April 20, 2026 – Not Just Another Day in April – NEPA

So much for 80 and sunny.

At my last checkup in March, I complained about a bit of arthritis pain in my left knee.  After an examination of both knees, my rather stoic GP said, “A little clicky on the left one… You have 40-year-old knees.”  Today was my 57^th birthday, so I guess I can live with that diagnosis.  Where did I chose to take my aging knees on this day?  A gentle spring creek?  A local stockie hole with a bench nearby?  Nope.  The Lehigh River in the gorge.  And I felt really good too.  Since the new year, when I noticed my metabolism changing, I started walking and hiking again.  I was the same weight since the pandemic until I wasn’t last year.  My last job was stressful, and everyone there including me stress-ate during breaks.  This new job is far less stressful, and it affords me long walks at lunch in Center City and along the banks of the Schuylkill River on nice days.   Plus, I get to fish a lot more.  Yesterday was the first day I really noticed the aerobic payoff of those walks.  I never took the folding wading staff off my belt, I made three or four descents and return climbs along the river, I covered some water, and I caught a mess of nice fish on a frigid morning.  The true test is always the day after, but after my Brodhead climbing earlier in the month, I felt good the next day, so I am expecting the same tomorrow.  I have also learned to hydrate as I get older.

My first fish on my second cast.  Low water but still pretty sexy out there.

I arrived around 6:30 AM, knowing I had a good walk to my first spot.  As I drove into the gorge, I was seeing snow in the fields and in the trees.  When I parked near the river, there was snow covering the rhododendrons and some of the trees sprouting young leaves.  I even got caught in a few brief sleet showers throughout the day.  It was cold, and the water temperature at 11 AM was barely over 45 F.  It did not stop the fish from eating.  My first fish, on my second cast, was a beautiful example of a high teens wild North American brown fish.   Even in lower flows for this early in the spring (the drought is coming for NEPA next) this fish would not quit.  None of them would today, actually.  I guess 46 degrees is good for their stamina!  River fish are rarely pushovers, anyway.  The LR is a tough place to grow up and a tough place to survive multiple years if you happen to hold over a couple seasons.  I fish a 10’ 6” 4 weight when I nymph water like the LR, Brodhead, Lackawanna, and Penns, and I am always glad for the extra muscle.  By the end of the day, I was more worried about arthritis in my elbow than my knees from all the extended-armed side pressure application needed to turn a few upstream against their wills 😉

More crick pics on a cold, windy, gray day full of cooperative fish like fish #2 of the morning!

Not long after my first good fish, I landed another in the high teens.  Along with many family and friends, Larry had texted me with birthday wishes.  He almost joined me this morning but bailed the night before because of the weather and the responsibilities at home he had this week ahead of a camping trip.  He was regretting his decision not to come this morning!  The success continued at a steady pace for at least four hours before a pause around 11 AM.  Before I took a walk back to the 'Ru and had a short break on the bumper, I probably had a dozen fish landed, and many were over 12 inches.  I was happy to see two dinks in the mix, however.  There is ongoing debate about whether or not browns spawn in the river, or just the tributaries, or just look pretty after holding over for many years.  I think it's all of the above based on the variety of patterns, but I have caught more and more fish in recent years that are too pretty and too small to have been stockers.  And then there are fish like the one pictured below that are 1) male and 2) way to cute too be holdover fish.  

A beauty male no matter his country of origin.

I had a chat with an older gent and his wife while I drank an iced coffee and ate a PBJ, and then I refilled my water bottle for a shorter round two.  This 57 year old mitch has to stay more hydrated than a 40 year old one, even if my knees are not that old.  This could be another reason (besides old prostates) why so many zipped waders are sold these days!  I planned to fish until about 2 PM so that I could hang with my wife on my birthday (and beat rush hour traffic home).  The third spot I slid down into can be awesome at times, but today it was slower than the first two spots.  It could have been the time of day, of course, but the presence of some mayfly duns on the water should have gotten a little something going.  I dredged a fallguy out of a deep hole before I changed things up after seeing what looked to be Blue Quills.  It was cold, so I did not take my hat off to catch a specimen, nor did I mess around taking off my fingerless gloves to catch one as it sailed on by.  Nothing rose to the duns, but I did catch three more smaller trout, including one that had to be a 2-year-old, by swinging my nymphs.  All three took a size 16 pheasant tail on the dropper tag. 

More fun, healthy fish.

I was hoping for some variety, maybe more on the swing, and I took my time and watched for risers for much longer than I usually do.  With the water temps so cold, there was no guarantee that dry fly fishing was going to happen even if I hung out until 3 or 4 PM just waiting.  After a second much smaller fallfish took the bugs on the swing, I stuck with the plan and started hiking back just before 2 PM, and I was actually changed and on the road home before 2:30 PM.  This was supposed to be my first trip on the river to get the kinks out and see how a few spots fared this winter, but it became a banner day.  Come to think of it, my first visit to the Brodhead was also more than a first trip kind of day.  I have landed some nice fish so far this odd spring!  It is a little scary that I am fishing places I typically fish six weeks from now, but I am trying not to dwell on that too much.  Maybe it will rain in May?  I will let you know if I wake up with charley horses in both hamstrings after talking about how good I feel....

Big natives noticed the mayflies before the trouts.  Time to go home.

April 11 and 18, 2026 – The Last Two Meetings of the Mayfly Project - Philly’s 2026 Inaugural Season – Wissahickon Creek

Fun was had.

Well, the first year of the Philly-based Mayfly Project chapter is in the books.  We learned a lot, what worked, what might work better.  Honestly, besides the challenges of see-saw weather and low, clear water, I think this crew could carry out an expanded plan next year with great success.  Many of us may even get more practice in September working at a one-day event in Norristown Farm Park called All Kids Fish.  Two of our current mentors for Mayfly are leaders of that event, and they have been getting committals from mentors within our group.  I just have to make sure my work calendar is clear since my team covered for me at a few admissions’ open houses this spring so that I could do this thing.  There is a chance that a couple of our mentees will attend this fall event on scholarship too!  That would seal the deal for me if I could see K and H again this fall.  They would even make good peer mentors in Mayfly next year.  The youngest boy, S, may have had his experience this spring.  It might just be the age, or it might be that he tried fly fishing, caught a giant palomino as his second fish, and in his mind won fly fishing’s final boss battle. 

Real fly fishers.

We landed zero fish on April, 11^th, but the boys all had fun.  H fell in, and S fell in for a second time on April 18^th, so two out of three got their Wissy baptism.  K is a strong wader, so I was more likely to eat it than him.  We netted minnows, picked up dead suckers, saw water snakes and butterflies, found more bugs under rocks, walked in the woods to explore more of the creek.  I told the boys on Mentored Youth Day that all fly fishermen have to have beards, so I brought a costume beard the following week.  All the young dudes posed with facial hair, and a couple of them owned it.  H wore it the best, so I gave it to him at our last meeting as his certificate of completion!  It might have been the beard because H caught the only trout on April 18^th.  He tangled with three and landed one.  No skunk for the team!   Thanks, H and company, for the win!  

Some mentors mentoring.

At the end this last meeting, to the surprise of most of the mentors even, the boys got all new gear.  Instead of taking home the combos they learned on, they got nice stuff with a reel-on-rod case, a nice pack with all quality tools like nippers and hemostats, and they even spent time filling a fly box to take with them.  Ken and Cathy, who provided waders for Mayfly from their stash from the aforementioned All Kids Fish , generously gave the boys the waders they used this spring, much to our surprise and theirs.  They now have all the tools to hack away and watch YouTube like most new fly anglers.  Honestly, they and their caregivers seemed excited to make fishing again a priority, so I am hopeful they will get out again on their own.  I am confident that they have a memory to carry with them, and I certainly do.  There can only be one first year, one first class, and we got lucky that these mentees were that for us.  We could have done a lot worse, and we probably will in future years!

First year in the record books!

April 13, 2026 – I Had to Pivot and Be Patient, but I Was Eventually Rewarded with a Pair of Piggies – NEPA

A good fish.  One of two.

Today did not turn out the way I expected, but I am not unhappy with the results.  The fish pictured to the right here is one of two high-teens fish I landed on a favorite NEPA freestoner.  The plan was to chase brookies in an SGL with the Silver Fox, who had off today.  He was not feeling well in the morning and cancelled when he was unable to power through his early morning trials.  I got the text around 5:50 AM.  I had already called out of work and packed up some fishing stuff, so I had to do something fishy today.  It was going to get warm and progressively hotter this week (and dryer) so today was the day.  I pivoted to a solo Plan B after just pointing my car north.  I had the forethought to grab my wading staff and my 10’6” 4 weight, so I was ready for big water if that was where I ended up.  Big water is becoming the option right now in most of the areas I fish within two hours of home.  It sounds like Central PA flows are holding up, but SEPA is droughty and NEPA is quickly catching up.  I don’t like that I am fishing creeks I typically hold back until mid-May and count on in early June, but our springs are becoming more and more unpredictable these days.  I did what I had to do, and it's working so far....

Bowfest was silly in the riffles for about an hour.  Tan caddis got them excited.

I arrived later than I like in low water conditions, but it was cloudy to start the day, so I had some time before it got hot.  It rarely got sunny, and I even got rained on for 10 minutes as a weak front came through from the South.  Despite the presence of midges early and big tan caddis about 11 AM, fish were not rising, so I never had to pull the mono-rig off my reel.  The caddis were present for about an hour, but they brought nothing to the surface—that happens with caddis and it pays to be a dirty nympher during an emergence sometimes 😉 However, I had a blast catching a dozen stocker bows in the riffles during this brief event.  They all hit a buggy dropper tag fly that matched the action of emerging caddis if not the color.  I experimented with the color of the dropper when I could not find a brown in the mix, thinking they were more keyed into the specifics, but it was nothing but a bowfest for a good hour.

Bony for this early in the spring, but still mighty-ish in places.

I committed to the task at hand, however.  I took advantage of the low water for spring and waded and then bushwhacked (with a 10’6”) into a couple spots I usually save (or have to save most years) for late spring and early summer.  It was a good move.  In order to get down deep, I abandoned small bugs and small bugs with a lot of weight to get them down.  My gut told me to try a single big bug.  I had tightlined a jigged streamer when I first arrived, but I moved nothing.  The next idea was to dead drift a size 8 or 10 jigged pheasant tail on the seams with a bobber.  Stoneflies and fish fry are always on the menu on this creek.  Once I got into the spot, a spot where I have a white whale or two pushing 25 inches, a good, long, drag free drift was met with a buried bobber.  This fish would not quit in the cold water.  I was happy I had the extra backbone of the long 4 weight rod.  I even had a leap at the end of a short line long after I had this fish tamed for a netting.  Just an awesome fight and gorgeous fish!

Two of two.

It got better.  After resting the spot for a couple minutes and torturing my fishing buddies with a third piggy pic in a week, I got into another really good fish.  Same drift along the seam, maybe a little further back and a bit deeper, this second fish buried the indicator and took off on a long run.  I always worry about these fish dragging a big bobber around a very deep hole filled with obstructions, but I got a good hookset with a size 8 bug, so there was nothing to worry about this time.  This fish was a bit smaller, maybe only by an inch so, but it would have been a day maker if not for her cousin.  More pics and texts, but I could not get a third fish to eat after the ruckus these two caused.  I had also run out of water.  The path below was too deep to wade and the terrain too steep and brushy.  I did some billygoating back upstream and fished a couple holes I had already fished, now with this big bug that had cracked the brown code.  Nothing happening.  By now, I had gotten rained on and the South wind had picked up, so I decided to head for home instead of moving to a new spot.  Those that read this blog a lot know I don’t like to overstay when I have already met good fortune.  A few on the dry fly would have been nice.  Some brookies and a day with the Silver Fox even nicer, maybe.  But I made the right call today.

Bonus shot of fish #1

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?