January 9, 2018 – Midge, Please! – A Milder Winter’s Day of Nymphing in Centre County

A fine specimen of the American Brown Fish?

My 2018 has been slow to start, but I am on the board in style as of about 10 AM this morning.  Nothing worth posting, but I had been out fishing once on a Lehigh Valley limestoner, mostly walking and looking for risers after my winter honey hole was dead, and I attempted it another afternoon on an 85% frozen Valley Creek, when the boy and I ended up sledding nearby instead, but today was the first milder day in a long time, and I made the most of it on a long tour with Sam and a couple of his buddies out in the State College area.  I had to finesse my long ride around an ice storm, but once I got to the highways, it was a good trip out there.  The car thermometer hit 37 or 38 at a few places just past Harrisburg, which was an odd sight for this winter, especially in the dark hours before dawn.  The mighty Susquehanna was iced bank to bank in many places, which was also cool to see (but poor Kenny won’t be getting his smallmouth fix anytime soon, it seems).  It was mid-30’s most of the day in State College, partly sunny—though cloudy enough early to get a lot of midges active at our first stop—and also a bit windy at mid-day, but we hit it just about perfectly, those rather minor things aside.

Poor Valley!

A lot of the creeks are iced up if they aren’t spring creeks or at least heavily influenced by springs, and even then entire stretches are iced over just like Valley was this weekend.  There is also some snow, though not as much out there as back east.  All this means that when it gets really warm on Friday, all the ice is going to break up, sure, but the water temperature is also going to plummet for a few days, which is not great for fishing.  A game of inches, even a degree change up or down can really affect winter fishing for better or for worse.  Cold gray brown water is not want you want to see this time of year in most cases.

Pretty low at creek number 1, but no signs of ice, and some good fish to be had.

I arrived at Sam’s house around 8:15 AM, and after catching up for a minute and combining gear into one car, we made a rather short ride to Fishing Creek, where I quickly picked up a decent 12 inch brownie and a near pristine rainbow about the same size.  It was cloudy, and midges were pretty thick for the first hour of fishing, although they shut off before any trout took notice on the surface.  Both fish took a size 20 brassie midge, a basic little rusty red looking one.  I tight line nymphed with 5X fluorocarbon all day with a two or three fly set up: a heavier woven tungsten fly (almost a flashback walt’s worm) a dropper of some kind, and a red or black midge off the bend of the hook on the anchor fly.  It was nice to euro-nymph, as my usual winter fishing is done with a couple midges under an indicator.  That said, that reliable technique certainly would have worked today, as most of my 9 or 10 fish took a black zebra midge in size 20 to 22, and Sam’s buddy Austen even drop-shotted up a couple fish with eggs under an indicator, as well (something that I will definitely be trying later this winter with unweighted midges!).

My first brown of the morning.

Austen joined us about 45 minutes into the fishing.  He was born and raised in the area, works with Sam at TCO, guides in the region, and even puts his science degree to use doing seasonal work for the PAFBC.  On top of that, he was a competitive youth fly fisherman and apparently a ranked one (not that long ago, as he’s now in his 20’s).  So, I basically had to contend with two exceptionally good sticks today, one half my age.  Thankfully, like Sam, Austen was a good dude who just loves to fish.  The rotation on a few tight tributaries became three, but otherwise there was little effect on the fishing—plenty of water and fish to go around.  It was pretty funny to see two guides on their day off getting so excited about fishing, and they speak their own language, a ball-busting banter—which I hear (from them, so it must be true) annoys some other friends and the guys in the shop!  When I hooked my best wild brown of the day (what the aspiring fisheries biologist called “an American brown fish”), a beautiful, colored-up trout maybe 16 inches, the two of them were racing each other for the net assist.  Austen won, and then proceeded to take some photos of the fish with his real, digital camera (the ones here are from my phone, but I hope I see his after some post-production).  Like I said, two guys who fish a lot but still just love every minute of it.

Bows with great white-tipped fins.

I wanted to lengthen my dropper a little and relieve the bladder, so they went ahead to tag team and sight fish a little tributary, and I hung back to play clean-up.  With the sun and the wind starting to kick up a bit, I decided to go Joe Humphries style with my nymphing—adding more shot and leading the flies through the deep seams.  I had watched a few fish turning and flashing their white mouths in a couple deeper runs that had not produced for us, but by going deep with more weight, I was able to pick up three rainbows, all about 12 inches, bright as can be with clean white-tipped fins—not wild, but feisty holdovers gone rogue and thriving.  

Another bright one I dredge up from deeper water.

I caught up to Sam and Austen  and watched each of them target solid wild browns on a tiny tributary on short lines, the three of us sneaking up the bank in single file.  By the time I got in the rotation, I was not so proficient with a 10 foot rod on a creek that was 8 feet wide and then, as luck would have it, we must have encroached far enough upstream to draw the ire of a landowner/steward (the land was not posted, but it was not public, either) who idled in his truck nearby until we decided to turn back and not play fast and loose with this gray area—plenty of water and fish to go around, as I said above.

Bright sun and a steady breeze indicated that it was lunch time.  After deciding to do this break thing right, even classy—as classy as possible in a gas station or fast food joint in Centre County—we took off the waders and a couple layers of cloths and decided to “dine in” at the nearby McDonald’s.  I don’t break often during fishing days, but it did feel good to let the legs and feet breathe and have a sit down meal (and pick the brains of two knowledgeable fishermen).  I didn’t even use a straw, just sipped my iced tea from the cup like an adult.  At the conclusion of this classy lunch they hatched a plan to target the big old palominos that are brave enough to swim out of Bellefonte and fend for themselves instead of being fed like ducks.  As they “chased gold,” I chatted up Sam’s buddy Dave, who had joined us by then at Spring Creek.  I ended up getting 3 or 4 more wild browns, average 10-11 inch Spring Creek browns, but still fun, and watched Dave and Austen both wrestle with a couple big gold fish that didn’t make it to the net.  Big fish and size 22 flies often ends this way.  This stop and the last stop of the day were mostly social fishing, which was fine by me after likely clocking double digits and at least one nice wild brown for the day.  Dave was trying to reverse psychology me into steelhead fishing by telling me how nasty the weather has been, and Sam and Austen were golden huntin’ like they were middle schoolers on the local stocked creek—it had officially devolved, as we even ran into a customer from the shop out there center pinning from the bank with egg sacks!

A few Spring Creek cuties too, 3 or 4.

Sam wanted to show me one last creek, also a small, shallow tributary, so with two rods and three guys, we walked one last set of runs and holes.  By this time, maybe 4 PM, my early morning ride and my 12 hour day were catching up to me.  I was hooking midges in bushes, limbs, my fingerless gloves, even before I approached the water.  When it was my turn in the rotation, I had a nice fish bounce my rig in a short deep plunge, but I missed him.  Admitting that I was probably done for the day, my skills too diminished for this technical degree of fishing at this point in my day, I let Austen have a crack, and he stuck one to all our delight, as it was a solid, fat and wide 12 inch looker in a tiny creek.  When Sam’s turn came further upstream, he eventually dropped a perfect lob that drifted under his tree root target, and he pulled out another fish that we would kill or at least maim for on the similarly-sized Valley Creek headwaters.  Just as excited as they were at the start of the day, Sam and Austen got some good photos, as I made it a two camera shoot and snapped a picture of Austen taking pics on this tiny gem of a creek.

Still 12 at heart, all of us, I suppose.

A double-digit fishing day in the winter, this particular winter, especially, and in low water conditions, was a great way to start the year.  Besides missing one or two at the last stop, I also had a couple fish pop me that escaped my hookset, so it could have been even a bit better, but there was steady action all day and entertainment from my fishing companions, who are still twelve in fishing years.  I am more subdued with my emotions out on the stream, and in general, but I must admit I am still back there in middle school too when it comes to fishing.  At 48 years old, I will still drive three hours at 3 or 4 in the morning, fish all day, and drive home that same day fueled only by Sheetz or Wawa or even McDonald’s in a pinch.  Shhh… I may have even chased gold when they weren’t looking today…

One result of the two camera shoot on Sam's final fish of the afternoon: pale beauty.

Man, would I like to try and lose a streamer here in the spring!