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| So his wife knows he wasn't up to no good. |
I met Wardman at one of my late spring go-to spots today to
continue his fly fishing journey. With
more free time this spring, mostly due to fewer coaching hours with his
athletic young daughters, he has invested time, money, and energy into fishing
more. He has gotten out with me a
couple times, once with Eric and me, and a couple times by himself too. That is more than he has fished in the last five
years or more combined! I remember how fun
it was to buy stuff and try stuff and hope for the best. I also remember the frustrating hours alone figuring
stuff out. Videos and magazines want it
to look easy, as if the right fly is all you need; books want to tell you to park
here and catch fish. But there is no substitute
for time on the water. In this latest
iteration of my fly fishing life, maybe one of three different phases since my early
teens, I came out the other side of six years and nearly 500 trips with the
attitude of, “Give me a frenchie and a walts worm in three different sizes, and
I will catch fish anywhere in PA you point me.”
A lot of that came from the help of others over the years. I may have mentioned a couple friends of my
dad who took me out when I was in my twenties and showed me a lot, especially
about dry fly fishing, and I know I have mentioned a certain dude who guides in
State College when not giving me a few pointers on the nymphing and streamer
game each time we fish together. I still
fish alone a lot, and I need to, but I have fished with others more over the
last few years, and I enjoy teaching and learning along the way—it is what I do
for a living, after all.
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Low and clear, caddis, pretty wild brown.
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The water at this particular creek was low today, which was
good and bad. The bad was that much of
the prime water I was hoping to target, or did target, with Ward today was
devoid of life—more accurately devoid of life as we got within 50 feet of the
water. The good thing is that the fish that
were catchable were easy enough to locate in the bouncy, deep riffles. That is just a good summer pattern,
anyway. There were two different kinds
of caddis out, sometimes in force, but even that could not lure the reluctant
fish from taking their heads out of the plunges and spreading out to eat. Everything I hooked and/or landed today came
on a sparse size 16 frenchie, barely a fly in the grand scheme of things. And even with this small bug on 6X, the fish
barely registered a hit. I am sure the
high sun had them spooked, low water and high pressure had them feeling a
little off their game. Thankfully, I was
on my game enough to capitalize of the limited opportunities, even landing a
good wild brown about 16 inches and plump, but I did drop at least three that I
can remember after a couple brief head shakes.
I worked with Ward much of the day, and he too had success in rather tough fishing conditions.
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| Pretty holdover bow, brookie not as cute. |
Before we went our separate ways around 11 AM, we figured
he landed 1.75 fish. I got a pic of
neither, but we were close to “touching the leader” as offshore fishermen say on
two occasions. He accomplished the hard
part of rigging, selecting a bug, presenting the flies well, and hooking the
fish, one in a technical little spot with heavy water and tree limbs overhead. Like others I fish with, even young Eric who
is pretty darn good, the next step in their process is landing fish with confidence! Like learning to re-rig or change bugs quickly, that takes reps, a luxury that I have been
fortunate enough to have, but there are a few moments each year that I would
love a do-over on—including with my white whale that lives in the very creek
that Ward and I fished today. |
| The smallest bug I could get away with as anchor fly. |
The first spot was disappointing, though it did net us a
few fish, including a beauty holdover bow and some club stocked brookies. The second spot we drove to was also disappointing,
but it did yield the aforementioned wild brown, which was a lot of fun. Small dark caddis were going off, and we were
eventually parked in a prime hole, but nary a splashy rise took place. We still had to dig a few out of the white
water, and we almost had to force feed them small bugs. I had two hits, and lost a smaller fish, nearly
in the same line, before the best fish of the day actually opened up and
ate. I am accustomed to fish being
difficult at times on this creek, but with all the bugs hatching, I was hoping
they might be cooperative for Ward today.
The water was so low and clear in one spot that I could clearly see a
piece of structure that has eaten many of my bugs over the years. I still don’t know what it is, but it looks construction-y,
like cement sewer or storm drain debris—urban fishing spots tend to have decades
of obsolete nonsense in the water. I
have known to avoid this drift for years, but now I know what I am avoiding,
sort of….
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| Took about 6 drifts in the same riffle.... |
The day began cool, like in the mid-50s, and it remained
comfortable until quitting time, but by 11 AM, shade—the only chance we had for
some potential stealth—was at a premium.
It was a beautiful morning to be outdoors. We saw a momma merganser with a brace of
ducklings following her and even twin fawns trying to keep up with a pair of
mildly inconvenienced does. At this second
spot, I also picked up one and lost another stocked bow in a riffle before we
quit, but we could not get one to eat Ward’s bugs. The caddis had me hopeful, so I gave Ward an
elbow bump at the parking lot and gave a favorite run of pocket water one more
shot before I too left for home. In high
sun, the water looked even lower and clearer, so I covered the beat in about 15
unsuccessful minutes and called it good, well, decent anyway. I do not see any rain in the forecast, so I
am not sure what I will do this week, but I do want to get out at least once
before Friday when this writer’s retreat begins.
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| My new phone obeyed Ward's verbal command to shoot. |
The funny thing about today was that all my fishing buddies,
many of them also proteges, I guess, were sending me pictures of success! Eric went to our secret spot and landed fish
on his new hares ear hybrid we are calling Jessica (i.e. Rabbit) and the Silver
Fox caught a PB small stream pig wild brown at his tiny brookie spot that we
have fished together. Before I went to
bed, I was also exchanging texts with Bucci, who’s son David caught a mess of
porky stocked brookies, even a tiger, on a NEPA trip last month. Team Bucci wanted to get out with me on
Monday, but I had too much work to do, and no clue where to go in these meh
flows. To that end, Pete made a visit to
the Pennypack, which is probably warm as hell right now, and etched his first skunk,
which usually means it’s over until the fall.
He has been slaying on the multispecies front up until today. I am glad my little fishing network is having
success. If I don’t get out this week, I
will be back in the game by June 27 when I come up for air.
Thanks brotha! It was a tough one indeed. just hit buy on Frenchies.... :-)
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