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.