The biggest fish of the day at Nickerson Park Campground on the Natchaug River, was a fat, scrappy, 22-inch rainbow that weighed in at about 3-1/2-pounds. I was enjoying the evening campfire, when the Nickerson kids came running, saying that someone had brought in a big trout and needed a scale. I dug the De-Liar out of the tackle bag and headed for the Rec Hall, where I took a couple of photos and congratulated the angler, Scotty Barnes. His name jogged my memory banks. The last time I had set eyes on Scotty Barnes was 25 years earlier when he was 3 or 4 years of age, camping with his parents at a site adjacent to ours. We had enjoyed some good trips in those early days. Scottie’s dad took him fishing as soon as he was capable of holding a fishing rod. Apparently, it was time well spent. Scotty is an accomplished angler now, and while he didn’t remember me, my own good memories helped celebrate his catch. By the way, he took his fish on a Rapala.

Scotty Barnes with his 22-inch rainbow.

Last year, Henry Nickerson caught a big trout. This year it was big brother John’s turn. Their parents, Chris and Diane quit the busy Atlanta corporate world a few years back to take over the campground that had been started by Chris’ mom and dad. The Nickerson boys, John, Paul & Henry, lead the kind of dream lives that I would have treasured as a youngster. They’re learning responsibility while enjoying the treasures that Mother Nature has to offer. The boys are all strong conservationists and all-round nice kids.

We were halfway through our traditional Saturday night steak dinner, when John and a bunch of his friends came running up to the campsite with a nice trout. It was John’s biggest so far, and we postponed the meal while we took some more photos. John caught his fish through pure hard work. He had opened the season at the starting bell, casting lures throughout the morning. Undiscouraged, he switched to mealworms, then to night crawlers and fished them patiently through the afternoon hours. He enjoyed supper with his family, and then purchased a can of corn from the campground store, and headed for the river again. The result was this big trout, making for yet another happy opening day angler.

Then there is the "Grizz." I don’t know his real name, or how he got his nickname. He’s big enough to wrestle a grizzly bear, and his flowing snow-white beard gives him a fuzzy appearance resembling a bear. I understand he is an excellent fly- tier, and may have created some special flies of basic grizzly patterns, earning the nickname. He has camped at Nickerson for as long as I can remember and he always catches fish. When everyone else comes up empty, the Grizz wades the river, casts and catches trout. I think he is a purist, for I have never seen him fish with anything other than a fly rod. He always carries a creel, but every fish I have seen him catch has been returned to the water.

What is most significant about the Grizz is his talent with a fly rod. Watching him cast a fly is like watching Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers dance. He makes only one back cast, and drops the fly exactly where he wants it with barely a ripple on the surface. Most of the time his fly is on the water, not in the air, and I am certain that is one of the keys to his success. The loop on his back cast is tight. His drifts are slow and free, allowing the fly to work naturally in the water. But then just as the fly begins to straighten at the bottom of the drift, he’ll add a little action, making the rod tip quiver. I would guess he is using a nymph or wet fly, letting it drift naturally in the current with the rod action making it rise as an emerger.

I watched him over the weekend as he fished a stretch of river fronting my campsite. He caught and released about 25 trout on Saturday afternoon and returned to the same spot catching a half dozen more on Sunday, after an all-night rainstorm that put the river up an inch or two.

Like many veteran anglers, he is friendly, polite, and has that special knack for making conversation without revealing any secrets. He uses lots of flies, some dry's, some nymphs. He fishes the same stretch of water almost every time out and continuously catches trout.

He has a wonderful technique for landing fish. He plays the fish almost within netting distance, then slides the reel down his forearm to his elbow, holding the rod about two feet up from the butt section. Then, he nets the fish with his left hand and transfers the rod to under his right arm, while he unhooks and releases the fish. It is a pleasure to watch a master at the game.

It was another fine opener. We have the same neighbors every year. There is the gang from the Air National Guard who party the weekend and catch fish too. Gabe cooked up one of the trout they caught, over the open campfire. Seasoned and wrapped in foil, it was perfect and a delicious addition to the weekend. And our neighbors on the other side, Peter and friends, brought along the smoker and smoked a turkey, a brisket of beef and roast pork while they fished. The aromas were good enough, but when our neighbors shared a sampling of these wonderful foods, it once again made the opener a special day.

Now we have the season ahead. Lakes, rivers and streams will be stocked another time or two between now and Memorial Day. The crowds will be gone and the fishing will continue to improve. It’s official folks. Another season is underway!

Dick Alley has been writing about the outdoors for more than a quarter-century. He currently writes outdoor columns for the New Haven Register and the Norwalk Hour.  He is a former Field Editor for the New England Regional Edition of Outdoor Times Magazine.   Alley has also written articles appearing in Salt Water Sportsman Magazine, New England Game & Fish, Heading Out and Outdoor Life.

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