October 5, 2025 – Shook the Cobwebs Off the Nymphing Gear – Lehigh River

One good fish.

I have been watching the gages on the river for a couple of weeks now.  The water temperature coming out of the reservoir has actually been hurting the cause, even though there appeared to be some fishing releases in September.  Cool nights and cool tributaries are likely to cool things down after the dam, but the Lehigh is a lot of effort just to take a stream temperature at a couple of my spots.  Flows were the best in the region due to the releases, however, so it was torturing me with its 250-300 CFS when the other NEPA cricks are historically low.  When I saw that water temps were finally and consistently below 66 every day for a few days, and hovering around 250 CFS at White Haven, I sucked it up and did the scouting mission.  There are worse places to be than on the river in October even if fishing ended up being meh.  I arrived late for me, like 10 minutes after sunrise, and was surprised to see two obvious fishing vehicles.  At least the decals and stocker lockers take the guess work out.  It would be worse to see an SUV or pickup truck and wonder, right?  I decided to take a longer walk, knowing I could run into someone in one of my go-to spots when water is wadable.   Sure enough, there was a dude down there, and one in between too.  Instead of turning back, I decided to try and get access to another riffle I have always wanted to fish.  I found a few places to make a cast or two while standing on the bank and attempting to avoid the overhanging trees, but my hopes of locating a crossing point were thwarted.

There are worse places to be on an October morning.

I had a couple snags and zero hits, so I bushwhacked out of there, hoping dude upstream of me had experienced a slow morning himself and had given up the spot.  Luckily, he was gone, and I finally found a couple wild browns tight to pockets in whitewater.  The sun was up by this time, so I was not hopeful that fish were still out in the open eating, but I did fool one rainbow out on the flat.  The rest of the fish, all wild browns, ate heavy but small bugs (added some tungsten beads in some cases to get down to them) on the edges of heavier water.  Caddis were around, so a green larva on the dropper tag was the fly all five fish wanted.  You can probably see from the pic of the 12-incher below just how close to the whitewater they were sitting.   

Close to the O2 but actively eating, at least.

That is a sign that water temperatures are still keeping them close to oxygen-rich water when active, but also a sign they are feeding, not just hunkered in the deep holes riding out this summer that won’t quit.  Speaking of quitting and summer, I quit before noon because the heat came back quickly.  It was 45 F to start, but it had risen 30 degrees by late morning.  With the nice weather, the lot was also full of hikers and bikers.  It was good to get the kinks out, but the fall fishing is barely kicking into gear in NEPA.  I guess the Commish stocked last week too, but maybe not with the low water.  If we just get a little rain, there might be some more options later this month!

Bonus shot of the one good fish.

September 7 and 19-21, 2025 – Just Some Early- and Mid-September Scouting Missions – SEPA & Central PA

Barely a 1/4" of rain, but something.

I have been fishing, though not a lot.  Conditions for trout anywhere in NEPA or SEPA are terrible.  I like to leave them alone in low water because life is hard enough with death from above and all the competition in the deeper holding water.  Water temps are also borderline still.  Evidence of that were the sunfish I caught one evening on a Lehigh Valley limestoner.  It rained about a quarter of an inch, which was more than we had had in weeks, and the air temperatures were cooler, so I snuck out one Sunday afternoon before dark.  I ran into at least three guys on this popular crick, but I had a couple of spots in mind that required a little bushwhacking in the late summer growth.  All I had to show for sweating it out and picking hundreds of hitchhikers off my waders and clothing was a couple redbreasts.  Trout were pecking, even the YOY, it seems.  I had a handful of hits on a single small bug, but I must have just hit them on their locked jaws for a second.  YOY are big enough to peck this time of year, too, so it may have been hungry but not that hungry youngsters.  It was good to get out and see the creek full of water, however briefly.  It had me hankering for fall.

How contraband, human and otherwise, gets in.

Flash forward to September 19^th.  I headed west to see the boy for parents’ weekend at the college.  He joined a fishing club, and they have a meet-up next weekend at the advisor’s cottage on lower Penns Creek.  If you know lower Penns, then you know this is a boss hookup!  You can float it, even run a boat up from the river in the spring high water, without getting harassed, but bank access can be tricky with houses lining many of the prime spots.  I hung out and met his friends and friends’ parents most of the time, ate a lot, and did NOT go day drinking, which was certainly on the menu at this notorious party school for smart (and/or wealthy) kids.  It was a throwback to when I went to college long ago, an age I thought had been legislated and enforced out of existence, but not in Lewisburg, PA!  Instead of drinking or attending the football game, my son and I tried to catch a couple fish on Saturday night.  He was tired, having slept little on Friday night, so after hitting a thrift store and eating late lunch down in Selinsgrove, I let him sleep in my hotel room for at least 90 minutes.  We did scope out some access points on Penns for the future, but my gut said spring fishing spots.  The creek was full of dying weeds and flowing backwards at this time of year.  When we did stop to fish after his late afternoon nap, it was more of a rundown of what I had brought him from home for future fishing trips.  We reviewed knots, went through the lures I was leaving with him, and made a few casts from a public boat ramp and access right at the junction pool of the North and West branches.

One very small LMB

There were plenty of bass boats taking out at that hour and some late season water-skiers and pleasure boaters.  The boy caught tiny largemouth, likely from the West Branch before we ran out of daylight.  With a dam or two in this area, the river is more like a lake, so a largemouth was not a surprise.  The lack of even panfish, however, was.  He was throwing a spinner.  Everything eats a spinner!  I was going for broke with a big old swimbait, but nothing took notice.  It was still good to spend some time solo with the boy, and it was a really nice night.  We ended up having dinner about 8 PM and then I dropped him back off at the college.  We decided that it was not worth coming back in the morning since he had work to do and we were both done with the organized parent events.  I needed the 11 AM check out on Sunday morning because I slept past 9:30 AM.  Saturday was leg day, as Bucknell’s campus is all hills, so I guess I was tired.  It was early enough that I decided to keep scouting out Penns for future visits, so I did not head for home before finding a couple access points upstream of the town of Penns Creek.  Water was low and clear, so much so that a couple I spoke to told me a kayak livery in the area would not rent them a kayak.  

A lovely night on the WB.  Should have fished the other side of the point!

I wet waded away from a young Amish family having a post-church visit to the river to skip stones, and the water was as warm as the late morning air.  I have a camping/fishing trip with Josh, Brian, and Larry in mid-October, so I am praying for cool nights and rain, definitely rain.  We will be up in the limestone influenced trout environs, of course, but it must feel pretty summery up there too.  I found two slightly deeper holes (where I could see to the bottom in three feet of water) and made a few casts, first with a Rapala CD5 and then a Crippled Killer topwater.  I had given the boy all the finesse soft plastics!  I even had to gnaw off line with my teeth in order to change lures because I left the nippers with him too!  Scouting mission, not fishing mission, I reminded myself.  Well, in the 45 minutes I spent in the water, I caught an uber dink on the Rapala and had a couple toddlers blow up on the topwater.  I landed one of them.  I also spent a lot of time picking off dead vegetation, one sign the fall is here.  Besides that, I spooked some fry from the shallows, saw a bald eagle find fishing success, and even had flock of turkeys cross in front of me on the drive out, so there was life despite the low water conditions.  It was good to be in the woods, and better days are coming.  Hopefully, the boy can get me access to a sweet stretch of lower Penns because my blind guiding is not going to get it done....

Lower Penns is bony right now.

August 31, 2025 – I’ll Show You Mine If You Show Me Yours? – Delaware River

Larry hooked up to a good one.

I made Larry hobble along with me down the riprap early this morning on a mission to find some good smallmouth bass at one of my hot spots.  It’s not an easy beat.  It is nearly impossible to wade, even in low water, and there is little to no room for a backcast.  I guess it’s really a spot I located while looking through a gear not a fly rod lens.  I have fished it effectively with a fly rod as recently as last summer, but I have also fished it with a spinning rod or a “sin stick” with the boy a few times.  It is definitely easier to fish deep, moving water with a spinning rod, especially when the fish won’t come off the bottom to eat.  As tough as it can be, and fishing overall was tough today with fish pretty much having lockjaw after 9 AM, Larry got a beautiful fish to eat topwater at sunrise.  I was there to document it all, which was nice.  Unlike when I was with Brian this spring at his spot and miffed on an early pair of good fish, Larry hooked, fought, and landed a good one minutes after we started fishing.  I managed a couple of decent fish and a small, a theme for the rest of the day, at this first spot, but the bite shut off quickly.  Larry texted me on the way up when he noticed a release from the Lehigh River was spiking the Delaware downstream.  As a result, the water was dirtier and rising below the junction, which added to the challenge.  We found cleaner water after fishing a couple of Larry’s spots above the Lehigh, but we were never fortunate enough to stumble into a period of active fish.  By noon, we had worked hard enough for some more dinkers, and the Labor Day weekend inner tube hatch had begun in full force, so we called it good.

Larry made the small window count.  More shots from spot one.

I got to fish with Larry and on a weekend, which was a win and probably the only way to fish together until my PTO resets (amazing what a college tour season will do to ones time off balances).  And I got to see a couple spots on the river that I have not visited since I shad fished as a young man.  To end the trip, we ended up fishing a fantastic looking stretch of river, one of Larry’s spots, so we gave each other a short tour this morning.  Larry knows I don’t love being a weekend warrior anymore than him, but one of us is not retired.  We did what we could do to avoid the rush by meeting at 6:30 AM.  Had we known the bite was going to die so early, we may have met even earlier.  Eventually, we both knew is was not likely to happen today, but it was just too nice to quit fishing.  Enough little fish cooperated to elevate this enterprise above casting practice.  I got fish on a bugger, the balanced leech, and even a couple on a friend of Larry’s custom Do Nothing pattern.  After Larry landed the best fish of the trip, he let me hold one of his ties, a foam gurgler that is more of a waker.  All the fish that ate it today, including Larry's 16+ incher at the first stop, ate it floating along looking tasty and doing nothing, as its name implies.

Low and clear above the Lehigh, but a gorgeous day to be out there wading and casting.

Tubing operations have expanded upstream of their historical reach.  And encampments for the unhoused have expanded as well.   Neither can detract from the natural beauty of the mighty Delaware, however.  As mediocre as fishing was this morning, there was no rush to leave it, and I took a lot of photos of big sky and big water, along with documenting the tubes and the fish and the angler.  It was chilly to start and breezy enough all morning to keep Larry and I in waders.  It reminded me how much I like wet wading and how I will miss it as the season turns, but it also felt trouty out there.  All we need is some rain in the forecast to get me chomping at the bit again.  Larry is at least 15 years my senior, but you wouldn’t know it.  I hope I can continue to fish as hard when I reach 70.  River fishing is hard work, so the rewards are somehow sweeter.  But even if the fish don’t fully cooperate, there are worse places to be than with good company on the river that hooked me on bass fishing many years ago.

Several dinks and prepping for the noon tube hatch.

August 15 to 17, 2025 – The Fourth Annual (?) Josh Jam on the Juniata – Central PA

Friday late session and the after dinner hang.

I attended my third warmwater jam with about a dozen dudes from the PA Flyfish forum (PAFF). Josh has become a fishing buddy, so it was good to see him and Brian again this summer, but many of the same guys return to this one each year, so I got to reconnect with some good guys. It is a smaller group than the main jam in the spring near Penns Creek, so it’s more lowkey (although a few fellas, men in their 60s, stayed up all night on Friday drinking and solving the world’s problems). Larry and I have stayed in contact even if we have not fished since last year, but we paired up for a couple sessions, including Friday night into dark and Sunday morning before sunrise. We both messed with our best fish at these times, even if we did not land them all. John is another dude I connected with a couple of years ago, and he joined me and Brian (and almost Larry) for an adventure on Saturday afternoon. Fishing was decent, but it was not on fire. There were plenty of stories about big fish that got off, but not as many pictures. I saw Larry land a good one and break one off, and he was there when I lost a good one on a crappy predawn-tied knot. Larry witnessed Josh losing a pig too. I guess it’s harder to “rip lips” with the buggy whip. I would have buried a ned rig in their bony jaws, but there is some magic to fooling a good bass on a fly rod regardless of the outcome. I threw poppers and dries and buggers, but like last year I had my best success with a balanced leech under a bobber—it worked until it didn’t this year. 

A good one from Friday night.

I did not arrive until after 5 PM on Friday because I had to work and had a later appointment in the afternoon. Traffic was terrible too. Something happened on the eastbound lanes of the PA Turnpike that messed traffic up in both directions for many hours. The ride should take 2.5 hours, maybe a little longer in the early Friday rush, but I kept seeing the time on my navigation add up. I rolled the dice, not believing that they couldn’t clear the accident in two hours, and I only met an 11-minute delay at the accident site, even though Google kept telling me to get off the highway for an hour straight. Coming home was still a bit jacked up, so my Sunday commute took me down 283 from Harrisburg, through Amish Country, and all the way to 202 in Chester County. The things I do to fish sometimes. Friday night was humid but good conditions, but in running our mouths socializing, Larry and I both realized it was nearly 8 PM before we got our acts together to fish. It was a good little session, though. He broke one off on a big white Wulf and landed another, and I landed one of my best fish and a couple others on the leech before it got completely dark. Josh bequeathed me the couch in the farmhouse, so I did not have to set up my tent by headlight or headlamp, and I ended up sleeping in the house on the same couch on Saturday night too—car camping in August is for suckers, apparently. Since the crowd was light and some of the oldest gents did not come this weekend or left after a rainy Saturday, there were more beds and more of us taking advantage of that luxury, not to mention the air conditioning.

The balanced leech did some damage.  Damsel swarm.  Some more Saturday shots.

Saturday was humid and hot with storms around. I got rained on 1.5 times. I fished near Josh’s property with John in the morning, and the leech cleaned up on average fish and one decent one. After lunch, it poured for a good long time. When it stopped, Brian and I organized a party to take a mile-long hike up to a good riffle. Thunder started rumbling, so Larry turned back like a (wise old) mitch, but John, Brian, and I kept going. We managed to out-walk the storm, which soaked the guys at camp if that gives you any indication of how localized these storms were. The cumulative effect of the all the rain around the region did spike the river a couple times, and it was grassy to the point of annoyance during a couple sessions, but this hike to the riffle was worth it. Brian got a few on top, including a couple decent fish, and John and I put some numbers on the counter with clousers and even a stimulator dry fly. Each late morning/early afternoon, the damsel flies had the fish jumping clear out of the water to eat. I saw multiple 15- and 16-inch fish clear the water chasing adult damsels, so they must taste good if you’re a bass. I know Larry caught half a dozen on Friday with a Wulff pattern. We quit when Josh texted us saying dinner was on the grill. We needed our third meat-forward meal of the day! It’s hard work wet-wading in heavy G3 boots, even more work taking a two-mile hike in those Herman Munster boots—no skipping leg day this weekend. 

Brian on Saturday afternoon.  An early shift on Sunday with Larry.

Joe, whom I floated with last year in a monsoon, wanted a do over, but he had a graduation ceremony at PSU on Saturday. He arrived on Sunday and asked if I wanted to go, but I was up at 5:30 AM and fishing with Larry by 6:15 AM. That became the extent of my fishing plans for Sunday, which promised to be hot and humid again. I fished the early shift with Larry and decided that it was my fishing for the day. It might have been a very memorable morning had I landed the pig I hooked on a big 4- or 5-inch bunny leech before sunrise. Larry had landed his best just minutes before, so the plan to fish early for bigger fish was not a bad one in theory. I could not buy even a hit after my early encounter, and Larry’s fishing fizzled too, so we went back and ate breakfast with Josh. Joe tried his best to persuade me, and Dave W was looking for a float partner too, but I was feeling like I was done. Tom, Mo, John, and I hung out until noon and helped Josh take down the big tent and clean up the mess. By 12:30 PM, I was showered and on the road home. I knew I had to take another 6-hour round trip on Wednesday to Lewisburg to deliver the boy to freshman orientation. I guess I had enough of bass because I ruled out stashing a rod in the ‘Ru even though there was probably room for my 7-weight in a tube. 

Bonus shot

It was a good weekend of socializing with plenty of laughter. John and Larry spend at least two hours killing mosquitos and other flying insects with bug zapper tennis rackets, and Mo and Tom shared stories about the early years of PAFF and some of the most interesting spring jams—the theme is always that the crew gets uninvited for a year or two and then allowed back to the campground. Everybody brought food and snacks, and Josh did a lot of cooking as our gracious host. It was great to see some of these guys again, and I hope it’s not a year for a few of them. Granted, I will see Brian and Josh in October if not before. We have another camping trip planned in Central PA for October, hopefully a pre-spawn brown trout bonanza. I may even persuade Larry to fish on a weekend (or take off a day myself). Or maybe I will find a job that lets me fish the weekdays like the good old days!?

Rainy day in Lewisburg: I have four years to figure out the West Branch of the Susquehanna.

July 27, 2025 – The Accidental Storm Chaser or Right Place Right Time Five (Almost 6) Times – Lehigh Valley Limestoner

A cool reprieve with many fishes.

I intended to toss terrestrials around this morning, but when I arrived at my destination at 5:30 AM, I could hear the creek....  The roads were wet, and isolated showers were around all day, so I wasn't THAT surprised, but I did have to pivot.  Yesterday was cooler and cloudier, so the water temps this morning were great for a short, early trip.  By 10 AM, I was wishing it wasn’t late July, and I could keep the magic going, but I stuck to my own summer rules about 10 or 10:30 AM quitting time.  Fishing was that good for those 4.5 hours.  I likely landed over 15 trout, from my first golden of the year, to several hot rainbows, to 5 solid wild browns, to finding a new white whale.  I hooked and jumped one that was probably 24 inches long and just massive.  I did not have the adrenaline dry heaves after he got off because I was pretty sure I was never going to land him in the current situation.  He ate a size 18 bug on 5X at the end of my 3 weight nymphing rod, and he hit on the swing in a hole that is just full of big boulders and tree limbs.  I think the small barbless bug simply pulled.  He jumped once and then took off downstream.  When I lost the angle that I never really had to begin with, I knew it could not last.  One more leap, and he was gone.  It’s good to have white whales, I think?  It definitely helps get me out of bed at 3:30 AM while keeping these summer trout fishing hours.  I could not call this one a grind, however.  It was humid, but only 73 degrees when I quit, and the water temperature was 64 F.  Despite another predawn drive after very little sleep, the rest of the outing was quite a pleasure.

Pretty holdover bows and my first golden of 2025 before some wild browns appeared.

With the brush (and poison ivy) so grown up with all this rain we’ve been having, I had to walk out on a bridge to assess the creek fully.  It was up for summertime, but I convinced myself that it looked higher and darker than it was.  With the water in the low 60s and the air about 70, there was fog and mist added to the low visibility, but I estimated that I had two feet of visibility to start.  Streamer time.  My dry fly rod was probably not going to cut it, so I put a black jigged sculpin on my nymphing rod that I was wise enough to pack and took the predawn plunge—quite literally.  This stretch of crick involves some deep wading, so I was waist deep and having to piss 12 times in no time at all.  I caught fish right away and kept on catching, just with different methods as the conditions changed.  Two hours into my trip, the streamer window was already closing, and I saw tricos everywhere, so I rigged to nymph small bugs under a small Oros bobber.  Even when tossing the sculpin, I had a small soft hackle on the dropper tag, and that got eaten early and often too.  I caught a palomino, a stocker brown, and several stocker bows on the dropper tag on the swing.  I caught several better bows on the sculpin, most on the hang not just stripping, before hooking something a little different. 

A crick pic and just a perfect specimen of a "North American Brown Fish," and a streamer eater.

With few exceptions, I can always tell when a wild one eats (most holdover bows that have been around for a long time still give themselves away with a leap).  This fish dug and shook his head and simply would not give up.  He ate on the swing, and they always have the advantage downstream, but I roped him in twice, once in the soft water behind me, only to have him take off again.  I generally try to end the fights faster this time of year, but he was like, “Dude, I am feeling more than fine in 64-degree water full of bugs and tasty little fish eating those bugs.  Let’s do this!”  This was objectively the handsomest fish I encountered all day, but it would not be the last good fish by a longshot.  Because streamer eats are fun, I stuck with it a while longer, but when I approached a deep, shaded, honey hole, it was bobber time.  I thought that the first of two high teen hens I landed next was a snag until she took off.  She just sipped the 18 perdigon on the anchor and stayed put, so the bobber sunk slowly like it had hit a stationary snag. I was a little surprised that the fish wanted a bug I would find invisible in the stained water, but its proximity to the bottom may have mimicked trico nymphs, which I am told crawl.  I caught another hen in the same size range not long after on the same nondescript brown bug, so I did not doubt its effectiveness again.

Hen 1 and hen 2, maybe hen 2 and hen 1.  Both solid fish.

I may have landed another if I didn’t have the bright idea to take off the bobber and swing a couple casts through there.  One fish hit so hard that it just snapped my tippet off at the tippet ring.  Oooof.  I wanted to tightline the bouncier head of this hole, anyway, so I rerigged with a single perdigon and, after hooking a couple more rainbows, I landed a toothy male that was arguably the best fish (landed) of the morning.  He was an angry one and would not quit, not even in the net.  I had to sit with him for a minute after a gentle release.  He just chilled at my feet breathing hard, and it was my chance to have the conversation, “Dude, why would you struggle more in the net when you knew you were had?  What were you proving then?”  I took that moment with him to hang the thermometer again just in case it was me.  It was 64 F, so it was both of us, but mostly him.  I thought the pocket water between this hole and the next was going to be bonkers, at least with small wild fish, but that did not play out as expected.  I did catch two average wild boys and another rainbow in some fun water, but they were not spread throughout the pockets and riffles.

A studly male and another gorgeous female before losing a true monster.

That may have been a sign that the water temps were getting warm during these hot weeks, and they have moved from the riffles to the deep holes to ride it out.  That jibes with all the active fish close to deep, cold water.  They moved up to the first drop off to eat nymphs, and there were some risers early despite the color of the water, but they were not ready to spread out like the summer was over.  This happens on the fish-active winter days too.  The bobber can be key.  That said, I enjoy nymphing without it more, so I was happy to hook another mid-teens fish before the aforementioned encounter with my new white whale.  It was about 9:45 AM by now, so losing that pig convinced me that it was best to go.  I don’t like to overstay my welcome even if the fish are telling me there is still time.  The stream thermometer concurred, and the air temp was only 73 on my car thermometer too, but why be a glutton?  These days in the summer are rare, especially if you are not a trico chaser.  I had streamer eats, bobber eats, tightline eats.  No dry fly eats on big terrestrials as planned, but I have no reason to complain about that.  That will likely be the move the next time I head out, unless I am lucky enough to stumble into another post-storm bonanza.  Then I will act accordingly, of course.

Bonus college.   Some of the bows were solid too.

July 20, 2025 – The Things I Do for Trouts Sometimes (the Grind Part III?) – Lehigh Valley Limestoner

The grind continues.

Man, an eagle showed me more courtesy than the first angler I encountered this morning.  It wasn’t even 6 AM before I got high-holed by some jadrool, and I nearly lost my shit.  Let’s just say I clearly communicated my feelings with words, made a splashy exit from the creek, and took a walk to cool off—I was not going to let some idiot ruin my morning, but I suppose I had to make him feel something too.  Dude either knew better and was being a douche, or he was new to the sport and did not know.  I saw three anglers all morning, so he had plenty of other holes to try, but he walked in like we were fishing for stockers on the Wissy.  Come to think of it, we kind of were.  This creek used to be a Class A wild brown trout fishery, but it has not been in some time.  I actually caught a wild brown today while fishing water where I knew there had to be a couple if there were any left.  Before this lone wild brown, I could not even find YOY, which I have typically encountered this time of year even during this steep habitat and population decline.  They were a cause for hope, but that is dwindling each year that I visit.  The water is still cold, like 62 F this morning, which is why I was here, so the rainbows are looking great.  Some of them are either wild or Trout in the Classroom plantings—they are shaped like wild trout and their fins are perfect.  I have actually caught 4 inchers in this stretch too, so I would not be surprised if the lack of browns is allowing some rainbows to breed successfully.  If the place once again gets wilded, I don’t care what species they are, but it would be really sad if it simply declined into a creek that needs stocking be a fishery.  Parts of it already are.

Pretty bow with all her parts in place.

Not long after I settled into a long stretch of pocket water to start my morning again for the first time, I heard a loud splash downstream, and my mind immediately went to my other nemesis: dogs off leash!  It was actually an eagle splashing down to eat a trout.  It looked like a decent rainbow, too, but at least he didn’t high-hole me.  I saw mergansers and several herons, so when the water is low, they are not helping the struggling wild population of trout, but that does not seem to matter on other creeks in the region with similar wildlife.  There are bugs too, but not as many as in the recent past.  I spoke with a friendly and courteous trico chaser later in the morning (perhaps only to confirm that all stream etiquette is not lost) and he found a few swarms and no rising fish in some of his favorite spots.  I saw some today myself, but not as many as before.  I had the most success throwing a single, olive nothing on 6X.  With all the flies these fish see, I usually find I have to throw dull brass or black beads and small natural bugs with no hot spots or anything too flashy.  In the darker predawn minutes, I began tossing the bugs I had on from my last trip in NEPA, but when I had three short hits in a row and no fish to show for it, I retooled for success based on previous experience.

Another pretty holdover.

That simple, buggy olive nymph got down enough and fell slowly enough not to collect weeds and algae, and so it did the trick.  I caught 5 rainbows in pocket water and stuck two others that jumped off in shallow riffles.  When that nymph didn’t work in a deeper, braided hole and plunge—where I was convinced a brown had to live—I rerigged with a size 16 perdigon on the anchor, a 18 CDC soft hackle on the dropper tag.  It was that little dropper with a lot of movement from the CDC that notched the only brown trout.  It was not a YOY, either.  I wouldn’t say it was a big adult fish, more like a toddler, but it was something.  By 9:30 AM it was already getting hot, so I decided to quit after finding this brown trout.  The only reason I was out this morning was because Saturday was cooler and cloudy, so the creek stayed in the safe range all day.  I was not so sure that was happening today, even though Monday through Wednesday looks great.  It was good to catch some trout in July, but I am not sure I will return to this creek for a while.  It lived up to my expectations, which is not a good thing.  Along with the creek I visited a couple weeks ago, it is just a place I visit once a year, just to visit, I think.  Maybe it’s just nostalgia because it’s certainly not the fish or some of the anglers I encounter here.

Toddler not YOY.  He must have parents, but where are they?

July 13, 2025 – A Visit to the (Replenished) Beaches with My Son in Search of Some Evasive Keeper Flukes – Ocean County, NJ

The old (almost in) college try this morning.

Well, we gave it the old (almost in) college try this morning.  The Boy and I were on the beach at 5:30 AM near low tide, scouting for some holes in the clear but choppy water.  Clear does not mean clean, however.  With all the swells from weather system after weather system, things are still stirred up.  Grass was so bad it got annoying, especially since it tends to accumulate in the holes!  I have not been on the sand since December of 2024, the tail end of striper season, so I had no intel but my ability to read water.  It did feel good to be out there.  Sadly, due to all the sand pumping to please bathers and to protect homeowners’ investments, holes are hard to find in some of my old haunts, and I was tortured by beach replenishment at every turn (more on that below).  We fished the front beaches until about 8 AM, and we caught maybe 7 short flukes, all under 14 or 15 inches, a couple like 10 inches.  Thinking the little ones in the wash were a sign that there are fish in the bays and inlets still staging to come outside, I suggested moving to the back of the inlet for our second and final stop of the morning.  We took a relaxed attitude towards this move, towards the day really, which is sometimes against character for me.  No rush today.  I figured that if fishing was going to be mediocre, then I wanted to make sure my son and I had a good day together, either way.  We actually pulled into a park that had bathrooms and outdoor showers and refreshed ourselves before continuing our drive.  Pissed in flushing toilets, not the dunes.  We even had some food and water before driving to the second spot.  Civilized.

A lot of smalls in the wash right now.

A couple other pairs of fishermen and dog walkers were at this second spot, one of the more unique public access spots to the bay and a place where I have had decades of fishing success.  Despite folks using the park this morning as intended, the boy and I found some space by taking a couple longer walks, but I was disappointed that all the pipes and barges, and eventually the large working boat/tug that hauls this stuff out to the ocean to pump sand, are still being stored back here.  We are talking over 200 yards of stuff just anchored parallel to the shore in 10 feet of water.  I know no one wants this nonsense behind their houses, but if beach replenishment is going to happen for perpetuity, then all this industrial equipment sitting in prime water with public access is going to be here for perpetuity too.  It also hurts the common folk like me and the many others who visit this state park land for free beach play and kayak launching and even temporary party-mooring.  The boy’s pic of me with our only keeper fluke burns the spot if you know it, but you can have it these days 😉 It’s surely been in decline since a severe hurricane washed away hundreds of yards of sod banks, but without the barges obstructing, it still allowed land-based anglers access to prime fluke and weakfish holes.  It is frustrating to say the least.

Nice fluke and that grass out front AND in the back.

I actually caught three fluke, including a nice one over 21 inches, in the moving water between the barges and the shore, but I would have loved to have waded out waist deep and hit some of the channels where the boats drift—this was possible back in the day.  I have fond memories of boaters warning me that “the water drops off right there,” as if I wasn’t wading out there for that very reason!  Thanks, Cap’n….  The boy was getting tired and tired of challenging fishing with all the grass even back here.  You can see in the pics all the grass piled up on the beach.  When the SE breeze died out, the greenhead flies were pretty bad too.  The fishing was not worth the frustration after a nice morning outdoors.  We saw porpoises, multiple ospreys, and a working team of pelicans out front.  Even in the back with all the human industrial machinery and noise, we saw hummingbirds, a sea turtle, mating horseshoe crabs, and a working pod of cormorants.  The weather was comfortable, and the water was perfect for swimming.  It was a good day despite my ranting!  At some point when I sensed The Boy was done, I promised we’d quit after 5 more casts, and the big fluke came on my 4^th one.  I kept my word and took another cast, of course, but I was happy to end on a high note and not torture him with the never-ending one last cast.  We returned to the showers and bathrooms and changed clothes—again, real civilized and all—and we even sat down and had lunch at a pizza shop on the way home, not just a $6.00-dollar Hoagiefest special!  I hope we can get out for fluke or maybe some smalljaw one last time before he leaves for college.  Only five weeks and counting if my math is right.

Sort of an East/Southeast start to the day, but sunny by noon.