Just for the smelt of it

Actually, I went smelting just for the ice shack of it.

I haven't fished - on ice or otherwise - since my brother and I were little. We'd catch bluegill from a local pond using nothing but our lightning-fast reflexes and a Slurpee cup with holes poked into the bottom.

Given my inexperience, I opted to keep the fishing haul expectations to a minimum.

Some friends and I headed north to Leighton's Smelt Camp on Monday night to experience the winter joy of smelting. My two cohorts had first-hand knowledge of the smelt experience but left me fairly in the dark regarding what to expect.

I knew there'd be an ice shack. And as we pulled the car up along the Abagadasset River in Bowdoinham, I spotted the small smelting village lit up and still on the frozen water.


We paid at the office ($16 per person), bought some bait ($5) and we were led out onto the ice to our smelting home: Shack #8.

Unlike ice fishing shacks I've seen in the past, there's no circular hole drilled into the ice floor. Instead, two troughs are cut from the ice - one on each side running the length of the shack. A dozen lines dangled from a length of wood mounted to each wall with flexible cords.

There was enough room for three of us to sit and move around - but I didn't move much at first. If anyone's leg was going to end up knee-deep in the frozen waters of the Abagadasset, it was going to be mine.

It didn't help matters when one friend regaled a story about his uncle getting a li'l too tipsy one smelting evening and falling off his chair - straight into the trough, as luck would have it. His pals were kind enough to make sure he didn't sink.

I decided to forgo the Geary's for the time being - just to be safe.

Instead, I worked the bloodworm. If you've never seen a bloodworm, I can attest that they look nothing like their gentler, innocuous-looking earthworm cousins. These bristly, wriggling creatures are the thing of childhood nightmares (or adult ones. I've had "Tremors" flashbacks for two days).

But then again, they're just worms. And ain't nobody gon' call me a coward. So I picked up a worm piece (cut into segments for maximum bloodworm usage) and baited the first hook like I'd be smelting since birth. And I only grimaced a little.

After all the hooks were baited and lowered into the water, it was time to...wait.

Fishing for smelts doesn't really involve a whole lot of "fishing" in the traditional sense. It's more of a "play cards, drink beer, tell dirty jokes" kind of sport.

We ate some grub, shared a few stories and sporadically checked our lines to make sure that, yes, the bait's still there and no, there aren't any fish.

We spent some time haggling with the fickle wood stove too, which raged one minute and fell asleep the next.


And then - a line moved! My friend pulled it up and sure enough, he'd caught a smelt. A minute later, another one! "Must be a school coming through," he said.

I turned to my lines and watched. A boat-load of smelt were likely darting through the dark water below the shack. Any minute now and they'd go after the bloodworm bits dangling from my lines. I'd struggle to keep up, with five, six, seven lines moving in the water, the hooked fish circling below and knotting them up.

Yea, any minute now...

But nothing happened. So we returned to our ice shack conversation with one fish, two fish to show for our efforts.

A fellow from a neighboring shack knocked on the door and stepped in.
"Catch anything?" he inquired in typical fisherman fashion. He peeked into the bucket. "Last week we were bringin' home buckets of 'em. But the full moon ain't gonna help nobody tonight."

He wished us luck at any rate and a moment later we heard him questioning the folks in shack #9.

My friend informed me that, "no matter what, the fishing was always better last week - at least that's the story you'll get." He noted he'd caught plenty of fish during a full moon before (all last week, I'm sure).


But the world rewards good effort, and by the end of the night I'd caught a whopping haul:

Absolutely nothing.

Seriously, not one single fish.

So the three of us left with two smelts. My friend did the math: $48 to rent the shack for 6 hours ($16 per person) and $5 for bait means those two fish cost us $26.50 a piece. That's some pricey fish.

Some might even say not worth the money or the effort. But I'd have to disagree. The entire evening was worth it.

For more info:
Leighton's Smelt Camp in Bowdoinham

Other Maine smelt camps

Regular ol' ice fishin' info on MaineOutdoorJournal.com