It was snowing hard, unusual to say the least for May 20, but even more unusual was the 10 inches of old winter snow still lying on the balsam forest on either side of the trail.

It was a cold afternoon to go fishing, but my daughter Karalyn and I were determined to do just that. Our destination was Moose Falls Flow in far northern New Hampshire, day two of our annual fishing/moose photography trip, one that we've done together since 1992 when she was 5 years old.

Before we get to the fishing, you might be interested in how we pack a lot of activities into a three-day adventure. Here is a brief summary.

On Monday, May 19, we drove east through Vermont to New Hampshire, then up to Pittsburg, a 4-hour trip from Plattsburgh, to a place just north of Pittsburg off Route 3 -- the Mountain View Cabins. We checked in and, as we always do on day one, began looking for moose, first along Route 3 at the usual licks -- wet areas where road salt gathers -- then along logging roads that crisscross the New Hampshire North Country. It is possible to drive straight through to Maine on the Magalloway Road, a main logging corridor, but we found the roads closed. It was still mud season up there.

That afternoon, we saw and photographed two roadside moose. After walking the logging roads, we saw tracks, but no moose.

Tuesday morning was visiting time. After our early morning drive up Route 3 where we saw a few more moose, we ate breakfast in our cabin, then visited my old friend Charles Willey in Lemington on the Vermont side of the Connecticut River. Charlie is a retired wildlife biologist and former head of the Vermont moose project that started in the 1980s. He was my mentor when I took a graduate course at Plattsburgh State in 1979 -- a study of the Vermont moose herd. We have been friends ever since. Charlie has developed into one of the premier wildlife photographers in the United States; his specialty is moose. A long time ago, he showed me where to find moose in northern New Hampshire, and I have never come up empty.

Though Charlie sells photos to all the big magazines, plus to calendars and manufacturer brochures, he owns no digital cameras, no computer and only recently got an answering machine for his phone. He and his wife, Ruth, move back and forth from Vermont to a cottage on the family farm across the river outside Colebrook, N.H., a cottage without even a telephone. All Charlie's sales are made by sending slides via snail mail.

Tuesday afternoon was stormy, cold rain changing to snow. I still wanted to fish though. Two years ago, when staying on nearby Back Lake, I landed a two-pound brook trout. Last Tuesday, I would be happy catching a 10-incher.

We parked at Deer Mountain Campground six miles from the Canadian border. The road to the campsites was blocked by a three-foot-high mound of snow, so we left the SUV and walked in past the tent sites and onto a quarter-mile trail to the flow. As I mentioned earlier, the snow came down, and there was still significant snow in the woods.

"This is not the best day for fishing," Karalyn told me.

I agreed, but we kept going. She had sneakers on, and in places the snow was up to her ankles.

To make a long story short, I did catch and release a couple of small brookies in a riffle below the dam. On our return, we saw and again photographed more moose. Back at the cabin, I talked with fishermen who were staying next door. They had boats, motors, lead core line and were concentrating on salmon and lake trout on First Connecticut Lake. Despite the snow and choppy conditions, they had a good day and showed off two of their best salmon, taken on copper-colored Mooselook spoons. These fish would have dwarfed my two puny brook trout, had I kept them.

But that was okay; Karalyn and I had seen nine moose and four deer, visited with old friends and went fishing. Plus, it was also a good way to spend time with my daughter.