October 20, 2025 - Making Lemonade on So Many Levels - Berks County

Not too shabby, all things considered.

October has been interesting.  My son was in the emergency room for a couple days—out in Central PA, not anywhere near home—so I had just attended Family Weekend, then drove back out to the hospital the following week, and then he came home for fall break.  It was good to see him, of course, under any circumstances, but he is an 18-year-old with a lot of friends, so we barely got to hang out over fall break before I had to drive him back again.  I actually drove him back to school with two new college friends that live in the area, and that was fun, but on the solo drive back home, I was rear-ended about 90 minutes from home.  There were three other cars involved, a chain reaction caused by a young dude in a pickup truck who hit me.  No one was hurt, including the driver at fault, but the ‘Ru is a goner, a total loss.  Not that I want a car payment again, but at least I am physically fine and no one else was in the car with me. 

Low, clear, windy, and leafy = fall.

The accident was out in Berks County on a rural state road, and I had to drive out there today, clean out the car, and release the vehicle so that dude’s insurance company could pick it up.  The accident happened last Tuesday night, so by Friday they had accepted fault and given me a rental (a BWM X1, so really roughing it; I almost felt like I should tuck in my shirt and temporarily install a stocker locker with some Yeti stickers).  I had to bail on my camping trip with the boys at Poe Valley, which sucked, but not as bad as the fishing they experienced, apparently.  I also had to delay my start date at a new job by a day, but they were cool with everything, which is a good sign about the culture there.  I was not surprised, but I was grateful.  I had completed my responsibilities at the tow yard by 10 AM, and the small SUV fit my 10-foot rod, so what’s a guy to do with a day off work for which he will likely get reimbursed in the settlement?

A few average fish along with the dinks and chub life.

I stopped by the “world famous” Tully early in my drive back, but I am not a fan, nor a fan of chasing fresh stockers when there are other wild fish to chase before the spawn.  It’s the Tully, so of course there were some dudes out, even on a Monday—I still don’t know why this stocked fishery is still a destination crick in SEPA, but I am glad it draws fishermen away from other creeks I do like to fish.  I was curious if the rain overnight had impacted the creeks in the region at all.  I was hoping for more rain, but the forecast had been changed half a dozen times.  The Tully looked on the low side of normal, but it’s a tailwater, so a release may have happened recently too.  At any rate, I convinced myself that rain had happened, and I would fish another much smaller creek that has a lot more natural reproduction.

A pretty autumn day.

Upon arrival, I accepted that the creek I chose was low, clear, and a recent victim of “leaf hatches,” which the drizzle and impending wind would certainly make worse today.  Nevertheless, I decided I was fishing it.  As I was suiting up at the BWM and feeling self-conscious about it, another fly guy arrived, but we discussed our intentions.  After trying two or three honey holes en route, I gave him and myself some space.  As a result of the longer walk, I got to explore more of the creek than I normally would, and I may have even seen a bit of water I had never seen, let alone fished, before.  The fishing itself was just meh with the challenging conditions.  I spooked some hiding fish and/or drove a few from the tailout into the heads of runs despite being stealthy as possible.  Riffles and deep holes, just like my last outing.  Deep holes meant a lot of chubs in a freestoner that gets warm each summer, and I even caught minnows.  Once in a while, though, I encountered a wild trout suspended up and looking for emerging bugs in the swirling and drowned leaf litter.  The best fish came from the head of a pool in a riffle not 8 inches deep, and I missed a few other short, sharp hits in this type of cover.

Chublife represent....

I was tossing a caddis larva anchor fly with a soft hackle/tag fly on the dropper.  While the minnows loved this size 18 emerger-looking presentation, so did half a dozen wild trout.  I caught fallfish, creek chubs, minnows, a small smallmouth bass, YOY, two year old dinks, and at least a couple decent small stream browns.  Drizzle had given way to cold front winds up to 30 MPH, so the low water was only the beginning of the day’s challenges.  Half a dozen trout, midday in wind and sun, especially in low water?  I was making lemonade.  And instead of being anxious about starting a new job in the morning, I got plenty of fresh air and exercise to help me sleep like a young mitch all night.  The accident stuff has not been resolved.  The pay out will determine next steps, of course, but I think the plan is to let my wife buy something new.  She is driving an Impreza that was mine briefly and did the job.  It is all-wheel drive, a hatchback, even fits a 10’ one-piece surf rod inside.  I do recall seeing 40 MPG on the display during a few trips to Central PA, which does not hurt either.  The Ru is dead, long live the Ru!?!?

Leaf hatch with little brownie.

October 9, 2025 – Small Stream Sneaking in the Skinny Water and Finding Some Success – NEPA

Early success (but not too early).

It became very clear that the little bit of rain that happened this week had not made any difference on my chosen crick this morning.  I arrived about 8 AM after letting it warm up some following the coldest night since June, so there was enough daylight to dispel any hope that a little stain or a boost in flow was present to help the cause.  I like challenges, and I like to be proficient in less-than-perfect conditions, so instead of heading to a bigger creek, I accepted the challenge.  I know this stream intimately, too, so I knew where to fish and how I might have to fish it in order to make lemonade.  By 2:30 PM, I had landed about a dozen trouts, a few of them very decent for a small freestone crick, so I was glad I stayed.  With one exception, a couple of young bulls tossing spinning rods and high-holing me, I had the crick to myself, so I took advantage of that situation.  I was covering water fast because I was skipping yards of boney, clear water and targeting higher percentage spots, so I actually covered a few miles of water, making two or three short drives and many long walks over exposed rocks.  I ended near the lower stretches, hoping to intercept some big, seasonal interlopers or lovelorn wanderers looking for a place to settle next month, but I only found a couple holdover bows down there.  Still, it was worth all the steps and drives.  I have never seen this creek so low, and that is information.  I made mental notes of the spots within the spots, less obvious cover, deep depressions, things I would not see in normal flows.  That is invaluable time on the water, and the fishing was solid, all things considered. 

Caught some fishes despite the low water.

Deep plunges were the first order of business, but because the leaf cover is still significant enough to offer low light until 9 or 10 AM, I did pay a little attention to deeper holes.  Fish can only do three things, or a combination of those three things, in water this low: hide under cover like rocks and ledges and wood, go deep out of diving range of birds of prey, or tuck up under the white water (or whitish water today).  I found my first fish and a second much better fish tight to a plunge.  Another good fish shot out from under a boulder to eat.  As the day got brighter, I could see fish in the deep holes and, with stealth, was able to target a couple.  At times they were with big suckers, a behavior I see in winter from time to time and during sucker spawn in early spring, and that resulted in me tagging a 20+ inch white sucker that provided the best 15 second fight on a 3 wt. in fly fishing!  There were some dinks and average small stream fish along the way, and even three rainbows, including one solid one in good shape.  I was fishing 5X with a 16 frenchie on the anchor and a smaller dropper, like a midge or riffle nymph.  With some small BWO’s around, the mayfly nymphs seemed to get more love than any caddis larva imitations, despite cased caddis regularly finding their way onto the hook of my anchor fly.

Boney enough to sight-fish a river monster ;)

My first stop was the longest, both timewise and walking-wise, and it produced the three or four good browns you see in the photos.  The second stop was short, involved me targeting a nice wild male and tangling with a relative of Karen the white sucker.  The college boys in sneakers and spinning rods that I let high hole me without comment were also a feature of stop number two.  My third stop was after 12:45 PM, so well past primetime, but also a hail mary.  I know from experience—and lost access to a stretch now posted—that big fish move through seasonally for the spawn.  They often stayed through the winter, as well, resulting in some solid pre- and post-spawn browns.  The creek is changing rapidly, and I have not intercepted this seasonal movement in a few years now, but with the high sun and low water, I was hoping at least to see a couple.  Here I caught a two-year old wild brown and two rainbows.  One bow was skinny like she’d just barely made it from the spring stocking and had washed down, but the other bow was far healthier.  It looked like a multiyear holdover, and my first impression said male.  Looking at the anal fin, that first impression may not have been wrong.  I am not saying wild, by any means, I am just saying that the Comish stocks females and mutant triploids.  This one may have been a wanderer or a club stocker, something different.  It was not a wild brown, but it was a fun fight and a nice surprise.

A couple more nicer fish.

Thursday, yo!  The reason I had so much water to myself—besides the windy, cold front conditions—was that I was out on a weekday.  I am using up PTO because I start a new job later this month.  Back to my roots.  For those who have read the blog for years, for some of you 10 years at the end of this year, you know I used to have time off for 100+ days of fishing.  I am not promising that with this new job, but I am saying that I will have more than double the days off in 2026, something like 41 paid days off.  I can’t wait.  Even with having to earn that time at a new job, I will still have an extended Thanksgiving and two weeks off for the holidays, a spring break.  I will continue to be a weekend warrior for the time being, but I do have a camping fishing weekend next week with Josh, Brian, Larry and Josh’s brother in law.  Rain would help, but today’s success proved a theory I have held about the fall for some time: low water or not, the better fish have to eat if they want to make babies in November.  Let’s hope I am proven right again on Penns next weekend!

A good long day and the first cold morning in months.

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.