July 31, 2019 – Take a Look, It’s in a Book – Laurel Highlands of PA Adventure

The iconic shot.

The family and I went west for a few days this week, visiting the Laurel Highlands of Southwestern PA.  Tami has always wanted to see the Frank Lloyd Wright house on Bear Run, so she booked a few days in an Airbnb in the Seven Springs Resort for a little family vacation before she goes back to work this week and the boy has to enroll in “Camp Dad” for a couple weeks before he goes to real camp.  Our last hurrah this summer as a family was a good time.  Fallingwater was impressive, all the more so with a tour guide who was cross-trained to do a tour of the art within the home too.  I surely took enough art history classes in undergrad to count as a minor had I thought to declare such a thing, so I was in art nerd heaven.  Like me, Tami loves the woods and Wright’s philosophy of living in and with nature, so she too was overwhelmed with the beauty of the place.  The boy, I think he enjoyed it too.  What’s not to like about a house with a waterfall and a creek running under it, plus a snack bar and gift shop onsite?

Living the hillbilly high life!

We also visited Ohiopyle on Monday at the height of hillbilly high life season.   I wanted to show the boy and perhaps take part in the natural water slides I had read about, and I wanted to see the mighty Yough.  I did not realize that midday on a summer day in Ohiopyle would be like visiting Wildwood, NJ.  We did get to see the Youghiogheny River and the have ice cream at the general store, even drove up to scope out another Wright home on Kentuck Knob for another visit another time, but we had had enough of all the people by 3 PM, so we did not drive to Confluence or any other nearby spots.  I prefer my nature without the crowds.  Let’s just say Ohiopyle is a well utilized public resource, ground zero for many overlapping outdoor pursuits.

Alpine slide, boy.

It was convenient to stay within the Seven Springs resort, however, as we spent Tuesday within a mile of the place, riding a chairlift, running down the alpine slide a few times, playing mini-golf, and so on.  We had a nearly private pool in the condo development and views of the stars from atop the ski slopes out our back deck.  The resort is full of ponds and lakes stocked with fish, but I didn’t feel like paying for the boy to catch sunfish when so many state parks were around.  I also had a terrible experience with the Orvis shop in the resort.  Dude wanted no parts of talking fishing or conditions on any body of water outside of the resort.  He seemed miffed that I wouldn’t know to go to the outfitter that offers clay shooting at the other end of the resort instead of a fly shop for information.  I think I just asked about water temperatures in some of the nearby freestoner, and we were the only people in the shop.  Needless to say, even if the boy wanted to fish, I was not buying a daily pass from this mitch.  This was not a fishing vacation, so I didn’t do much planning around fishing, but I was in a new region with a lot of fishing possibilities, so I had to go fishing at least one day.  I brought along the Keystone Fly Fishing book to help me wing something if conditions at the end of July warranted a short fishing trip with or without the boy, warmwater or cold-. 

Some small stream sneaking in late July.

Instead of going with big water, I found a nearby spot that I could hike into and possibly find some holdovers and wild fish.  There were thunderstorms throughout the day on Tuesday, and some more violent storms woke me up in the night.  I remember thinking that a bit more water may be a good thing—but not too much please!  We were leaving today, so I got up early and drove to a cold water tributary of Laurel Hill Creek very early this morning.  Perhaps fueled by fears of Ohiopyle-sized crowds, I arrived at 5:30 AM, so under the canopy of trees, it was nearly dark when I started the one mile hike up along the creek.  Since it was too dark to fish yet, I just hiked up to a dam, itself sort of a design marvel, scouting the creek along the way and enjoying the cool yet humid conditions, the rushing of the creek, the water dripping from the lush trees, the reanimated mountain rivulets flushing the surrounding woods. 

Another man-made natural wonder.

When I reached the dam, sort of the end of the line for any coolwater fishing, I took advantage of the additional light that the clearing above the small pond behind the dam provided and made my first casts.  I had on small bugs, a size 16 frenchie as my anchor fly and a smaller caddis pupa on the dropper.  I expected to find a few fish home in the hole and wash below the dam, but I was really happy to land at least seven fish here.  I started out with some stocked browns and brookies, but I ended with a pair of browns that looked wild.  I even dropped a brookie that was under 4 inches long, so I was now pretty excited to work some of the pocket water and riffles I had passed on the hike upstream. 

Some fish before sunrise.

The Keystone book said the creek held over fish each year and also had wild and natives in the watershed, but knowing how wet it’s been and how the creeks close to home have benefited from the rains, I was expecting to find a few more fish than a normal year if water temperatures were still okay.  Thankfully, I was very right!  I only fished for about 2.5 hours with all the walking, but I lost count after a dozen fish.  I ended the morning with about 15 or 16 fish, which is pretty fun on a new piece of water.  Once I had landed all those fish at the first spot, some before the official sunrise time, I was content to hunt for them in tougher spots downstream even if they were not there.  Although I had a hunch, I was still grateful that there were fish in most of the little plunge pools and deeper runs, especially the ones farther from my parking spot.  As is often the case, the further from access points, the better the fishing, especially on public land.

The longtime residents noticed the early caddis hatch and took small bugs on the dropper tag.

While releasing the first few stocked fish, I began to notice a caddis hatch and began to notice a few fish noticing the caddis too.  One fish that rose ended up being the little brookie I mentioned above, but I also targeted and landed two really pretty, likely wild browns before I left the first hole.  I hiked downstream to a small footbridge below a long set of deeper riffles, and I began to work every little spot as I moved slowly upstream.  I was holding my 10 foot 3 weight, so I was doing a lot of bow and arrow casting, but I did catch a good number of fish in this stretch as well.  A couple of the browns were fat and colorful, even parred up, and could have been multi-year holdovers if not wild fish, but a few more were definitely wild too.

Parred up plumper.

Even with the rain overnight, the creek was small and shallow.  It was also beginning to clear up as the sun rose higher.  For July 31 on a freestone creek, however, conditions were rather good.  The water was not even 64 degrees.  To support the fact that this creek stays cold year round, in addition to the wild and likely holdover browns, I found a handful of brookies, none over 7 inches long, but fun to catch.  The water was getting skinnier and narrower.  With a dry dropper, I would have fished a few spots differently, but I was content to target the high percentage heads and plunges of the pools, eventually changing tactics and moving pretty quickly to the better spots I could spy up ahead, perhaps maximizing my time too.  We had to check out at 11 AM, and I had to contribute to the cleaning list and the load out before that too, so while I was relaxed and having fun, I also knew that I had a 15 minute hike back, provided I didn’t make a wrong turn anywhere.  The trail was well marked, so that did not prove to be a problem, but I had made the initial hike in false dawn conditions. 

Cold water confirmation.

Now that it was getting brighter, I stopped to take a few creek pictures and take in the scenery.  If we return to this area, I would certainly take the boy on a hike and wet wading experience along this creek.  The trails were well-maintained and easy to hike, so even Tami’s knees would not suffer too much here.  The nicest thing was seeing almost the entire riparian buffer intact and no dog beaches or even litter of any kind.  The only footprints I saw on the path were my own today, too, so my fears of Ohiopyle crowds were unfounded.  This little creek was not as sexy as the mighty Yough or Casselman, certainly not as exciting as the water slides of Meadow Run, but it was what I needed today, a quiet, beautiful place away from the summertime crowds.  Even just a few fish would have been perfect.

Some sunlight to show off the colors finally.

I found a few more fish, wild, native, and holdover, in the last set of runs I fished, but conditions were changing.  The bottom was sandier with more down timber, and deeper water seemed harder to find.  I decided to take a walk towards the car and then, after checking the time, decide if a short downstream hike was worth my while.  When I reached the car it was 8:45 AM, so I decided to call it a morning.  I took my time and broke down my rod for the drive home to Philly.  I even took another water temp reading while I was taking off my waders and packing them up for the long drive home.  The water, even at the parking lot, was still under 65, so I felt lucky to get in a very productive small stream trout fishing day on the final day of July and the final day of our mini vacation. 

Another small stream plumper in some sunlight.

I remember having mixed feelings about the Keystone book when it came out because it shared some carefully guarded secrets about some of my favorite creeks and shared information it took many of us years to acquire.  However, I also saw the value of the resource when visiting a new region of the state and trusted the accuracy of the info because the streams I knew already were covered accurately.  I am still of the mind that too much purely logistical information is covered in sometimes minute detail, but since the grump at the Orvis shop was useless, I was glad I brought the book with me this week.  Without it, I may have been chasing pay to play sunfish or atrophied spring stockers instead of having a fun adventure in the Laurel Highlands.  

Just the escape I needed before a 4 hour car ride home.

July 25, 2019 – Cooler Temps, Better Flows, Good Morning, Even Pictures – Northampton County Limestoner

Still going...

After the last round of rain—just rain not the seemingly endless line of evening thunderstorms—the overnight temperatures dropped for a couple nights in a row.  I was ready to swear off trout after the last heat wave, but the prior couple of days found me mulling over possibilities.  It is a short break until hot weather returns this weekend and still a short early morning window, but a pair of 60 degree overnights was encouraging.  During my walk in Center City to my car tonight the air still felt less humid and crisper even though it reached the high 80s this afternoon.  I was up late after class last night, and was wide awake at 3 AM this morning, so I stayed up, got dressed, made coffee, and packed the car for a relatively short ride.  I arrived at the creek before 5:30 AM, so I was about 20 minutes early for sunrise, but there was enough gray light to suit up and take a walk downstream to some pocket water and runs I had in mind.  The water was up, probably pushing 30 to 50 more than normal, but even in the gray light, I could pick out rocks in the riffles.  Daylight would prove that the visibility was good for nymphing even if the flows added a new challenge or slightly changed the places fish would be hanging.

Some color and higher flows.

Before I ducked through spider webs and stepped through the muddy post-flood debris to enter the creek, I caught the attention of two foxes that were either sparring or courting.  They were too big to be kits, maybe last year’s young, but they were feisty and curious.  I bet they don’t see many people without dogs at this early hour.  They eventually spooked, but not as quickly as the typical fox.  I quickly worked this pocket water and a couple runs and only landed one little wild brown and lost another slightly better fish.  I just kept moving, confident that the magic hours of 7 to 9 or 9:30 AM would eventually pay off.  Even though water was moving, I could see and was getting good drifts, so I remained confident that something would happen before quitting time. When I reached my parking spot again, I had one more fish to show for the effort, so I spent some time in deeper water for about 30 minutes and finally landed a couple of nice fish in the 12 to 13 inch range. 

Some decent and feisty fish in the mix, maybe 5 out of 12.

These better fish fought really well and used the heavier current to their advantage.  I remembered to keep my legs closed to avoid one of them shooting behind me in the waist deep water, and I was happy to have the bigger net.  After touching base with Tami at home and promising to quit around 9:30 AM so she could go to an appointment without leaving the boy home alone for too long, I took note of the 7:30 AM time.  For the next two hours, I had a steady pick of fish in riffles and pocket water.  I landed the vast majority, but I did drop a few little ones and one that felt decent.  By the time I reached a logical place to quit and turn back, I had counted an even dozen fish in the net.  

A pretty and solid average for the morning.

Nothing really big, but along with the 8 to 10 inchers, I landed a handful of respectable and hard fighting fish for the third week of July.  A couple took a small caddis on the dropper, and with the tricos in the air, with lower flows I am sure other small bugs would have worked, but I had to use a pair of heavier and larger pheasant tail and Frenchie combos to get down to the fish.  The reliable pink tag fly on a jig hook accounted for most of the fish, but a Frenchie with a gold hot spot did well too.  Quitting time came a bit early, especially since I caught 2 or 3 fish at my last spot, but rush hour was winding down, so I left for home before 9:40 AM and was having breakfast with the boy by 10:45 AM.  We are heading towards the Laurel Highlands this weekend, and I am packing a rod or two in case opportunity presents itself again.  Even throwing a streamer for smallmouth is a possibility if conditions seem too hot for trout.

Didn't drop the old phone today, so I can end with some more pictures!

July 19, 2019 – Phoneless, so therefore Camera-less, but not Fishless (Eventually) – Northampton County Limestoners

Cold stained water for Ron.  Ended up being the only successful photo of the day, too.

I am about due, perhaps overdue, for a new cellphone.  I may have gotten the motivation to shop that I needed today, too.  My morning began with a dead phone on the charger at 4 AM.  I plugged it in to charge before I went to bed a little after 11 PM last night, but instead of charging up it discharged, just one of many little annoyances the device has presented in the last month or more (a lot of blurry pictures too).  Good times.  I had decided to take about an hour ride towards the Bushkill, which was high but dropping, so I figured I could charge it up on the ride north.  If the Bushkill was not happening, I knew I could visit Bethlehem before it got too hot.  I wanted to quit by 10 AM at the latest today because of the excessive heat warnings in the forecast.  Even the creeks that have been low 60’s would likely spike today, but the rivers were flooded out, and I did not have the time or energy to take a longer ride to the beach or something more adventurous.  Well, the ride to the first creek gave me about 30 percent of a charge by the time I arrived.  Power saving mode and hope for the best.  The creek was more stained than I would have liked even though it was fishable and wadable.  Since I took the phone out to try and capture a photo of a mink along the bank across from me, I also managed to get one good creek picture, which opens this post.  Not long after, I also managed to drop my 30% charged phone in the water!  Again, good times.  It seemed okay, but about an hour later, it was at 2% charge and then shut itself off.  No big deal since the Bushkill was not happening for this guy today. 

Artist's rendering....

I tried both nymphing a pair of bugs and also high sticking a black leech to see if a streamer bite might happen before I quit the Bushkill.  Fishless.  When I got back to the car, I tried to charge the phone, but it was acting squirrely, so I ended up taking it apart and removing the battery to let everything dry when I arrived at the Saucon for a short round two.   Phoneless.  Camera-less.  Murphy’s Law would say I would land a 20 today on Saucon, but while I caught fish that did not happen.  The flow and clarity were better here; there were even some tricos hatching.  I quickly caught three small wild browns, probably 9 to 10 inchers, while nymphing a run with some decent visibility.  I tried a weenie on the dropper and tucking the flies up in the softer water by the bank too, but the first 4 fish I caught all hit a pink tag fly, about a size 14 on a jig hook.  At least one of the first 4 fish took the bug on the swing, too, so I started letting the drift go longer and ended up getting another on the swing and a couple chasing the bug to the surface and missing or refusing.  After that, I decided to clip off the weenie and add something caddis-like.  I hooked three good fish and landed two of them on this caddis dropper.  Both that I landed were hot hold-over rainbows about 14 inches, so I will let myself believe that the third was also a rainbow.  When the third good fish came off, the flies ended up in a tree behind me out of reach.  It was after 10 AM and already hot.  I was also hungry, tired, probably thirsty, so I snagged again a few minutes later.  Diminishing returns, yo.  Since fishing was decent, though, I had to retie one more time, and I did land another wild brown about 11 inches on the tag fly in the last riffle I targeted before crossing the creek and taking a worn path back to the car.  Sorry, no fish pics, but I was happy to catch some trout, maybe 8, in my last hour of the morning, especially after that trying first stop.  My other plan worked too, as the reassembled phone did take a charge on the way home.  Nevertheless, I will still be shopping for a new one this weekend, as it will be too hot to fish anywhere but the beach (at night), anyway!

July 15, 2019 – Uncle Sam and I Sneak One in Around Family Time – Centre County Limestoners

Let the nymphing begin.

I may have told the story here about how my wife and her friend Sharon set Sam, her brother, and me up on a fishing man-date some years ago.  My wife and Sharon have been friends for a long time, maybe 15 years or more, both public school teachers together for a time, and both have precocious and easy-going only children who still get along well to this very day.  In passing, I knew that Sharon’s brother fly fished and worked at fly shops, but he was not in the area at the time, not even in PA.   One Christmas, Tami surprised me with a nice box of custom flies from the vice of Sam Galt, now back in State College, and the generous Sam added a note about how the flies also came with a free trip should I make the drive out to Central Pennsylvania that spring.  The rest has been documented here.  In the beginning, I was getting back into fly fishing after a long hiatus, mostly to feed a surf fishing addiction, so I was basically getting an instructional guided trip by a guide on his days off—the only payment, a few quality beers from home, maybe a classy Nittany Minimart lunch in waders and linoleum-puncturing spikes, perhaps my notable wit.  Now, it is more like two guys fishing together, although one is still quite a bit more skilled than the other if you know what I am saying.... 

Family vacation first.

Because our son and Sharon’s daughter, Sam’s niece, have known each other for their entire lives, they get along very well, and both are a pleasure to travel with, so Tami and Sharon have done short vacations together with the kids.  This year, our families, including Sam and Sharon’s mom, decided to rent an Airbnb in Centre Hall, PA for a few days.  Everybody wins, you know?  Tami and Sharon get to see each other, Sharon’s mom gets to see her busy son (and her kids and grandchild together), the tweens have each other to play with, and I get at least one morning with Sam in some great summer fishing conditions.  We actually spent a lot of time together, my family and Team Galt, including a couple meals, some beers on the farm house porch, and Sam’s tour of the Poe Paddies via the scenic route—more scenic for the lead car in our caravan as, ironically enough in this year (okay, two) of the rain storm, the gravel roads were a dusty mess.  Sam asked when we arrived at our first stop, Did you see the flock of wild turkeys?  I slowed down.  To which I replied, We saw nothing but dirt and brake lights, bruh. 

Plenty of solid fish in the mix.

Sam was splitting time between home, only 15 minutes away, where he got to sleep in his own bed, and our rental, but he took the three days off to spend quality time with his family, who drove the 3 hours and change from SEPA to visit him.   We contemplated taking the kids to a private stretch one afternoon, and Lukas and I spotted fish for a while in Bellefonte along the walkways, but Sam and I ended up only fishing Monday morning for about four hours.  I could not visit Central PA and not fish, and Sam and I did not connect this spring like we did the last couple, but both of us were trying to spend time with the families this week.  Call it good karma, but on the day we did fish we had a 30 fish morning with two or three fish over 17 inches, one pushing 19, so a very successful outing for a leisurely vacation time excursion.

My best of the morning.

So Tami could have my car to get coffee in the morning and so forth, Sam picked me up at our rental farm house at 5:30 AM.  I was up by 4 AM, drinking coffee after one of those bad night’s sleep that I am sure others have experienced while traveling, often that first night in a new space.  A bad bed, a little hot, a few drinks, pizza, Meyer’s Ice Cream, a lot driving on Sunday, a little anticipation of a good fishing morning ahead, and so on conspired to grant me a solid three hours, I estimate.  At least I didn’t miss any guides while putting my rod together and rigging up in the driveway in the morning.  Besides a little roughness on the nail knot I tied at home before we left home, I had most of my game in decent shape considering.  I did determine on Sunday afternoon that I had forgotten my waders, however.  I had my boots and socks.  Thankfully, Sam was able to lend me a pair from the shop for the day after talking me out of wet wading.  Once I was waist deep on a 60 degree morning in the 60 degree water of the creek, I thanked him a few times.

The first of the day, I believe.

Nymphing a pink tag fly as the anchor and a size 18 frenchie with a purple hot spot on the collar—sparse, nearly a perdigon profile—I had a great start to the morning, landing at least 10 fish on the short day.  I was still sharp early, especially at our first stop.  I landed at least one fish at each hole we visited, most of them quality fish.  We both landed a few dinks between 8 and 10 inches, at least one small holdover rainbow or fingerling stocker mid-growth, but also several good fish, ranging from 15 inches up to the kicker of the day, my solid 19 incher captured in a photo by Sam above, along with kneeling bearded man and scavenged net (I deleted your original email, so send me another message if you want it back this summer!).  

Content

Sam had just got done telling me that he saw a big fish in four inches of water here in this very spot during a night fishing excursion this summer, how he will shine a spotlight’s beam on the water after he’s finished fishing in order to see what he missed, how the big fish are often up in skinny water waiting on crayfish and sculpin and any other living mouthful that happens to find its way into the nighttime shallows.  He took the head of the run, and I brought up the rear, targeting a back eddy that swirls below a low hanging tree branch.  On my second drift, this fish, likely the same beauty he just described, took my anchor fly and put on a good exhibition of bulldogging.  No jumps but a good close quarters tug of water and one attempt to get downstream that I was not going to let happen.  I love when I can get away with 4X tippet!  My morning was quickly made.  Before we left for another spot, I caught at least two more fish in the 15 inch range, and so did Sam, but I would have been content right here.

Sam's best and a good story.

It was getting past 9 AM, and Sam had one more spot in mind where riffles are split by an island.  After a walk and some bushwhacking, Sam let me pick a side, and my side had a spot that could surely hold a beast.  We saw plenty of bugs all day, but the tricos were thick here.  Spent trico spinners were in the soft water at the head and tail of the island.  Fish were rising in the pools above and below us.  But it was getting hot and past 10 AM, which is when we told the others we would quit, so we were going to nymph this riffle and call it a day.  I caught a few little fish on my side, but before we even lost sight of each other in the high grass of the island, Sam had landed 5 fish, mostly on his drowned ant pattern or a weenie on the dropper. 

Tricos not pollen....

 His side of the island was on fire, and he too was in the zone.  As the sun gets up higher, the inchworms and ants get active, he says, and I have no reason to disagree after he put on a show for the last 45 minutes of the morning.  At one point I heard him whoop and call for me, so I backtracked to see him land his own good fish, probably only a hair shorter and skinnier than mine.  The fish attacked his rig when it was snagged on a tree limb in a deadfall, so after he broke off and retied, he tossed a single weenie back in the same spot and came tight to this great fish.  He continued to land more fish, including another that was probably 16 by my estimation from 30 feet downstream.  My mojo was moving in the complete opposite direction.  My exhaustion had caught up with me on the ride over to this second spot, and then we took a walk in the hot sun once we arrived, so I was getting a bit sloppier and lazier when I needed to be the sharpest—we were fishing fast runs with nothing but brush and branches over the small, deep pockets near the bank offering respite and cover for the fish in the bright sun.

Another angle on Sam's inchworm fish, I believe.

I landed one more and missed at least two others on this side of the island, but I bet Sam had over ten fish in the net in this short span.  I had some weenies, even a tungsten ant, but I was good watching the show.  Sam does not always fish his "A" game when I am out there, probably because he wants me to have a good time, and he enjoys the social fishing too.  He has been guiding a lot this year, however, so I was happy he took full advantage of his morning on the water.  He booked a half day for Wednesday with a client while we were out there, in fact!  While watching the man in action, I certainly learned a little about sunken terrestrial fishing.  July is not just tricos, beatles, and ants on the surface.  These fish ate those tumbling, drowned offerings like they were the high protein delicacies they no doubt are.  

A healthy average and numbers.

We both powered through the rest of our day, visiting Poe Paddy and the lake, doing the scenic overlook pics, watching the tubers float Penns Creek, getting dinner with the families.  I intended to take a nap, but instead hosed the dust off my car, packed up a bit, watched some television with the boy, sat some porch in the farm fresh air (that’s manure when the wind changes direction).  After a beer, I was still asleep by 10:30 PM and thought about getting out during the magic 7:30 to 9:30 AM window today, but I decided that Monday was enough.  It was a good mini-vacation and fun to hang with my family and the Galts in a shared space.  As we did our best to honor the cleaning checklist and pack the cars for home, I certainly slipped Sam some cash for my seasonal fix of his custom flies (maybe even some of those ants), but I saved enough money to take a ride into town and get the boy one more serving of ice cream from the Creamery on campus and Tami a good breakfast sandwich before we pointed the Subaru towards the excessive heat warnings of home.

Another of Sam's, maybe his first of many on the day.