For over 50 years, the quest for trout, salmon, bass, perch, finny creatures of any kind, has been my passion, a passion that has taken me to the Rangeley Lakes in western Maine for red and blue speckled squaretails and silver-sided landlocks , to the rugged and spectacular desolation of Labrador for vibrant, feisty Artic char, rod-busting brookies weighing up to 10 lbs. and yard-long pike with barracuda-like teeth, to the Moisie River in northern Québec and the Miramichi in New Brunswick for the elusive jumper salmo salar, Atlantic salmon. My most memorable fishing experience occurred at the confluence of the Moisie and Dorée Rivers made famous by Lee Wulff where I landed a salmon measuring over 40" and weighing in excess of 25 lbs. that succumbed to the enticement of a double hooked "Monroe Killer" dead drifting on a 8 wt. line.
While fly fishing continues to consume me, in retirement I have resurrected another fond diversion: writing! From illustrated "read-to" books for children, narratives of fishing trips, novels, documentaries, poems, nothing seems to challenging or too pedestrian.
My first published work, entitled Brothers and Heroes?A Chronicle of Military Service of Six Americans© and published by PublishAmerica, recounts the wonderful stories of my brothers' military experiences that so intrigued me as a child. In the chapter about my brother John, I wrote
As time blurred the vivid memories of Korea, John began to take me fishing. I remember a particular Good Friday, following church services when John and I took off in his Ford and went trout fishing in the stocked ponds north of town.
Currently I am working on a couple of novels, one strangely enough with the working title Corpse at the Fishing Camp© that opens
The acrid formaldehyde fumes quickly penetrated her nostrils, burning her mucosa, violating her entire being. With a brief whiff as she walked into the rather cool reception area, Sienna traveled back 17 or 18 years, back to high school, back to those terrible dissection classes that she had so abhorred. How could one odor, one smell evoke so many repressed memories? In a flash, she saw the pinned segments of the earthworm (lumbricus terristris if she recalled correctly) and remembered its morphology: suprapharangeal ganglia, setae, pharanx, chloragogue cells, crop, clitellum, prostomium. Stupid terms once and forever memorized flooded her consciousness.
Sunset on Kennebago Lake in Western Maine©
Foggy wisps on sunny morn–Kennebago©
Salmon On!–Moisie River Québec©
Ready with net–Moisie River Québec©
Kennebago landlocked salmon ready for release©
Labrador Artic char–Minipi River, Labrador©
Dockside gear at Kennebago©
Deer or stump?©
Prize caught on Cobbosseecontee Lake near Augusta, Maine©