April 30, 2017 – A Visit with an Old Friend – The Wissahickon Creek

Can Philly get an FFO or DHALO around here, yo?

For a long time, due to bridge construction (still in progress, mind you), a favorite section of the Wissy in Philly has not been stocked, even though it remained on the maps and documents for much of that time.  It is some of the best water, and the coldest water, in the entire creek, so much so that I would love to see Philly get a FFO or DHALO there, which is sorely missing in Philadelphia County and in my home county of Montgomery.  Nothing against Ridley in Delco and some Chester County special regs creeks, but the Wissy here is a far better trout stream.  Off the soap box, now…well, kind of…  

Great pocket water, though getting a bit warm for April.

While walking with the boy this winter, I noticed that scaffolding that was once 8 or 9 feet high, was now taller and even marked with clearance signs of 13 feet!  That is plenty high for the Commish’s trucks to get under, yo, I thought to myself at the time (I often think with the yo used post-positively, so don’t judge me, yo).  I even took pictures of the new scaffolding and signs in case I got civically inspired enough to inquire why a great section of the creek is still not stocked now that there appears to be plenty of clearance.  Before I did that, however, I would have to take an exploratory fishing trip in the spring to see if the clearance made a difference.  I am happy to say it did.  It only took probably 5 years or more, but it appears that Philly has some trout fishing water back, unless someone carried buckets a long, long way or got themselves a float stocking rig.  If anyone has caught at the end of the stocked section in Philly, the confluence of Forbidden and Lincoln Drives, please let me know!  I will likely take a walk this week myself, too.  I have disregarded the area for a few years, except in the summer for bass.

The first of the morning in good shape: one of probably 20 on the morning.

Tami knew I was antsy yesterday since I stayed home while the boy had a friend over, and when she went out with a friend in the early evening, so she encouraged me to take an unplanned trip on Sunday morning.  I hate the crowds that come with weekend fishing, and I had plenty of mugging today (more on that below) but I got out early enough to get first crack at the fish.  I was up at 5 AM and fishing by 6:15 AM. The creek had not been stocked since April 11^th, so I only expected to find a handful in the runs and fast water if I was lucky, but I quit after 5 hours of fishing and wading just shy of 20 trout and countless panfish.  Caddis was the fly of the day, a Z wing pupa, which basically looks like a cased caddis that has some bug parts coming out of the casing.  A couple even hit it on the swing and the lift.

The little Z wing caddis was very effective, even taking this 14 inch beauty.

I met a nice young dude who was new to the sport.  I only talked to him because he showed some courtesy when he arrived in the morning.  He saw me fishing and moved down below me a good distance without disturbing the water I was fishing.  This is rare in Philly for some reason.  In contrast, two bait guys moved in on both sides of me, so there were four of us fishing about 50 feet of creek, like it was the only place with fish for miles around…  I moved downstream a good 200 yards after talking to the new fly fisherman and offering some advice and a strike indicator to help his chances of catching a fish this morning, but these bait guys pursued me and mugged me everywhere I went.  The old me would have been pissed and let it ruin my day, but the newer, happier me just continued to hook fish in front of them while they caught next to nothing.  I was tempted to use Tom C’s line about us becoming best friends, but there were two of them and one of me, and 20 fish released in front of them is the best revenge, especially when one is carrying a creel and hoping for a meal.  They weren’t even friendly, and they were lucky they didn’t get hit with a back cast since I wasn’t even aware how close their muggings were sometimes in an effort to just ignore them, land fish, and have fun.

A brown who's been around for a while, maybe even a year?

The positives were many, though.  I caught a couple bigger fish, which is surprising because they tend to be kept when caught, you know?  I also caught two nice browns that had moved into riffles and pocket water.  The first 10 fish, in fact, were pickpocketed from hard to reach or hard to fish little holding spots on my way down to my old favorite holes.  The last 10 came from one such old friend, one of the nicest and most “isolated” spots on the creek.  Isolated is relative in Philly, with voices behind me on Forbidden Drive and voices on the bridle trails in the gorge above me, even Fido-- off leash, of course--splashing down for a brief visit from somewhere in the wooded hills.  But, I am ever-grateful that I have this beautiful place less the 15 minutes from home, thankful that old Billy Penn had the forethought, and the City’s mayors, despite party affiliation, have preserved the open space.  I also used my 10 foot 4 weight this morning and tagged over 30 fish with it, so that will definitely help the reflexes for next time I attempt to tangle with wittier fish on tougher water.

This 13 and a 14 incher, to boot.  Surprised they had not been eaten yet....

I was back in the Subaru after a good walk in the pleasant 65 degree morning by 11:15 AM, and I even took advantage of being in the city to stop and get a great cup of coffee from one of my favorites, High Point, in Mount Airy.  I even got my lovely wife a few shots of espresso on ice to have later and shared my pear/walnut scone with her.  The water was 66 degrees this morning, so all the warm weather early in the spring and without the protection of leaf cover has definitely heated the stream quickly, but there is one more stocking in May, the leaves are popping, and more rain and cool weather in the near future, so I will be back at it next week, I am sure, with thermometer handy.  I actually have to work hard again this upcoming week, so trips close to home will be perfect. 

April 27 and 28, 2017 – Long Rides with the Long, Long Rod – Brodhead Part Deux and the Bushkill Creek

A big, young eagle did not spook easily, but the trout did.

After the minor beat down on the Brodhead on Wednesday, I loaded up and drove up to a section just below where we fished that day and took another shot, believe it or not.  It just seemed too promising.  Some years the creek is flowing way too high to fish effectively this early in the spring, but that is not the case this year.  Well, the water was still nice, and even 55 degrees, plenty warm, but still no consistent insect activity.  For all the driving and walking and boulder hopping, I tangled with one stocked fish, which I lost.  A skunk by any other name….  At least I saw a mink and a juvenile American eagle, which means the nesting pair up-river successfully reared at least one, who is huge now.  He is mottled still, but clearly the size of an adult, though not quite as spooked by humans.  No doubt, there have been people and dogs and people with dogs under his/her nest since day one.  As I was leaving for the day, I saw a dude with a float stocking barrel, his wife or lady friend spotting from the bank, so there’s that for next visit, I guess, and I think this is a fingerling stocking year too.  Still, I want to tangle with Walter and Walter Jr. sometime this spring, summer or fall so more long drives to my home away from home stream are in order, skunks or not.

I ain't mad at ya.

I have just started using my new 10 foot 4 weight rod, and I am definitely not as quick with the hook set as I have gotten with my shorter, lighter TFO BVK.  I missed a couple strikes on Wednesday and Thursday that I am confident that I would have gotten under most circumstances with the rod I use 90% of the time.  Convinced that I just need to have the 10 footer in my hand more, I headed to the Bushkill near Easton on Friday.  I figured fishing the long, long rod on another larger creek would help my body adjust.  I started right by the parking lot, working out the kinks on some stocked rainbows and one brookie.  But the plan was to venture into the “unstocked” special regs section. 

A warm-up with some stocked bows

After warming up with a handful of fish in the open section, I started hoofing upstream, watching for rises.  The water was still stained, so I guess the rain was for real in SEPA earlier this week, and tree pollen was everywhere.  As I got into view of the first bend, I was surprised to see another fly guy on the other side of the creek—so much for my plan to cover a 400 or 500 yard stretch of pocket water.  I let him have at it, but when he vacated a nice run at the top of the bend, I slipped in and made an afternoon of it.  Because it was swift and deep, I tied on a big tungsten golden stone, but I also saw small dark caddis in the bushes and my cloths (even my car on the ride home), so I dropped a black beadhead from the big fly.  I was frustrated when I missed another strike, especially because I expected a pretty wild brown to be on the other end of the line, but I concentrated with the long, long rod and hooked the next strike with authority.  A moment of disappointment followed when I brought a brook trout to the net.  He had taken the black copper john, so I re-rigged with a couple of Sam’s tungsten nymphs, a caddis pupa and a sexy walt’s worm.  They would get deep without the bulk.  I even put on a new 9 foot, 5X leader.  Like I said, I was resigned to make a trip out of this run/hole.

Sam's sexy Walt's worm works.

This brook trout was a pretty one, though, and feisty, so I was not mad at him.  I have found huge rainbows in this stretch, but I assumed they came up river seeking cool water and maybe even love if they held over the summer and winter in the stocked stretch below.  Even below one of the limestone tributaries today, however, the water was 60, so I don’t know if that plan will work this summer!  That said, I have caught brookies here too, while targeting the elusive wild browns, mostly over the last 5 years or so (which correlates with the declining quality of the creek’s wild population).  I sent an open letter to the local TU chapter on a certain fly fishing site, but if they are stocking, they may not own up in such a judgmental forum.  I am glad for the action, so I am not judging, and these fish are hardly pelletheads, but I wonder if it’s a sign that the stewards are giving up on the lower end of the catch and release section.

 

Industrial trout fishing,

When not contending with the closely overhanging trees and a back eddy of tree pollen (no, the fish below did not bring a bouquet with him) I landed about four more nice brook trout before I had to call it quits to get the boy at the bus.  I only saw one splashy rise the entire time I was there, and that could have been a pissed off recently released fish for all I know.  Kevin reminded me on Wednesday that there is short April lull on bug activity before the carnival of May and its bigger meals, so better times are coming with sulfurs and march browns and more caddis.

No, this 14 incher did not bring me flowers.

Nice fins and liked Sam's caddis rolling on the bottom.

I did get better with the 10 footer, and I left it rigged up to fish next week, even if where I go is not the perfect place for the tool.  I am also going to start fishing for stockies with a sighter line, so I am better prepared for the pocket water nymphing to come.  I can see some advantages, especially when trout’s vision is in play.  The plop factor, i.e. the sound of the indicator striking the water, is over-sold, I think, probably by the sighter line companies (like the one in my YouTube feed all the time J).  If a thingamabobber makes a noise when it lands that scares trout, how is that not the case with the heavier flies and split shot needed to tightline nymph?  Each method has its place, I think.  With my 8’6” I am pretty good high-stick nymphing without an indicator or a sighter, so I would hope that the sighter line would only help.  Of course, that will be another learning curve with the long, long rod!

They saved the day, so I am not judging!

April 26, 2017 – A Tough, Even Humbling, One on the Brodhead Creek

Nymphing the pocket water.

I met up late (my fault, though an overturned catering truck on the highway contributed) this morning with Kev, who is a Long Island guy who also calls the Brodhead home.  Messaging through PAFlyfish, we learned that we have both been coming to the creek, albeit from different directions, for a long time.  He’s a young bull, so I have been fishing the creek longer, but he learned this creek from one of the best guides in the area, who is now a fishing buddy of his, so I think his learning curve was a lot shorter!  The pictures don’t lie; he has tangled with some big fish in NEPA creeks.  We were hoping today would be one of those days, but it never panned out.

One on the caddis pupa.

The Brodhead is the kind of creek that makes you earn it, sometimes.  Today was one of those days.  We were both expecting that a decent rainfall would spike the creek—or another nearby creek—and bring out the big wild browns, but the rain looked like it barely touched NEPA based on the flows.  Let's call it a rain-fail (get it?).  There was some color, but as Kev noted, it’s the same color that has been there for a few weeks now.   I only had about 4 (which turned into 5) hours to fish, basically at midday, but I had higher expectations, and I am sure he did too.  I was able to nymph up 4 stocked rainbows from a couple small deep pockets on a green caddis pupae or a sexy walt’s worm, and I broke off a decent fish in a deep plunge pool.  He made an immediate move to fast whitewater, so he could have been 12 inches and he could have been huge, but I never saw him, just felt the bend in the rod and the pop as he turned downstream and took my dropper fly with him.

There was not a lot of bug activity (besides enough bankside gnats to make a meal out of if I tried to talk too long or mouth-breathed) but a couple fish were chasing emergers.  I saw Kev land one on a golden stone just below a favorite run, and by the time I caught up with him, he was watching risers dimple a flat deep pool.  He let them torture him for a while, rising for a minute then disappearing and repeating the same deal over and over.  I tried upstream of him in a contentious stretch of creek.  Is it private, is it open?  I have fished it for a long time, but the owner across the creek just started landscaping and posting recently.  Coming within an inch of my chest wader’s limit I managed to slip above on the far side of the creek, avoiding his property (not possible in higher water, that is for sure!). I targeted a small group of fish that were probably taking caddis emergers based on the splashy takes.  It was humbling to see 4 nice fish rising in front of me and not being able to figure them out.  Partially, I must admit I was rushing, knowing I had fished at least 30 minutes past when I should have left for home, but the other part is that they were smart, selective wild fish in a difficult creek and had surpassed my particular set of skills for the day.  I took one more stocked rainbow on a caddis pupa while a couple good browns refused to take any of my swung wet offerings.  I even handed them a big old streamer for a couple casts as a last ditch effort before I tip-toed through deep water back down to where Kev was fishing.  He broke off one of the risers, he said, but was having similar lack of success—and patiently waiting on me, no doubt, wondering if I was leaving the boy at the bus stop....

Just perfect water, but no wild browns today.

Hopefully, next time I fish with Kev, we will have a better day.  He returned after a break to catch a few before dark, and he sent me a pic of a nice brown.  He deserved it after accommodating my crazy timeline today (and a little mishap involving an expensive rod and a puppy?). I am tempted to head back tomorrow, at least to another section of the creek, since I can actually leave early in the morning on Thursday.  It’s a love/hate thing with this creek, which I may have mentioned a half a dozen times before.  It is certainly one of the reasons I keep taking the long drives back.

April 24, 2017 – Targeting Those Left Behind – Wissahickon Creek

A size 18 pt in the riffles scored a pretty little brown that is thriving for now....

If it does not rain too much tomorrow, I am definitely due for a real fishing trip on Wednesday, but for the time being, I am using what little free time I have to fish close to home, like 5 minutes from home.  I did okay a couple days last week on the Wissy in Montgo, but I had not fished the city in a while, so I took a drive a little deeper this morning.  I was rigged up to swing wets, and there were some BWO’s and caddis around, but with the showers yesterday, nothing was chasing them in the stained water, at least that early in the day.  I fished and walked from 9 to 10:30 AM and got a handful of fun fish in fun spots, covering in both directions barely 100 yards of faster water.  

Fun water and fun fish

I had decided to work pockets and riffles, not holes, which would surely be close to fished out (though I did get one in a very popular hole this morning that was tight to a down tree), at least until the next stock.  I hooked a feisty one in a small pocket by a tree root on one of my first casts.  I thought he was huge, but he must have hit the front fly, shook off that one, and got the rear wet fly stuck on his chin.  He definitely had the leverage in the fast water!  Where a few of these fish have taken up residence, I am sure they would hold-over deeper in the gorge, but instead of holding over here, closer to the warm Montgomery County waters, I think they will be left behind…  Every year, I say I will keep a couple for cut bait in the surf, and then I don’t end up bait fishing in the surf, choosing the plug instead.  Maybe this year, after the last stock of the spring? Then again, the eagles and hawks need to eat too.

It does not take long for them to color up and grow back some fin.

After releasing him, I swung wets through some shallow riffles and high-sticked the wet flies through some pockets with only one follow and one swing and a miss.  At the end of the riffles there is a deeper pool, so I slipped an indicator on and nymphed along a dead tree in the otherwise open pool.  I stuck a second rainbow here, and then targeted a palomino hanging tight to a lone overhanging limb, before landing another bow swinging the flies at the tail-out.  Running low on time, I popped the indicator back on, added one additional split shot, and fished back up through the fast water towards my parking spot.  I was able to stick one beautiful little brown in a perfect depression in the run behind a rock, right where he should have been, before heading for the showers.  Speaking of showers, if we get an inch of rain tonight and tomorrow, it may be streamer day on Wednesday.  Until then, I will be planning and watching the gauges.

Down and back up: a rather productive 100 yards of creek.

April 20 and 21, 2017 – Swinging Wet Flies for a Couple Stolen Hours – Wissahickon Creek

Just me and the waterfowl to start the morning on Friday

This week was a long one on the work front.  I had to come to campus for four out of five days this week for training on a new course management platform, so I only had an hour or ninety minutes on Thursday and Friday morning to get in a little fishing.  I stayed close to home both days to maximize fishing time.  Luckily, the creek had been stocked for the last time on April 18^th, so there were some fish (and fishermen) around in the rapidly warming water.  

Swinging tandem wet flies was fun and effective.

I got gently mugged by two separate guys on Thursday morning, like the hole I was fishing was the only place they could fish in a mile long stretch of creek in a public park, but it was my birthday, so I smiled and waved, smiled and waved.  I stuck one on a streamer in a deep hole before letting a forksticker have at it in, apparently, the only hole he could fish…

A fat 15 inch fish from the riffles on soft hackle pt nymph.

Friday, the park was alive with caddies and golfers, so I am glad I got a parking spot early because the Cricket Club uses the public lot like it’s their own valet lot, even delivering club bags via cart across the street.  All the lower level employees had to walk through the woods from a distant, also public parking lot on the other side of the state park.  I hope they take care of the township monetarily, or I will start parking in their lot!  Despite all the traffic on foot, there was only one other fisherman out.  I had a lot of fun in a short while.  I landed a big, fat 15-inch bow on a nymph before switching to a pair of wet flies.  There was a sparse caddis hatch happening, although the water was a bit stained for the dry fly, but about 5 nice fish hit the wets on the swing before I had to call it a morning.  

A half a dozen decent sized fish, but no browns.

I started out as a kid dry fly fishing, like most fly fishermen begin:  See fish rising, ask the shop what is hatching, buy that fly in a couple different sizes, catch a couple fish.  But I really got good swinging wets after that, and I still enjoy that jolt you get on a tight, swinging line.  The hook up rate is not the best, as hooking a fish downstream from you is always harder than upstream, but it is exciting fishing.  With all the bugs in the water now, it is a good time to swing soft hackles and wets.  The most effective on Friday was a soft hackle pheasant tail with a hare’s ear behind it, but I may dig in the boxes and try to find some even more classic patterns to try next week.  Royal Coachman, anyone?  Hornberg?

April 15, 2017 – Another Lackluster but Enjoyable Opening Day in NEPA – Monroe County

Wardman in beautiful, mostly fishless surroundings

My two oldest fishing partners are my dad Joe and my buddy Ward, and they are neck and neck.  I think Ward and Joe’s old archery buddy Chris were the first to get my dad and I hooked.  Ward and I went our separate ways for years at different times in our lives and took different paths in some ways, but we have always stayed friends.  It helps that we grew up across the street from each other, and our parents still live on the same street.  We have been friends since we were 8 years old, nearly 40 years, so it’s more like family, really, and time apart does not really change the dynamic much.  We spent a good time of our early thirties sharing a beach house on LBI and fishing off his 28 foot Hydrasport, while looking for love in all the wrong places (like Joe Pops?) but eventually finding, later in our thirties, love, marriage, kids, etc, pretty much all at once.  We will be (or already are) old dads together, which many of our generation are anyway.  Late bloomers.  We should have been chasing skirts instead of biking all over SEPA hunting fish and stalking rabbits and pheasants with BB guns and wrist-rockets (many poor squirrels are buried in shallow, unmarked graves behind our parents’ homes, I must admit) but we eventually caught up and finally became adults, I guess.

Trout were caught, but not many, which has happened quite a bit on Opening Day over the last few years.

Ward doesn’t fish much anymore since he coaches his girls’ teams and golfs with his old man and has a busy work life, but we still get out a couple times a year, usually.  Opening Day of trout is one tradition.  We failed miserable last year with our kids in tow because neither of us knows how to fish for trout in a lake!  I also jump on a fluke or striped bass charter with him once in a while too.  This year, my dad got up at 4 AM and fell back asleep, but Ward and I kept the tradition alive and headed to the mighty Brodhead near Stroudsburg.  In one of my former lives, I basically failed out of ESU while drinking, working at ski resorts, chasing women, getting a broken heart or two (breaking at least one), hanging out with other beautiful losers, collecting way too much recorded music through a Columbia House postal scheme, and, yes, fishing.  My minor blue-lining obsession began when I was 19 or 20 and finally got a car to drive around the Poconos instead of hitching a ride to class.  I even took girlfriends into SGLs to chase brook trout, like that was going to impress them!  There were no fewer posted signs back then, but I had less to lose if I got caught.  I even had buddies who were shot over and had tires slashed, who stole rafts and canoes from resorts and night-portaged to the Water Gap…  Long story short, the Brodhead was in my backyard and became one of my home waters, long before I learned about Henryville Specials and the rest of the history of fly fishing in PA that centered on the once-fabled Brodhead Creek. 

I still proudly consider it one of my home waters, for good reason!

Ward and I fished the mighty Brodhead hard for many hours today, and we only had 5 or 6 fish to show for it, unfortunately all mine too.  Where is the justice?  The guy who fishes 3 or 4 days a week catches fish and the guy who fishes 3 or 4 times a year on a good year gets a goose egg?  Even though the water was in great shape, it was still too cold for the fish to chase Rapalas and spinners reliably.  The fish I caught hit the hardbait on the swing.  I even caught a couple just holding the plug in a deep swirling eddy.  One took a bugger on a slip bobber rig (I missed a couple others this way, wishing I had my 10 foot 4 weight and not a 7 foot ultralight).  It was a sluggish bite, sure, but also a good day out with an old friend.  

A nice surprise or two in a heavily stocked and pressured stretch.

The highlight for me, besides spending a day with Wardman and eating at a friggin’ Arby’s, of all places, was scaring up a couple acrobatic fish in some fast runs.  One that came off and one that I photographed above looked to be wild browns.  If not, the PFBC is stocking experimental parr marked beauties these days.  Crowds all over, loads of Jersey license plates belonging to tailgaiting TU-ers, I guess, and I landed a wild brown in a tough, directionless eddy of a hole.  Small pleasures!  I wish Ward had caught a couple, but he is good company and fishes just as hard as he used to back in the day.  The first 4 hours of the morning were meant to be a warm up on a tougher section, and it ended up being a mile and a half hike with no water and maybe a Cliff Bar and some jerky between us, so some things don’t change.  We may have been sore on Easter Sunday, and tired, but we can still do it when we need to do it.  Not bad for a couple of late blooming old dads.  Late forties with kids in elementary school?  I still don’t know if we did it right or wrong, but I am glad we are doing it together, at least when we get the time…