I certainly haven’t been blogging regularly—for that I apologize. My excuse is that I have been prioritizing finishing my fourth book and other writing projects. My new book, “I’ll be home for dinner unless there’s a hatch” will be available in a few months. At the end of this post, I will include an excerpt.

I have also made it a priority to visit my local streams. They mostly hold stocked trout, but holdovers are caught, and smaller wild trout are part of the mix. I just enjoy wandering along these small waters and immersing myself in our natural world—before the biting bugs emerge!

Some of these waters, such as Collyer Brook, I have fished for forty years. Others, just for a few years. How do you find fun local waters to fish? I have several suggestions. (1) Read my book, Flyfisher’s Guide to New England. (2) Study the State of Maine Stocking Report. (3) Spend some time with either the old-fashioned maps like DeLorme Atlas and Gazetteer, or the digital navigation apps and find the blue lines. (4) join local fly-fishing organizations and ask the members for good spots to try.

The following videos and photos are of my local spots: Collyer Brook, Red Brook, the Little Androscoggin, Mill Brook, Otter Pond, Chaffin Pond, Panther Run, Pleasant River, etc. But regardless of where you hang your hat, I am sure you have undiscovered gems near you.

Here is that excerpt from my new book.

I have occasionally entertained the possibility that I might meet my maker while fishing. Most likely, I thought, was I’d hit a moose on a dark highway.  I have had a few close calls. Once I swerved right at the last moment – the moose swerved left – I could have reached through the open window and plucked a few moose hairs to make a Humpy tail.

But I never thought I would die falling off a horse, and yet, here I was on top of a stumbling mountain pony with a sheer 500 foot drop off to my right – on a narrow path that was too meager to be called a trail. Our guide told us not to lock our feet too firmly in the stirrups in case we had to bail off the horse quickly. Not a confidence builder.

Why did I trust my fate on the hooves of another creature? After all, I avoided prime grizzly country, high-elevation snowfields (hidden crevasses), small planes with one engine, and any unfamiliar entrees from food carts in foreign countries.

I’d only attempt a dicey trek like this if I had to: In search of native and rare trout species only reachable by hiking in or riding on horseback. For my wife and I in our late 60s, the choice between hiking 30 miles with burdened backpacks in the heat and thin air or riding a sturdy horse while a mule carried the gear—on what was described as an easy, beginner-friendly ride—made saddling up the obvious choice. Suffice it to say, some details were left out by the outfitter.

The problem is that recent extreme wildfires have rearranged the western landscape. Massive trees are continually falling on trails, and hillsides denuded of vegetation have spawned landslides after heavy rains. Well-constructed trails have been rendered impassible, so relocations and workarounds abound. Gone are wide paths and stone barriers at severe drop offs. Goat paths, game trails, unstable ground, loose rock, and fallen trees characterize many sections of trail, and the terrain is unforgiving.