I went up to New Hampshire last weekend to meet some new (and familiar) friends at the White Mountains Tenkara Campout. It was my first trip to the Granite State in almost 40 years, and I was a little nervous about packing the right camping gear and whatnot. Fortunately, the event was very well organized and attended (75ish people), so I felt at home almost immediately.
But let’s be honest, I was really there for the fishing… and let me tell you, it didn’t disappoint! Here’s a meandering overview of my time in the White Mountains…
Wednesday
After arriving in Boston around noon, I made that quick drive up I-95 and then Highway 16 to White Mountains. Boston traffic BLOWS (I can’t emphasize that enough), but once out of the metro area it was smooth sailing the rest of the way. As soon as concrete receded and trees and mountains appeared, all travel related stress went away. My first stop was at North Country Angler to pick up a few things before checking in at a motel where I’d stay the first night.
But since I was here to fish, I quickly dropped off a few bags and sped up the highway to hit a river that ran alongside the road. Upon descending into the cool water, the biting bugs were obnoxiously thick, but the brook trout were thicker! They crushed my flies to the point that the thread and feathers started to unravel!
After a few hours of fishing, I called it quits and headed back to my room to get a good night’s sleep.
Thursday
This was the day we checked into our campsite. I shared a site with my friend Matt, and newly made acquaintance Michel. We went fishing on a tributary that morning in search of native brookies.
This was a stream which involved a lot of verticality, fishing plunge pools beneath small (and larger) falls.
We caught just enough resident brook trout to keep things interesting before heading back down to meet up with some others in our larger party.
Our afternoon session was back at the river that ran along our campground. Matt & I went out on this substantially larger water and were able to bring many rainbows, browns, and brook trout to hand. Yeah, these were mostly stocked fish, but it didn’t make it any less fun. The water was gin clear, so sight fishing was very much in play.
And the cold beer Matt brought along sure tasted fine after all that catching.
Friday
On Friday morning, Matt & I struck out again into the “Gulf” a few miles upstream from camp. This was a literal moonscape of big boulders to navigate. Conversely, most of the fish hung out in the deeper cut pools and runs… and we did a fairly good job locating them. Most fish we brought in were brook trout, although I believe an occasional stocked rainbow was mixed in. It kind of blurs together at this point…
This was the first “official” day of the camp out from an organized standpoint, so we headed back to the campground around 2 PM to meet incoming campers. There was also an event at a local microbrewery that evening. Some beers were consumed, presentations made, and raffles won. The latter of which scored me a gorgeous new fishing net!
Saturday
Early Saturday morning I wanted to head out on my own for a solo session. After all that rock hopping, there was a need to stretch the legs and do a little bit of hiking, so I drove to a particular trailhead I heard about during the prior night’s presentations. The hike was beautiful with several feeder stream crossings, and after about a mile and a half I started fishing near a shelter provided to passing through hikers.
The hemlock lined smaller water was very similar to what I fished on Thursday morning. The native brookies I found were just as pretty as well.
Evidently, I got the jump on other anglers, as I heard back at camp that a lot of folks headed to this same water a bit later than I did. However, I think most stayed down a bit lower. I bumped into a few familiar faces as I hiked back down to my car.
After taking a little snack & water break, I decided to fish near camp again… and as soon as I did, the skies opened up!!!
No worries, the weather seems to be very bi-polar in these parts, so it stopped after 10 or 15 minutes. Kinda reminded me of Florida. The break in the rain afforded me the opportunity to finish out my afternoon session before returning to camp.
Even caught one smaller rainbow with parr marks that looked like it could be wild…
Back at camp there were casting clinics and games, followed up by a big “feed” for all the campers. The burgers and hot dogs filled everyone’s stomachs as the night turned toward campfire conversations. It sounded like pretty much everybody enjoyed a fantastic day on the water.
Sunday
I didn’t fish on Sunday. I woke up to rain, and it just didn’t want to stop (and I didn’t want to deal with wet camping gear). So I packed up my camp, said goodbye to Matt, Michel, and Jim (who joined our campsite on Friday) and headed back down the road to another motel where I’d get cleaned up before my flight home on Monday morning.
But first I had to stop to scale Mt. Washington on the way and earn one of those infamous bumper stickers… achievement unlocked!
Monday
Not much to add here. I drove back down to Boston, boarded a plane to Philly, which then brought me to Jacksonville. My New Hampshire adventure was over.
Other Miscellany
When in New Hampshire, it certainly takes a while to get used to the local dialect. Or at least the one that wanders up from Boston. I spent a good amount of time fishing the Peabody River. You’d think one would pronounce it “pea-body,” but you’d be wrong. It’s more like “pibbidy”. As someone from Philly who says “wooder” instead of “water” it’s tough to throw stones.
I broke in my new Nissin Zerosum 360 6:4 tenkara rod on this trip. Fished it almost exclusively on everything but the smallest of waters. It’s an absolute gem of a rod, I can’t recommend it enough.
The bugs were ridiculous! Mosquitoes, horse flies, pretty much anything that buzzes and bites flew and bit me. I made the mistake of wet wading in shorts the first two days. I will never make that mistake again. My legs look like I came down with chicken pox and I’m still itchy a week later.
The moose crossing signs are no joke. I almost hit a moose in my car my first day there. Fortunately, I saw it on the other side of the guardrail so I slowed down as I approached… and as soon as I did it hopped the guardrail and crossed the highway right in front of me. No photos or anything, but man, that sucker was HUGE!
“Live Free or Die” – That’s the motto of the state of New Hampshire. The roadside signs all say that as you cross the state line, as well as the license plates on the plentiful Subarus. For living free, there sure are enough toll roads to get to the White Mountains, as well as camping site and fishing license fees. To “live free” must be a relative term. Honestly, I’m just kidding, what I paid was a bargain, but I just had to toss that jab in.
$2.50. Speaking of paying for things, that’s what it costs for 5 minutes of hot water in the campground pay showers. After a few days of accumulating fishing funk in the hot sun, it’s the best 10 quarters you’ll ever spend.
The tenkara community of New England is awesome! I met so many genuinely nice people up there. From the organizers to the volunteers, to the campers, everyone was super cool and left their egos at home. An excellent crowd. Shout out to Bill Holleran of Red Brook Tenkara for putting this together.
My experience fishing in the White Mountains was phenomenal. There’s just so much water and so little time, it’s an amazing fishery. I’d definitely like to make a similar trip (or two, or three) in the future. I absolutely love it up there.
