May 26 to May 31, 2018 – Joe’s Christmas in What Felt Like July – Ontario Canada

Joe's pig, week made.

My dad and I kept a long tradition alive for another year by taking the long drive to Ontario for five days.  We barely made it, rolling into town on a wobbly trailer tire that eventually led to a tow on board a flatbed to a thankfully honest and efficient local Canadian mechanic, who in the end just replaced a blown hub and nothing more major like an axel (though still expensive even with an exchange rate in my dad’s favor), We did, however, manage to launch the boat and tie it to the dock (priorities, people, priorities).  Thank goodness it didn’t happen 20 minutes sooner when we were still on a highway moving over 100 kilometers per hour.  Not a great start, but after 20+ years of visiting the same lake, at least 30 for Joe, the years sort of melt into each other sometimes, and we forget the tough times through the lens of nostalgia.  While we have had some awesome years over the many years, the trend has been one of diminishing returns, at least on our favorite lake, which becomes more pressured and more developed every year.  For the last couple of trips we have found good fish by trailering the boat to another nearby lake, even staying on this nearby lake at least a couple times with young Kenny, but even this lake did not produce this year.  

A day and a half where we had numbers.

It was hot, too hot and too calm, actually.  A little breeze, not winds of 15 knots, mind you, always helps on a lake with clear water, not to mention shoals as prime foraging spots, but we had multiple days this past week that were over 80 degrees and dead calm.  The days with some breeze proved to be good days, and as you can see from the pic above, some big fish were caught, and at least one day was a strong numbers day, but the average was less than 2 pounds, and we could have driven a couple hours in PA and found that kind of fishing.  While it still had its moments, this tradition might have to give way for a new one a little shorter in duration, a little cheaper, and a lot closer to home, I am afraid!  It didn’t help, I’ll admit, that I had too much going on at home to detach truly and completely, try as I might to leave it on the dock.

One on top, and many of the shallow plug, but most deep on small plastics on the drop shot.

We arrived around 2 PM on Saturday to heat and sun, but we went out after dinner and gave it a shot.  Before that, I actually caught 3 decent bass (for home) and a few crappie, even a small pike, right from the dock, just messing around with what I had rigged on my half a dozen combos for the day.  Expectations were high, and we had some action that evening, but all the fish were small and had to be worked up with finesse plastics like drop shots and Senkos.  I had a lot of success all week drop shotting a bunch of samples from Fitt Premium Lures, Kenny’s new  business, so I took a lot of pics of fish with lures in their mouths, regardless of the size of said fish, just so I could report back and also stock up.  My dad did well a couple days on his go-to Gulp leeches on a drop shot rig.  His biggest fish, a smallmouth well over 5 pounds, took that rig and called for a net to land, perhaps even required a net to land on light tackle and a steady breeze pushing the boat along at a good clip.

Neither black squirrel nor full moon nor bluebird skies could turn the tide.

Sunday was a hot, calm one and a zero picture day, unless you count the one shot I took of an average smallmouth that ate an ottertail-looking Fitt lure.  My dad and I sort of measure the success of the day by how many times the camera comes out, and it would have come out exactly once this week if I was not conscious of the fact that I would have no pics for the week, just my dad on Tuesday afternoon holding a pig smallie, which would have made for a short blog post!  Fish were deeper, so I caught as many crappie in 8 to 10 feet of water as I did bass.  That kind of fishing is a lot of work, counting a drop shot down to almost 12 feet before getting hit by what may or may not be a bass and likely a small one at that!  We decided that Monday would be a day on the “big water,” the main basin of the lake whose water temperatures and biological clock are a few weeks behind the other, shallower end of the lake.  My trip is often made each year on the days we happen upon the pre-spawn feed along the sharply sloping banks of this basin.  This year, however, we were beyond pre-spawn and more into the period where the males had already made nests and were waiting for mates hanging offshore, interested in only one thing and that one thing was not food.

A few chunky ones were brought to hand on Monday, even a handful on a Fitt Wacky Creek Worm

A shallow running crankbait, just a cheap Bagley squarebill, run over these beds was the only consistent pattern, and we caught a lot of 2 to 3 pound males, most just nipping the back hooks.  Once in a while, one would pick up a tube or something dropped near the nests long enough to allow a good hookset and short battle.  As a result, Monday morning fishing was solid, but my bowels weren’t… I was taken short while targeting shorts and needed my dad to find the boat ramp and the port-a-pottie.  Good times!  This sort of thing has happened to me all of maybe three times in my life (one memorable time on a sand dune in Barnegat Bay with way too much boat traffic) and I have even written here boasting of my fisherman’s metabolism, but at least I made it and my dad was a good sport about pausing the fishing for a bit.  We tried the opposite bank after this detour, but found conditions similar to the shallower foot of the lake, so we returned to the effective pattern and made a good afternoon of it.   It was good enough, in fact, to decide to return on Tuesday with me running the boat to give Joe a break, but not before a short Monday evening trip where I did manage to catch a few, including one fish on a top water lure, and catch a full moon from the porch.

In addition to the aforementioned pig, my dad had his day on Tuesday from the back of the boat, sitting and patiently letting a weighted, wacky-rigged Senko or his drop shot leeches get deep enough to find some takers.  On the other hand, I had a heck of a time when my Monday pattern was a bust.  I got a few early on, and the wind was manageable, even welcomed if the fish were more active, but when I couldn’t get them to take a crankbait or a tube on a faster fall consistently, I was hard-pressed to run the boat and finesse fish effectively.  I think I needed an easy day of chunking and winding, and when I didn’t get it, I just lost my mojo.  At least my efforts running the boat allowed my dad to have a good day!  I know he has been in that position many times in the past.  I was happy to net, photograph, and revive his beauty of a bass too.  The fish was big, and if she wasn’t pre-spawn and tired after a long battle on light, drop-shot tackle, we would have rummaged for the scale.  While I am not a regular bass fisherman anymore, I have landed many big fish in the past and many more short stripers in the 22 to 24 inch range.  That was my estimate on this fish, probably 24 inches, which makes that a very heavy fish, I know, especially with a belly full of eggs and probably sunfish too.  It is more likely she was 20-something and 6 pounds, especially since we didn’t see many over 4 this week, but it was still one of the biggest we have taken from the lake and hopefully made my dad’s trip!

Another angle.

We got a call on Tuesday morning that the trailer would be ready, so we decided to end around 2 PM, go get the trailer, and pull the boat in order to fish the other favorite lake on Wednesday, our last full day of fishing.  After a nap, I used my phone’s Wi-Fi hot spot to catch up on grading and correspondences for my three courses in progress.  The coolest place in the cottage was the basement, where the television got three stations, including the riveting programming from Watertown, NY, so we spent the hottest part of the day lounging down there too, biding our time, hopeful that Wednesday on the second lake would be a good one.  Well, with me running the boat again, this time the conditions more favorable to finesse fishing, perhaps too favorable again, with no breeze and a hot sun, we caught a few fish but nothing worth a photo op.  I managed a handful of small but feisty smallmouth early, and my dad landed one largemouth over 3 pounds, but even the rock bass and crappie had lockjaw in the conditions that day.  We fished a few deep bluffs, thinking we could find some action deeper with some work, but the few fish we did connect with came from lure sacrificing casts to prime cover, the fish that were shallow likely snug to shade and security and barely willing to move twelve inches to grab a well-placed soft plastic.  All the hard work fishing deep produced a couple decent post-spawn largemouths. 

A swim and perhaps a farewell to the lake.

By 2 PM, we were ready to call it a trip and get an early start on Thursday’s drive home.  Instead, when we got back to camp, Joe took a long nap and I decided to give the boy something to laugh at me about.  I grabbed a towel and my camera and headed for the dock for a swim.  What a better way to end a hot day than a plunge in the lake at our deep water dockage?  I just sat afterwards and let the sun dry me off, perhaps taking my time giving the lake a farewell too.  We have had a lot of good fishing memories here, but it is time to pursue new ones in a new body of water, I am afraid.  Nostalgia has a power, but I am not sure it trumps a seven hour ride trailering a boat for mediocre fishing 3 out of the last 6 years or so.  I like the odds on the Juniata or the Susquehanna a lot better moving forward!

May 22, 2018 – Managed to Sneak One in Around the Rain Showers – Wissahickon Creek

Still going with the good flows and water temps locally.

The flows on the Wissy have been good with all the wet weather, so while the early season high temperatures warmed the water quickly, all this rain and cooler air has kept it fishing very well.  I took a water temperature reading at noon today, and it was reading 66 F, which is not bad at all for an urban freestoner.  Fish are certainly more active in the riffles and runs, and the ones that have chosen to live there now are a lot stronger and seem to be eating better.  Maybe the rock bass and sunfish are teaching them the ropes because if my fly lands in water just a tad too soft for trout, I can expect a panfish or at least the rat-tat-tat from some other non-trout species.

Anything the right size and buggy works, but they loved the grubby caddis larva most of all today.

I only fished for a little over two hours today, from about 10 to 12:30, and I know I caught over a dozen trout, some pale browns from the final stocking but also an equal number of bows and browns that have been in there a while.  A grubby looking caddis larva worked well, as did the reliable pheasant tail.  There are very small, maybe size 18, caddis, as well as even smaller midges, but fish will take anything buggy looking if presented well.  A good presentation seems to be using just enough weight to get close to the bottom, not spook the fish that are shallow, and not drag in the algae and moss on the rocks, a delicate balance.  I ended the trip actually drop-shotting just one pheasant tail off a tag because that was better than dragging a point fly through the muck.  I also like fishing spots this time of year than few others would even try, thinking that they would never stock a fish here, but the fish do move around by this point, usually up or down into more oxygen-rich water.  It was raining as I made my short drive, and it started pouring just as I was undressing at the Subaru for my ride home, so I definitely was lucky with my timing today.  I am preparing for 5 days in Canada beginning this Saturday, but I will likely sneak another couple in this week in between grading, packing, and spending time with the family. 

There are some good fishing days left in her this spring...

May 17 and 18, 2018 – The Front, It Stalled, Yeah?? – A Couple of the More Local Limestoners

That was some sky!

The skies were ominous when I left Philadelphia for home after teaching on Tuesday, and the power even went out at home for a couple hours, but after coming in with some fury, this front just decided to hang around for a few days, not always doing all that much.  There were periods of heavy, localize rain, including a cell that hit the Saucon Valley just before I fished the area on Thursday.  I had to exchange a pair of leaking bootfoot waders if I didn’t want to wade the surf this month in stocking foot waders (not fun, unless you like a lot of sand under your arches and between your toes and Swiss cheese leaking), so I packed my streamer rod in case and, in a break in the showers, gave the muddy Saucon a try for the first time since the winter.  Besides one half-hearted bump while highsticking a bugger through a deep run and one heart-stopping follow by a pig that didn’t commit, my plan did not really work out.  The creek was muddy not stained, so I shouldn’t have expect much, but one nice one would have made the afternoon.  At least I will have a new (and free) pair of waders arriving in the mail by Monday (45 minutes of driving, and not my size in stock!).

Just stained, and plenty of survivors in the Park.

I woke up today, after listening to the ever-changing forecasts last night, and expected more floods, but the gauge at Valley looked great.  I was still reluctant to fish the creek, not knowing the extent of the damage from a water line break/chlorine spill and ensuing fish kill last month, but I headed for the lower end of the creek, hoping that fish had fared better there.  I was ready to switch to a streamer the minute the creek started to rise, but that never happened while I was there today.  Instead, there was just a healthy flow, accompanied by a good stain to cover my approach, pretty much a nymph fisherman’s dream conditions.  By sneaking up and fishing broken water and riffles, along with overhangs and roots and other stick-ups, I probably caught 15 fish, from 4 inches on up to 11 or 12 inches.  All the fish took a basic Frenchie nymph, and besides chunking a streamer for maybe 20 minutes before I left, I was able to Czech nymph the entire time.

At least 6 decent fish took a Frenchie, including this little chubby one.

By using two small tungsten flies, I was able to fish very shallow riffles and runs, where fish were likely waiting for caddis and other nymphs today.  I could have taken the dropper tag off because nothing touched my top fly!  They did eat the anchor with gusto, though.  I started getting brave after landing a good half a dozen fish over 8 inches (and many others on the smaller side) and began tempting fate by dropping the Frenchie in some hairy spots, looking for that one.  I never lost the fly, but I never found anything over 12 inches either.

I didn't need the rain gear, especially black rain gear...

A couple deep holes were very stained, or at least the depth compounded the effects of the stain, so I made a note to come back and throw a streamer in a couple of these spots.  Granted, it was now 1:45 PM, and the sun was peeking out at times, but I did move a bunch of fish and had a bunch of nippers.  Again, no big fish committed, but I did move two Valley-respectable fish who turned back after a short pursuit.  Good signs, at least.  Hindsight is, well, hindsight, so I decided to be content with a day of numbers on Valley, and a day to Czech nymph Valley, to boot, instead of second-guessing my decision not to throw meat at them.  There is more rain on the way, or so the meteorologists say, so now that I know there are plenty of survivors in the creek, I can always return early next week.

May 15, 2018 – Even Stocked Fish Move Around – Wissahickon Creek

Good temps and flows for now.

I had about two hours to fish today in between prepping for my classes starting tonight and Wednesday night and helping to doctor up the student commencement speech to be delivered at my college’s graduation next month.  With the fish kill that happened at one of my go-to spots on Valley, I settled on the Wissy, as the flows looked good with the rain over the weekend, plus there was a fresh stocking about a week ago, the last of the year.  Though the PAFBC would no doubt be happy, I did not expect the creek to be so “utilized” today, but when I peeked over a bridge, I could see at least five guys, including one fly guy, working two spots I was hoping to have to myself on a Tuesday at 10 AM.  It was supposed to be very hot today, with severe storms on the way, and I was planning to quit by noon, so the idea of driving to another stretch was not an option.  I decided to fish the riffles and runs, hoping that fish that had not been harvested from the first two stockings would have found their way to healthier, cooler, and buggier environs.

Pretty browns away from the holes

I was happy to be bounced on the first drift through a riffle below the popular holes, but less happy that I had tied my sighter to my tippet in the low light of my garage with a very suspect knot, which pulled free immediately upon my hookset.  Great start!  I always love having to re-rig after my first cast, but I focused on the positive: fish were in these neglected runs.  After rigging up again with a classic hare’s ear anchor and a small pheasant tail on the dropper, I caught at least 4 browns that were in beautiful shape and missed a couple too.  I also caught the requisite rock bass, sunfish, and small bass that become active as the waters stay over 60 degrees on a daily basis.  I didn’t take a water temp, but I was happy that it felt cool.  Perhaps, the creek had survived the early onslaught of temperatures and could now stay a decent fishery a while longer with the help of all this rain and the ever-growing shade cover.  Two nice young guys, one a fly fisherman, came downstream and inadvertently low-holed me—heading for one last good hole in this stretch that takes a bit of walking to approach.  Oh, well, I should have headed down there first on a crowded day…  I took that as a sign that the holes above were now free(r), and I did catch a couple on those pressured spots and lost a few too before deciding I had had enough for today.  A lot of action, nice weather for a time, half a dozen nice stockies, all made for a good stolen moment close to home.

May 11, 2018 – CZN 201 – Intermediate Czech Nymphing – Brodhead Creek

Eric in action, and his first wild brown on the new rod.

Eric and I had a sort of homecoming today.  Though we are about 15 years apart in age, we both attended ESU, thee East Stroudsburg University.  He actually graduated, while I just learned a lot about beer, heartbreak, setting skis, and fishing the Pocono streams and rivers before returning to Philly to finish my degree(s).  He had a boys’ weekend planned with some old friends (not simply an old friend like this guy), some fishing and turkey hunting (weather permitting, as rain is on the way) but the buddy who could let them into the cabin had a thing for his son’s school that wasn’t happening until 6 or 7 PM, in Lititz, PA, mind you.  All that meant is that a mitch had all afternoon to fish, and I was able to keep him company, having just finished submitting the final grades for my classes this morning.  What better way to celebrate—Eric, the rare free day to fish for hours and hours, me the culmination of a semester where I had 90 students—than to hit the mighty Brodhead for part two of our nymphing “master class” (I hope Sam doesn’t read this and think I’ve gotten a bigg(er) head!)?

Knowing that the Commish had stocked on May 8^th, I believe, I suggested we give it a go in a popular stretch right in town, an easy place to meet up, that way we could work up to some favorite pocket water later in the day.  Well, things sort of worked out the other way around, with the first spot being magic and the second not so much.  The first spot had rather heavy hatches of olives and large caddis, so not only were the stocked rainbows eating well, but the population of wild browns here, often cleverly hidden in plain sight, were also not as shy as usual.  There were bait guys, spinner guys, and other fly guys out all day, but we really didn’t have trouble finding open water by fishing the more challenging pocket water and some favorite holes with just plain confusing hydraulics that make nymphing even on a short line a fun puzzle to solve. 

Big flies and a lot of shot.

A couple obvious spots did not pan out, but we were probably the last in a long line of guys to give them a shot, especially since we weren’t even suited up to fish until nearly noon on a lovely Friday afternoon in May.  However, a favorite spot I just call “Big Rock” (which I am sure others do too since it is obviously just a big rock) kickstarted the day for me.  I gave Eric first crack, but he was honestly a bit intimidated by what actually to do here.  As you may see from the collage of pics, there are just soft pockets in white water—you may also see the size of the rubber legged stone I was using and the size of the split shot I had to use to get into a productive zone.  I lost at least three fish, including another double (wtf!?) before I landed a decent rainbow and then the little guy pictured.  My potential net man was way upstream working another bankside glide when I needed him, as I hooked and fought a great, 15 inch wild brown in this hole too.  No pic of this one because one of his violent head shakes when I finally got him in the net broke off the stonefly, and he took himself and it with him back into the whitewater.  I really should re-tie more often in this type of boulder-strewn water.  Eric saw none of this, of course…  I was disappointed for a while, trying to shake it off, but really all I missed was a photo, so a few head shakes of my own and muttered f-bombs did the trick.

A big rock, bows in whitewater, and a missing brownie photo...

I joined Eric, and he was getting pissy too after losing some flies and just not knowing how to approach bigger water with his long rod and sighter leader.  I decided that we should take a walk to a good hole than begins with a moderately deep run above it, figuring some fresh stockies in faster water would give him his confidence back.  While he rigged up again, I tested the waters and caught two feisty bows in a short period, so I moved down when Eric was finished rigging, and he put on a show that included half a dozen bows and his first wild brown on the long rod, perhaps his first wild brown period.  It was a pale female, so the photographic evidence isn’t all that exciting, but the fish fought well and was a good 13 inches of wild trout.  We were both excited, obviously.  His confidence restored, my mood lifted, I suggested a challenge downstream.

Before my net man arrived to offer photo-assist.

While trying to keep our feet under us, we whooped it up on some feisty rainbows hiding behind boulders and in soft pockets in a nice deep riffle, one of my favorite spots on this stretch of the creek.  We also had a double, which may have made a good photo op if we didn’t risk swimming for art.  It was here that I also got a second chance at a nice wild brown, and this time I have the picture to prove it.  This one was significantly bigger than the first one too, probably pushing 19 inches and wide.  I had the rare opportunity to have someone take my picture with a fish, as Eric rushed down to assist when he saw I had my hands full trying to land this beauty in the type of water we were fishing.  Thankfully, my knot was better this time, or the tippet less abraded than at Big Rock, because this one stayed in the net and allowed himself to be photographed.  Eric was as excited as I was just to see such a brute in amongst the stockies, one of three that came out to play at mid-day, and by far the largest and most colorful of them.

Eric's fine photo work.  About 19 inch and fat wild brown all colored up in the sun.

This sort of thing has happened a couple times in recent years: I have had a disappointment, like losing a great fish, followed up by another capitalized-upon opportunity shortly thereafter.  Proof, I suppose, that one must keep one’s head in the game at all times, but especially after at least one big fish has shown interest that day.  My day made, I turned to nymphing coach, as Eric and I moved into a couple more runs and holes.  I think Eric got more confidence in his Czech nymphing technique and his rigging, and I know he learned a bit more about where fish live, especially wild and holdover fish.   He was a quick study and, as always, good company. 

A slightly better pic of Eric's first wild brownie from the Brodhead.

Around 5 PM, we were both grateful and a bit caught off guard by the fact that we could actually fish until dark if we wanted.  After a bit of a break to hydrate and snack, we headed to another favorite spot, one certainly more challenging to wade and crack, but with all the bugs around this afternoon, my expectations were high.  Two hours later, and I landed one rainbow for all the effort, and Eric had to balance across a down tree to get across the creek before dusk—these the only highlights.  With limited time, we waited for risers at the gliding tailout of a deep pool, but only two or three very small fish, maybe even chubs, showed interest in the olives and sparse caddis hatches blowing through in infrequent waves.   Eric took a swing and a miss on one fish that came up for an 18 olive dry, and I took a dip over my waders, walking into a deep depression behind a boulder while looking at my next casting target not where my legs were taking me.  All day in treacherous waters, and I get wet in frog water just before dark!  My phone was dry, it was a warm night, and my heater worked all the way home, so just an inconvenience, really.  Eric and I parted at dark after a really great day on (and in the end, in) the water.

Until CZN 301 starts next semester!

May 8, 2018 – I’m a Little Coal Country – The Lackawanna River

Where does one go from here?  Today?  Downhill, of course...

I took a two-hour ride in the dark this morning to the Lackawanna River in hopes of finding a couple nice fish.  I found one that I taped at just over 19 inches, so mission partially accomplished.  After catching a small fish just after sunrise, this fine looking brute was only my second of the morning, so he was a tough act to follow.  There are a lot of big fish in the river, but the river is also big, and it was running just a tad higher than I like, making crossing in certain spots where I like to cross in order to maximize my approach to a hole, for example, a bit hairy or completely off the table.  I can confirm, however, that several year classes of wild fish are present, not just the fabled hogs, as I landed probably 7 fish from 19 inches on down to 8 inches, with the average definitely on the shorter side, which has not been my previously charmed, albeit limited, experience with this fishery.  As the morning wore on, and my early start caught up to me, I lost a couple decent fish too, though nothing as big as the first little piggy.  Needless to say, I will be back again.

Just before sunrise in coal country.

This is coal country and pretty urban.  One previous post I made about the river mentioned all the random debris I found, like roller-skates and a basketball,even a dead rat, but today’s highlight was an old colored TV—and one big blue inflatable ball actually looked like it belonged nestled in some flotsam in a back eddy, just bobbing peacefully.  But the river is full of bugs, too.  There were massive amounts of size 18 blue winged olives coming off all morning.  I fished from about 6:30 to just after 12:30 PM with one short break to eat a PBJ and to finish my coffee while driving to another stretch, and each hole had olives and several large caddis coming off.  I was fishing braided runs and pockets, and the water was a bit stained for an all-out surface smorgasbord, but I did see one about 15 inches or more come up after a caddis.  I lobbed my nymphs upstream of him shortly thereafter and thought I had him when I got bounced immediately.  Unfortunately, it was a pretty 11 incher who took my walt's worm on the swing (or the fall, actually).

8 inches, then 19 inches, then 11 inches, but mostly on the small side today.

Before landing a few small fish, I did have quite a battle with the fish that opens this post.  I got bounced in a deep pocket on the soft side of a run and, after a few requisite head shakes, the fish decided he was going to run right up into the riffle and keep on going.  Thankfully, he didn’t go downstream, as I may have taken a swim, and he didn’t go for the rip rap on the opposite bank with any conviction that I could not match.  In hindsight, I bet he did a great job of tiring himself out heading up into the riffle a couple times and holding for a while on one occasion, so I was able to get him in the net with little drama after the initial runs.  A couple joggers stopped, but probably thought I was snagged based on the bend in my 10 foot 4 weight!  After a few pics, I sent him back in good shape.  This was my second fish of the morning, and the morning was young, mind you, but instead of a day of beasts, things slowly petered out, so I made a short drive around 11 AM to another section of the creek.

It wasn't unwadable, but it was cetainly moving some water this morning.

The second spot was also interesting!  I hooked a good fish early into this walk, but this one did dig for the bottom and found a tree or some branches to run under.  I could see him pulsing on the end of my anchor fly, but the dropper a couple feet up the line was snagged in the debris.  It was too deep to go get him, so I waited to see if he could free himself and my fly, but instead he got off.  I only lost the dropper, though, so that was courteous.  This fish was maybe 15 inches, so not huge, but I would have liked a pic, you know?  After that, I landed three small fish in short order.  A size 18 pheasant tail dropper was very effective with all the olives coming off, but I think the larger fish were looking for the larger caddis, perhaps. 

Some eager youngsters kept the action pretty steady.

Like I said above, I found a few different year classes today, which is good news for the fishery, but I lost a second decent fish further upstream too, so while I was gifted when it came to landing a bunch of small fish, besides the big one from the morning, I was experiencing diminishing returns when it mattered.  As I got into position for what I planned to be my last hole, one where I have landed a 19 and a 17 in the past, I snagged up and lost my flies not once but twice.  I decided I was tired and that was why I was okay with quitting by noon today, which was actually true.  I was up at 2:30 AM to use the bathroom and never got back to sleep before my 3:30 AM alarm, and I took a two-hour drive from 4 to 6 AM, and then waded some heavier water for a few hours in humid conditions and only a peanut butter and jelly sammy.  I suppose I had earned my diminished skills.  After giving a streamer a few half-hearted swings through this last hole, just to say I fished it, I suppose, I climbed up onto the streets, found the river trail, and took the short walk back to the Subaru.  I definitely needed a cup of coffee around Hickory Run, and I can tell by the tone of this blog post that I should be in bed now, but I did make it home in one piece and have some good pictures of a beautiful wild brown for all the effort!

So much for my theory that the larger fish were on caddis not BWOs!

May 7, 2018 – Be Kinder Rewinder – Return to an Oley Valley Limestoner a Little Wiser

Eating well, this one.  One might mistakenly call her stocky...

On April 20^th of this year, which was my birthday, I took a fishing trip and afterwards bemoaned the fact that I could be losing my nymphing touch after chasing stocked fish in the Wissy for a lot of the month.  I landed quite a number of fish that day, but I was convinced that I had missed about four wild fish in the last hole I fished, forcing it a bit in order to get a couple before racing home.  A good day ended in a rush and on a bad note.  I am usually more patient with myself and more humble, but it was just a day to be pissy, I guess.  In an effort to not repeat mistakes, I returned to the same stretch of creek late this morning and spent a good 4 hours on the water, once again the only stick on the crick, as I have grown fond of saying.  This stretch of water is stocked, but it holds a small wild population of fish, sometimes a decent population of wild fish on cooler, wetter years.  I had one of my better days here today, landing at least 4 wild browns, definitely losing another one at my feet, and also catching close to a dozen stocked fish, including a couple rainbows that certainly thought they were wild, all toothy and colored up like, well, rainbows.

A decent start.

I did not waste a lot of time in the lower end of the creek, stopping only to catch a few stocked trout in a few prime holes on my way up to the spot where I was seeking a little redemption, a little reset.  I caught an acrobatic little rainbow at my first stop, but only gave the hole a few more casts before moving on to the next one.  The next stop yielded a rainbow and three stocked browns, including one brown that was getting nicely colored, perhaps a hold-over from last season.  I was happy to catch fish, but I didn’t spend much time in any spot for long, my intention to hit the run where my chances of finding some wild fish were the best.  I took a couple casts in a nice run where I usually hook a few fish, but came up empty, but then I stuck two rainbows sight-fishing some froggy water (with actual frogs in it) that had a good overhanging tree keeping a brace of bows feeling safe.

More colorful that a the wild fish!

I was happy to see a good hatch of black caddis flies around noon.  Smaller tan caddis and midges were working before that, and my stocked fish mostly took a hare’s ear that was tied off my dropper tag.  Seeing the dark caddis, however, I switched out my anchor fly to something mayfly-ish, a simple “tag” fly with a pop of color on the collar, and I replaced my hare’s ear with a caddis pupa with a black tungsten beadhead.  That was a good call, as the dark caddis were even thicker when I arrived at “redemption run.”  I started out catching two beautiful rainbows that both took a few leaps, and I was starting to doubt my conviction that I had missed wild browns when I was here in April, rushing my approach through the best hole on the creek.  Thankfully, I got confirmation in the form of a pale wild brown, which also ate the caddis pupa that was higher in the water column than my anchor fly. 

A pale one like the caddis pupa.

Toothy and with a nice red band too.

I had landed three acrobatic fish in a short while, so I decided to push ahead and rest the hole, perhaps giving it another shot on the way back down.  There is a bit more water before it becomes posted, and I have tangled with some wild browns (and kamikaze chubs) in the small wooded pockets and plunge pools above this hole.  This was a good call because I saw a couple small fish rising before I stuck another prettier wild brown who was tight to the roots of a tree where water was pushing under.  This fish, and the one I lost at my next stop, also a wild fish and larger, both took the tag fly like they wanted it.  After catch a couple of the aforementioned chubs and coming up empty at the last unposted hole, I turned back downstream and tried to stay out of the water as much as possible so as not to cloudy my spot downstream. 

A couple prettier ones liked the "tag" fly I was using as the anchor fly.

I must have done a pretty decent job, or the fish liked that I was stirring up a free meal, because when I returned to fish the hole it produced a couple more rainbows that were in great shape, also very strong and acrobatic.  I got bounced a couple times as my nymphs were falling, so fish were probably taking the caddis as they emerged, but I only hooked one of these overeager fish.  The rest were on a tighline in braided water or just at the edge of the riffle and deeper hole.  Time was running out, it being almost 3 PM and me looking at an hour long ride home to meet the boy after the bus dropped him off, so I gave myself permission to take 5 more casts.  Unlike last time I was here, I took my time, concentrated, and I landed another gorgeous bow and the fat wild brown that opens this post.  I ended on that note, satisfied that I had given myself the chance to unwind, rewind, be humble and kinder to myself, and have a good day with both wild and stocked fish, which I do appreciate, honestly, especially when they start acting like real fish this time of year!

Another solid looker/leaper.

No creek pics today, so more fish pics??