January 17 and 19, 2021 – Cold and Clear and More of the Same – Berks County

Yay, fish pic!

Ahead of a busy work week and the first cold snap in a while, I did sneak out for a couple midday trips on Sunday and Tuesday.  I did not expect much and did not do much planning beyond wanting to check out two or three smaller Berks County creeks that I usually visit in the winter.  They all have wild fish but a couple are stocked too.  In the summer and fall, there are still holdovers along with the wild fish that are willing to eat, but by the winter time, it is the wild population that seems to take over.  Once the stockies are gone or dead or washed into deeper water, it is amazing some years just how many wild fish remain.  Makes you wonder why the stocking sometimes.  Most of the wild fish are stunted, for sure, like brown trout versions of brook trout, where an 8 or 9 incher is a solid fish, but I have tangled with a few 12 and 13 inchers in all.  The non-posted sections of the creeks seem to shrink each year, which is sad but expected in a county so close to sprawling Chester and Montgomery counties.  Their populations seem to fluctuate year to year too, with last year being a year where a solid year class of fish contributed to some good reliable fishing, and those same conditions allowed a few more bigger fish to thrive. 

A four-hour skunking?

I chose the creek I did on Sunday because I did not expect to find anyone else out fishing on a breezy and cold weekend morning.  Tami needed help with dropping off her car for inspection, so I did not leave the house until 9:30 AM, but I was suited up and fishing by 10:45.  I did not encounter another soul, but I barely saw evidence of fish.  I put a full four hours of fishing in for one solid hit, and I missed the fish.  Not even a chub or sucker to show for all the wading.  It was cold fronty and bordering on windy not just breezy, so the fish might have felt a little off their game.  With such a slow start, I too was likely off my game by the time I found a hole where the fish usually bunch up in winter.  The missed strike was a result.  I did well here late in the fall, but I was dismayed even then by how altered the creek was following the bigger storms in 2020.  I ventured further upstream this time, all the way to a former honey hole, rimmed with fresh posted signs and at least two deer stands, and that hole was the most silted up of all.  There are legit reasons why the population of wild fish struggle here some years.  I am sure bug life and any spawning redds (most of that happens in tributaries here, however) are also adversely affected some years, and thus the continued stocking, I suppose.

Improved conditions and action on Tuesday.

The creek on Tuesday was a last minute thing.  I drove close to an hour to fish just over 2 hours, and from 1:30 to 3:45, smack in the middle of the afternoon.  It felt warmer, at least, but it was still breezy.  I also had this one to myself, although boot prints were everywhere, especially around the deeper holes and runs.  Unlike Sunday, I did catch fish, at least.  I got on the board early with two rather decent wild browns for this creek, both over 10 inches long.  They took bigger bugs, one a CDC tag fly and the other a big juicy caddis larva pictured in the collage.  I also caught a couple suckers and a few chubs while targeting the tailouts of deeper pools.  I could see plenty of smaller fish bunched up in deep sandy cuts, and midges hatched for at least 30 minutes, but no risers and the fish overall seemed spookier than normal.  The flows at both creeks were great for this time of year, but with no recent precipitation and none in the immediate future, the water is gin clear.  Add the storm damage and all the light colored sand and scoured exposed rock, and the fish are likely bunched up deep until they spook to wood and undercuts.  This second creek, however, was in very good shape with no major alterations since last winter.  Tuesday was a longish ride for a couple fish, but it was good to get out, especially in light of worsening conditions for the rest of the week.

January 14, 2021 – Went for Broke and Broke One Off – Brodhead Creek

My consolation prize.

As I promised myself earlier this week, I committed to fishing some bigger water today with big stoneflies in the hopes of tangling with a pig or two.  I pretty much did what I did last week on Penns and fished 4x on a mono rig with a big heavy stonefly on the anchor and a size 14 soft hackle on the dropper.  I had exactly four hits, I believe.  I landed one approximately 17 inches in pocket water, and I battled a monster almost to the net before he broke off.  I had so much adrenaline running through me that I nearly threw up again, and it took some self-control not my toss the rod into the woods or worse. I had three big deep runs in mind when I arrived today, but I never left the second one, which produced the only action.  I arrived about 10:30 AM, and fished spot one, which is a deep hole and eddy.  I probably spent a good hour here, losing some bugs, so I know I was getting down, but not getting a tap.  Using the wading staff, I made a “safe” crossing and even fished the other side for a while, but I could not rouse one.  I was disappointed because I was hoping this easy to access spot would prove to be good this time of year, as it does on paper, but instead I had to make the aforementioned crossing and take a hike to more challenging and possibly treacherous waters down river.

In pocket water, at least 2 of them....

I actually saw another fly guy working in behind me at the first spot, and a spinner fisherman was on the opposite bank from me as I walked to the second spot.  He may have even been in range to see me land the long skinny female that opens this post.  She was not in an expected winter spot, though I did expect a fish to be here anyway.  There is a deep bowl in pocket water behind a mid-stream boulder here, and I have caught fish in many different seasons here—I can now add the middle of winter to that list.  Because the water around the pocket was shallow, she actually jumped three times before digging for bottom.  Once in the net, I could see the fish ate Sam’s big golden stone.  I had been fishing a couple of Eric’s gold and black stoneflies earlier in the day until I lost them because I really wanted to land a good fish on one of them.  I only landed one at Penns with Eric’s golden before I lost the last one I thought I had with me.  I found one more last night, along with two black ones, but I sacrificed them at the first deep woody hole earlier in the day.  I eventually lost a couple more of Sam’s big stones, as well, so I tried one of Eric’s big buggy, rubber-legged hares ear concoctions after 1 PM.  I think he tied them as small stream buggers, but with a big tungsten bead, I thought they could do just fine as a stonefly and they may even get eaten on the swing if it warmed up and the fish woke up.  The water temperature was 37 at most, so an extra degree would have been a lot to ask with no sunshine today.  The only thing working for me were those clouds, which kept the overnight air temps in the low 30s instead of 12 or something.

Not a day to swim.

I got bounced pretty far out in current and did not connect here, and I even tried a big bobber for 30 minutes, but with no room for a backcast and no place to wade that was not over waist-deep, I had to abandon that notion eventually.  I committed to making a climb over some outcroppings and massive boulders to get to two final holes in this stretch—it is impossible to wade past them for most of the year.  On the way back upstream, I actually free-soloed across the face of one such outcropping, which is not wise in January, of course, especially in wading boots.  I usually fish down here in the summer when it is easier to get around, but I caught a wild brown on a Rapala here one autumn close to 20 years ago that was all of 25 inches, so I do know that the trouble can be worth it.  While fishing around some of these rocky ledges and gnarly rocks, I hooked a massive trout on Eric’s big bug. 

Big bugs, gray skies.

Surprisingly, even though action was slow, I was ready all day, fishing every cast like it could produce, so I got a solid hookset and even kept this pig from getting into current and possibly into the backing.  I saw him clear as day no less than three times, basically a rod’s length from my perch on the rocks.  He was a big male brown trout and fought like a wild fish.  He knew every piece of structure in this hole, including a submerged shopping cart I had almost forgotten about—the remnant of a blue tarp, ever-present after creeks roll through backyards it seems, was surprisingly easier to avoid.  I steered him out of all that nonsense once, then he took another run and I let him go a few yards.  When I got him back in front of me again, I even made a couple tentative steps downstream to try and stay below him for a possible net job.  He was well over 20 and just thick.  I could not wade in front of me, stepping in would mean floating in 6 feet of water, so I just had to hope for the best.  The worst happened in the end, however.  Well, not the worst, as I did fool and fight him.  He made one last dig for a rock ledge between me and him, and all I could do was keep the rod high and put pressure on him to keep him out of there.  Picture me trying to stop him from going between my legs, but my legs were standing on a rocky ledge with a deep cavity underneath.  Ping.  He won.  When I examined the line, I still had the dropper tag and the most of the tippet below, so I don’t think a connection failed.   More likely that the line got nicked on the ledge or debris on the bottom and broke just above the fly.  I nearly heaved.  I fished another hour with nothing to show for it, but I did not expect to top that one.  I was pretty excited to see a wild fish close to 18 inches today until this second horse had to ruin it!  God, I hope I sleep.

Worth the work, but man....

January 11 and 12, 2021 – A Couple Walks with a Fly Rod – SEPA Freestoners

A few on the bunny leech barely hopping.

I had only a half a day worth of work two days in a row, so what was a guy to do?  I was actually busy on the weekend getting ready for the start of my classes, but there is only so much computer time (or television) I can stomach.  My only fun on Saturday was visiting the fly shop and bringing home take-out for dinner.  Sunday, I was content taking a long walk to a local quarry and back, just to see water and waterfowl, I guess.  After working until after lunch on Monday, I at least had to bring a fly rod on my next walk.  I had sent Eric and Tom H. to a local stocked creek earlier in the winter, and they both had good trips on different days a couple weeks apart.  It was not as cold when they went, and there had been some rain to keep the flows normal, so I did not expect the same results for myself this week, but my plan was to get a good scouting walk in to see how of much of the creek had been stocked.  Someone told Eric that they had not reached some of my favorite holes a little off the beaten path, but I saw fish and landed three in one of those holes.  Granted, I didn’t see the shoals of stockies cruising gin clear pools all of 12 inches deep like I did downstream, but at least I confirmed there were fish further upstream.  I had neither the patience nor the desire to midge under a bobber, so I went the other direction and prospected with some big bugs, eventually tossing an olive bunny leach on 5X and just hopping it through a few holes in order to catch a few average rainbows.  Not great, but a nice brisk afternoon to be outdoors for a walk with a fly rod.  I was on the water from about 2 PM to 4:15 PM, so I got to see the start of the early winter sunset too.

Late winter afternoon light.

Today, I could not believe it was only Tuesday.  It is going to be a long week, though the warm up later on Thursday and Friday does have my wheels turning.  I again did more prospecting.  Like yesterday, I left the house sometime after lunch and stayed close to home, looking for more stockies in the local creeks.  I was not sure if this one got stocked this fall, and now I am pretty certain it did not.  Because the water was so clear and the sun so bright, I did see a couple trout but not enough to dispel the feeling that these were just some lucky holdovers.  It was a bit warmer than Monday today, but I only saw dog walkers and hikers out there.   I covered a lot of water quickly, nymphing upstream and tossing a bugger downstream.  I took the skunk with little fanfare.  Like yesterday, I had no desire to sit in a deep hole and midge, and if I did that I would not have covered enough ground to get in a walk and get enough intel, anyway.  Even if I did midge today, I am not sure I would have landed a fish!  I snuck up on two and sight fished them, but they both stayed tight to cover and moved away from not towards a gently presented soft hackle.

Just creek pics for Tuesday.

It looks like I may have to wait until the PFBC stocking in the early spring here if I want an afternoon break from work.  There is always Valley, but then there is always Valley, so I do look for a little variety close to home in the winter.  At least the creek on Monday is an option if we get a little more water in there or some midge hatches.  Besides another section of the creek where I caught micro-stockies late last month, there are two more creeks to try on the stockie front, but I think I am going to go for broke later in the week and fish a bigger NEPA freestoner for a post-spawn wild piggie.  I still have a handful of big golden stones, and I may even bribe Eric for a couple more.  As suspected, I am loaded with larger jigged pheasant tails and hares ears too, so I will definitely make do and hopefully scare up a couple decent fish.  If nothing else, I am going to sneak around a Lehigh Valley limestoner with more purpose than I carried with me so far this week.  At least I know where wild trout will be this time of year, and that goes a long way towards keeping my head in the game.  I dropped over 500 bucks on new waders on Saturday, so I hope they are not cursed or something!  At least I started the slow but certain process of wearing out the crotch this week, and I looked cool and professional as f$#& out there getting the finger from some sun-spooked stockies…

January 6, 2021 – It Had Been Far Too Long – Penns Creek

Sam catches fish.

I had not been out to see my buddy Sam since March of 2020, right before the first lock-downs and such.  I have already written about how little travel I engaged in last year, how I fished within 90 minutes of home for most of the year.  Sam has weathered the storm thus far, and it sounds like even better days are ahead—he is already getting booked up with trips for the spring through the TCO shop in State College, and I believe he said his month of May is nearly full at this point.  Fortunately for me, this time of year is his down time, so I get to fish with one of the best nymphers out there, and a great guide as well, on his ever-dwindling fun fishing days/days off.  I was hoping to get out to see him this summer, another down time for him and a good time to night fish, and then it got to the point where he was just going to mail me some flies, and I to him his coffee mug that he left in my car nine months ago!  Since I don’t start back to work until January 11, we finally made firm plans for this week, and it was worth the long ride.  Sam called lower Penns, which is also a drive for him—an hour not three like this guy—so we met around 7:30 AM in the woods of PA after a relatively mild winter night.  Flows were high but nothing too crazy, like 500 CFS at the nearest gage, and there was some good enough visibility despite a productive stain. 

Mighty, beautiful Penns Creek.

Creek is a misnomer for what is arguably a river, but Penns was wadable with caution today.  I actually carried my wading staff and put it to work a couple times during one necessary crossing or while edging out into deeper water to get at the far seam or some sweet spots called out by Sam.  I wade pretty aggressively for an old man, and I take at least one tumble per year, but I take pains to make sure the winter in big water is not the day it happens.  Play my cards right, and it’s Valley in July while wet wading, but I do remember taking a tumble on a cold snowy day while with Sam on big Fishing Creek as well as a solo winter double-dip in Martins Creek some years ago.  That kind of thing sticks with you.  Like my meticulous engineer buddy Jay, I now have extra clothes already packed in the ‘Ru during this time of year—although Jay probably washed the ones he packed last year while mine are still there.  Man, I hope they still fit me at this point.

Some nice fish for the only two guys we saw out there fishing.

Big water with the potential for big fish, so I used my 10-foot 4 weight with a mono rig.  It was a day for big heavy bugs on 4x, and I had a few of Eric’s big golden and black stonefly nymphs, which produced early, but thank goodness Sam was loaded up with his own big golden stones and had added some to the flies he had tied for me this fall.  Not only did they produce, as did his fox soft hackle on the dropper, but we also lost a ton of tungsten between us.  A few more snags and I might have been throwing big tungsten pts and hares ears or drop-shotting my remaining smaller stones.  I did throw some smaller bottom rolling caddis and walts through a couple shallower spots, like between islands and such, and I got at least one on a walts on the dropper, but Sam’s golden stone was almost a necessity in most of the water after I lost Eric’s equally heavy and buggy stones.  It got a bit breezy and the sun never came out, much like Monday and Tuesday this week, but since the temps hovered above freezing, except while crossing a couple mountain ridges on the drive in, the fish ate by 8 AM, I bet.  It never really got much colder or warmer all day.

The gold stone, the foxy soft hackle.

Granted 14 inches is a good average to have, but I got a few average 14 or 15 inchers, one 11 or 12, while Sam stuck a 17 and several other nicer average fish at the first stop.  If I caught 10 fish total today, he caught 25—par for the course, but I like to fish with guys who can kick my ass.  I was sarcastically giving George Daniel some grief in my previous post, but it was George who mentored Sam back in the day when they both worked for TCO, so how lucky am I to get schooled by his protégé?  I use the term schooled purposely too because I pick Sam’s brain all day, or at least whenever we are walking between holes or fishing near each other.  At least a couple times each trip he coaches me or demonstrates how he would fish a tricky spot.  As usual, I learned some stuff and had a good time.  Over the years, I have learned from Sam where better fish in a run will be, for example, and due to his help we both now fish water that most fishermen would walk by depending on the time and season.  Equally important, and even though I probably fish less than half as many days as him and have half the knowledge to share at this point, I’ve learned to appreciate better the attitude behind telling a buddy, “Go ahead and fish that seam.  I have fished twice already this week, and I will be out again tomorrow.”

Battle of the stones; Eric's at the top.

After fishing around some islands and one final deep run, we regrouped at the lot, had a quick lunch while I re-rigged, and then drove a few miles to another stretch of water.  It was already 1 PM or later, so we stuck to three nice riffles and runs, and each one produced a couple fish, including a couple good ones.  I landed my best at this second stop, a long skinny hen that was probably 17 inches.  Sam had landed a couple in that range already and notched an additional good fish here too.  Honestly, in big water, even when the water is cold and the fish not as sporty as they are when the water warms to the 50s, they were all good fish.  Sam landed some small fish while thoroughly working skinnier water with smaller bugs, but even they were 10 inches, I bet.  They all fight like wild fish who have grown up on tough proving grounds, but the better ones know every rock and hazard and head right there after hooked.  My best fish came to the net rather quickly but not before digging with everything she had for a midstream boulder.  At one point earlier in the day Sam had snagged deep unseen wood and likely a fish at the same time (or in quick succession) and tried to ease it out of there because his experience told him it was likely a good fish if it was in all that mess.  We did not land any really big fish today, but the potential was there for sure.  In the absence of any bugs besides a light showing of midges, they still ate the big bugs really well.  Penns has some limestone influence, but like other freestone creeks, it mostly benefits from some cool seeps from the mountains and cold tributaries.  I have little mid-winter experience with some of my favorite big NEPA freestoners, but days like this get my mind going with possibilities even in 37 degree water—though I may not have enough big stoneflies left for a Brodhead or Lehigh River run!

A couple of Sam's best fish.

It felt like it was getting colder, or just the number of hours outdoors in the still snowy woods eventually added up to cold, but I convinced Sam to show me one riffle upstream.  Close to quitting time if we wanted to avoid snaking through the mountains in the dark, we both worked our way across the creek to some good looking water on the other side.  I even used the staff here to get as close as possible.  I hung in some wood and lost it all once.  Then after taking the time to rig again, even though it was the eleventh hour, I found more snags on the very next cast.  In the meantime, Sam had added a couple more to his total even though he was the one gently pushing for quitting time.  I was done and made my way slowly back to the bank.  I couldn’t stop myself from pulling out another wingspan of tippet, but Sam had made his way out too before I could totally commit to rigging one last time.  We walked to the cars and had our farewells, but I still had my waders on to walk through the snow for one last piss.  After seeing my streamer rod rigged in the Ru, I honestly considered heading back before I checked my own insanity.  I do these trips in one long day, and I had a three hour ride back home after an early morning drive and a full day of successful fishing.   After all that, I still wanted to move a pig or something?  Call me crazy, but Sam did put his friend on a true pig a little closer to his home today, so it could have been one of us yesterday on Penns.  That kind of thinking can drive a man crazy enough to not wait nine months to take another 12 hour tour of Pennsylvania, you know what I mean?

My best of the day.

January 4, 2021 – Best Fish of the Year… Oh, Wait – SEPA Blueline

Eric may have found our best yet from this little creek.

Eric and I spent 2020 ranking our visits to our little slice of fish heaven, a blue line near his childhood home to which we gained access for the first time last February.  It has been the perfect getaway, especially during Covid.  It’s only 40 minutes from home, and we never see a soul, even on a weekend.  We fished on a Monday today, but typically we have fished on Sunday to avoid messing with the plans of any archers.  Some deer stands and a few ATV tracks are the only signs of others in much of the stretch we have been fishing.  Eric was even more excited to fish today because late last year while visiting his parents he found out where a landowner of a huge additional parcel of real estate lived.  Not only did he knock on his door and successfully make his case but, emboldened by the first success, he went and knocked on another door adjacent to a stretch further upstream.  Also a successful visit, we now have access to a full day of fishing, even a new parking spot if needed.  Pretty awesome effort on his part, and I did nothing besides befriend the right mitch at the right time!  We put a full day in, too, fishing from 7:30 to just after 3 PM.  The year is only four days old, so my title is a joke, of course, but held against last year’s successes today was still a solid day, ranking in the top three or four visits.  For a winter day, it was pretty exceptional.  Eric’s best fish also ranks up there with the best we have landed from this small creek too.  It was a colored up and shouldery small creek wonder. 

A good start that got better until it wasn't.

We felted charmed.  We were penciled in to fish Sunday, but the area was due to get freezing rain and sleet.  If we had to, we would have gone.  Luckily, Eric’s wife decided to take Monday off to help their daughter with her first day of school after the break.  Besides having eight free hours on a Monday, we also had overnight temperatures above freezing, which winter fish like a lot.  We even had a shot of water and stain in the creek.  In addition, it must have been a low that came through because it did not clear up but instead stayed cloudy and still for most of the day.  I was getting as excited as Eric when we crossed the creek a couple times and I saw the flows and stain.  It felt like a potentially magical day was upon us. 

Eric's first nicer one on a duracell.

We confidently strolled onto posted land and made our way downstream to fish a couple holes we only prospected last winter.  I think I landed a good 10-inch fish on my second or third cast.  Game on.  We were both throwing a bigger meal on a mono rig.  Instead of the usual 10-foot nymphing rod, we both had our shorter 9-footers in case the newer water got tighter (it did).  I had a single size 14 pink tag fly and, taking a page from my own winter notebook, I fished the single bug with a bit of action.  It is hard for fish to pass up a big meal in the winter, and I have found that if I can get that CDC feather pulsing in the slow pockets and around wood, even better sometimes.  Eric was throwing his own version of a Duracell jig with an egg pattern on the dropper.  When we eventually got into a handful of fish each, and nothing had eaten the egg, he also went with a single bug on a long tippet.  I won’t get into the choice of mono rig much, but suffice to say that the sensitivity is great (so no bobbers) and even though the casting is not great the ability to impart gentle action is very good.  With 30 or more feet of green camo mono and no fly line on the water, the stealth is worth any downsides, even in winter when, say, George Daniel might posit that the line doesn’t stay limp enough or whatever.

A pair of my early contenders. 

We caught mostly good fish.  Plenty of 9 inchers and at least two over twelve.  Eric’s that opens this post hand-measured over 13 inches.  We caught fish in a few of our favorite holes and didn’t catch fish in a few favorite holes, but we also caught fish in several new holes.  It was a one or two from a hole kind of day with a few exceptions, so even though they are bunching up now in deep water, they are easy to put down and not all of them decide to get active at the same time short of a hatch—pretty typical winter fishing.  We still felt fortunate that it was usually a good fish that decided to eat on the first good cast or two in each spot.  At a hot spot where we caught 10 or more during a hatch last spring, I landed what would have been our best of the day, a long and spawned out female that was hanging back in the soft water looking for an easy meal.  Eric thoroughly worked another honey hole and hit pay dirt with the aforementioned 13+ inch male. We landed three in a row at the next hot spot just around the bend, but nothing big from this hole where we have encountered some of the best fish in the past.  I did have one break me off on a streamer here on the way back—more on that below.  When we got into the new water, we nymphed for a bit with little success, so I decided to stir it up and go into explorer mode.  This new section of the creek was snaky and woody as hell.  With so many rakes, roots, overhangs, and undercuts, I tied on a small egg sucking leech bugger and went at it from whatever angle I could sneak in a cast.

Round 2, time for the bugger.

After watching me catch three in a row at a junction pool with another tributary, Eric also tied on his own bugger creation to give it a go.  George Daniel surely would have disapproved of us throwing a bugger with a mono rig, but he would not have been too lazy or content with numbers already to tie it right to the 5X tippet with which he had nymphed all morning—and he would have been proven right later.  For now, it was hard to argue with success.  I landed at least 6 more fish in very tight quarters lobbing the bugger upstream into cover or letting it swing under banks and through deeper tailouts.  I watched a decent one pounce on Eric’s bugger, darting out from a shallow undercut bank, and I had a few visual hits of my own to enjoy too.  It was like brookie fishing for the usually much warier brownie.

More bugger time, Eric's creation scores, and eventually snaky and woody.

Eric does not have much experience with water this tight, and I grew tired of dragging my old ass over and around log jams and boggy mess, so we decided to fish our way back downstream with the streamer.  I got one more at a previously dry spot, confirming fish in this hole, one we refused to believe was actually dry on the way upstream.  George Daniel could finally be justified in casting shade on me when I bounced the leech through a big fish hole, got walloped, and broke the 5X on a good one.  This is a spot where Eric and I both swore we saw a 14- or 15-incher rising for caddis last May. 

That pink tag fly with a little movement did well by me.

If not for the excellent day already, I may have been pissed at myself.  But I guess I was relaxed and content all day because I also miffed on another good fish earlier in the morning.  I landed a cast in a great but difficult spot and had already made the rookie mistake of not having an end game in mind—heck I did not even have anywhere to set the hook.  This fish was very forgiving too!  I didn’t stick him well or he was really hangry because he hit a second time.  I had to come straight up on the hookset the second time, and it was not a great one.  This time I got a brief tussle and a full view of another 12-incher, but that was it.  I tried this spot on the way back, now with a worm since I had retied following the break off with the bugger.  Not surprising, the fish did not eat a third time, even such a juicy meal.  That was a theme on the way back, actually: we had overstayed our welcome, I guess.  It was close to 3 PM and getting less humid and breezier, so maybe the magic time had passed.  It was really good while it lasted, though, especially for a winter day.  It was definitely the best day on this creek for 2021, and my best day of 2021 so far.  Centre County on Wednesday with Sam, so I am not sure how long the distinction will hold, but I hope Eric can enjoy the glow for a while longer.  He had the satisfaction of landing a great small stream fish in the winter and on his own bugs!

A good average size today, a b-roll beauty.  

January 1, 2021 – First Trip of 2021 and with a 2020 License – SEPA Blueline

Small stream small fish.

The Silver Fox and I snuck one in just before the rain this morning, the first morning of the new year.  Despite writing myself a note three days ago, I arrived without a 2021 fishing license, and I only knew that because Tom got out of his car and said he remembered on the ride up that he had forgotten.  If we had had cell service where we were, we could have bought them online there and then, but we figured our odds of seeing the authorities today were slim, and if we played dumb it would be convincing because it was the truth.  The hits kept coming, as we also strayed too far into private land on our initial hike into the woods, mostly out of ignorance, mostly, and we were gently asked to leave by a land owner before we even made a second cast.  Sadly, as she explained where the property began, we knew the markers well enough, mainly because one of our honey holes lay right on the cusp of the public land.  The whole thing was cordial, but we half-jokingly imagined we might have been in the sights of someone on the back porch, that the pleasant young woman was just the messenger for Pa or Grampy.  Of course, posted signs or not, now that we’ve been notified, we will not be venturing down this far again.  I am not 100% versed in the law, but I believe ignorance only works once if you are lucky.

Tom's turn for action shots.

I would like to say that things got better after that, but fishing was also slow or at least small.  We probably landed 9 brookies and one brown between us, but none of them was over 6 inches long.  I had the big idea to throw a mono rig with a bigger CDC jig, knowing fish would be in deep plunges, and that did eventually work after 11 AM.  In order to catch my first fish, however, I had to toss an 18 perdigon from a bit back and into soft, clear holes.  I encouraged Tom to stick with the big meal plan, and he did get on the board with an sj worm and later a bugger, so my original plan was not off the mark, just prematurely timed.  I landed a few more and moved at least two that I could see swipe while subtly hopping the size 12 CDC jig, a tag fly or what the kids like to call a blowtorch because it’s either more macho or more precise to do so.  It’s only a blowtorch if the color matches fire, right?  But it’s a tag fly regardless of what color tag you tie into it?  Anyway, my original idea of a bigger, and a little more active, meal worked.  If only the larger fish were made aware of the plan.

Yeah, the measure net!!

Because we started further upstream than in the past, and were mostly covering ground quickly to find deep water, we ventured further upstream than on any prior visits.  This is Tom’s spot, but even he had not gone as far upstream alone as we did today.  We found some water that looked very brookie-ish, and we landed some dinks in new spots to confirm the presence of the species even if they were the wrong size.  By 1 PM, we were becoming more aware of precipitation, so we decided to hike back and target a few former hots spots or high percentage holes before the real rain arrived.  We did not find any more fish at any of the return visits, but we did manage to avoid any major rain until the ride home.  I was able to sneak around one recent fender bender before Turnpike trucks and police arrived and shut the lanes down, and I assume Tom beat me through that.   That was lucky, as was beating a trespassing rap and not getting stopped by the Commish.  Fishing on the first day of the year is also lucky, and I remedied the missing license and trout stamp when I got home, even threw in the voluntary Wild Trout & Enhanced Waters Permit for the second year, nearly 60 bucks in fees.  That’s like 60 cents a trip by my 2020 standards, but I hope to fish even more this year!  Happier New Year!