April 9, 2018 – A Chilly, Prematurely Mucky, but Successful Trip Close to Home – Wissahickon Creek

Sure, it looked good from afar, a little dark maybe...

Until this afternoon, I had not fished one of my favorite stretches of the Wissahickon in Fairmount Park, but I am glad I did today.  Despite it starting out sunny, calm, and 40 degrees, the day got cloudier and windier during the 4 hours I put in fishing a variety of nymphs and, as a result, it probably felt colder too.  By the time I quit, I had to put on a small Airlock indicator for line control, but that allowed me to end in a flatter hole that was still loaded up with trout (and tangle with a big palomino that shook off a barbless green weenie after a short battle).  Tightlining a few runs and holes, along with the aforementioned dredging a deep flat hole with an indicator before I left, allowed me to land close to 20 rainbows, I bet, which was a welcomed surprise knowing that two weekends of fishing pressure had not removed many fish, and more fish are on the way later this week, I believe. I am still due for a “real” trip later this week, but this will help make my long Tuesday of teaching a little easier until I can get out again somewhere more interesting.

Not pretty for April 9th or August 9th!

The creek looked great from afar, higher and deeper than it actually was because of a massive algae bloom that darkened the bottom.  I fish the creek a lot, and I don’t remember seeing the bloom so pronounced this early in the season.  I am afraid to ask what organic matter got washed in after all these Nor’easters, as every eddy had broken, dead blooms ready to coat my line, and every rock that was not right in the current was covered with slippery slime.  Perhaps the warm, cold, warm, cold is to blame, but it seems a little suspect.  At any rate, it didn’t affect the fishing today, but I hope some good rains wash it out after we get some leaf cover in the canopy of trees in a few weeks' time.

Squirmie, meh, wormie...

A bunch of middle school-looking students were fishing a couple of my honey holes when I arrived.  I talked to two of them and learned that it’s a sanctioned activity with a teacher, who was upstream with others.  Pretty cool!  Maybe if I send the boy to Springside Chestnut Hill School (on scholarship, mind you) he will embrace fishing more?  I left them to the spot; in fact, I sent these two young bulls fishing a usually-fishless riffle away with a little intel on where to up their chances chunking a spinner before I headed downstream to another deep hole that usually holds fish, even weeks after the stocking trucks depart.  Before reaching the hole, I did catch a couple fish in odd little spots, including a couple on the squirmie wormie, which I have not thrown much before.  Not the most durable fly, especially compared to the san juan worm, but before fish ate off both ends of the worm, leaving me with a pink stub, I did land probably 5 on it.  I have a couple others, but the green weenie is still my old reliable for stocked trout (although midges were active today).

The good old pheasant tail came in 2nd to the green weenie.

 As I set up in the deep run and hole that was my escape from the school kids for good, I switched to a tungsten pheasant tail and, eventually, a green weenie with a walt’s worm off the dropper tag.  I picked up at least 10 fish here before deciding to venture back upstream.  A bait fisherman, a pretty good guy whom I ended up chatting with for a few minutes about all things fishing, was targeting the deep eddy and run that I wanted to target before going home, so I settled into a deep flat in the pool below.  By this time, the wind was getting tricky, so I added an indicator and did my best to mend the line in the inopportune, unpredictable gusts, and I picked up another half a dozen fish.  I also hooked into some “gold” with the weenie, but the big fish shook off my barbless hook in about 10 seconds of battle.  I watched the bait guy catch and release a few up in the hole I wanted to fish, but he had made his way down to me by the time I had to leave to get the boy at the bus stop, so I never got to the prime spot, and I ended up graciously surrendering my final honey hole to him.  He had caught and released the same palamino last week, so it was the least I could do, as I owed it to him for giving me a chance to strike a little gold myself this afternoon.  Thanks to my diminished fish fighting skill set this afternoon, at least on this fish, I guess I have another chance at the same fish some other time?  As long as this odd bloom doesn’t choke them out, I suppose!