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.

July 9, 2025 – Welcome to the Grind, Part Deux – NEPA

Pretty bow

I was off today, and I wanted to trout fish.  I had taken off Tuesday and Wednesday this week because I had a fluke trip (that was cancelled due to weather) on Tuesday, and pre-planned to have a day of rest and/or fishing on Wednesday.  With heat and rain for what feels like forever, there weren’t many choices today, honestly.  I usually have to be pretty desperate in like early August to hit this particular creek, but this has not been a normal year.  The creek is a bottom release tailwater, so the water temperatures rarely get above 60 degrees when the reservoir is holding a good bit of water.  It sees temps in the low 50s well into the late spring most years.  Today, the water temperature was 58 F and the storms last night gave a (too) brief break in the humidity, so I was in the best possible place besides a swimming pool this morning.  The beach may have been less comfortable!  It was still hot and going to get close to 90 degrees today, so even though I was timid about making the first steps into the cold water at 5:30 AM, it felt pretty damn good from the start.  I waited until 7 or 8 to get the undercarriage wet, but I felt like swimming by 10 AM.  I hit two spots with some public access (one public-ish) and caught a good number of fish.  The creek has wild browns, and I have caught some decent ones over the years, but today the only evidence of their presence was a strong showing of one- and two-year-olds.  The big old bows, full of piss and vinegar in cold, oxygen-rich water, made up for it.  I had a blast during a couple of really fishy spurts, incredulous that they just would not give up fighting.  Water was on the high and stained side, so I did not get the dry fly action I was hoping for, but I pivoted and caught fish both nymphing at spot one and fishing a dry/dropper at spot two.  Even as the sun got higher and the fog burned off, I was comfortable, so I stayed out until 11 AM, which is sometimes unheard of this time of year.  That said, I bet I did not catch a fish from 10 to 11 AM—I was just casting and staying cool—so I headed home after that.

Big, angry hen!

I started out with a dry dropper because that is usually an effective way to fish this creek.  It is not all that deep most of the time, and because it’s cold and full of stocked trout, the fish spread out.  I saw some dimplers before 6 AM, and they ended up being wild brown trout youth.  After catching a few 4-inchers in a row, I decided to leave these little guys alone.  I found some deeper water and changed to a bobber to get some reach to deeper water.  Eventually, it seemed like the bobber with small bugs was the move.  To begin the morning, I was throwing a 5 wt with a floating line to push a big stimulator out there, but I love to bobber nymph with my 10’ and 10’6” rods and a mono rig.  I am just so used to being able to keep almost all the line to the bobber off the water while high-sticking.  Before walking up through a riffle to the next deep hole, I went back to the ‘Ru and picked up my 10’ 3 weight rod.  I had a walts on the anchor and on the dropper what I can only describe as a soft hackle version of a zebra midge.  It was an 18 not a 22 or anything too crazy, but that little dropper got the job done on some solid holdover rainbows.

Cold water and laurel in bloom.

The biggest one fought so hard I was convinced I had finally found a big brown.  When she showed silver, I was a little disappointed until I realized she was a handful on a 3 weight rod and 5x tippet!  She even jumped a couple times before I took a successful swipe with the net to end this fight in a reasonable amount of time.  She was a big, fat bow.  I got a few more solid fish in this same hole before deciding to forego wading another shallow riffle to look for holding water and, instead, head to another spot.  I still wanted to throw a fly line today, perhaps even catch a couple on a dry fly.  I drove past one spot that I had in mind, but I was curious if anyone else was out on a Wednesday, so I drove further to a far more popular stretch.  There were three cars, but a couple looked like hikers or dog swimmers, so I decided to investigate.  I actually saw no other fishermen in range, so I decided to fish this spot.  I have had some success with browns in the area and was still holding out hope for at least one adult.

A good place to be on a hot day.

Well, my brown trout hole had a tree in it, and I did see another fisherman downstream in a deeper stretch, so I made the most of my visit and tossed the dry dropper for a while.  I had success from 9 to 10 AM but could not buy a hit after 10 AM.  As I noted above, I stayed and worked some water I have not worked in years.  The three rainbows I did catch in the first hour were not as large or ornery as the first stop, and they did not eat the dry.  I did get to throw a fly on a fly line and have them pull the dry under while eating the dropper, however.  I guess that is some novelty after a spring of nymphing a lot of high water.  Today was less of a grind because the humidity was down early in the morning and the water was cold, but it was still a grind.  Up at 3 AM, on the road by 4:15 AM, but I took a nap after I got home around noon, so I had a relaxing and successful trip and day.  Not the best day to have off work, but not the worst one either.  The grind continues.

Some nice looking stockers.

July 6, 2025 – And So the Summer Grind Begins – Lehigh Valley Limestoner

Welcome to the summer grind.

It’s been hot, but a little less humid (until today).  Flows are still decent, however, and we had two cool, clear nights that dropped into the 60s, so never say never.  My buddy Ron has already called out how long my so-called last trip of the season can stretch on and on every summer.  Guilty as charged.  I call this time of the year the grind—not the MTV dance show and workout tapes but the early morning wet wading to find a few willing trout.  Up in the dark, arrive before dawn, sneak around low water, and hope there are some happy fish before 10 AM.  Sometimes, like this morning, I can scare up a half a dozen or more smalls, and sometimes I even find one that makes the grind worth it.  Sometimes, I just catch some dinks and am grateful for the chance to fish and enjoy the outdoors before the heat of the day sets in.  I probably messed with about 10 fish, from 10 inchers, to holdover bows, to a few YOY that I sent flying with hero hooksets.  With flows so good for July, I even nymphed pocket water instead of tossing a dry dropper.  Tricos were thick, but it was feeling hot by 9 AM, so I did not wait for them to hit the water.  It’s just not my scene to fish with 7 or 8X in marginal water temperatures.  On some really popular spots for this pastime, I am packing up at my parking spot before the others even start arriving.  To each his own as long as they are carrying a thermometer or chasing stockers that are probably going to die this summer.  No trico chasers today, but one other dude was out there nymphing this morning.  He arrived about an hour after me, but I still give him props for embracing the grind.

Decent one at sunrise.

I got on the board early with a couple of dinks before sunrise, but I also landed one of my better fish for today before 6:30 AM.  The 9 incher was tight to a plunge on the soft side of the white water and ate like he was hungry.  Fortunately, or unfortunately, however you want to look at it, the pattern continued with one fish in each prime spot of each similar run.  If a better one was in there, but I caught the first dink wiling to eat, I would never know.  This can happen when flows get lower and fish get spookier.  The only place I caught more than one fish, the second fish was a rainbow, so that does not really count.  I was mostly tossing a single, natural colored bug with a brass bead early, but a single natural, jigged walts with a silver bead got some attention as the sun rose.  Dry and dry/dropper are fun, but I also enjoy tossing a single small nymph on 6X and a micro mono rig.  I give it time to sink into the deeper pockets or heavier water, and I lead it through the skinner stuff.  I even get some on the swing.  I also like to throw the single nymph to the spots I would toss a dry.  Because the splash does not disturb them, it sometimes triggers them to eat on the fall.  That happened a couple of times this morning.  I was hoping one of the eaters in these prime lies close to cover would be a better fish, but not today.

A solid showing of small fish.

I had to follow rough deer trails to a couple honey holes because the brush, grasses, and deadfalls were pretty thick.  I actually find that encouraging because it means no one else has been back here in a while.  That said, one of my honey holes produced an average brown and a holdover rainbow (so it was my two fish hole!) and the other honey hole held my second 9 inch fish of the morning, which would be my last fish.  I dropped a thermometer at 9 AM, and the temperature was fine at about 65 degrees.  There were cooler spots near springs and seeps, which I could feel with my wet legs.  It was me who was too hot.  After a couple bushwhacking sessions, my glasses were fogged, and I was regretting not wearing a ventilated trucker hat.  Standing in the cool water returned the balance I was looking for, but too much sun was going to ruin this party in no time at all.  I decided to end with the second decent wild fish and head for the deer trails once more.  There was shade at the parking area, so I prolonged my time in the woods a little longer than I normally do.  I had a snack and some iced coffee on the bumper of the 'Ru, which allowed the wet pants to dry a bit for the ride home.  Even at 9:30 AM, it was already too hot to roll the windows down on the drive home.  Welcome to the grind, y’all.

Bonus shot

June 28, 2025 – She’s Warming Up Her Pipes, but It’s Not Totally Over Yet – NEPA

A little redemption.

Still no Lehigh River trip with Joe.  The Corp of Engineers changed the flow management based on all the rain, so the river was up above 700 CFS coming out of the dam.  And it’s 65 F from the bottom release, so even a tailwater is becoming marginal.  He and I postponed a Saturday meeting this Friday, but we are still hoping to get one more shot at some dry fly fishing in good water temps.  We shall see.  Maybe the Po is in our future instead?  Honestly, trout fishing’s been over in SEPA, but now it’s just about over in NEPA.  There is still cold water to be found during the summer morning grind, of course, especially on limestoners, spring creeks and some tailwaters (like the Po), but it sucks to drive 3 hours to fish 4 hours, unless you are spending the night in an air-conditioned hotel room and can take a late morning nap.  I am just about ready to switch to bass fishing or the beach.  I do have a fluke trip with team Ward in early July, so maybe that will motivate me to make a few more shore trips this summer.  I know my son wants to get out and fish again.  This morning, I made two stops, and I caught some fish, including a few good small stream browns, but it was feeling like borrowed time, and I had to quit by 11 AM after dropping my thermometer.  If it was this warm already, it was probably hitting 68 F today.

Early morning drizzle but three good small stream fish.

Against my usual mode, I made a last-minute decision to exit early this morning and return to the creek Joe and I fished last week.  It was on my way to the mighty Brodhead, which was the intended destination.  I think I was still looking for some redemption from a bonkers spring visit where I lost two big trouts.  I eventually got to the Brodhead about 9:30 AM and caught some fish, but I when I took a water temperature reading at 11 AM there, and it was 64 F in good flows and following a cold front day on Friday, I was convinced it was time to go home.  I was suited up and fishing my detour creek by 5:30 AM, and it was quiet to start, which made me question my decision until I stuck a good trout.  The water was low and clear, so I knew I would have to make the most of this low, misty start.  No bugs active, so I tossed caddis larva with a small blow torch on the dropper.  Coming back with cased caddis on my hooks was good confirmation that this might work.  I caught my first good fish on the larva, then I got a second on the blowtorch.  I had to switch to a big stonefly to get my third nicer fish, this one from a very deep hole.  Sadly, this was the sort of day where active fish might move up into riffles to eat, but I found no fish in the fast water.  As it brightened, and it became clear that I might continue to fish unproductive riffles for no fish, I made the move to the bigger crick.  The upper gage was 100 CFS, but as sometimes happens, the lower gage was a higher than normal below a major tributary.  But it was very wadable....

Mighty but not mighty enough for a drift boat.  Stockers are still healthy and hungry.

When I arrived, two front-platers with a good sense of humor were rigging up a two-man Flycraft inflatable drift boat for a trip down the creek.  I called them punk mitches for not floating the Lehigh today.  I may have added that at 300 CFS even a 56-year-old man like me can wade this sometimes-rough section of the Brodhead.  They laughed and acknowledged that it was borderline floatable, but they had already come this far.  I actually witnessed them bottom out for the first of many times, I am sure.  To their credit, they were trying to sneak behind me, already waist-deep in a prime run, not float right through my spot.  No wild browns, but this run was a hot spot for about an hour.  I caught a few bows on a streamer, which I lost in the one tree within reach for miles around, then a couple bass, more bows, and even a stocked brown and stocked brookie on deep nymphs before I dropped the thermometer and didn’t love what I saw.  Bugs were about, mostly caddis, so I even targeted a few favorite riffles with high hopes.  This time of year, I can usually count on a mess of small wild browns in a couple of these riffles.  Nada, not a touch, unfortunately.  I am confident that if I had stopped at the big water first, I may have found a few, maybe even a couple better wild fish. It wasn’t like my early change of plans was a total lost, however, so I can live with my decision.  I am not sure what the upcoming week has in store, but I am starting to hear distant opera….

I guess the detour was worth it?  Pretty fishes.

June 21, 2025 – Eric Needed this Badly and Had the Morning He Deserved on the First Day of Summer – SEPA

Happy mitch and rightfully so!

I believe Eric has not been out fishing since April, and one of those trips was with me on Opening Day for like 90 minutes!  With this weather, he has been doing the work of two men at his job, and he’s been coaching soccer, basically being Super Dad.  We were both without power this week following the severe storms and knew the heat was continuing, so we had to stay open to either Saturday or Sunday, but we were fishing regardless of what day it had to be.  With the brief cold front on Friday and the forecasted heat for Saturday, we were both hoping that today would be the day we hit the water.   The moderate heat on Friday and the rain would make flows better and water temperatures more advantageous.  Neither one of us shy away from early starts, so we would fish from 5 to 10 AM if we had to, like it was August or September.  As luck would have it, power was restored Friday afternoon, so we confirmed for this morning.  A mitch picked me up in a minivan (what’s with me and fishing buddies rocking late-model minivans as fishing vehicles, I wonder?) at 4:30 AM, and we made the drive to our little slice of wild trout heaven with our wet wading gear, a few rods, and some high hopes.

Early start, and chublife in the slower structure.

High hopes can only carry you so far, and it was a slow start until we found the pattern.  With the stained water, we were planning for streamer bites or at least the ability to approach some favorite holes without spooking big mama or papa.  The spring spots were not fishing well.  I even scored a double chub, which is a sign that the temps are getting higher.  Had I been fishing a sabiki rig, I may have had live bait for days.  Anyway, I suggested that we target summer water and skip the spots we’d like trout to be because they weren’t there.  Once we headed straight for the heads of riffles, we started catching trout.  My first few were on a squirmy because it had to be done.  We needed to find a fish to confirm that they were there, and conditions were squirmy conditions if they weren’t streamer conditions.  We actually ended the morning fishing with a single natural bug and even a couple jigged streamer eats, but this was after committing to the heads of riffles and plunges—again, like it was August or September.  Out of curiosity more than concern, I dropped a thermometer at 10 AM, and it was 60 F, so fish were more than fine, but the active ones, the ones that were going to eat today, were in the summer spots or hiding close to dark cover riding out this heat wave.

Fish were caught as the pattern was recognized.

As the first photo with Eric attests, we found some bigger fish as we pushed further into the better cover, the places these fish retreat to as summer sets in.  This year, we missed the bonanza that happens when they spread out throughout the system for a couple months.  We mostly missed the hatches too, although midges and small gray caddis were plentiful at times despite seeing only a couple risers at dawn, which could have been chublife based on where we were on the creek.  Pattern established, we were content with landing a couple small to average wild fish at each likely spot, but we were secretly hoping to find some of the better ones we know are here.  It took a while, but by 8:30 AM or so, Eric’s day had been made.  He stuck a solid 14-inch fish in a riffle.  The fish was holding in the foam line in all of 10 inches of water and gave him a good tussle in the prime water temps.  No jumps, but she did a lot of dogging.  We were taking turns at each spot, so I was right there with him.  I dropped my rod on the bank and gave Eric the full photoshoot.  I even cropped, edited, and sent him the shots right after the quick release, knowing he’d want to enjoy these and share the minute he got home.

I finally found a decent one among the numbers of willing smalls.

I landed a couple over 8 inches but had yet to get my own solid small stream fish.  As luck would have it, I was up to bat when we hit another prime location.  I was fishing a single, olive, thread frenchie by now, a bit heavy on purpose since the sun was getting higher and the fish a little deeper.  I love fishing a single bug when I can because it is so easy to change bugs frequently, especially for small adjustments in weight.  Sure, I can get a 2 mm beaded perdigon down almost anywhere, and I can lead heavier bugs through skinnier water, and I did both today, but it takes more work and concentration than a bug change.  With a bigger single bug, I was able to get down right at the head of this prime spot, right at the drop-off point of the riffle where it plunged into over 3 feet of water and a root ball, and I was rewarded with my own solid fish.  Eric’s was bigger by a couple inches, and fatter, but they were from the same year class, the fish we know are here from past experience but could not find earlier in the morning.  I took a few shots and let this one go too.  He was not selfish or smiley-guy-with-trout photo worthy, but he was solid and a real lift to our spirits.

Bonus shots and small stream success.

We pushed on for a couple more holes.  The next primo hole that is almost a carbon copy of the one where I finally found a decent fish gave us nothing.  Eric even put on a bugger and let it hang under there, but nothing wanted to play.  We had one more great spot on deck before bushwhacking would offer diminishing returns in this heat.  This last hole is where we found a true 19-inch wild brown a few years ago.  It has cover and depth and shade and excellent flows, and it held a chub and an 8-inch brown.  The party was obviously over today, although we did have a little more action on the return walk, just cherry picking spots.  As I write this, it’s been cloudy and a bit rainy all morning, so Sunday may not have been bad, after all!  What do they say about hindsight?  Either way, Eric and I had a good day on the water, and for him it was needed and earned.  Me, I fish quite a bit, even years when I don’t fish as much as I have in the recent past. Actually, I have no reason not to fish today, besides the fact that I don’t love this heat, and I really hate the humidity.  SEPA is looking at possible temperatures in the triple digits for multiple days this week, so I hope the first day of summer is not the last day of trout fishing until the fall.  Perhaps it’s time to dig out the fluking gear until the river flows drop enough for some summer bass fishing?  Dig deep into my wallet for another Susquehanna trip?  Glenn has offered some dates.  Maybe I will just chill and read a book or buy another fly-tying vise?  Carp?  It must be mulberry season soon.