April 9, 2026 – A Little from Column S, a Little from Column T: My First 13-Hour Fishing Tour of 2026 – SEPA

Lars with a buck and neoprene.

Thanks to my accomplished and admirably bearded "guide" Larry, I was able to catch my first American shad in decades.  He and another friendly regular out there got into double digits and landed a couple bigger roe, but I actually got into a few bucks myself, not just one.  I did not know until after I hooked my first fish that Larry had felt low level anxiety about his mission.  The river is dropping daily without significant rain, so the fish start acting differently and get more challenging.  I fished for shad a long time with my father, but I bet it had been close to 25 or 30 years since I targeted these early spring visitors.  In other words, I was not a sure thing to catch, even though I am still a multi-species angler and no stranger to the spinning rod or the Delaware River.  Larry had no need to worry either way, but I totally get it.  It is a muscle that needs exercise, and every “guide” feels an obligation to his “sport.”  I think if I went out of few more times, the touch it takes would come back to me.  I lost more darts than usual trying to figure stuff out, but I spent a lot of time observing Larry and his buddy Dave, so I learned some things for next time.  One such thing I remembered while standing waist deep in the river on a 28-degree morning was why I always had a pair of neoprene waders in the garage until recently.  I didn’t replace the last pair I owned because I don’t stand still much when I fish with a fly rod or while plugging the ocean beaches, and I don’t hunt for waterfowl.  It was cold out there, yo!  I didn’t even have the forethought to wear my fleece wading pants.  In my defense, this has been a rollercoaster of a spring, so who could have known what to expect weather-wise.

A cold start.  Today's solid roe.  I caught enough that it wasn't an accident ;)

When I fished with my dad, roe shad used to get into the 8-pound range, but they have been getting smaller over time according to my sharpie companions for the morning.  That said, they still pull, and the current of the Big D, however diminishing with the falling flows of a dry spring, certainly helps even a 3 or 4 lb. female give an angler quite the tussle—at least from my point of view watching Larry and Dave land a few!  It was a cool experience that I may do again or may expose my son to if I can figure out some spots later in May.  When I was in college, my father used to pick me up around Mother’s Day weekend to drive me home, but we had some spots in NEPA where the fish were still doing their thing.  I will be getting my son home from college that same weekend, so who knows.  Larry and I quit a little before noon after a longer lull between pods of fish moving through, but like civilized gentlemen we had an upscale-priced (like most things in Bucks County river towns these days) breakfast together before parting ways.  He paid, so I owe him one when we camp out in NCPA next month.  We may have to sneak away from (albeit competent) camp chef Josh’s delicious cuisine and have a warm diner meal out there, especially if fishing is challenging, as it's been on previous camping trips.

That's what up, yo!  First fish of round two.

I had the day off, so I was not going home after brunch.  I thought of heading up to NEPA to intercept some early spring hatches, but I took the scenic route up the river instead.  It was a nostalgia tour seeing boat ramps and access points I used to visit with the old man.  We had a square-backed Grumman canoe that covered some miles in its day.  I had a shad fisherman’s eye scanning access spots old and new, as well.  In fact, one of the places Larry and I bass fished together last summer looked promising and had a lone angler making long casts, presumably with a dart.  I settled on a creek technically still in SEPA for my next stop, but it has some of the characteristics of the bigger NEPA freestoners.  No big mayflies present when I stopped, but grannom caddis had been hatching based on what was in all the riparian trees and bushes.  I watched for risers for a few minutes, and while I saw a smattering of adult caddis flitting about the water, even in clear low flows, no trouts were actively taking bugs on the surface.  I left the dry fly rod in the ‘Ru for the time being, and targeted pockets, runs, and plunges with the nymph rig.  At my first hole, I stuck a small stream pig on the 16 blowtorch I tied on the dropper tag.  It was a gorgeous wild brown!  I was hoping bugs were emerging and fish taking emergers if not the adults, but that did not really play out either.

Dry fly bow, at least.

That said, I did catch another nice brown that was probably 14 inches and a handful of rainbows before I turned around and worked my way back to the ‘Ru.  On the walk back I saw three fish rise to adult caddis, so when I got back to the parking spot, I had a snack, refilled my water bottle, and grabbed my dry fly rod.   I worked some of the same water that I had now rested for 90 minutes or more with a dry and a dry/dropper.  I got one additional rainbow on the caddis dry fly and missed another fish of unknown origin on the dry before I chose to turn back again. I swung a small bugger on the return trip and got two short bumps that did not connect.  The light was lower as dinner time approached in a deep valley, but the creek was still low and clear, so I did not expect even that much.  The one fish, my first fish, made this a worthwhile stop, of course.  I had notched my second high teens wild fish of the week, so no complaints about my decision to curtail my travel further north.  I have the Mayfly Project on Saturday, but maybe Sunday or Monday will continue my April success.  I have yet to fish locally for stockers, so I may do that at the very least.  The water is low enough and the bugs are prevalent enough in the City to warrant a visit with a dry fly, or at least a dry dropper.

Bonus shots from a long successful day.

April 5 and 6, 2026 – Two Early Spring Excursions with Very Different Results – SEPA

First good fish of 2026.

With the boy away at school and not coming home for Easter, I decided to use the morning to worship the wild brown trout.  A cold front with some heavy rain was set to arrive by 10 AM, so I committed to the task at hand, arriving at first light.  I figured I would not be alone on this creek, but I assumed that I could get into some prime water away from the easy access and avoid the stockers and those who love them.  It was cold and a bit foggy to start, so sunrise would be delayed, but I don’t mind early.  I was actually hoping to move a fish or two on a bugger at first light.  Two dudes pulled in behind me and raced, literally raced, to get dressed to beat me to the water, I assume?  They were gone before I even sat on the bumper to pull on my waders.  I could hear the conspiratorial whispers and the telltale click of BOA lacing systems, and then they were gone.  I decided to take a relaxed attitude toward life.  I hope my days of getting stressed out about someone else at “my secret spot” are passed me?  Nothing moved to a bugger, and the only wild brown I landed was 8 inches long on a small jigged bugger.  I did end up catching a handful of rainbows on bigger bugs, like a size 10 pheasant tail.  Only midges were hatching, no olives, and it felt like the creek may have been pounded on the previous morning and/or the wild fish had lockjaw as result of the barometric pressure associated with the coming storm.  The rain held off until 11 AM, so I got a bonus hour on the water, but when it arrived it arrived with authority.  I almost managed to stay dry.  I got in the ‘Ru seconds before it started pouring, and then I realized I left my phone in my wader pocket, so I still got wet while retrieving it from the back.  Fish were caught, but it was hardly a stellar outing.  I have been overdue for a good one.  It’s really been since mid-January with Eric.

Not a stellar outing, but fish were caught.

I thought about using Monday morning to chase some stockers on the Wissy, but it was another cold morning, so I decided I would use the afternoon after work to fish.  After lunch, I weighed my desire to chase stockers, especially without Eric or the boy to make it more fun, and found it lacking, so I changed my plan.  I would visit a SEPA crick on the natural reproduction list that I fish only a couple times each year.  The fish that opens this post is proof that I pretty much won the final boss battle for this creek, so I am not sure how often I need to return this year!  This hen, whose maxillary showed signs of a run-in with a spinner or other big, barbed hook, is likely the mama of all the other wild fish in this creek.  There are not that many of them, but find the perfect habitat, and depth, and wild fish are there.  I did not waste time fishing low water up to the spot.  I headed right there, and my first fish of the afternoon was this 18-inch small stream piggy.  She hit a small jigged bugger on 4X, so I was able to rope her into the net rather quickly.  I wanted a pic of this fish!  I was also trying not to blow up the spot, so I got her to the tailout quickly, hoping that I could catch another fish from this prime location before having to move on (or drive to another stretch).  I got a few shots and gently let her go.

Another pretty one, and the net shot with that sore lip.

I changed bugs after I got bumped on the bugger without coming tight.  Good move since I landed two more pretty wild fish from the same hole before it went quiet.  There was a stretch downstream of this hole that sometimes produces, though it is better with more water.  I spooked one, landed a chub, and then moved quickly to the next hole.  This hole has the potential to hold another piggy, but I have yet to find one over 10 inches here.  Nothing new today, really:  I landed another 8 inch wild brown and then after switching bugs again, two fat little smalljaws on a golden stone.  They just hit it with a slight *TICK* as it fell to the bottom of the deep plunge.  It was getting breezier and chillier, and I was certain I had little chance of besting my first fish here (perhaps ever!) so I called it good instead of driving to one other unposted access spot.  I mean, if I return to this creek again this year, I have to save something to explore, right?  It would be nice to find Miss Piggy’s mate Mr. Piggy (or Kermy?) someday!

A couple crick pics, another on small bugs, and first bass of the year ;)

March 21 and 28, 2026 – “I Feel Powerful….” First Two Meetings of the Mayfly Project Philly – Wissahickon Creek

First morning with the Mayfly Project along the Wissahickon.

I spent the last two Saturdays in March mentoring some kids who find themselves in the foster care system in Philadelphia.  They had the guts to sign up to go fly fishing with a bunch of strange adults, and their caregivers had the heart to get up early two Saturdays in a row, two rather chilly Saturdays, and let these middle-school boys have a new experience and hopefully create a great memory or two.  The quote about being powerful came from a 13-year boy I am working with.  I will call him K.  I asked to work with K when I saw that his profile shared that he had already been diagnosed with PTSD at that young, formative age.  I have some experience in my career and my family with PTSD, so I thought I might have the right approach with him.  He is awesome.  Smart, dryly funny, and just a gentle soul.  All this comes in a size 11 shoe and 5’8’’ frame, and he’s still growing!  We had a heck of time finding waders in our collection of youth waders that would fit him.  A couple of my mentor peers were even going to drive home and bring back an extra pair of adult waders.  Thankfully, we found a pair that fit him.  When I asked K and H, another one of the mentees, how they felt in waders, K was first to answer: “I feel powerful.”  Mission accomplished!  Laughs, time outside in the woods, mentoring from grown men who can still act like kids, supportive caregivers who’ve committed to making a memory for them, and feeling powerful.  I still can’t believe how lucky we got with these boys for our first year of the program.  It is unrealistic to think that we are creating future fly fishers, maybe, but it is easier to accept that this will be a great experience for all of us.

H with a "bass," a highlight of week one, and putting the rods together.

Saturday, March 21 was before Mentored Youth Day, so we could not get in the water.  We talked bugs, knots, and fish handling before we helped the boys assemble rods.  We ended the day with a casting demonstration and lesson from Ken and Cathy, two really valuable mentors on the team.  The husband and wife help organize their own one-day event at Norristown Farm Park each year, so this is not their first rodeo.  They added some fun touches to the casting practice.  Tying on Velcro “hooks” to cast to and catch some laminated fish was a big hit.  A third mentee, S, is a gamer and wants to design video games when he grows up.  He was obsessed with catching every fake fish on the casting lawn!  All the boys caught a few and held them up for a practice “grip and grin” before we called it a day.  I could not get a head-on shot of H with his bass because his grandmother was laughing and taking pictures of him to show to Pop Pop when they got back home!  I packed up my own fishing gear for Sunday morning, but Saturday with the mentors and mentees must have taken more out of me than I expected.  Not in a bad way, but I was tired and needed to sleep in on Sunday.  I knew better than to plan any fishing the following Sunday at least.  This was more than enough for one weekend. 

K keeping 'em wet and hamming it up for the camera

March 28^th was a chilly Mentored Youth Day on the Mighty Wissahickon.  It could not have gone any better.  S was my bet to fall in the water AND catch the biggest fish.  He did not disappoint.  He actually caught a massive golden as his first fish on a fly rod.  All the boys caught more than one fish that morning.  They forgot all their casting lessons, of course, when it came to time to catch fish, but that is totally natural.  My casting form probably suffers too when I am excited to mess with a bunch of fresh stockers 😉  How could we fail?  We had three mentees show up and at least 10 mentors, so their was a chorus of cheers every time a fish was landed by one of the boys.  Every time an indicator bounced, there were 10 shouts to set the hook.  Every kid and fish was photographed from 10 different angles.  I haven’t gotten that excited about stocked rainbows since my own son was their age, since I was their age, maybe!  It was a charmed day.

We all knew who would be most like to score big and fall in, our man S.

We have a break for Easter weekend, but we have two more Saturdays in April before this year’s program wraps.  I guess I should catch some fish on Easter?  I have been very busy at work for the last three weeks, midterm grades, registration for next fall, and housing selection, but now that this is over, I took some weekdays off in April and May to supplement my weekend adventures.  I do love the predictable rise and fall of the college calendar, and I will take advantage of it fully this spring and summer.  I may even try to catch a shad for the first time in decades (depending on how good of a guide Larry is).  My old man would be proud.  Keeping that nostalgia tour going, I will also be back in Lycoming. Tioga, and Potter Counties in May.  I caught my first brookies and my first trout on a dry fly in Lycoming County when I was probably the age of the Mayfly Project mentees.  It stuck with me, so maybe it will stick with a couple of them too?  Of course, my dad counted the full week around Easter as a holy week, not as holy as the week in Canada, but pretty essential to observe faithfully.  I am grateful that I had a father in the picture who considered fishing an excused absence from school.  It still is for me.

We even found the rare mayfly nymph in the Wissy.  A charmed day.

March 11, 2026 – I Guess This Is My Annual "Fish Live in Water" Post? – SEPA

A little off and cold still.

I am no stranger to jumping the gun, and it’s hard not to when air temperatures are getting into the 80s, but I got too excited today.  I could have chased stockers or fished a smaller creek close to home with predictable flows and water temperature, or joined the midge and early BWO chasers on Valley or Saucon.  But I got too excited.  It’s the first time I have had a spring break in over 4 years.  Not that I was off all week like when I was faculty, but I had no students to advise this week, so I had days to burn.  Looking at this blog, I often took my first trip to Central PA during this week each year.  Spring Creek olives are pretty predictable, (Big) Fishing Creek a bit more dependent on the lack of snow melt.  I did not have that kind of time today or this week really, but I did want to see one of my favorite creeks an hour from home, at least.  The good and bad thing about having this blog for the last 10 years is that I knew to approach this morning with low expectations.  In two weeks’ time, this creek and its sometimes-dickish wild browns will be ready.  I have the text and pictures in the archives to prove it to myself.  Today, I had to be content with Karen’s northern cousin, who ate a perdigon and gave me a short but lively tussle on a 3 weight.  Since the water was dirty and deep, for 15 seconds I was ready to net my first decent brown of the month.  Too excited.  I did honor him with the "hand with fish shot" as if he was the intended quarry.  The trouts were quiet.  The water was really cold, so even some hatching midges did not get them interested today.  The afternoon may have been slightly better, but the color of crick did not convince me to stay.  Somewhere upstream, snow and ice was melting.  Should have gone to Valley 😜

On the mouth with an 18 perdigon, of course!

I blame Larry, really.  We briefly discussed meeting up today.  In one text, he mentioned chasing redhorse suckers in a local warmwater crick near his house.  Because we did not meet up, I did not take the day off, just flexed the morning hours to allow for some mental health time and aerobic activity.  I marked a spring break with a couple fishing trips, but I did not burn PTO on suckers.  Like on Sunday, I was confronted by some new trees and obstacles to conquer to get into the spots, but that is good intel when the real fishing days begin.  We also had our second meeting about the Mayfly Project this evening and got a lot more information, so it was a fishy week if not a fish-catching week.  I take the boy back to school on Sunday, but with three freshmen in the car with me, I am not sure I can fit any gear in the ‘Ru.  Pocket Fisherman?

March 8, 2026 – A Springlike Reprieve from the Long Winter Still in Progress – SEPA

Caught some wild trouts.

We may finally be turning the corner with this more sustained climb into the 60’s and 70’s.  I am not putting away the snow shovels just yet, but I did spend some time in the garage on Saturday prepping my fishing stuff for spring, and I even took a trip on Sunday morning that netted me four wild trout in a really pretty place.  There was some new wood in a honey hole, which made for an interesting approach to the spot, but it had to be done.  This creek was locked in ice just a couple weeks ago, so I knew the fish had retreated to the deep holes.  This one particular hole is over 5 feet deep, I bet, so an interesting challenge when fish are pecky in 40-degree water temperatures.  If they were stacked down there in the depths, they stayed stacked way down there on the bottom.  I did get one to take a bugger on the fall before resorting to dredging up the remainder of my catch from the depths with a big stonefly or heavy perdigon and a bobber.  I was hoping some fish would rise up off the bottom to take midges, and early black stones were crawling out, which prompted at least two rises to struggling adults, but nothing really developed in the time I was on the water.  It was all good.  I had to quit around noon today anyway. 

Skinny from a tough winter, but the snow is nearly gone and bugs are hatching.

I started early in the fog and did not see another fisherman until I was walking out around 11:45 AM.  I had the first shift to myself, and I hope he had the second to himself.  Honestly, this is the kind of spot where I keep rolling if I see another car in the lot, but some dudes don’t care, I guess, or maybe wouldn’t know where else to go after driving a distance.  I just wanted to catch some fish, so I put a time limit on my outing and was happy with a handful. The boy is home for spring break, so we had plans with my mom later in the afternoon.  My students are off this week too, so I may have to get sick on Tuesday or Wednesday before the weather turns and the chill returns.  I am due for an adventure, and it’s been since Eric and I fished early in January that I have caught a real, adult fish.  Not only am I due for an adventure, but I am just plain due, I guess.  I am working and have a couple meetings on Tuesday, and even an all-day symposium on Friday, but Wednesday is looking promising on all fronts, at least early in the day, which I prefer anyway. 

A tough winter sent some new wood into the wintering hole, but flowers and bees are back.

The boys were out or at least thinking about the near future.  Ward texted early in the morning to tell me these mornings make him remember Opening Days of yore.  Pete was itching to get after some walleye.  The group chat had some fish and nature pics from Josh and company.  Larry sent some flowers, which made me notice bees all over the crocus popping up in my own beds and lawn.  Robins have been around for at least a week, maybe longer in pre-mating and therefore quieter stealth mode.  Snow piles are still melting, and you may even notice some residual snow in my crick pics from today.  The shady sides of the hills may take a bit longer yet.  We need rain, but flows were decent today, decent enough that I may try a bigger crick next time.  I do have a second meeting with the Mayfly Project crew on Wednesday night, however, so Wednesday's trip might just be another SEPA excursion, maybe a NEPA one, but probably not a trip chasing olives in Central PA, not yet anyway.

Pretty morning in a pretty spot.

February 20, 2026 – After Being Locked Up, Things are Starting to Move Again – SEPA

Icy tidal Skuke below the waterworks.

In some ways, ice is preferable to melting snow and ice, but I am grateful that it’s happening finally. I posted these photos of the tidal Schuylkill locked up bank to bank on the fly-fishing forum, and a retired PFBC dude who worked in SEPA for many years had never seen the tidal river in this condition. Not that it has never happened, but it does underscore the rarity of the cold weather we experienced this winter. We’ve got a Nor’easter on the way Sunday into Monday, so it’s not over yet, but the cold has to lose eventually to longer days and shorter nights, rain over frozen precipitation. It’s still droughty as heck in some of my go-to counties, so rain, snow, sleet, whatever it takes to avoid the low water we had to deal with last year. The new job affords me a lot more time off now that my probationary period is over. I put in some PTO this week for a camping trip with Josh, Brian, and Larry this May in Northcentral, PA. They have never fished this particular area of Potter and Lycoming Counties, and I have not been there since I was in my teens! I caught my first dry fly trout and native brookies in this very area when my dad pulled me out of school for 5 days each spring. I also put into the ADP portal the dates for a booked trip on the Suskie with The Boy and Glenn later that same month. It will be a good May. The new job also allows me to take a nice long walk at lunch along the Schuylkill Banks trail, which is now fully repaired. I don’t think I will be carping at lunch or storing my 9 weight and striper flies in the office, but just walking along the river is therapeutic some days. And even though I am working in Center City still, I have met a few coworkers who are hardcore fly fishers, so meetings and convocations have involved the sharing of photos and intel, which is always nice. I will be seeing a lot of the trusty Wissahickon soon, too.

Some open water near the bank at low tide ;)

We had our first meet-up of the local chapter of the Mayfly Project at the Valley Green Inn, and it was a good bunch of people.  We don’t know much, this being our first year, but we know an agency has identified at least 6 kids in the Philly foster care system who want to learn a new skill and get outdoors this spring.  We will be paired two mentors to a kid, and after some education on the sport and conservation, fish-handling, maybe some entomology and tying, we are going to try and help them all catch a stocker or two on the fly rod by Mentored Youth Day.  The kids get to walk away from the five meetings over the course of five or six weeks with waders, a fly rod and reel, flies, a pack, and likely swag, sunglasses, nippers, hemostats, etc.  All the funding is coming from the Fly Fishing Film Tour local event, and TCO is helping with gear.  The goal is to provide a good experience and memory for a group of kids who’ve had interesting lives thus far, and if a couple of them pick up the fly fishing habit or want to return next year, even better.  I think my teaching experience and my professional experience providing accommodations for students with disabilities, including psychological ones, not to mention being a dad, may help prepare me for what’s to come.  I also have tempered expectations about outcomes, especially the first year.  I’ve just wanted to get involved since the first time I heard about the national organization and some PA chapters popping up. 

A little cold and dirty, but a walk in the woods with a fly rod on a Friday.

Knowingly prematurely, I cashed in a sick day on Friday for a walk with a fly rod.  The websites and gauges are in transition right now, and some of them freeze up in the winter, so I was going on gut instinct with my stream selection.  Flows were great, but the snow melted really fast with a steady rain, so the water temperature was frigid and the color was dreadful.  I spent a couple hours walking in the woods and dropping a black sculpin in a few deep wintering holes.  I had one soft take in over two hours out there, but it was mild, quiet day in the woods.  Plenty of wildlife was active with the thaw.  A deer seemed intent on passing through the same gap where I had stopped to piss and retie my boots.  Every time I ignored her and concentrated on my own business, she crept closer.  She did not spook until I rezipped my rain jacket, and that noise sent her into a high-tailing retreat.  I think I had chosen the same way through the woods that had become habit for the local herd, so she was going to wait me out not chose another way around.  I also saw pileated woodpeckers and a great blue heron and two mergansers in one of my winter honey holes.  I just saw no fish.  By the time I left, visibility was getting more fishable, so I considered fishing Saturday morning, but I slept in instead.  With stocking underway, most local creeks are off limits until Opening Day, and the idea of driving an hour to find the same snowmelt cold water made me slow my roll.  An itch was scratched today, I guess.  A lot more fishing to come, and very soon.

January 11, 2026 – Eric and I on the Board for 2026 with Some Quality Small Stream Trouts – SEPA

An early start, but not as early as Eric would have liked ;)

Experiencing the below-average cold since November, it took some degree of faith to imagine getting on the board this early in January.  This morning was the conclusion (maybe crescendo) of a three-day span approaching or breaking 50 F, so it actually could have happened earlier had I the time off earlier in the previous week.  But it happened, and I am grateful and now more hopeful for the rest of the winter.  Eric and I could not have asked for much more: the aforementioned three days of mild weather, rain the day before, no wind until the next front came through about noon.  Minus all but a smattering of midges in terms of bug life, it was damn near perfect on paper, and the morning ended up fulfilling all the potential promise and more.  Always overeager after a long absence from the game, Eric convinced me to pick him up at 7 AM.  He probably would have preferred 6 AM, so we were fishing at sunrise, but I reigned him in a bit.  Three days of milder temperatures was not totally going to undo a few weeks of frigid evenings on a mostly-freestone crick.  I understood his enthusiasm and was looking forward to a fishing day with a mitch, but I definitely wanted to optimize our window: early enough to beat the next weather change, but late enough that it was more than casting practice for two hours before fish warmed up.  As expected, we had a slower start even at the 8 AM start time, but Eric did get an average fish to eat before 9 AM, and I had one fish nip but not connect on a bugger in the first hour, so not completely dead.

A good one for Eric as good things started happening.

We both began fishing jigged buggers because of the perceived stain in the low morning light, but with the presence of some midges hatching and the increased daylight revealing better than expected visibility, I actually took a couple minutes to rerig with small nymphs when we got to our first confidence hole.  I was up for this hole, but I gave a mitch the go ahead.  While I was rigging up a perdigon and a small midge dropper, Eric quickly picked up two more fish from the same hole on the bugger—making me doubt my decision, of course!  I left the nymphs on, however, and finally landed a rather decent fish on the perdigon after getting popped one other time in the next hole.  Proving to myself that fish would hit nymphs and/or were aware of the sparse hatch, I quickly retied with 4x and my original choice of jigged bugger.  I am no dummy!  It was the right call because Eric’s next at bat scored a beauty of a wild brown.  It was probably 14 inches but also a fully mature, colored-up, post-spawn male with some war wounds—just a great fish and a day maker on this crick.

I started pulling my weight and Eric continued to catch exceptionally pretty trouts.

I got first shot at the next honey hole, which did not disappoint.  Just as my jigged bugger left the head riffle and plunged into the deep hole, it was met on the fall by our second good fish of the morning.  We made a few additional casts, but we decided to rest both of these holes after causing a ruckus and chose to keep moving.  Fish were active, and in the winter (plus with an approaching front), we did not know when our luck would run out.  The window is sometimes short, but luckily it had not closed on us just yet.  Eric landed another beautiful fish at our next stop.  This one had a unique pattern for this crick, a real sparsely spotted, deep hued fish, more like the so-called Loch Leven browns.  The next two holes that usually produce for us this time of year did not.  The weather was changing.  Even though we were well protected at the time, we could hear the wind already messing with the tops of trees.  We both figured we had better return to the two deep holes that produced the better fish before our window closed for the day.  As we headed back downstream, a dude out working on his truck asked if we had permission to fish here.  We do, and Eric dropped the name of the landowner.  Dude was cool with that, but we both had a sense we might see the landowner today.  Honestly, we were both glad that dude asked because he probably deters trespassers with his vigilance.  For years, we have seen no one back here, but in recent years we started noticing bobbers and flies in trees despite obvious posted signs.  It was also probably a good thing if we encountered the landowner today—Eric last spoke to him a couple years ago, so it was not a bad time for a check-in with him.

My best fish of the morning.

The return trip to the hole where I got my good fish was more than fruitful.  I may have landed a fish as solid as Eric’s if not our best fish of the morning.  They were both from the same year class, male, mature, post-spawn fish, still toothy and colored-up.  A good day had just become an exceptional one, especially for January.  As Eric readied to fish his honey hole again, hoping to repeat my good fortune, we heard the ATV engine in the woods.  Sure enough, a quad was coming down the trail towards us.  It was the landowner’s son.  We knew he hunted the land quite a bit, but we had never met him since we tend to avoid interfering with hunting season back here.  In fact, we were fishing today, a Sunday, because Sunday hunting was closed again.  The son was cool and knew Eric’s family name, as they both grew up here.  It was actually better that we met the young son and not the father because Eric was able to exchange numbers, offering to text the son when we were going to fish and also report any trespassers.  It was dude working on the truck who called in the landowner’s son, so that idea was well-received.  I guess we are part of the “if you see something say something” team now?  Someday this will all be townhouses or worse, but for the time being, we have the next generation’s contact information, and he loves the outdoors.  A good end to a good day.

Winter small stream sneaking at its best.