes.

Cut your worm into small pieces, and bait your hook or lure with a small piece of worm, about the length of your fingernail. If you are using a jigging rod, use a small lure as well, with a piece of worm. I prefer a small Swedish pimple, size 2.

More serious smelt anglers will use multiple jigging rods, or even what is called a spring board, a homemade contraption that has several reels and jigging tips fastened to a board. Used with a baited hook, the spring tip bobs up and down, alerting anglers to a strike.

Even more serious smelt fisherman use sabiki jig rigs, which are designed for saltwater fish like mackerel. Generally, there are seven laser-sharp, dressed hooks attached to the line, and while they are quite effective for catching fish, they are even more adept at getting tangled and piercing fingers. If you want to use these, divide one rig into several, using no more than two sabiki hooks to a line. Catch two smelts at once on that rig, and you will be happy you only have to untangle two hooks.

Smelt are not strong swimmers, and they cruise the river with the flow of the tides. Experienced fishermen know that smelting can be hit or miss. On some tides, anglers can fill a bucket with smelt, and then the following tide, get skunked.

“You shoulda been here last night” is one of the more familiar refrains you will here from camp operators.

Still, as the saying goes, that’s why they call it fishing, not catching. And on a cold winter’s night, the heat from the wood stove, the anticipation of the next bite and the promise of freshly fried smelt are more than enough to bring anglers out in hopes of telling their buddies, “You shoulda been here last night.”

Mark Latti is a former public information officer for the Maine Department of Inland Fisheries and Wildlife and a registered Maine Guide. He can be reached at:

mlatti@gmail.com

 

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