The summer evening sky was turning red, there wasn’t a puff of wind and we were surrounded by striped bass in every direction. It was good to be on the water again with my friend Dave. It had been a long time. Though the striped bass were plentiful, they were not necessarily easy to catch. They had no need to feed aggressively, due to the enormous amount of sand eels available to them. We saw a good pod of fish holding in shallow current lazily slurping bait off the surface. In many respects, it was a similar to dry fly fishing for trout. Dave crouched down on the bow. The motor was off and we drifted closer and closer to the feeding fish. Dave made a nice long cast with a floating line and a sand eel pattern. Perfect. The fly landed just in front of a feeding fish. Strip, strip, pause … fish on. At that very moment, all was good in the world. Fly fishing is certainly representative of so many other things than, “just catching fish.” However, it sure does feel good when it all comes together and a connection with a fish is made. We decided to head into the mountains and explore some of the classic Maine fisheries. We fished the Rangeley region which was home to some of the first streamer fly patterns and fly fishing legends such as Carrie Stevens and “Fly Rod” Crosby. We covered vast amounts of water and fished big pools, fast runs with big dry stone flies and every type of pocket water in between. Dave and I were both wide eyed when we stumbled upon a crystal clear pool with salmon and brook trout fighting for our black ghost streamers. It wasn’t long before the fish grew smart to our streamer offerings and we had to resort to tiny dry flies. The fish were rising steadily, but not interested in any of the elk hair caddis patterns that I was presenting. Dave had some of his dry flies that he uses on the Delaware River and after a few ties and re-ties he found the magic fly and hooked a couple beautiful fish. We returned home to our camp on Sebago Lake. It is a true Maine hunting and fishing camp, built in 1929. It has never been upgraded, still sits on cinder blocks and many of the original pieces of hunting and fishing memorabilia still barely hang on the walls. Maine is a special place. I’m glad that Dave was able to appreciate stepping back in time a little with me. Thanks Dave.