April 30, 2015 – Ridley Creek - Fly Fishing Only (FFO) section – Another piggy!

In my quest to try a bunch of new waters this year, I chose the FFO section of Ridley Creek in the State Park this morning.  I had to go to work by 1:30 PM, and I volunteered to drop the boy off at the bus stop at 8:30 AM, so I only had a couple potential hours of fishing. Being only 30 minutes away, and all highway driving to boot, Ridley fit the bill.  

Strollers, joggers, action slacks.

I arrived about 9:30 AM to a mob a cars in the lot and shiny new No Parking signs all along the roadside pull-offs, but the crowd was comprised of moms with strollers, retired dudes in action slacks, older ladies of leisure, and the assorted joggers.  I only saw two other fishermen, despite barely being able to find a parking spot.  Once I did park the Subaru, I suited up and set my alarm for 11:30 AM, giving myself 2 hours to make my mark on a new piece of water.

Ridley is fairly picturesque but rather tiny, or pretty tiny, and also pretty shallow as we approach the month of May.  Perhaps it looks “troutier” when its banks are full.  However, I am always baffled at how no TU or anglers club has thought to adopt my lovely home waters of the “mighty” Wissahickon, when so many spots that are barely trout streams get so much love is SEPA.  I wish I had the time…  Anyway, I saw one guy fishing above the bridge and a couple risers in the flats below him.  I gave him space and started below the bridge and quickly had a bluegill hit my pheasant tail nymph.   To cover my bases, I started out throwing a hares ear and a pt in tandem, no beadheads, just a #4 shot above the top fly.  I had found parking at the upper limit of the FFO stretch, not the lower, so I had to work downstream not upstream, not my favorite approach, but it all worked out fine in the end.

Some nice water here and there.

Looking downstream, I saw a nice looking spot that appeared like it might hold more water and definitely had more current.  I stepped out of the creek, gently approached down the bank toward the hole, and took a peek.  It looked very promising, the kind of water I like to fish: a deeper, bankside run with a good, deep seam between me and the bank.  I placed my first cast so it would glide slowly through that seam, and the indicator took a dive.  I had hooked a mini freight train.  This big rainbow jumped 4 times and nearly made a successful run through the riffles to the next hole above me, his back coming out of the shallow water and all.  I didn't have much stopping power, as I was throwing my new toy, a 8’3” 3 wt rod, but I got him tamed and tried my first attempt at landing him without a net (note to self: bring a net).  As I fumbled prematurely for my phone to get it ready for a hero shot, he popped off right at my feet.  He didn’t break off, he just got loose.  Heartbreaker.    Bring a net, man.

I usually don’t let these things bother me long and, within 5 minutes, I had fully recovered and was happily surprised by a couple nice brook trout, in almost back to back drifts.  Both ate the pheasant tail in the same deep seam.

  

Brook trout without driving to the Poconos.

Another who liked the pheasant tail.

After a while, I moved down to the next run and hooked a decent rainbow that I did not harass with the camera.  The creek got shallow for a while, ending at a slow deep bend with down trees.  It certainly looked like brook trout water, but I brought nothing but creek chubs to hand, until I reach the end of this long bend.  Before I got to the next set of riffles, I tied on a tungsten bead caddis nymph and plumbed the depths for a couple more brook trout. 

One on the caddis beadhead in a deep hole

Another with the caddis in his top jaw.

As I released the second fish in this hole, the alarm went off on my phone, so I started back upstream.  I had to give heartbreak hole one last shot before I left.  I tied on a jigged hares ear beadhead to get deeper.  Karma was with me because on the very first well-placed cast into the seam, I hooked either the same fish or his beefy cousin.  No jumps this time, but he took several good runs, and it took all my 3 wt rod could muster to keep him out of the tree roots across the creek.  This was a one healthy formerly pellet-fed bruiser.  I took my time and didn’t horse him, but I also didn’t overplay him in case he was the same fish as before.  After exchanging pleasantries with another fisherman watching from the bank, who claimed the fish was a good 18 inches, I finally got the big bow in some slower water to verify for myself.  Learning my lesson from before, I dragged him into a quiet spot, dropped my rod beside him, and reached for the camera.  I took two quick shots hoping one would turn out, and then I revived and released him.  Even after potentially having two battles with me, he shot back to his spot like a rocket.  One mean fish, yo.

A good, mean-spirited 18 + incher.

I had silenced the snoozing alarm twice, so I quit on this very high note and headed back to my parking spot.  After texting a pic to a couple fishing buddies, I headed home and even made it to work on time, tired and a little dehydrated but very happy for such a successful morning on a new stream.  Ridley might not be much to look at where I was, but those fish put in the creek in March are doing well.

April 24, 2015 – Stony and Kepner Creeks – Some Streamer Fishing Fun

Path down to the creek looking springlike.

We had a frost on Wednesday and Thursday nights (and it was looking like Friday too), so our week of above-average temperatures is over for a while.  I worked on Thursday night and I have to work on Sunday for a while too, so I wanted to get up early and fish for a few hours before work today, but I was on the fence about the reality of actually fishing in 35 degrees or less.  I ended up having to do bus stop with the boy, and then the bus didn't show up, so I ended up doing carport, and so it was 9:30 AM before I even got back to the house to get my stuff ready.  I was looking at a 2 hour window to travel to my destination and fish and still have time to get back home and showered before heading into work for a 1:30 PM meeting.  Doable, maybe, but my relaxing morning had become something else altogether.

The thermometer was still displaying only 45 degrees when I arrive at Stony Creek.  The creek is fun, mostly skinny water, with a few really deep holes, and it’s not much wider than 15 feet for most of the stocked stretch; some areas of Kepner, a small tributary, are actually 5 or 10 feet wide.  It’s pretty well-cared for, however, with its own anglers association and coop nursery with some annual events for kids and such, even some stream improvement projects here and there.   Some of my favorite trout fishing involves sneaking around on small streams chasing wild brown trout, so these tiny creeks are good practice.  Stealth is not nearly important, but it’s fun to pretend it is.  Stony Creek gets crowded on nice days and weekends, but my only company today was this well-fed fella coming down to take a drink.  

My only companion this morning.

I set the alarm on my phone and gave myself 90 minutes to fish before I had to hoof it back to the Subaru and head for the showers.  I started out nymphing some slack water that I knew had to hold fish, but I really wanted a change and honestly didn't have the patience to fish so slowly and deliberately when I only had a short window to fish after an unexpectedly hectic morning.  After missing one on a hares ear, I decided to tie on a crystal bugger and try to have some fun, getting fish to work a bit for a meal instead of me doing all the work.  I quietly sneaked up on a nice deep hole, dropped the bugger into the whitewater at the lip of the pool, let it sink, and started stripping.  I was quickly rewarded with my first fish of the morning.

First one of the day ate the crystal bugger.

I took one more fish out of this hole while swinging the streamer and dancing it back upstream and then had a few unanswered casts and moved on to the next likely spot, which ended up being the honey hole that made my short morning trip worthwhile and lifted the earlier stress of the day.  This was no longer a mission to fish in order to combat mentally the idea of working most of the weekend and, instead, became just fishing.

My morning honey hole.

I pulled at least 6 more solid rainbows out of this little spot.  At first fish came out of the root system of the trees and attacked the bugger on a rather quick retrieve.  Then I just picked the hole apart from all angles and ended up getting 6 more to hand, dropping a couple others after short battles.  It was a lot of fun and much easier than high-stick nymphing, which has been my bread and butter so far this spring. 

Another pretty rainbow.

When the alarm on my phone went off, I hit snooze once, of course, and made a few more casts as I started back downstream.  I caught one more at a deep hole that I had nymphed unsuccessfully on the way upstream.  But 5 minutes later, the alarm sang again, and I quickly hiked it back to my vehicle and got back on the road, thankful for a stolen couple of hours of successful fishing, alone on a normally pressured creek.

One more after hitting the snooze bar.

A Quick After-Dinner Trip – Wissahickon Creek – 4/19/15

The bald eagle continues to elude my camera.

I had tentative plans this afternoon with my boy Bucci and his 10 year old son David.  Bucci wanted me to help put them on a good spot and teach them to catch some trout.  I totally understand.  There is nothing worse than trying to get a kid interested in fishing, especially when he or she wants to graduate beyond sunfish at the local pond, and then not being able to deliver the goods.  I think fickle trout ruined fishing for my two younger brothers while we were all very young (even though it was Mike who had the first certified catch of a rainbow in the shadow of the Bells Mill Bridge).  While my dad and I, who learned to fish together when I was around 8 years old and he a 30 year old archer/hunter who spent hours in the woods but never on streams, found the challenge rewarding and eventually figured it out, trout fishing can be frustrating, especially while guys all around you catch fish and you catch snags and overhanging tree branches.

Well, Bucci and son had to cancel due to unforeseen circumstances, but I guess the gesture carried some cosmic weight, at least with my wife, who said, “You should still go by yourself.  You like that, and you fished all day with the boys yesterday,” or something like that.  You don’t have to fire the starting pistol twice for me—I was out of the blocks and in the garage putting on waders within 5 minutes.  I only had about two hours of daylight, so it had to be the Wissy again…  Actually, I had a few spots in mind that I had not fished yet this spring, so I quickly loaded up and headed to the creek, just happy to be fishing anywhere today.  After yesterday’s skunk, I needed a night to reset the fishing mojo.

Unlike yesterday, which was 80 and sunny, today was a bit more normal for April, and it was even a little overcast.  The crowds were thin because it was dinner time and a Sunday night, so I easily found an open hole.  I figured the poor fish had been hammered all weekend and would probably be skittish, so I was fishing a copper john with a size 18 zebra midge dropper.  Surprisingly, the first fish took the copper john without being shy.  

Ate the copper john.

A little Wissy smallmouth bass.

I picked up a couple more in short order, and then caught my first Wissy smallmouth of the year, also on the copper john.

The only love the zebra midge got was from the two bluegills I landed.

The bluegills are starting to wake up too.

I had another favorite hole that I wanted to fish, and the daylight was beginning to fade, so I quickly made my way down to the spot, only stopping at one other nice run.  The fish are spreading out on their own, as evidenced by me catching two more in pocket water and runs like in the shot below, spots the buckets rarely reach.  One nice fish surprised me with a violent, flashing take in fast water, and I snapped off the copper john and the dropper on a less than delicate hook set.

Fish are spreading out and ending up in spots one might expect them to be holding.

I always love catching fish in a spot where a “real” trout would be, and I often fish these spots for the fun of it.  Occasionally, I am surprised by a trout or two, but more often than not, smallmouth bass or rock bass make the stops worthwhile. 

I have been seeing a Bald Eagle on this stretch of the Wissy for a couple years now, and he was back today.  He keeps avoiding my camera, though!  I almost had a shot of him sitting in a tree tonight, but I stumbled while walking backward to get him in the frame, and he spooked.  The best I could do was a picture of him flying away.  I am sure my birding friends can confirm that it’s an eagle from the picture above.  I remember my buddy Tango pointing at silhouettes hovering above the Delaware Memorial Bridge and saying, “See those birds; they’re Bald Eagles,” and I got closer than that tonight!

Daylight was fading as I got to my final destination of the night, and I had to squint and pray in order to hit the eyelet of a size 16 prince nymph that had some nifty foil wings (more for me to see than the trout).  I caught two more decent bows, for a total of 7 trout for the night, before I could no longer see my indicator, and the lights of Forbidden Drive were coming on.  Tonight was a fun adventure close to home, an early birthday present from my lovely wife, and a good way to reset the trout meter after such a mental beating yesterday.

Too dark?  Use flash...

4/18/2015 - Opening Day in NEPA - A Haiku

Opening Day, sun, heat.

Kenny and Joe, Brodhead Creek.

One that got away.

The only evidence that Ken caught a fish today.  Sorry!

I fished way too long on this beautiful day for one sucker on a pheasant tail.  I helped Kenny lose a good rainbow by offering to land it for him. Three guys and no net. Time to write a post-it note next trip: someone bring a net.  Otherwise, it was just a terrible fishing day.  It was crowed like it hasn't been in years—fine weather always helps with that, and I am not sure if the Mentored Youth day last week also took a toll on the fish who would have been eager to eat today.

Pop Joe ready to embrace the day (and the crowds)

I didn't see but a handful of fish caught, and most of them were big hooked jawed monsters.  My dad and I got the skunk on Opening Day, a first for both us, perhaps.  If it happened before it was 35 years ago when we didn't know what we were doing. There was no excuse today; it just wasn't meant to be. My trout season started in February this year, so it was just fun to be out with the boys, but I do remember a time not that long ago when Opening Day was a lot easier.

It is a pretty piece of water though.

The Wissahickon Creek – 4/16/15 – One of Those Silly Fishing Days

The beautiful Wissahickon in Fairmount Park

Although this trip was a Thursday morning trip, it wasn’t one of those fake sick days.  I wasn't feeling well the previous night and into the morning.  Familiar with BRAT?  Bananas, rice, applesauce, toast.  It was one of those kinds of 24 hour bugs, and that was all I could eat today.  But the Commish had dumped a fresh load of fish in the Wissy on Tax Day, so by 10 AM, feeling a bit better, I suited up and took a ride into Philadelphia’s Fairmount Park.  The Wissy by my house in Montgomery County is a wreck, basically a storm drain ruined by all the development in the area upstream—sad because I can literally walk down the street and catch fish.   However, in the City, if you squint and keep your back to Forbidden Drive, you can think for a moment that you’re on a mountain freestoner.  It’s a beautiful stretch of water, lined by old-growth trees, that cuts through a deep gorge with nice runs and deep, braided holes,  and I love that I can be there in 15 minutes.  It holds fish long after guys stop fishing for trout down there, and I even have fun catching decent smallmouth bass for a quick summer diversion once it warms up.

Laying off the coffee and opting for another banana on the short drive, I arrived at my destination feeling okay.  It was 60 and sunny, so it’s hard to feel bad in that kind of weather.  As I walked down into the woods, the sight of the creek, improved by both a bit of rain, and hopefully warmed by a few days of sun, looked very promising too, and that further boosted my spirits.  I was convinced I was not crazy, and I could do this.  I spied only one other angler in the pool above the one where I wanted to start fishing, so that was good too.

I started by tossing a streamer, hoping the freshly stocked trout would react, and I would have some excitement above and beyond the normal early season nymphing.  I had a bunch of follows.  None committed, but I did confirm that the rumors were true, the PFBC had put a fresh load of fish in the creek.  I switched to a jigged hares ear with some flash and added a couple split shot to get down in the deep run.  On the second or third cast, I was hooked up to a decent rainbow. 

Back to nymphing...

I kept working the seams on both sides of this deep run, and pretty much had a fish on every other cast.  A couple of the rainbows were 14 or 15 inches, and with the warmer water, I was treated to some acrobatic jumps and long drag-pulling runs.  Silly fishing.

Healthy, acrobatic rainbow.

I picked through the rainbows, and then got 3 or 4 browns in a row after that.  I am partial to brown trout, so that made me happy too, especially since I hadn’t caught brownies in the Wissahickon yet this spring.

My first Wissy brown of 2015

The dude fishing 75 yards above me was not having any luck, and probably hated me, since I was at least 10 fish in, not 30 minutes since I dropped in below him.   When he left the hole above me—also a nice hole, but a harder one to fish, deeper, with two big eddies on each side of a deep fast run—I gave the fish in the first hole a rest, and walked upstream.  I kept picking away at fish here too.  More bows and a few browns, a couple of which were good fish like this long, skinny one.

He's all tail, this guy.

I fished this second, more difficult hole until it quieted down, and then moved back to the first hole, and got a few more, just for the hell of it.  I fished from about 10:30 to 1:00 PM and lost count at over 30 fish.  It was just one of those silly, silly days of fishing that we all deserve once in while.

I ended up actually going to work by 2 PM, so I didn't even unnecessarily burn a sick day, which means I have another one to use this spring....

One average-sized fish who must have jumped to deserve a picture.  One of 30 + for the morning.  Just silly!

April 11, 2015 – Manada Creek - DHAL0

There are flies on the windscreen

I spent Friday night and Saturday morning at James Madison University.  I was presenting at a writing center conference, something I haven’t done in a long time.  On a whim, I threw my 4 piece rod in the case and put that and my sling pack in the car (I thought I grabbed my wader bag too), knowing that my route crossed many streams, including the famed spring creeks in the Carlisle area, like Yellow Breeches and the Letort.  I had read up on fishing Virginia a bit in the past, as I have been in rural VA a half a dozen times on service trips with students, and I even found a nice fly shop near Harrisonburg, but VA trout fishing is different.  It’s open all year, and anglers pay nearly 50 bucks a year just for a trout license.  It’s only 8 dollars for a daily, but to fish for trout, it’s another 48 dollars.   For many rural areas, it’s probably money well-spent, stocking the fridge with fresh fish year round.  For me, not ready to go blue-lining for wild fish in the Shenandoah National Forrest after getting no sleep in a Motel 6 and driving 5 hours the previous night, I ruled out fishing VA for another time.  My Saturday began with a visit to the local Walmart at 6:45 AM to buy a pair of brown shoes (sneakers and a suit = not a hot look). Luckily there was one pair of brown shoes in the store, and they were size 11. Forgetting footwear was a theme of this trip, as you’ll see below…

After the front that came through on Friday, it was a windy day, but otherwise it was beautiful and warm, in the 60s.  The presentation, the purpose of the long drive, went well, so after lunch and a keynote speaker, I decided to bag the rest of the conference and head for home.   I figured that if I got tired or tired of dodging 18 wheelers on Route 81, I would stop at Gander Mountain or Bass Pro Shops, or maybe fish, to kill some time and regroup.   As I was heading north, I nearly ran out of windshield wiper fluid trying to get mashed bugs off, so that was swinging the meter toward fishing (not hard to get me to swing that way, though).

I am not confident enough as a fly fisherman to contend with the famed Carlisle streams on a Saturday in April, so at a rest stop, I used my phone to find the Manada Creek DHALO section just below Fort Indiantown Gap.  That was near the Turnpike and would get me to within 90 minutes of home, too, so it was a good goal.  My college is going to offer classes to the soldiers there, so I was also curious to see the area (a strange mix of casino, race track, golf courses, and Deliverance, by the way).   I also heard there were wild browns throughout the stream.

After a couple wrong turns, I found the creek, which was a pretty little trickle less than 15 feet across in most spots and rather shallow except for pocket water and a some long flat pools, not great for the 9 footer I had with me.  There were plenty of trucks parked here and there, and Delayed Harvest signs visible for a good mile along the road.  I figured I would find some elbow room despite the small crowd, so I located a pull-off and got out to rig up.  It didn't take me long to realize that I had brought my waders, but no boots!  In my defense, I did have to pack a suit for the conference, and my mind was on the long drive and the presentation, so things got left off the packing list (plus I am going to be 46 this month). Shoes were not on the list this weekend, I guess.  At any rate, I would kill some time and take a breather from the long drive.  Fishing was just a bonus.

I resigned myself to the reality of bushwhacking through brambles and balancing on wobbly stones and logs to get a cast or two in with the 9 foot 4 wt rod…  Long story short, I found some pocket water that looked fishy and eventually just wet waded to get into position a couple times to make casts.  I figured I could wear my new Walmart loafers into the Bowmansville rest stop when I had to use the bathroom on the way home, and no one would notice (or I’d look like a fugitive on the run with wet muddy feet, which was fine).

Manada Creek near Fort Indiantown Gap

After a couple false alarms with the little fellas below (a couple even popped at my indicator like a dry fly, they were that hungry). I did catch a beautiful hold-over rainbow.  His dorsal fin was the longest I have seen.  He looked part grayling (you can almost make out the long, ribbon like end of the dorsal in the pic below).  He hit a size 18 flashback hares ear.  I had taken off the caddis nymph (or hung it in a tree branch while bank fishing with a 9' fly rod) because it was creek chub candy! 

Loving the caddis nymphs and the foam indicators...

The farther away from civilization I got, the prettier the creek became, but the traveling was getting tougher too.  Tired of pulling stickers out of my thighs, muddied to the ankles, and wet (and a bit cold with wet legs in the wind), I headed back to the parking spot.  I was content to catch a pretty trout on a new stream under less than perfect conditions.  This creek might be worth a second look when the wild fish wake up and start eating.  It was worth the ride home in wet shoes and pants for an hour of fun on what was supposed to be a working weekend.

Some reward for the effort.

April 10, 2015 – The Wissahickon Creek (again)

Two well-dressed fishermen, nearly fishless for the morning.

I had the day off because I needed to take a 5 hour drive to Harrisonburg, VA for a conference taking place on Saturday.  After debating whether to leave early or not, finally, hoping to miss some truck traffic on Route 81, I decided the leave around 6 or 7 PM and get down to VA and just go to sleep.  That gave me a bonus morning to fish, although I did have only a short window between dropping my boy off at the bus stop and getting a haircut at 2 PM, so I needed to stay close to home.  That means only 3 or 4 nearby streams, and the Wissy is the closest.

I called my dad and texted Kenny to see if they were planning to fish what was supposed to be a drizzly, warm day.  They had made plans to fish together near my house, which I had just fished on Monday, so I wasn’t that excited, but there was a stocking during the week, and my dad hadn’t been out fishing yet this season, so he wanted fish not fishy surroundings.  You see, I had planned to hit some more picturesque and trout-y looking stretches of the creek in the City.

Eventually, I decided to join them and then maybe head at some point to the spot I had originally planned to visit.  I never made it, but I am not sure it would have been any better if I had.  It was another slow, cold morning.  I had dressed for the promised 76 degrees, knowing I would be a little cold until it warmed up, but with a leaking left wader leg and not enough cloths, I was pretty uncomfortable until we quit around lunch time.  Kenny and my dad were throwing Rapala CDs and other assorted treats.  My pop got at least 3, with 2 coming on the plug and one on Powerbait, which at this point in his fishing career should not count as a fish or fishing!  But it was a tough morning, so we let him have that one. 

I brought no fish to hand, though I did hook and briefly fight 3 trout.  Two half-heartedly chased a streamer and came off after a short battle, and one took a pheasant tail basically dragging the bottom of a deep hole.  At least Ken and my dad saw that one, I think. 

I don’t believe I would have had better luck elsewhere; it was just a weird weather day with crazy barometer and stalled fronts.  And I wouldn't have had a good time busting chops with my old man and Kenny (who ties something new on his line every 5 minutes, and we let him know about it).  My dad was looking pretty fierce in his buff too, but I am not sure guys who wear fishing buffs use Walmart trout paste.

If you look closely you can see the buff...  Not bad for 68 years old, though

4/7/2015 – Easter Monday - Wissahickon Creek

My biggest rainbow trout, and my biggest trout on the fly rod.  Didn't measure, but the white ring before my first stripping guide, "the hero mark," is 20 inches from the rod butt.

Since I knew I wasn't fishing opening day due to some weekend travelling, I made a plan to fish today with Kenny and my dad.  Well, my dad needed to call and wait for a roofer after the high winds blew shingles off the house over the weekend, so that left me and Kenny.  We decided to meet around 7 AM at a local stretch of the creek.  The plan was to fly fish and hope that some of the ever-dwindling population of trout the PFBC stocks here locally survived the weekend.

It was a tough start.  We both went fishless for the first hour or more, although we did spend needless time trying to get a big palomino to hit something, anything.  Despite the warm air temps, which were in the 60’s, the water was still cold, and fish were acting like it was winter.  I had the same experience the previous Friday.  Fish were hugging the bottom and not moving much to investigate a fly.

Kenny was not having a good morning with the long rod, so he walked back to his truck to get the spinning setup.  I considered joining him, but I was convinced that the fish weren’t in chasing mood, so tossing a crankbait wasn’t going to change my luck.  We started seeing some fish, finally, so that buoyed my confidence again, but even at a choice hole, I could get no love on anything I was throwing.  I started the day with green weenies, then swung a black bugger in the deepest water we could find.  Nothing happening. 

After seeing signs of life, we fished the most promising looking spot for another 20 minutes with no takers.  Just when we were about to quit and drive to another section of the creek, Kenny got one on a spinner.  He remarked that it was almost on the bottom, and a light went off.  Duh, how about fishing as deep as possible with the nymph set up?  Sometimes I get stupid and lazy on these slow mornings.  Waking up, I put a jigged pheasant tail on, added a couple more split shot, and adjusted the indicator for the hundredth time.  After not so subtly making a cast into Kenny’s lucky pocket, finally, I too had my first fish of the day, a decent bow.  Whew…

First of the day: monkey off my back.

I put another cast back in the same pocket, and the indicator went down.  I set the hook, and I knew I had a good fish, but I didn't know how good until he made his first run to the very back of a rather large hole.  The drag was singing!  The Wissy water is not the clearest water, so I barely caught glimpses of what I had hooked.  At one point, I wondered aloud to Ken if I had a sucker or a bass on.  But I got him in close once and saw it was a good trout, only to have him take another long run.  It was fun, but I wanted to get my hands on this fish!  Neither Kenny nor I had a net with us, and I needed to stay mid-stream to avoid the fish getting into logs and rock piles downstream and behind us, so I just patiently fought what ended up being a monster of a rainbow.  I have caught big trout before, but I was pretty sure this was the biggest rainbow I had ever caught, at least in girth and weight!  I finally got my hands on him, lipping him with one hand and cradling him with the other, Kenny acting as photographer.  I popped the nymph out, smiled for the camera (sort of) and let the fish go.  He was still pretty green and healthy, so I hope he can be someone else’s trophy too this season.  Of course, Kenny and I started sending the pic out to all our friends and family who were working on this lovely Monday!  That’s how it’s done, you know.

We fished for a bit more, with not a touch, so I walked back to the parking area with Kenny and debated quitting on a high note.  He was lured home by the promise of fresh baked cookies at home (unless that's some kind of code he has with his wife).  It was still early, so I stayed dressed and investigated one last spot.  Parking here, I expected it to be crowded, and it was.  There were not only fishermen, but a lot of folks just enjoying the beautiful Easter Monday holiday.  I found a nice hole unoccupied by fellow fishermen, and managed one more rainbow on the jigged pheasant tail.

Another spot and another fish, but a very slow day overall.

A couple fork-stickers walked in behind me and set up at the tail of the pool where I was fishing, and small groups were moving around all over the creek.  Everywhere I looked there were fishermen, basically, so I quit on a minor high note and started answering my texts and phone calls about the fish…

  

Pickering Creek DHALO - 4/3/15 - Good Friday and the Day Before Opening Day...

Pickering looking a bit low, and feeling pretty cold.

I was on the fence about fishing this Friday, mainly because I didn't want to drive far since the family was going on a road trip to Jersey to see my wife's family over Easter Saturday and Sunday.  But I knew I was going to miss opening day, which I could take or leave, especially since my opening day of trout usually starts in January most years (although not until 2/22/15 this year, with the frigid winter).  Still, it is a tradition I have kept with my dad and my buddy Ward for a long, long time, so this would end up being my consolation day and a very memorable day for a new fishing buddy.

While my wife and I were taking our son out for a walk/big wheel ride after dinner on Thursday night, I ran into a neighbor Eric who loves to fly fish, but hasn't lived in Philly area all that long, so he's still collecting spots.  He asked where I was fishing on Saturday, which lead to my story, which lead to us making a plan on the fly to hit a local DHALO.  Pickering was stocked around March 20th, so I was sure there would be some fish, and it was going to be a cloudy 60+ degree day.  Anticipating a crowd and rain, we decided to get there at sun-up and try to beat both, which we pretty much did.

The water was cold and low, but stained a bit from the rain.  We both started out fishing green weenies, and most of the fish came on those today, nothing fancy, just slow and deep.  I left Eric at a good stretch near our parking spot, and I headed upstream, covering a lot of low un-fishy looking spots quickly.  I had one hit under a down tree, and that was the entirety of my action for the first hour or more. Eric finally caught up to me, and shared that he'd had some success, one decent bow and a couple misses, so that gave me a shot of new life.  I finally stepped in below a nice deep hole, saying, "This looks good in here," and, sure enough, got two nice rainbows in short succession on a jigged pheasant tail.  They didn't fight much in the cold water, but they were healthy, fat fish.  Not the best shot of my first fish of the day, but you can see the jigged pt in the top of his jaw.  

After that, Eric and I fished back downstream together, just hopscotching back to the parking spot where we dropped in.  At one brief stop, Eric got another to cooperate by sheer persistence and casting accuracy.  He is definitely good with the fly rod.  This brown was tight to the roots of a down tree, and Eric made repeated accurate casts to a little pocket until the fish responded.



We ended the morning by fishing where I left Eric in the morning, a couple nice deep holes close to a bridge, which means it was stocked better than the farther reaches of the stream. Here, I got to witness Eric catch the biggest trout of his life!  I actually saw his indicator go down, he set the hook, and this thing broke water.  I am usually not one to run to help a friend, more of a, "You hooked it; you land it" kind of guy...  But I had to see this thing up close.  After a short battle on a 4wt and 5X tippet, short only because this beast had nowhere to go in such skinny water, I got a net around a big healthy rainbow. He even got a deserved close up shot.

Eric's personal best.

A real piggy!

Oh, and Eric did let me catch a couple here too.  I think I ended the day with 4 and he had 5, including the beast.  It was a great day to be out, but the conditions were tough.  Even with the smallest indicators and shot to get the nymphs to the bottom, my fish barely touched the fly.  I missed a few and I know Eric dropped a couple early.   We didn't see many guys out either, especially for a Good Friday holiday for many.  Maybe this area got hit hard after the stock, and with the cold, low water it's been tough.

Eric and I had never fished together before, but we will go again.  He's a good dude and a fisherman, like me (and my father and my boys Kenny and Ward), someone who loves it. No coffee, no water, no food, no nonsense, just get up early and try to catch fish.  I figure I have good mojo coming my way after sharing a new spot with Eric and putting him on a personal best trout too.  Either way, it was a good day.

Yes, Eric let me catch a few.