In June, Mainers routinely backpack into brook-trout ponds to fish, often a climb because roads run through gaps in lower elevations that lie several hundred feet below these brookie meccas.

Hill-country ponds typically have silt bottoms or sharp drop-offs along shore, which eliminate wading. So, to fish more efficiently, fly rodders often drag float tubes into these waters or stash canoes on banks, but competent spin fishers can cast from shore with good results.

As a rule, folks work to access these ponds, so backpacking and spending the night (or two) makes sense to pay for the effort. However, anglers often limit themselves to one-day trips, a product of a busy life.

I know two outdoor writers -- William Clunie, a guide from Dixfield, and Jim Andrews, an attorney from Farmington -- who hit the same backwoods trout ponds in western Maine, illustrating a plus about backpacking to remote waters. These two backpackers have never visited a water together, so they have the same trout waters to themselves like a private paradise.

That's backpacking. The chances of being there at the same time are remote, so folks can find solitude with short hikes of a mile or two, particularly at midweek, even when folks hit the same ponds as Clunie and Andrews do. Four miles will guarantee seclusion.

A Maine quirk puzzles me, though. In the American West, folks routinely backpack into small rivers and streams, but in this state, anglers commonly hike into ponds but seldom backpack into running water.

Why?

I don't pretend to know the answer, but stream fishing has an undeniable appeal. Folks need not bother with float tubes or stashing canoes or boats. They can pack in lightweight waders or hip boots or wade wet and have a grand time far from blowing horns.

This state has superb backwoods rivers and streams for backpacking, too, beginning in Baxter State Park along Webster Brook. Check out DeLorme's "The Maine Atlas and Gazetteer," Maps 56, E-4 and E-5.

Webster Brook west of Grand Lake Matagamon parallels a trail along the south bank. Note the "brook" designation. Folks in any other part of Maine would call this water a stream or even a river.

Three lean-tos lie along Webster Brook between the lake and park boundary, and with a good flow of water, wild brook trout can fill this brook -- some up to 16 inches long. Six- to 10-inch trout are more common, but when backpackers hit it right, look out.

(Savvy backpackers use a tent with bug netting inside the lean-tos, protection against Baxter's black flies, mosquitoes and midges).

The next two suggestions offer 20-inch-plus landlocks as well as abundant, wild brookies -- ample reason to make the effort to hike.

Nesowadnehunk Stream on the south end of the Park between Daicy Pond and the West Branch of the Penobscot River ("The Maine Atlas," Map 50, D-4) also flows away from roads and holds brook trout in the 6- to 14-inch range and bigger near the West Branch.

Below Big Niagara Falls, this stream holds landlocked salmon, too. Salmon cannot ascend Big Niagara, but below there, a 20-inch-plus salmon proves a distinct possibility on any cast during optimal water flows.

Namakanta Stream between Namakanta and Pemadumcook lakes also holds wild brookies and a handful of landlocks. The trout run between six and 15 inches and salmon might get as large as 20 inches or more, the latter according to Mike Holt at Fly Fishing Only in Fairfield. Holt knows Namakanta Stream cold. Check out "The Maine Atlas," May 42, A-4.

The Mooseleuk River on Map 57, A-1 and B-2, on "The Maine Atlas" has easy access for bushwhackers, but it does not attract a jillion anglers.

Part of the reason is this:

Mooseleuk lies among myriad blue-ribbon trout lakes, ponds, rivers and streams. In short, Mooseleuk lacks name appeal so crowds prove scarce.

Anglers can backpack into Mooseleuk River in June or September and find excellent sport for wild brookies up to 14 inches. Once folks get away from the Pinkham Road, they probably won't see another angler all day.

This freestone river really has everything to recommend it, and hot spots lie downstream of where brooks run in, or where springs exist.

Roxanne Quimby owns a large tract of land east of Baxter State Park. One fishing spot on her land requires a four-mile walk from Deasey Pond into Wassataquoik Stream at the junction of Katahdin Brook. Check out "The Maine Atlas," Map 51, E-3 for details.

Quimby gates roads on her land, so anglers must hike into places such as the junction of Katahdin Brook-Wassataquoik Stream. Some folks like this rule just fine, too, because it has reduced fishing pressure.

Bob Cram, a Medway guide, has noticed how Quimby's rule has improved the fishing in Wassataquoik, where he has fished for a half-century.

This example shows how contrary to popular opinion, Maine fishing is not always going to hell in a hurry. In Cram's opinion, Wassataquoik brookies run larger these days than in his youth, thanks to gated roads.

If you have never backpacked to river fishing, you might give it a try this spring and summer. Just one appeal is this: If you want to rest a pool, the chances are good that no one will come along and pound it as you're resting it -- reason enough to go to the trouble of hiking with weight on your back.

Backpackers can feel less guilty about eating a brace of brookies for dinner, too, but as always, catch and release make abundant sense.

Ken Allen, of Belgrade Lakes, is a writer, editor and photographer.