December 30, 2016 – A Handful of Berks County Wild Browns to End 2016??

A wild brown still colored up from the fall.

Today was the day my wife and son took my mother-in-law to the airport for her return flight home, so I had a good chunk of the day free to fish or do something.  I couldn’t figure out what the something could be, so fishing it was.  It was cold, only reaching about 40 degrees, and the breeze picked up right as I was leaving the house around 11 AM.  I assumed it was going to be too cold to get trout in a freestoner to play ball, so I decided to head out to Berks County and try a couple streams that get a limestone influence.  My expectations were not high, but I knew I could get a couple fish to cooperate, even if the forecasted high winds and cold materialized as expected.

Close to wood and overhangs for cover.

I suited up at around 12:30 PM in snow flurries, but I had the right clothes for the occasion, so I decided to give it a go.  The first stream, and the only one I bothered to check out since I ended up being rather sheltered from the wind, was a bit stained from the rain earlier this week.  The water temperature was a good 38 to 39 degrees—not 50 but not 34 either.  I chose my little 3 weight that was rigged up to fish midges and hoped that the wind wouldn’t blow my light line all over the creek (it only made me look like a fool when I tried to reach for the flies or adjust the indicator).

The average was only 8 inches, but fun on the 3 wt.

I had a destination in mind, a wintering hole that usually holds a few fish, but I am glad that I didn’t skip other good, slow eddies and smaller pockets on the way up because the wintering hole did not pay off yet (maybe a another month, I bet).  Instead, I pulled 4 or 5 wild browns out with an olive scud pattern near wood and overhangs.  A size 18 baetis nymph only scored a chub or two, so I am glad I didn’t stick with midges all day either.  The best of the day was only about 11 or 12 inches, but he was fun on the light rod, and it was an accomplishment to hook and land anything under the conditions.

Maybe 11 inches on the scud.

By the time I reached my favorite wintering hole, my feet were getting pretty frosty, and I had to piss, so instead of throwing midges or scuds, I tried to plumb the deep hole with a white bugger.  That allowed me to move around a bit more and not have to concentrate so hard, but it also scored zero action, even at the head and tail of the pool.  I finally disrobed enough to relieve my bladder, which made me feel a bit warmer—though not the feet—and tied on a scud and a midge anchor fly.  I was able to concentrate on a good, slow presentation for a fishless half-hour, and then I decided to call it quits.  I don’t foresee getting out tomorrow even though milder temperatures are coming, so this will likely be my last trip of 2016.  Rain next week, so I may have to dust off the spinning rod and break in my 2017 license!

December 29, 2016 – A Return to Stony Creek Armed with Midges and Better Info!

Still not very big!

Before Christmas, I spent an unproductive hour and a half over at Stony Creek, which I thought got its annual Black Friday stocking by the co-op.  Well, I have bad days like everyone, but even though it was cold that afternoon, I was a bit surprised that I only had one hit and didn’t see any fish, especially at midday on a small creek.  After I posted a report about my fishing furlough prior to the holiday, including the skunk at Stony, I got an email from Alex who told me that the fish were too small to stock on Black Friday and that he had helped stock before Christmas Eve, nearly a month later than usual.

The day brightened just before dusk after a day of light rain showers.

My mother in law has been in town since December 23, staying with us in our small house.  We have had some fun outings and meals, but I was ready to stay home and not join the party today.  Everyone but me went out to lunch and another retail excursion, so I had a couple hours to kill, especially if I stayed close to home.  I loaded up around 2 PM and headed over to the park.  The rain that had fallen during the day was tapering off, and I even saw some sun just before dusk, but the water was in the mid-30s and the air was in the low- to mid-40s.  Not a perfect day, and fish were sluggish, but it ended up being a good, short trip for a late December afternoon.

Cookie cutter rainbows

Besides one decent rainbow about 12 inches long, the rest of the 8 fish I landed were all cookie cutter 8 or 9 inchers.  I can only imagine how small these guys were a month ago—sub-legal, no doubt!  They were fat and feisty, though, so I had some fun during my small window of opportunity.  

A big buck

I couldn’t get fish to hit even a dead drifted streamer, but midges accounted for all eight and a bunch of misses and short fights, which will happen on short-hitting fish taking size 20 nymphs, I suppose.  It was good to get out, and the only other fishermen I encountered was a father/son team out with the fly rods as well, so the quiet was good medicine.  I also had a fox sighting and took a photo of big buck who’d squared his shoulders across the creek from me.  Thanks to Alex, I logged yet another trip for 2016.  I am considering one more tomorrow while Tami takes her mom to the airport….??

December 18 to 22, 2016 – A Fishing Furlough – SEPA Trout Fishing

A very pretty stocked trout (?) on the white bugger.

My last day of work until January 9^th was Friday December 16^th.  That is a nice chunk of time off to spend with family (and fish, of course).  I had a lot of grading to do, a lot of papers, and shopping, and wrapping, and all that, but I did sneak out close to home for three trips.  The week started out rough, even though we had a warm rain.  Winter rain and fishing is hit or miss.  I have had good days later in February after a rain, but in December I think it messes fishing up for a bit.  The fish are still fat from the early fall, so they aren’t desperate kamikazes in high water like they will be later in the winter.

The Silver Fox in situ.

On Sunday, the boy and I met Tom over at the Pennypack for about 90 minutes of unsuccessful fishing.  The water looked fishable from afar, but up close it was high and had a gray, unnatural tint to it, perhaps salty run-off.  If the boy is to be trusted with my stream thermometer (he is) it was 43 degrees, which is not horrible.  We fished one 200 yard stretch before calling it, however.  The boy was ready with the net but had to settle for snacks and unlimited Nintendo DS time on the way home, plus lunch at the MacDonald’s.  We had to hoof it back to our cars when it got very dark and sounded like a freight train was coming.  An isolated storm must have touched down nearby, as evidenced by the branches on the road on the drive out.  At any rate, we survived, and it was good to see the Silver Fox in action even if the Penny was dead that day.

Flash forward to Tues, and even though it was frigid, I decided to try another freestoner that received a fall stocking.  The water at Stony was in better shape, but it was cold.  I had ice in my guides even at midday, and it never got warmer.  I missed one hit on a midge in a deep muddy flat, but it was too cold to just stand still and concentrate on subtle midge takes.  After about an hour, I took a nice walk and then headed home to warm up in front of the fireplace before getting the boy at the bus stop.

First of the morning,

After attending a funeral for my buddy’s dad and then having lunch with a couple old friends, I stopped by Kenny’s house on Wednesday to get him to sharpen our kitchen knives and hang out for a minute.  Even though he was needed at his brother-in-law’s place to help with a kitchen renovation, we decided to spin fish on Thursday, which was supposed to be in the high 40’s at least.  Kenny would drive his own Subaru and stop by the job after he’d caught a couple fish.  Ken was at my house before 9 AM for the 60 minute drive out to the Tulpehocken, but as we neared Morgantown on the Turnpike, I got a message.  Ken’s brother-in-law had called and was making a mess of the renovation (which we later learned he'd barely started).  Kenny can basically do anything with his hands (beside outfish me 👈👉) so he fielded the emergency call and left me to it alone.  At the last minute in the morning, I decided to throw my 9 foot 5 weight and sling pack in the ‘Ru too.  Maybe I knew Ken was going to get called away early?  Well, when I reached the Tully, it was in good shape for the long rod, so I started midging before switching to a white marabou bugger. 

Had to get my hand wet!

Dead drifting the streamer with a couple gentle snap-jigs was the right call, as it accounted for 5 fish on a winter day—not bad.  I had a streamer leader with a tiny, tiny barrel swivel, and to that I added a length of 4X.  In the deep holes, I had to put a couple BB size shot on above the swivel, but that scored the nicest fish of the day, the pretty brown pictured at the top of this post.  Obviously, the cold snap had stressed out some of the minnows because that rig is great for mimicking struggling baitfish (or just hungry, opportunistic stockies making me look smarter than I am).

Another on the dead drifting streamer.

When the sun was out, it was comfortable, but at times the clouds and wind picked up, obscuring the 45 degree fair weather.  It didn’t help that I almost took a dive and barely saved myself with one arm, which ended up drenched to the shoulder.  Good times!  There were a few guys out, as there always are on the Tully, but no one crowded anyone.  Strangely, I ran into two guys working downstream not up, but to each his own.  I had the most success fishing upstream into medium current and eddies.  I definitely missed at least two that I saw flash in the sun after my swing and a miss.

Kenny has every right to hate me for the last two of the day.

 About 2:30 PM, I was ready to quit, so I made my way back down to the car.  When I opened the hatch, I remembered I had two spinning rods and my other lumbar pack with me, full of plugs.  Why not?  It was the warmest part of the day, and the hole where I parked was in sunlight, so there was a chance that I could fool a couple more on the spinning rod.  Well, I did fool a couple more in the 15 minutes before I left.  I even hooked a monster that would not come up.  He hit behind a down tree, so there is a chance it was a bass or something else.  He pulled like a carp until he eventually pulled free.  Based on getting back a rear treble with one tine/hook missing, I am thinking the cold water and bouncing rocks had done a number on the plug, which had caught several fish this year already (charmed enough to replace hooks and throw again, no doubt).  After landing the one pictured above, I called it a day.  If the rain does not amount to much on Saturday, Eric and I might add one more day to my fishing furlough!  Not a banner week, by any means, but a relaxing and, eventually, successful late December.

December 11, 2016 – Batting Average Plummets for 2016 – Another Fishless Foray in the Atlantic

Still hopeful??

Man, I have had a tough fall in the surf this year.  I know a lot of guys have, but it still hurts.  Unless you are lucky enough to catch a blitz, there is just no structure holding fish along the shoreline.  I am accustomed to getting at least a little something for the effort.  I live too far away to be a true sharpie, but I used to be able to call the right shots and even put my dad and others on fish somewhat consistently—which is not easy; surf guides certainly don’t guarantee fish for their clients.  It’s at least a 70 to 90 minute ride to the Ocean County and Monmouth County beaches where, once upon a time, I caught enough fish on enough trips to make the long drive at ungodly hours in the morning worthwhile.  I used to love the night bite and would usually be heading home shortly after sunrise.  I have done a handful of such pre-dawn trips this year with nothing to show but some sunrise photos and sand in the Subaru.

Hmm, glassy and shallow.

Out on a Monmouth County beach this am, I fished the outgoing tide from 4:30 to 9:00 AM.  The water was glassy and clear from what feels like ages of NW winds.  The water close to the Hook will stay around 50 degrees for a bit longer than central New Jersey, so I usually don’t venture below LBI this time of year.  I saw a handful of gannets speculating, and a dozen boats broke the inlet and headed north, so I have to believe that a schoolie run may partially rescue my 2016, but I am not holding my breath.  I even threw small this morning, Mag Minnows, shads, even a 1 oz T-Hex in case the rumored sandeels were around.  I did not get a touch, and neither did the other dudes I saw.  I have a busy week ahead with finals, but I hope the water stays warm enough for one more shot during the week of the December 19^th.  If not, it’s back to trout this winter.

December 7, 2016 – Hot December Bassing on the Susquehanna River with Kenny and Captain Chris from Reel River Adventures

One of a couple doubles on a day of 80+ fish.

Kenny had a trip postponed earlier in the fall due to weather with Chris from Reel River Adventures, who runs a guide service on a jet boat, fishing the Susquehanna, Delaware, Lehigh, places smallmouth, walleye, and musky like to live.  I jumped on board, gratefully.  I have not been doing much bass fishing for the last few years, usually getting my quota after a week in Canada every year, so by Tuesday night, I was pretty excited.  

Kenny with an early lead on hair jigs.

Ken picked me up at 6 AM for the roughly two hour ride.  It had rained most of the day on Tuesday, and it was still drizzling on our way out to the launch.  Water was a bit brown, with a few random objects floating by throughout the day, but it did not hamper the fishing in the least; in fact it may have made it better. The morning was cold and overcast, but that kept the wind at bay for a couple hours.  When the sun broke through the clouds and it began to clear, we had about 90 minutes of wind, which was tough.  I had plenty of layers on, but I was thinking Chris was the smartest of us, already in bibs. I had not been bass fishing enough lately to work the bow in the line as effectively as I would have liked, especially with braid (My eyes do better with fluorescent blue mono in the wind!!) but I worked out the kinks while Kenny scored an early lead.  I later learned that Chris uses heavier braid to reduce wind knots, which is smart with the random sampling of skill levels that come aboard, but I was wishing for 8 lb Nanofil to cut through the wind and sink faster. I brought my own rod with lighter line, but I was sort of enjoying having a qualified fishing caddy calling my lure selection shots.  I don't fish with a guide very often, maybe 5 times in my lifetime, if that many.

A nice one on the tube.

Rest assured that I figured it out and quickly got my groove back.  Ken and I stayed pretty even all day, with the lead changing a couple times.  It wouldn’t be polite to say who caught the most fish, but I will concede that his 19 incher, eclipsed my 18+ 3.4 pounder.  We caught fish on tubes, hair jigs, and grubs all day.  The pitch counter doesn’t lie, so we know we caught at least 82 fish for the day, which is a banner day for December in water that fluctuated between 40 and 41 degrees at best.  Fish were stacked up in holes in a small area, so the captain used the trolling motor and Minn Kota Talons to move us around a bit and then effectively lock us back into place.

Chris has great equipment and the boat is a roomy, custom aluminum inboard jet.  We were fishing in style.  I think he was happy too.  He had a couple ringers on board and he even got to stick some fish himself, including one pig!  He is also an interesting guy to talk to and very knowledgeable.  I would definitely recommend his service to anyone looking for a unique day on the water.

The captain got in on the action.

Ken and I had a few doubles on the day, and we ended the day just before a romantic sunset with another double and then called it good.  I may have mentioned my tennis (aka fly fishing) elbow problems this year.  Well, this didn’t help, but at least Ken was in pain too.  After making fun of me in Canada, he has been experiencing a similar situation.  This kind of fishing involves a lot of tense concentration, so a lot of me is sore.  In the winter, some bass hits are just an odd weight, just a little something different that you must react to (and with cold hands in the wind at the end of a long cast).  By the late afternoon, I had a run of solid fish that actually reacted to jigged tubes with the telltale tick or bump in the line.  A couple even tried to jump, which is not easy for a cold blooded beast in 40 degree water.  I can't imagine how tired my arm would have been in May or June when these fish were in prime water temps!

Kenny with a good one.

Photo bombing...

A day with 80+ bass, up to 4 lbs, with a few over 3, in December?  Even a couple bite offs from toothy creatures?  I would call it a good day, indeed.  We only stopped for coffee and a bathroom break on the way home, so we made good time back home. I finally took a shower around 8:30 PM after putting the boy to bed, and I read for 15 minutes before passing out until 6:30 AM.  I was surprised I felt as good as I did the morning after.  I told Kenny I could have done 100 fish…  He is still figuring out a way for us to get sympathy from our wives and friends about fishing injuries.  Aww, poor thing, your elbow hurts from fishing too much?  Not happening anytime soon, at least not at my house. Kenny's wife baked cookies for us, so I think that is about the extent of her support, as well.  It was good to fish with young Kenny and stick some bass for a change!

A collage care of Reel River Adventures

A parting shot of the mighty Susky at sunset.

November 30 to December 2, 2016 – A Little Overzealous at the Sight of Substantial Rain

Beating a dead....

I was so excited to see rain this week that I snuck out of work during the height of the storm on day one of rain, only to find Valley choked with leaves to the point where I could not fish.  Even though the flow was great for a streamer, I could not retrieve a foot without hanging a leaf or twelve.  I gave it about 30 minutes, and then went looking for cleaner, less muddy water upstream—all to no avail.  Flash forward to Thursday, and again I was so excited I took the day off and drove 90 minutes north to the Lehigh Gorge, hoping that by late in the morning, the gages would have fallen quite a bit.  The opposite happened, in fact.  I knew it was pointless when I saw a father and daughter float by around 11 AM.  The water continued to rise, but I was over 2 miles from my car, so I tried to find some eddies and slack water (which were also leafy, but not unfishable).

I had one legit hit on a streamer close to the bank (the near bank because as the day went on, it was not possible to wade out and cast across).  Also, I stuck one little guy close to the bank, hiding from the flood. That was it before I took a nice hike and scouted a couple other spots for the future.  When I was leaving, actual whitewater enthusiasts were gearing up.  If that's not a sign that you picked the wrong creek, I don't know what is.

Feeling black and white about this week.

Hmm… this was the day to hit a tiny creek like Valley.  I even had tentative plans to hit a wild creek nearby the mighty Lehigh, but it too was roaring.  I guess the gages I saw in the morning did a double spike (it was still very high today).  It’s been so long since I fished with rain as a variable, that I blew it.  Plain and simple.  Skunk # 3 of 2016?

Rain made the falls nice, though.

On Friday, I took the boy to the bus stop in the morning, and then I decided to blow off some leaves.  That led to two hours of working on the lawn: leaves, the final cut, running the gas out of the mover and winterizing.  By 11 AM, I realized I was not working today.  I could have stayed at home and relaxed, but as Tami said when she saw me hosing off wading boots this afternoon: I can’t relax without fishing, apparently.

I took a 30 minute ride to another section of Valley, deciding that 90 minutes of fishing would do me good.  I had to celebrate this rain storm, dammit!  The creek looked fantastic when I arrived.  I decided to target one deep hole with midges and then call it a day—no more 4-hour endeavors with little to no payoff this week.  As I creeped up to the hole, I was happy to see relatively clear water and some midges dancing around.  I hooked a couple fish right away, including one that had to have been born this year, all parr marked and jumpy, one the smallest trout I have landed in a long time...  Then tragedy struck, tragedy that could have and should have been avoided.  Not one but two dogs offleash came splashing into the water.  I don’t hate dogs; in fact, I kind of like them and had one as a kid.  However, I hate irresponsible dog owners who run and swim dogs in wooded parks.  I am going to do a Deep Thoughts on this one day.  

Two under, ahem,, parr before the pooches waded in.. At least I was feeling sepia toned today.

I let things settle when they moved on, and caught a few chubs away from the current seam. I sat and retied a larger caddis larvae to avoid the chubs, hoping the rest would allow me to catch a couple more without having to go walking.  Not three minutes after I missed a hookset on the caddis did another dog barrel into the water!  These folks apologized, but I was done.  On my way home, via text, Tom made me feel better by sharing a story about horses and Valley, so things could have been worse.  But with the unsuccessful week I have had, and early success in some great looking water finally, I was done.  I hoofed it back to the Subaru and called it a day… week.  I have over a month off at Christmas time, so the lesson today was relax, man.  There will be more rain, more snow, more fish, more posts. 

I wonder what the erosion is from, Fido's mommy?

November 26, 2016 – The Wrong Choices for the Right Reasons – A Tough Pocono Trout Trip

Eric being skunked with finesse (and with a nice beard going).

With a little one in preschool and another on the way any minute, young Eric’s time away from home is limited these days.  He did get an 8 pointer with the bow on, like, day three of the season, so even though time was running out for archery, he wanted to fish today when his wife gave him the green light to get out.  He told me so in a text at 6 PM last night, when I was getting ready to go out and see a show in Philly with some friends (Peter Hook of Joy Division and New Order playing Substance in its entirety, so a slightly niche form of nostalgia).  I usually avoid dropping 25 bucks on nostalgia tours, but the show was a chance to hang with some old friends at the Trocadero, a venue where I lost a lot of hearing in my twenties.  Same deal with Eric this morning, I guess.  I have been itching to get some redemption on the beach, but my loving wife likes it when I socialize with friends (Okay, I like it too sometimes) so I chose to suck up my aging hipster pride and see old Hooky play songs from his seminal years, and I took Eric up on a NEPA fly fishing excursion.

Big blurry bow.

I chose an old favorite, a place Eric had not fish before despite going to school at ESU.  It was low the last time I was there, so I knew it would still be tough, but it would be an outing on a mild November day.  I was hoping drizzle and cloud cover would bring trout who have spent the last few months with their heads under rocks out of hiding.  Not so much, unfortunately.  Eric took a skunk with finesse, and I managed one wild brown and a nice, healthy rainbow, tight-line nymphing with a lot of weight.  I broke off another with a less than subtle hookset on a stonefly nymph.  Fishing barbless, and with my net stuck on a carabiner, zinger, or the fly patch of my slingpack, I only managed one blurry, albeit artistic, shot of the rainbow before he got a speedy release.  I actually caught this same fish in the same pocket last year, so even though he gained an inch or two, I recognized him and have his mug on file already J  He is a beauty hold-over with perfect fins and a thick silver body, and I still know his secret lair.

Pretty, but hard to come by.

I was a little hoarse from singing in an affectless baritone, ala Ian Curtis, along with 500+ other old heads packed into the Troc, and tinnitus has long been a trusted companion the morning after, but I felt good physically (especially for 4 hours of sleep) and good about earning a couple fish on a tough, tough day.  By the end of the second hour, I was playing cleanup, giving Eric first shot at some good holes, trying to be a responsible host and friend. When I got home, Tami told me she was proud that her little hermit boy had spent so much time playing with friends.  Sure, I wanted to pound the surf this morning, and I usually pay 10 dollars to see new music in smaller dives in the city, but I enjoyed myself on both fronts this weekend.  I made all the wrong choices for all the right reasons, I suppose.