As an angler, this is a rough time of year for me. In the way of full disclosure, I am not an ice fisherman. I tried it several times but just could not warm to it.

The last fish I landed was a rock bass back in October so, as spring arrives, I dream of getting back on the water, even though my local fishing holes are still frozen over.

I am not alone.

Fred Lane, of Canaan, is a longtime angler who is already making plans for three dream fishing trips he’s taking during the summer and fall. Lane’s excursions will take him to the remote Gaspee Peninsula of Nova Scotia, where he fishes in the clear, pristine waters of the Bonaventure and Petite Cascapedia rivers.

Lane will be in pursuit of his favorite quarry, the Atlantic salmon.

“The Atlantic is called ‘the leaper,’ ” Lane says. “They come flying out of the water doing all these acrobatics. We also get some sea-run brook trout as well.”

One of the reasons Lane has to get started early on his quest is the procedure by which anglers are given access to the protected rivers of the salmon run.

During the third week of June, anglers submit their names in a lottery to the Canadian government. If chosen, the angler gets to travel north of the border to enjoy prime, world-class fishing.

Even though the areas fished are often remote on the Nova Scotia trips, Lane does not have to sacrifice comfort. The home base is a lodge that offers four-star meals, comfortable beds and a roaring fire in the evening.

The day begins with an early-morning rise and a trip to the first fishing hole.

An expert guide familiar with the terrain delivers Lane to the water’s edge, where he climbs into a boat designed specifically for floating the river.

All morning, the guide works to put his clients on fish. In the clear water, the salmon can be seen riffling in the current. This is the dream-come-true part of the trip.

Lane casts flies to the salmon that are returning from the ocean to breed upstream. After several hours of watching hooked salmon leap out of the current, Lane and the rest of the party return to shore where they are transported back to the lodge for lunch.

There’s even time for a short nap before returning to the river for late afternoon or early evening action.

The guide usually takes Lane to a different river for the second half of the day.

Because the Canadian federal government works with private land owners and provincial authorities, anglers have access to areas that see limited fishing, so the results are often spectacular. (A portion of the fees charged for these excursions benefit the wardens who maintain, manage and monitor the rivers so they will not be overfished.)

Lane uses both wet and dry flies for salmon, but he prefers to catch them on dry flies. “There’s nothing as exiting as watching a salmon rise to the fly,” he says.

At the end of the day, Lane returns to the lodge for dinner and a good night’s sleep.

However, one of his favorite dream trips does not provide any sort of luxury at all. In Newfoundland, Lane undergoes a long trek to the Lapoile River. After his plane lands, Lane takes a three-hour ride on a lobster boat and then boards a truck that goes until the road stops for good.

After another boat ride upriver, he has to walk three miles to a fishing camp that has only a generator for electricity.

“But it’s worth it,” says Lane. “It’s more like an adventure. And the salmon fishing is incredible.”

Dream trips are never inexpensive. Lane estimates one jaunt to the Gaspee Peninsula will cost him around $5,000 for a week of fishing. That’s nearly $500 a day, but keep in mind that it includes everything, even the airfare.

In addition to his trips to Nova Scotia, Lane has also traveled to the Patagonia region of Chile, where he has fished for rainbows, browns and king salmon.

These species have been introduced to Chile and have thrived, enticing anglers from all over the world to travel to South America.

Lane, who practices catch and release as a conservation measure, has noticed a change in the fish populations. Despite the dream fishing, the salmon are obviously in decline every year.

“It’s very sad,” he says. “I hope they can do something to bring it back, but right now there’s a downward spiral.”

Well, there’s a simple solution to increasing fish populations — leave Mother Nature alone for a few years, and she usually comes bouncing back.