Robert Berls in Bulletin of the Anglers' Club of New York, Spring 2009
Rivers
of Restoration:
Trout Unlimited’s First 50 Years of Conservation
By John Ross
Skyhorse
Publishing, 2008, 192 pages, 150 color photographs,
$40.00
Tagewahnahn, the
Landlocked Salmon at Grand Lake Stream
Written and
published by Dennis LaBare, 2007, 215 pages,
more than 200 color photographs and many black & white photographs,
$60.00
Reviewed by the Editor
Trout
Unlimited’s fiftieth anniversary book, Rivers of
Restoration, contains brief
discussions and many spectacular photographs of 21 TU-aided stream
restoration
projects from the Kennebec in Maine
to the Garcia River
in California. Nick Lyons says in his preface: the book
“profiles nearly two dozen rivers and watersheds and frames Trout
Unlimited’s
role in combating the threats to their health (showing) how careful
stewardship
can make a substantial difference.” As
Nick says, “It is an ongoing battle.”
Most of the
rivers presented in the book I have not fished
and of the few I have fished the only one I know well is the Falling
Spring
Branch in Pennsylvania’s Cumberland Valley. The
Cumberland
Valley is Pennsylvania’s
extension of the Shenandoah Valley, that swath of limestone that curves
in a
great arc from southwestern Virginia
through Maryland and Pennsylvania. The Falling Spring Branch, near Chambersburg, is one of the many spring creeks
in the
valley. Falling Spring is, or was,
famous for its magnificent Trico hatch, reputedly the best in the East. Starting in July and running well into the
fall, even as late as Thanksgiving if the fall was mild, every morning
it was
there. One of the virtues of Falling
Spring, in addition to its wild browns, is a self-sustaining population
of
rainbows, unusual in the East, as you know.
Before I began going to Montana,
the largest wild rainbow I had caught came out of the Falling Spring
Trico
hatch.
Our
former member,
the late Datus Proper, wrote of Falling Spring in 1982 that “the
ability of a
small stream to support so much life’ (wild trout, aquatic
insects, and a
mind-boggling population of scuds) ‘seemed a mystery. They should have made it a national
monument. Instead it is becoming a
housing development.” The spring
creek
valleys of Pennsylvania
have been increasingly encroached on by housing construction for many
years. The usual problems result: habitat
degrading owing
to increased storm-water runoff, sedimentation, and reduced riparian
protection—not to mention “keep off signs.”
Sediment from dairy farms was a long-term problem on
Falling
Spring. At times, engrossed in casting
to rising fish, you had to glance over your shoulder lest you hook a Holstein on your backcast. At
least the dairy farmers were liberal with stream access.
When one of the farmers was approached about
allowing stream improvements to be made, he said “you can do
anything you want,
just don’t tell me how to run my cows.”
But of course cows in the stream were part of the problem. The announcement of a proposed housing
development on the headwaters spring was the proverbial final straw to
two of
the regular fishers of Falling Spring who were also active TU members:
Dennis
LaBare of Baltimore and Bill Horn from Washington. Dennis
has an advanced degree in stream
ecology and has taught a graduate course in it at Johns Hopkins and ran
his own
environmental consulting firm. Bill was
a former Assistant Secretary of Fish and Wildlife at the U.S.
Department of the
Interior. Bill and Dennis teamed up to
see what could be done to save Falling Spring.
They began to meet with TU members in Chambersburg. The result was an eventual three-way
partnership of the local TU chapter, the township government and what
became
known as the Falling Spring Greenway bringing in area birders, hikers
and
people who just want to keep green acres.
Early work by TU and the Greenway influenced the township
to amend its
land development ordinance to protect Falling Spring.
The state Department of Environmental
Protection provided grants to fund stream design projects and for the
heavy
equipment needed to narrow wide, shallow channels and remove sediment. The Falling Spring Greenway has generated
more than $1 million for work on the stream and resulted in the
remodeling of
more than 4 miles of Falling Spring into a first-class trout fishery
again.
One
of those two
environmental activists who started the whole Falling Spring Greenway
movement,
Dennis LaBare, does nothing by half.
Dennis is the only person I know who spent a whole spring
and summer (of
1975) collecting, identifying, and photographing the aquatic insects of
one
river—the Beaverkill. Dennis is now
retired and divides his year between Grand Lake Stream in Maine
(where his family vacationed when he was a boy) and West Virginia. Dennis spends the warm months fishing for
landlocked salmon in Grand Lake Stream and the cold months hunting
grouse with
his English Setters in West
Virginia’s
long season that runs to the end of February.
After
five years of
work, Dennis has published what must be described as a tribute to Grand
Lake
Stream and its Landlocked Salmon. The
book is Tagewahnahn, the Landlocked
Salmon at Grand Lake Stream. Tagewahnahn
is the original Passamaquoddy Indian name for the Landlocks. Passamaquoddy means “people who spear
Pollack.” The tribe lived on the
Down East
coast of Maine
until the 18th century when part of the tribe was relocated
inland. The Landlocks of Grand Lake
Stream (GLS) and its St. Croix River watershed are one of the four
original
Landlocked salmon strains in Maine.
The book has six
chapters: The Fish, The Stream, The Dam,
The Hatches,
The Hatchery and Sharing the River. The
last one is about prominent anglers and famous people who have pursued
Landlocks in Grand Lake Stream. For a
stream that is only 2.75 miles long from the dam on West
Grand Lake
to where it flows into Big
Lake, GLS
might be the
most intensively studied 2.75 miles of stream anywhere.
Dennis has researched the history and the
science of GLS Landlocks and the stories about them.
Although the fish are wild, or virtually so,
GLS is a highly managed fishery, but that is not to say that it is an
artificial fishery. The state-owned
hatchery at GLS runs an “intercept fishery.”
The hatchery workers capture salmon dropping down the lake
in the fall to
descend through the dam to spawn and take eggs and milt from them. The eggs are then moved to the hatchery. The progeny of those fish are returned to
their native waters a year and a half later as seven to eight inch
smolts. These fish are essentially wild,
not the
progeny of tame brood fish kept in the hatchery. The
hatchery workers net out as many fish as
they need each fall: 1,500 to 2,000 fish and the rest are allowed to go
through
the dam into GLS. The stripped fish are
returned to the lake. If you have ever
wondered about essential differences between wild and hatchery brood
fish,
there are at least two: the eggs from
Landlock brood fish are 25 percent smaller than those of the
wild-captured fish
and only 60 percent survive to the eyed stage as opposed to 80 percent
of those
from wild-captured fish. The GLS
hatchery produces two-thirds of Maine’s
stocked Landlocks.
The
salmon stocked
in West Grand Lake
become increasingly dependent on smelt.
The forage of second-year Landlocks, about 14” long,
is nearly all
smelt. Thus the fishery in the lake is
the usual trolled streamer fly. As
Dennis says, if you are fishing in West Grand
Lake
for Landlocks it’s a smelt imitation “or else”.
In
Grand Lake
Stream it can be very different.
Comprehensive creel surveys of GLS are done every year by
Maine
Department of Inland Fisheries and Wildlife interns.
The annual catch varies from 1,200 to 1,950
legal salmon; and most (88 percent) are released. Legal
minimum size is 14” but 18- to 19-inch
salmon are common. Many of the GLS
anglers also fish streamers. Dennis
doesn’t
care to fish streamers for GLS Landlocks, preferring the floating fly
and
presents at length what he has found to be “the most outstanding
opportunities
to fish the floating fly on GLS.” He
then outlines the ecology of the most important organisms in GLS. The GLS Landlocks eat bugs and lots of them.
In
mid-June the
“signature insect” on GLS creates what Dennis calls
“truly spectacular
fishing.” This small net-spinning,
size
16 caddis, Hydropsyche morosa, thrives on the plankton soup that flows
out of West
Grand Lake. They
hatch by the millions. Stomach contents of
the Landlocks show
consistently as much as 80 percent caddis in May and June.
You can fish the pupae or the adult and it
all goes on until mid-July. Late June
marks
the start of another, slightly smaller (#18) net-spinning caddis, the
Cheumato-
psyche sordida which also thrives on the plankton out of the lake. Late May and early June see extensive hatches
of that iconic Eastern mayfly, the Hendrickson.
After the Hendrickson come the Pale Evening Dun, or
Sulpher (E. invaria)
and the March Brown, Stenonema vicarium.
A somewhat unusual mayfly, the size 12 Gray Fox-like
Stenomena modestum
starts to show in mid-July and goes on into September.
The Blue-wing Olive Drunella walkeri also
starts in July and hatches from dusk to dark.
Most visiting GLS anglers show up in May and June, but as
Dennis notes
as long as there is enough water to keep the salmon in the river
productive
fishing continues through the summer and into the fall.
Dennis
LaBare has
woven together a book that he intends “will enhance not just your
fishing, but
your overall enjoyment and appreciation of the river.” If you are interested in Landlocked salmon
fishing, or in Maine,
then you will enjoy this book. So buy it
and feel good about it because 25 percent of the net proceeds go to the
Maine
Council of Trout Unlimited and the Grand Lake Stream Historical Society. The book is profusely illustrated with
photos, drawings and a lovely map created by Dennis’s wife, a
classically
trained cartographer. (The editor of Down East magazine noted that the map
was worth the price of the book.) Among
other things Dennis is a talented photographer and there are many
historical
photos too. The jacket painting is by
the noted Atlantic salmon artist, Arthur Taylor, and is the only
painting he
has done of a Landlock salmon fishing scene.
The
book is
available at www.glssalmon.com
at $60. If you are not at home in
cyberspace you can
get it from Dennis LaBare directly at:
In summer (after
May 15)
and in winter (after
November 1)
RR1 Box 97A HC
62
Box34
Princeton, Maine
04668
Upper
Tract, WV 26866
207 796 5358
304
358 3154
Dennis told me that
he would be happy to take phone calls from Anglers’ Club members
who would like
current information or recommendations on trip planning to fish the GLS. Also he would take pleasure in greeting Club
members to show them around, sign their books, or to provide what
assistance he
can.
John
Holyoke
A unique look at Grand Lake Stream
Thursday, November 1,
2007 - Bangor Daily News
Nestled
in the woods of Washington County, Grand Lake Stream is a village you
don’t find by accident … unless, that is, the "accident"
involves
taking a wrong turn off unpaved Stud Mill Road while looking for some
outdoor fun.
Because
of its seclusion, Grand Lake Stream has long enjoyed a special status
among those looking for a place to kick back, fish a bit, and relax.
Baseball
great Ted Williams went there regularly. So did broadcaster Curt Gowdy.
Legendary angler and writer A.J. McClane knew all about Grand Lake
Stream. Burt Lahr, who played the Cowardly Lion in the Wizard of Oz,
also visited.
Ask
anyone who’s spent a bit of time in the town, and they’ll
agree to a single point: It’s a special place.
Thanks
to Dennis LaBare, you can learn a lot more about Grand Lake Stream,
from the point of view of a fisherman and trained stream ecologist.
After
several years of work, LaBare has released "Tagewahnahn, The Landlocked
Salmon at Grand Lake Stream," which was produced by Tilbury House
Publishers in Gardiner.
And
while the landlocked salmon certainly get their due, the book has
something to offer everyone with an interest in fishing or the town
known in many circles as "GLS."
LaBare,
who lives part of the year in Grand Lake Stream at Big Lake, and part
of the year in West Virginia, said he’s not sure when he decided
to
write a book, but figures it was sometime after he had a conversation
with Kurt Cressey, the proprietor of the Pine Tree Store.
"I’m
sitting in there, talking to Kurt, and I’m just [taking pictures
and
studying] bugs," said LaBare, who has done countless stream-monitoring
studies over the years. "I was taking pictures with my old-time camera
equipment. I’m talking to him, and he looks at me and says,
‘What are
you doing? Writing a book?’ I guess that must have started some
little
wheels turning in the back of my head somewhere."
Luckily
for readers, those wheels kept turning.
Tagewahnahn
— the aboriginal Passamaquoddy name for the landlocked salmon
— is an
ambitious project that is part textbook, part fishing guidebook, and
part history lesson, in a 216-page hardcover edition.
Each
of
the pieces of the book flows well into the next — as any book
centering
on a stream likely should — and the photography is often
spectacular.
The
54-year-old LaBare said being retired, and having some knowledge about
both science and the area, allowed him to do something nobody really
had done in recent years.
"I’m
not a writer. I’m not a historical researcher. I’m just a
guy who came
to be attached to this place, and had an educational background that
lent itself to many of the topics, technically," LaBare said. "But as
much as anything else, I had time."
The
book is divided into six parts, and each may appeal to a separate group
of readers.
If
you’re interested in the nuts-and-bolts science involving
landlocked
salmon and the hatchery operation in GLS, you’ll find those in
chapters
one and three.
If
you want to know more about where to fish, head to chapter two.
The
dam
that separates Grand Lake Stream from West Grand Lake merits its own
chapter, as do the insect life that’s found in the stream, and
the rich
history of the town and its sporting camps.
LaBare
received plenty of photos from local residents to beef up the chapter
on the town’s history, and relied heavily on experts in the more
scientific portions of the book.
He
credits the professionals he interviewed for their help in providing a
clear picture of fisheries and hatchery management in the book.
And
his methods illustrate just how determined LaBare was to get everything
right.
"I
went
down to Jonesboro and was able to get all three [Department of Inland
Fisheries & Wildlife biologists] in a room with a tape recorder for
six hours," LaBare said.
Those
interviews were followed by countless e-mails, he said, and regional
fisheries staff got to review his text before it was published.
LaBare
first came to Grand Lake Stream when he was a young boy, worked at an
uncle’s sporting camp beginning when he was 14, and kept coming
back as
often as he could.
In
2002, he retired and moved to Big Lake on a part-time basis.
"I
just fell in love with the place," LaBare said.
When
reading Tagewahnahn, that passion is obvious. From the breathtaking
cover painting by Arthur Taylor to the final page, the book offers
something for everybody, and makes it easy to escape — in
one’s
minds-eye, at least — to this picturesque little Maine village.
LaBare
said the decision to write the book, and to divide 25 percent of the
proceeds, after taxes, between the Grand Lake Stream Historical Society
and the Maine Chapter of Trout Unlimited was an easy one.
"Everything
that we have gotten here, as an experience, as a place to be and enjoy,
the relationship with the people, the resource, the land — we got
it
all for free," LaBare said. "I really wanted to put something back. It
seemed right."
If
you’re interested in getting your hands on LaBare’s book,
you shouldn’t
wait long: Only 1,000 copies were published. You can find out more at www.glssalmon.com.
John Holyoke can be reached at jholyoke@bangordailynews.net
or by calling 990-8214 or 1-800-310-8600.
Jack Gagnon
Short Strikes - North Woods Sporting Journal
Column for: August, 2007
Book Review
Tagewahnahn - The Landlocked Salmon At Grand Lake Stream
by Dennis LaBare
When fly-fishermen visit their preferred haunts, they focus on fish and
insects. That's usually enough. Like casual patrons at a favorite
restaurant, most of us are satisfied just to partake. We have no
burning desire to see what goes on "in the kitchen," behind the scenes,
in fisheries management. But Dennis LaBare is not a casual angler. He
is a passionate fly-fisherman, and a stream ecologist with a long track
record of accomplishments, including Trout Unlimited's highest
conservation award for a volunteer. He is also an unabashed advocate of
Grand Lake Stream, Maine's premier river fishery for landlocked salmon.
Tagewahnahn - The Landlocked Salmon At Grand Lake Stream
-
(hardcover, 232 pages, $60.00) includes the reminiscing and sentiment
expected from an angler who has loved a river and its environs for over
forty years. Grand Lake Stream is the river of Dennis LaBare's boyhood,
where he fished with his father, and it retains its magic as the "river
of his heart." The author reverently describes the sometimes ethereal
experience of fly-fishing for landlocked salmon there, but that's only
a small part of this book.
The core of Tagewahnahn is an applied science success story
-- the evolution of landlocked salmon management at Grand Lake Stream,
from what it was a century ago to what it is now. Let's enjoy the magic
the author says, but let me also show you how it is done. Tagewahnahn
- The Landlocked Salmon At Grand Lake Stream is a detailed dissection
of what makes this venerable Maine fishery tick. This book is rich in
historical perspective. It includes "who's who" in the history of Grand
Lake Stream fisheries management, and stories about famous and infamous
characters who have fished there.
In his insightful foreword, John Randolph, the Editor/Publisher of Fly
Fisherman magazine points out that (Tagewahnahn) "is
a story that needed telling for it is unique in American lake/stream
management history, for it marks the transition of "wild rivers" to
man-enhanced fisheries, the transition from true wilderness to
"commodification" of natural resources to serve new social needs."
This book will have special appeal to anyone who ever fly-fished for
landlocked salmon, as well as anyone interested in the nuts and bolts
of progressive, cold water fisheries management.
Tagewahnahn is beautifully produced, with compelling
photography. The artistry is a praiseworthy compliment to the content.
If you've ever fished for landlocked salmon at Grand Lake Stream,
embellish the experience -- read this book. If you've never fished
there, this book is an appealing invitation.The author chronicles the
Grand Lake Stream hatches, tells us how to wade certain pools, even
where to park.
Some of the proceeds from the sale of Tagewahnahn will go
to support the Grand Lake Stream Historical Society. It is available
from the author - email: dennislabare@earthlink.net or call
207-796-5358 (June thru October) or 304-358-3154 (November thru May).
________________________________________________________________________
Jack Gagnon lives in Lakeville, Maine. He has written for a
number of sporting publications and is a member of the New England
Outdoor Writers Association.
KenAllen
Book Corner - The Maine Sportsman
August, 2008
When Dennis LaBare was writing Tagewahnahn with the subtitle The
Landlocked Salmon at Grand Lake Stream, he mentioned the project
several times on Fly Fishing in Maine, an Internet bulletin board. Many
of us saw this and awaited LaBare’s book with great anticipation.
For anyone paying attention, it was obvious that this skilled fly
rodder, entomologist and historian was working on a labor of love about
his home river. This book reviewer just knew Tagewahnahn would be a
jewel.
In short, LaBare wasn’t a commercial writer trying to make a
buck, but rather, a man interested in chronicling a water that means
the world to him. The result shows this dedication.
LaBare breaks the book into seven parts and an epilogue, beginning with
a study of landlocked salmon, this species origins and distribution,
spawning and so forth – a rather complete natural history of
landlocked Salmo salar. LaBare then goes into a history of Grand Lake
Stream and information on its characteristics and pool names, a chapter
on the history of the hatchery complete with a photo essay of fall egg
capture, history of the dam, a great chapter on GLS’s insect
hatches and a summary of the media, celebrities, local personalities,
etc. of the river.
This reviewer absolutely loved the chapter about celebrities who have
gone to Grand Lake Stream – everyone from John W. Randolph to Don
Zahner to you name a big-time fishing writer from the 20th century.
Most of ‘em were there.
This last chapter before the epilogue is entertaining to the core and
tells of a time when Maine attracted all the big-name outdoors people
in the – well – in the world. Sometimes, folks criticize
Maine for not keeping its standing as the place to go, but in a way,
Maine didn’t lose its quality so much as more wilderness areas of
the world developed tourism meccas that this state could no longer
compete with in a global market.
LaBare’s book has lots of historical data that show Maine might
have had a few bigger salmon in the near to distant past, but overall,
the size of the fish have changed little.
Tagewahnahn includes figures from Charles Atkins’
Commissioner’s Report of 1877 – an intriguing tidbit of
information that included 235-male and 343-female landlocks. In 1877,
the average length and weight of male salmon were 16.8 inches and 1.8
pounds respectively and of females were 16.1 inches and 1.9 pounds. In
this report, the longest salmon was 22 inches and heaviest was 3.7
pounds! (There wasn’t a 4-pounder in the 578 landlocks.) The
shortest salmon was 13 inches and lightest adult 1.1 pounds. Stats like
this fill this book and illustrate that the good old days might be here
and now.
LaBare has lots of personal little touches in the book that’ll
touch a memory, and one for me was his reference to Fly Fisherman
magazine. When this publication first hit newsstands in the late 1960s,
most of us baby boomers can remember where we were and what we were
doing the second we saw it. (It’s like asking people what they
were doing when John Kennedy was shot.) LaBare’s dad brought home
the second issue, and he remembers the moment. Like Dennis, my initial
introduction also came with the second issue, which I bought at a
bookstore in downtown Orono in 1969.
Ah…the memories…and Tagewahnahn will generate plenty.
(Ken Allen)
Bill Ferris
Outdoors for Sunday 08/03/08 Sentinel by Bill Ferris
For those hazy, hot and humid afternoons and summer rains showers I try
to keep a book or two on a table near the window wall overlooking our
meadow. I can sit in the old rocking chair and listen to the rain and
while away a lazy afternoon. On sunny days I keep a chair under the big
pear tree in the side yard where I can catch the breezes and still hide
from the brightest sun.
My friend Phil has a philosophy that he would rather read hunting books
in the summer heat and fishing books in the dead of winter. It
doesn’t matter to me. I can read either but in some cases
actually prefer reading fishing books.
I understand John Gierach has a new book out but I haven’t seen
it yet. As with all Gierach books I enjoy reading them but don’t
necessarily need to own them. Instead I visit the Public Library and
have them order it for me, donating the cover price as a contribution,
then putting my name as the top of the list for those, who want to read
it.
While waiting, my friend suggested I read Dennis LaBare’s book.
Dennis helped establish the Falling Springs Greenway, which along with
the Falling Springs Chapter of Trout Unlimited and local landowners
protect the little spring creek. As an aquatic biologist he spent his
career in the environmental field and now spends spring and summers at
a camp on Grand Lake Stream and winters In West Virginia, where he
fishes landlocked Atlantic salmon and catches the woodcock flight
before coming south to hunt ruffed grouse.
Tagewahnahn, the salmon of Grand Lake Stream is an excellent blend of
history, community, science and reminiscence of a lifetime spend first
as a child, then later as a summer resident fishing along Grand Lake
Stream and its Salmon, fly hatches and long time residents.
Northern Maine has always been a blend of forestry, hydroelectric dams
and summer camps, where summer visitors spend their vacations fishing
and basking in pure waters, mostly cool evenings and comfortably
relaxed days.
As I began reading his book, I wondered, if it would be the kind of
book I could review for residents of central Pennsylvania, where our
fishing opportunities spoil us. As I found more hot and humid days to
hide myself in the shade, I discovered the need for those of use who
want better fisheries to read this book. It’s not only a blend of
science, but it’s also a road map to keeping what is and has been
cherished for generations.
A mixture of hatchery stocking, balanced with the available rainbow
smelt forage base, while not neglecting naturally spawning landlocked
salmon, Dennis gives us an insight into the real balancing act of
keeping everyone happy, while protecting the ecological balance.
His insect study is worth the price of the book and the rest is simply
a bonus. I don’t know where you might acquire a copy but a good
place to start is e-mailing Dennis at dennislabare@earthlink.net or
phoning him at 207-796-5358.
Paul Doiron
Gone Fishing - Down East Magazine
September, 2008
Dennis Labare’s Tagewahnahn: The Landlocked Salmon at Grand Lake
Stream (www.glssalmon.com; hardcover; 216 pages; $65) is definitely a
love letter. The question is: to what? In a narrow sense the book is a
paean to a specific river (a mere 2.75 miles long) that flows from West
Grand Lake into Big Lake in the wilds of easternmost Maine. But
it’s also a tribute to the historic and enchanting village of
Grand Lake Stream itself. More broadly, LaBare celebrates a vanishing
way of life — of fishing guides and famous “sports”
like Ted Williams and Buffalo Bob Smith journeying into the North Woods
with fly rods in hand. Ultimately, though, Tagewahnahn is probably best
described as an ode to a fish.
Not just any fish, though. Grand Lake Stream achieved its fame by being
one of the best places in the world to fly fish for Salmo salar sebago
— landlocked salmon and Maine’s official state fish. The
word Tagewahnahn is the Passamaquoddy Indian name for salmon, and as
LaBare explains, the river once teemed with them. Then in the 19th
Century logging and other man-made modifications played havoc with the
salmon’s habitat. LaBare tells the story of how fisheries
biologists have worked ever since to make Grand Lake Stream one of
North America’s premier angling destinations.
If ever a book of science could be called deeply personal, it’s
Tagewahnahn (and yes, the name is a mouthful). Dennis LaBare is an
experienced environmental scientist and stream ecologist. Plus, he has
the advantage of having spent his boyhood summers in Grand Lake Stream,
roaming every inch of the river and soaking up stories of river drives
and legendary Registered Maine Guides. LaBare’s own history
— and outright obsession with fly-fishing — accounts for
his book’s encyclopedic quality. Tagewahnahn ranges from highly
technical information about fish hatcheries management (Sample
sentence: “Eggs are checked for size to calibrate the volumetric
‘pig trough.’”) to pictures of Grand Lake
Stream’s esteemed visitors (Bert Lahr, the Cowardly Lion, once
made a stopover). It offers detailed advice for the angler about which
bugs hatch when and which flies to use where. (The map of the river is
worth the price alone). And it shines a spotlight on everyone from the
owners of the local store to unsung biologists who have worked behind
the scene to create great fishing memories for thousands of visitors.
Literally, by the time I finished Tagewahnahn, I couldn’t imagine
what more there was to say about either landlocked salmon or Grand Lake
Stream, river and village. The word definitive here is truly an
understatement.
LaBare’s grand ambition and all-consuming enthusiasm might lead
some to worry about the book’s readability, but in fact he is a
fluid writer, especially when he moves away from the scientific jargon.
And I would be remiss if I didn’t praise Tagewahnahn’s
illustrations and layout. This book was beautifully designed by
Geraldine Milham: a model for publishers everywhere.
Who should read this book? Habituees of Grand Lake Stream certainly and
professional fisheries biologists. Fly fishers will learn just about
all they need to know to catch landlocks here or anywhere else. But I
suspect there is a broader audience of people who would find this
macroscopic look at a Maine village fascinating for its own sake. As I
read along, I found myself wishing that similar encyclopedias existed
for other unique Maine communities. Monhegan comes to mind, with
lobsters playing the role of salmon.
In the end you can’t help but be won over by LaBare’s
passion. “For all who love this river, this place,” he
writes in his epilogue, “for each of us there is a special
something — that scent of pine, loons in the night, wood smoke,
the roar of the falls, waves on the shore — that no matter where
we are, when we experience them in our mind’s eye, we are
transported here, and it’s always about ‘getting
back.’”
I recognize the emotion, and I bet you do, too.
Paul Doiron is a fly-fisher and editor-in-chief of Down East magazine
Courtesy Down East Magazine
Fly Rod+Reel Online
Fly Fisherman Magazine
Tagewahnahn by Dennis LaBare
Self-published, 2007, 216 pages, hardbound. Winter - (304) 358-3154.
Summer - 207-796-5358
Tagewahnahn (pronounced tag-a-wa-non) is native American for landlocked
Atlantic salmon. Author Dennis LaBare, a native of Maryland and a
lifetime summer resident of Grand Lake Stream (GLS) in Maine, chose the
name to convey the historic imprint of the salmon on the region’s
people and the fish’s place in a unique lake/stream ecology.
With a professional background in stream ecology and management, LaBare
is well qualified to research and tell this story. His lifelong
experience and research with the Maine fisheries biologists, who have
restored and preserved the GLS strain of landlocked salmon, helped to
make this decade-long research and writing effort possible. But in the
end it was a labor of love, the telling of a story that involved the
people of Grand Lake Stream, professionals, guides, families, and the
fly-fishing celebrities who came to the river for its beauty and its
dancing salmon.
This is a technical book that explains how Maine biologists used modern
stream fisheries management techniques, including hatcheries and
stocking, to preserve and recover a strain of landlocked salmon that
had been severely depleted due to logging and dam building through the
late 19th and early 20th centuries. It portrays a special affection
that the people of Maine and of Grand Lake Stream had for their river
and how they used that affection to re-create their river in the past
five decades to preserve its living spirit, Tagewahnahn.
This book has a unique importance in American fisheries history: It
documents the industrial opening and closing of an American wilderness
and the effects it had on a wilderness river and its fish and the
successful recreation of that river in a modern, settled, environment.
The book offers clear evidence to us that rivers can be destroyed by
man and re-created by man, as boutique re-creations of wildernesslike
gems where heritage fish survive and thrive and are appreciated, and
even worshipped, by the people who enjoy them, especially the fly
fishers and stream professionals (guides and biologists) who fight for
the programs that assure fish survival.
Tagewahnahn is a blueprint for stream preservations and restorations
across the U.S. and especially in the Northwest, where salmon and
steelhead extinctions are imminent.
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