Up Passamagammet

I met Jack while I was getting gas for my boat at the marina. He and I and Rick, the owner of the marina, spent a little time chatting as we gassed up. The conversation was mostly about the weather at first but turned to fishing. Jack had mentioned that there were some big white perch to be caught “up Passamagammet”.
Passamagammet is a lake that flows into the West Branch of the Penobscot River. The River then flows further downstream a few miles feeding the Pemadumcook Chain of lakes including South Twin where our “camp” is located. It’s possible to navigate up the river from Ambajejus Lake to Passamagammet Lake but it takes some knowledge of the river, its channels, and most importantly, where the rocks are located.
Jack had been on these lakes every summer for about forty years and knew them well. I’d been up the river to Passamagammet a few times about four years ago. I hadn’t been up lately as I’d forgotten the details of how to navigate it successfully. I also recall the prop striking on rock a couple of times and wasn’t sure I had the navigation down as well as I might. When I told this to Jack he immediately volunteered to show me the way up and gave me his phone number
A few days later we talked on the phone and made plans for the next day.
The weather delivered one of those gorgeous late summer days for Northern Maine. Just a few puffy clouds, light breeze out of the north-west and temperature in the seventies – just perfect for being out on a boat and doing a little fishing.
Jack was the perfect guide taking me to several spots on his part of the lakes to show me channels and rocks that I might not be aware of. I’d travelled up through here many times on the way to an evening dinner at the Big Moose. I knew my way but after Jack’s careful directions, I became even more confident of making the trip in the future without hitting a rock.
Without ever saying so, we both seemed to have the day at our disposal and Jack took his time showing me here and there before we headed up to the end of Ambajejus, past the Boom House and into the swift flowing river.
The Boom House is a restored historical building where the river drivers of years ago would stay when working this area of the river and assembling the huge log booms from the logs that came down the river. Once a boom was created it was towed down the lakes to the outlet for transport to the mills further downstream. It was also great to go by this spot and feel transported back in time to when these were working lakes and rivers before logging roads were built and motorized transport of logs to the paper mills became the norm.
We headed up the river with Jack carefully pointing out two rocks, one on each side of the river, which were used as markers for a zig zag turn that enabled safe passage between two large shoals of barely submerged rocks on either side of a narrow channel. With the depth finder on Jacks boat he was also careful to point out the depth of the river in various places. I looked both up and down the river at each point he indicated a turn and committed the route to memory. He also showed how to navigate into the lake when we got there and I memorized that as well.
Like many of the “hard to get to” lakes in the region, Passamagammet Lake is a gem. It’s almost completely without signs of human contact. There is one “camp” on the lake, accessible only by boat or float plane that has been there for the best part of a century. Its owners are rarely in residence.
Jack showed me several of his favorite fishing spots and we tried a few. It was the middle of the day and not the best time for fishing. Early morning or late evening would produce a lot of fish according to Jack. We caught a few and released them, saving them for a time when we were more seriously fishing.
We also explored the various marshy areas around the lake where moose often about. I remember seeing a big bull moose grazing the last time I was there. The lake also sports a couple of beautiful sandy beaches. Because of the difficulty in getting in to the lake, the beaches are usually deserted.
Now I once again know the way, I’ll be back very soon to fish with my grandson, Bobby, and to have a beach day with Lori. Maybe just the two of us with a picnic lunch on a sunny late summer day.