July 29, 2021 – Just Keeping Sharp, I Suppose – Wissahickon Creek

The mighty Wissy.

Unless I sneak out on Saturday morning, I may have ended the month of July the same way I began, chasing the local smallmouth on the Wissy.  I didn’t leave the house until after 2:30 PM, but I was lucky enough to fish a solid four productive hours, I bet.  It was humid but cloudy all day, and I thought I was racing the possibility of more severe weather coming later in the afternoon.  Speaking of which, that was one reason I had not been out in eight days: We got spanked by that ice storm last week.  We lost power from Wednesday around 3 PM until Friday after 7 PM, and we only got a temporary fix until Monday, so we still had brown outs all weekend.  We were luckier than some in our neighborhood who were not restored for another 24 hours after us, and when PECO applied the final fix on Monday, we only lost power for another 6 hours, maybe.  I am in a tree-y area, so we have had worse, and no one was hurt.  Only one home had a tree on it, but the same tree took out a porch and an above ground pool too.  Good times.  I had big limbs everywhere, so I am still working on the cleanup around trying to teach and take a class online (without power those days).  Thank goodness for Mom’s place and free WiFi!  I needed a break today, but it was after lunch before I realized it, so I decided to try another spot on the Wissy, this time with micro jigged streamers on my 10’6”.  Instead of swinging a bugger like last time, I would keep my trout skills sharp?

Jigged sculpin, then junk flies, then jigged sculpin.

The water was pretty low and clear, but because of the threat of weather, the crowds were small, so I had one less thing to worry about spooking the fish.  Actually, the Park has taken proactive steps to curb the swimming after last year’s destruction of the hot spot swimming holes—people coming from as far as Central Jersey to swim and party.  There were new signs up everywhere about swimming, even swim attire, and for the first time in years, I saw a park ranger camped out in a vehicle on the drive.  There were still plenty of dog-worn beaches, so still a “loved” City park with erosion problems, but if I squint, especially in this section, I feel like I am in the woods.  I am sure the Friends have been active helping this summer too, but lease laws, for example, are really not treated as laws, so they can only educate.  Besides the normal wear and tear, the park seemed rather spared by the storms, and my spots still looked like my spots!  I had some follows and some sunfish and very dinky bass, but in order to hook up in that mid-afternoon lull, I eventually had to tighline some junk flies in the prime deep pockets near oxygenated water.  I started catching ‘gills, ‘seeds, redbreasts, and some plump goggle eyes, but the bass did finally come.  When I got into some prime spots, I put the jigged sculpin back on, and ended the night with more small bass than I could count.

Not big but aggressive and enough to put a bend in the nymphing taper.

The best did not come out of hiding until after 6:30 PM, and the biggest was only 9 inches long, but after at least a couple dozen at 6 and under, they were fun on the light taper of my nymphing rod.  Fish were hanging about where I would expect June holdover trout, perhaps in water a hair softer, but they would swing out and chase aggressively if they (or I) missed the hook up on the hop downstream.  I even caught a few on the swing under wood and undercuts, but if the cast landed too soft, a sunfish was on it instead, so the swings could not be all that long.  Eric’s jig got a lot of love, so I tried to swing a bigger sculpin in a few deep holes, but that resulted only in tail nips from sunnies and YOY.  Even though I was tighlining with nymphing line in theory, my index and curse fingers would indicate that I did enough traditional streamer fishing to create those telltale line cuts—90 percent humidity on wet hands probably didn’t help.  

A pretty one on the jigged sculpin.

I got rained on lightly a few times, and it got darker earlier than normal, but the storms stayed away.  That was good and bad.  I didn’t get wet, but the local streams didn’t get enough water to urge me to set the alarm for Friday morning either.  I saw a few short spikes on some Lehigh Valley gages, but the front was scattered and not all that wide.  In other words, it was probably not the one we needed but thankfully not another one like last week.  We got lucky with moderate temps and humidity this time last week, so being without power was bearable, but that kind of weather is a tall order to duplicate, especially in August.  Not sure what to do or where to go this weekend, which is not a good sign, but I would like to get out somewhere, so let’s see what happens….

July 20, 2021 – About What I Expected this Morning – Northampton County Limestoner

Small creek, small bugs, small fish.

Since this morning was the only morning I had all week potentially to fish, I fished this morning.  Nothing too crazy at work or home, but just one or two things each day, often smack in the middle of the day.  Conditions on this small creek were normal summer flows, with a bit of a cool down since the last heat wave and a humid start.  It was going up to a hazy 90 degrees later in the day, so I figured I would have to be out early and finish early.  I also knew that if I wanted to nymph and not toss a dry dropper, I would really have to sneak around to scare up a few wild browns in pocket water with small bugs.  I was up for the challenge for the most part.  On 6X I was throwing Eric’s size 18 gasolina perdigon on the point fly and on the dropper a smaller black perdigon.  This creek does have some tricos, but it is also very woody with the riparian buffer mostly intact, so something that can double as a drowned ant is not a bad pattern to throw.  I caught a few (and dropped a couple others) on the gasolina, but the majority of the small fish ate that black size 20 perdigon. 

Gills like the sculpin snack.  More smalls.

It was not on fire, and the fish that were tight to the heads of riffles barely took the small bugs if they decided to move at all.  As a result, I actually dropped three in a row that were a little better for this creek at this time of year—maybe 10 to 11 inchers instead of the smaller fish I was landing.  That was mostly my fault.  I had to keep the rod low under a lot of overhanging branches, but I often wrestle fish bigger than these out of this particular spot.  I think I was surprised and a little miffed that a trico chaser stopped to speak to me and then proceeded to high hole me.  He was new to this stretch, so I gave him a little intel, and then he headed upstream not down below me, which etiquette would have dictated (actually, on this creek, I would have driven to a new spot).  I guess I let a mitch get in my head for a minute.  I didn’t let it ruin my morning, and I was just happy to be out for the first time in a long hot week, but I happened to be in this prime spot when we spoke.  In a last ditch effort before heading home, and because it worked last week, I hopped the jigged sculpin in a final deep pool.  No trout, but if I got too far into the back of the pool, I was met with some sunfish.  I took that as a sign that the creek was pretty warm, so by 9:30 AM I was walking back to the ‘Ru.  I was wet wading today, so I knew before I even started that the water was only going to be in the 60’s this morning.  It was still chilly enough in wet pants early that I wanted hot coffee when I got home!  I have been hearing cicadas in my yard, and I heard them for the first time in this region this morning, so I may need to chase some smallies or trout with those big ugly dries this week.  If I move some stuff around, very early on Friday is the next possible fishing window.

July 13, 2021 – (Sea) Sick Days Fishing – Atlantic Ocean

Calm start but the swells were waiting.

You may have already noted that I try to keep it honest here.  I share the skunks, the tumbles, and the other foibles, and those who read this and fish with me hopefully find little embellishment between the stories I tell and the experience they actually have with me.  My deceased father and I prided ourselves in never lying to each other about fishing, so that must have trickled down.  I have been around boats and fishing offshore and inshore since I was in maybe 7^th grade.  I spent a couple weeks each summer in elementary and middle school with my buddy Jimmy W. and his family because his dad had a 30-foot Chris Craft that we used take out for inshore fluking and trolling for blues.  When the house was full, Jimmy, his brother Al, and I even slept on the boat at the marina!  My buddy Benny’s stepdad was an offshore angler with swords and a record wahoo mounted on his basement walls.  Ward had a 27-foot center console, and we fished off of that for a decade, I guess.  And all that time, I have had to roll the dice with sea sickness.  I have done the overnight chunk for tuna and felt like a million bucks, fished the Cape May rips in 20 knots and snot and felt fine, and then other days, well…  Yesterday was one of those other days, a literal sick day of fishing.  I held my own between bouts of heaves, and may have even caught 4 of our 8 keeper fluke (one of those may have been Ward’s neice Emma’s though!).  But I was sick for most of the time and unable to shake it, which is not common.  I told Ward, who’s been witness to me (and my father—another family trait) being green way too often, that this was top 5 in my long career, maybe top 2!

Big buckies and stinger hooks.

We sailed with the Adam Bomb out of Cape May after 6 AM, trying to catch the end of the moving tide and trying to beat the forecasted south winds of 15 knots.  It was slow going into the 4-5 foot swells, also out of the south, so the 20 mile run took forever.  I was fine for most of it, but by the time we stopped and Adam had rigged the rods with 5 and 6 ounce bucktails and bellies, I was hanging over the side.  Sometimes that is it, and once the fishing begins, I am good.  Our first drop was great too!  With the tide still moving but the wind not pushing us too fast, we made a few productive drifts that ended with keepers for at least three of us.  The Ward party was Joe, Cousin Brucey, niece Emma (a ringer), Ward, and me.  Adam thought that by 11 AM, it was going to be much more difficult to fish, and he was right.  Fishing got tough as the morning and early afternoon progressed—harder to hold bottom even with 6 oz. bucktails, lines scoping out for many yards, so many missed hooksets for the less experienced, and so on.  Me, I would be good for a drift or two, and then have to sit out for another one or two.  I was in disbelief that this had not passed.  I tried to eat and drink, and nope.  Joe offered Dramamine, but that ship had sailed long ago—that is something I should have thought about on Monday night!

Dinner for all at least.

There was some fun before and after and even during, but the day for me was dominated by not feeling good.  I love to jig up the fluke and sea bass, too!  I guess there is a reason I am a surf and fly fisherman.  I have even owned a couple small boats, and I still prefer terra firma.  I am glad we got out, though.  The trip was cancelled twice in the last three years due to weather, and I couldn’t make it last year because of work schedule issues, I think.  Ward said that Adam was even offering an out today when he knew the forecast, but they decided to go anyway because it would be fishable enough early.  Ward was only down for the week on vacation too, and a make-up day this week was not possible with other bookings, so off we sailed.  It was not the kind of conditions to allow us to fish deliberately over nasty structure to entice a doormat or two, but enough keepers (plus two sea bass) pursued the flying fluke bellies and spearing to make a dinner for all.  Many shorts were landed too.  I still have a touch, even when I am working with 47% of my normal faculties, so I definitely was happy with the number of fish I landed, but it was not easy.  I started feeling normal again as we reentered the harbor, of course, and a cold Coke at the bar made it feel possible to drive home.  Not many pics, as my phone was tucked away for most of the trip and my mind was elsewhere, perhaps in survival mode when not fishing!  Time to check the medicine cabinet for Dramamine?

July 11, 2021 – Now That Was Fun! – Northampton County Limestoner

I am never mad at a holdover this thick and angry.

I think it is heat wave number four that is upon us starting Monday, but I was fortunate enough to have the time to sneak in another trip before that this morning.  Flows were normal for summer, and cool enough in the morning, to visit a different Lehigh Valley limestoner today.  I was fishing, and even notching three rainbows, before 6 AM, and I was walking back to the ‘Ru before 10.  It was cloudy and gray, though humid, for most of my stay, and I even got rained on twice—once early in the morning and again as I was packing up (continuing for the first half of my drive home).  The water was very clear again, though showing a bit of limestone color due to the recharged springs, I suppose, but the gray, cloudy conditions had many of the fish eating.  I caught a mess of fish, an equal number of bows and wild browns, but the bigger browns stayed hidden again.  Catching a couple pig, long-time holdover rainbows, acrobatic and wily, I had a blast, though.  I don’t discriminate on this creek because some of the rainbows have been in here so long they may as well be wild.   When an 18-inch redband beauty takes to the sky twice and digs for all he’s worth it’s hard not to give him his just due.  I even got a couple bows and one wild brown to take a micro-sculpin on the swing just before I left.  Against brand, I also watched a handful rise to spent trico spinners for a while and was ready to switch out my nymphing line just before I noticed more approaching wet stuff and decided to call it good—preferring to be caught in a downpour only once today.

Small browns on Eric's caddis larva and even some bonus bugger fish to end the day.

I suited up before sunrise, made darker by the clouds, and walked into the first hole early enough that I was fishing mostly by feel when I landed my first two bows.  I had a sexy walts on the anchor fly and a pink tag fly on the dropper, and the first three fish took the walts very deep.  There were, however, a few splashy rises happening, so I did try to swing that CDC jig for a minute before deciding my best bet was to start fishing the pocket water I had parked here to fish.  A few average spring holdover rainbows who were smart enough to take a long swim for better conditions was a nice warm up but not why I came this morning.  The more seasoned browns were definitely spending more active feeding time in pocket water, I reasoned.  As I mentioned above, I did catch at least 8 wild browns in pockets and a deep plunge pool tight to the whiter water, but none of them was over 11 inches today.  Those pocket water browns all took Eric’s electric caddis larva in size 16.  They made me work for it though.  I got the feeling they were not interested in leaving their prime lies to make a move.   Luckily, if they made a swipe and didn’t feel a hook, they would swipe again.  That is a benefit of working pocket water and faster current.

A couple browns in the deep plunge pool too.

The browns were still beautiful and fun, but the stars of the morning were a pair of big rainbows and a couple smaller cousins.  The fish that opens this post was a big male, which is sort of rare with stockies that are overwhelmingly female.  I landed an even bigger male last year in this same creek.  I sometimes wonder with all the possible mates present that these guys don’t decide to move in here someday, but I have never caught any parr in this creek.  This one was roughly 18, colored-up, and ornery.  I landed a hen brown just shy of 20 inches in this area last year, so until this bow jumped (twice) I thought maybe I had fooled her again.  Besides how strong and beautiful they were, the other clue that a couple of these bows had been around a while was how well they knew their surroundings.  Like the two browns I also landed at this plunge, this big bow and another hen dug for all the obstructions that would lead to freedom once the leaping did not work.  The leaping might have worked on the buck because he took my dropper tag with a size 18 quill perdigon—only the two browns here took that fly over Sam’s sexy walts.

Many spring holdovers, some cuter than others.

When I was about ready to call it a day, I had a hard time believing that I could not find a decent brown with all these bows feeling good in the cool water full of bug life.  Maybe a bigger meal?   My last ditch effort was a jigged bugger, first tight against the plunge and finally swinging out in the boulder-strewn flats below.  I landed a couple bows hopping the bug in the white water, and I moved an average brown and another leaping bow swinging and stripping the bugger.  Now that’s a fun way to end an already fun morning!  Those two big rainbows would have to be it as far as big fish today, as it was starting to warm up.  The plan was to quit at 9:30, and I was looking at maybe 9:45, so not too far off the plan.   I climbed out of the creek and hiked the roads back to the parking spot, shocked that there were not dozens of enthusiasts suiting up and lifting bikes off racks.  I guess they saw the forecast or the radar.  I stood at a bridge and watched the tricos swarm and eventually saw three or four fish dimpling downstream a ways.  I grabbed something to drink from the ‘Ru and took a short walk down to watch them and debate with myself about re-rigging to dry fly fish.  It was not hot yet, and the sun had yet to come out.  I knew the water was 65 at best.  Dry fly fishing tiny bugs could be a nice way to end the day even if they were likely more stocked rainbows. 

A nice female too with white-tipped fins, good colors, and bad attitude.

Well, the rain started as a drizzle, then isolated big drops, and then two mountain bikers tore past me soaking wet.  By the time I walked back to the ‘Ru and got undressed, it was coming down steady again.  In the humidity, it had taken two hours to dry off (sort of) from the first downpour I stood in while catching the browns in pocket water, so I probably made the right call.  The only possibly unwise thing I chose was hitting the highway, but I got lucky and didn’t run into any accidents, just slower traffic.  The rain only lasted 30 minutes, so had it been earlier in the morning, I might have sat it out and thrown a streamer!  It did nothing to cool things off, so a nap was actually time better spent.

July 9, 2021 – Thanks to Elsa (Sort of) I Moved Three, Jumped One, Landed Four – Northampton County Limestoner

Handsome plumper on the black leech.

I tossed a streamer from 5:30 to 10:30 this morning.  Well, I tossed a streamer from 5:30 to 7:30, and then I hopped a pair of jigged streamers from 8 to 10:30 AM.  Timing is everything, even more so when trying to end my day before it gets too hot to fish ethically for the trout.  I am sure the flows and clarity were great in the early afternoon, but the water temps probably were not.  I was working under the assumption that Elsa had the most impact south and east, and the gages in Northampton County were bearing that out when I left the house a little after 4 AM.  This creek has no gage, but there are a couple of them nearby, and those looked good.  I had my doubts as I got close, though.  I could see a lot of leaves and short branches in the road, so it was obvious that a heavier band of wind and rain not visible on my radar had moved through not long before me.  I parked and took a look at the creek, and it was not out of its banks, so I decided to suit up to wet wade and maybe fish through what was hopefully a brief flash of water.  I also checked a nearby gage for a plan B, and that had jumped 30 CFS in the hour I had been on the road after being on a downward slide since I’d woken up around 3 AM.  Timing is everything.

Chocolate and the overzealous.

Without the rain, I would not have been fishing, at least not for trout, so I was grateful when I moved three decent fish in that first round and at least had one good bump.  No grabs or hooked fish, but at least some of them could see Eric’s olive sculpin in all the mud.  Sadly, there were tricos swarming too, undeterred by the wet weather, but I don’t think the water clarity and the spinner fall had a chance in hell of synching today.  Timing, you know.  I had a feeling that the water was still rising not falling.  It was definitely not clearing up quickly.  That happens even more in flash floods because that water takes all kind of debris and mud and god knows what else from the road and ditches as it runs off.  I held out hope, but was starting to believe I might be heading home by 8 AM.

Tricos were probably safe this morning.

I stopped by my car and grabbed my nymphing rod and deposited my streamer rod for round two.  I was thinking that I had a better chance getting deep and getting dark.  I rigged one of Eric’s micro-sculpins with a big old tungsten bead, and on the dropper I tied a black bunny leach, also with a tungsten bead.  That would get to the bottom, even in riffles, and allow me to hop hop hop them downstream before allowing a brief swing.  I targeted some favorite pocket water first, and I planned to go back to the places where I moved fish before if time and temperatures allowed.  I was a little surprised by the first fish, my best of the morning, when he ate the black leech on the seam of a bouncy run.  He ate it too, so there was little danger of him getting off even with a subpar hookset.  This was a good-fighting fish, especially when he got below me.  I am used to fishing streamers with at least a 4 weight, but usually a 5 or 6 weight, so my 10 foot 3 weight nymphing rod gave him a little advantage.  I had no clue how big he was until I got him in some shallower water with slightly more visibility.  I would say no more than 13 inches, but a wide, fat, mature fish.  Okay, we had a plan now!  As long as it didn’t rain again upstream somewhere, I was thinking I could do this again and again, maybe.  

Another leech eater.

After jumping another 11 or 12 incher, I managed to do it three more times.  One was an overzealous 8 incher that liked Eric’s anchor sculpin, but the others were decent streamer eaters.  I only saw eight fish this morning, and none of them were the pigs I was looking for, but after two hours without a win, it was good to have a somewhat productive window before the sun came out and shut it down.  I did catch the dink and one decent one where I began my morning, but I was not able to interest a couple of the larger residents today.  I know they are there too, sadly, but timing is everything, as I may have mentioned a few times.  If I am up again on Saturday or Sunday morning I may try and take advantage of the shot of water.  My July was dreadful last year, but I noticed I fished 9 or 10 times in August, when it was wetter.  That early morning grind becomes a chore, and it puts a limit on how far I am willing to drive in order to fish for at best 4 hours, but I do like those lovely wild browns a lot more than fluke or dink smallies in the local creeks.  That said, I am due for a Delaware trip once this rain makes its way through the system, and I am hoping the boat sails with Ward next Tuesday.  I think we have had to cancel due to wind or swells for the last two or three years!  Daddy needs a doormat.

Another beauty brown.

July 4, 2021 – Let’s Give It One More Morning until the Fall, Yeah? – Brodhead Creek

Sure is good for the soul until it gets hot.

I was going to do this on Saturday, not on Independence Day, but there was no way I was getting up or driving on Saturday after hanging out until after 2 AM with the young bulls in the neighborhood.  I intended to pop up to Eric’s around 7 PM to say hello and get a couple new sculpins he’d tied for me to beta test, but some old neighbors were up there visiting, and the next thing I know I am standing in my neighbor Jason’s garage with Eric and James long past my bedtime and an hour before I would have gotten up to go fishing!  I can still hang sometimes, but the hangovers last a lot longer these days.  Good thing I picked an easy place 90 minutes away to wade and fish at first light this morning, you know?  I had to do it.  They got an inch of rain on Friday in the Poconos, and it has been cloudy and cooler there for a couple days in a row.  I was hoping for another day of pigs, but not really expecting much more than a bunch of fish in pocket water and deep, bouncy runs.  Some larger holdover bows cooperated, and there were a few 10 to 12 inch wild browns, but also a lot of smalls—no surprise this time of year.  I was a little unimpressed with my day, even though it was a gorgeous morning with plenty to delight the senses, but then I went through the photos and realized that I landed a lot of fish from 5:30 to 10:30 AM!  Just spoiled this spring, I guess.

Some pretty fish in pocket water.

It was foggy on the ride up, and the haze stuck around the mountains until 7:30 or 8 AM, but once the sun burned off the fog, I knew my productive window was going to be pretty limited.  I landed a couple small browns and average rainbows in that darker period, but the sun did get some bugs popping and the YOY splashing in all the soft spots, so I took the good with the bad.  I guess the larger fish ate yesterday!  I fished like I was expecting a big fish at any moment, but I didn’t even sting one or even miff on one today.  The flow was pretty good for July, but the stain was almost gone, so if I didn’t get one to move in the fog, it was probably not going to happen today.  Even risking my bugs a lot to fish the gnarliest spots, I only landed those few 11 to 12 inchers.  One bow had been around and fought like a big fish, even if he was only 15 inches.  Some of the rainbows gave in quickly like spring stockers, but this one jumped four times and knew ever stick and boulder in the run.  Not a big brown, but it got the juices flowing enough and helped keep me focused just in case. 

Early but productive start.

Early, I fished a heavy anchor fly with a size 16 red tag fly with a CDC collar.  The rainbows liked that and the bigger, heavier caddis larva on the point.  As I began to work shallower pocket water looking for more wild browns, I downsized to smaller, fast sinking larva.  Most of the browns in pocket water took a simple walts with a pink collar in size 18 tied to the dropper tag.  On one hand, I had a lot of short hits from fish, and on the other hand, some smalls would take it on the swing, afraid to let it get away.  The little guys have to eat, but the adult fish made me work for them.  Slipping and sliding on the rocks that had been exposed to a bit a sun last month, I still waded pretty aggressively to get to those harder to reach spots across the river, still holding out hope for that kicker fish to end the morning with.  It did not take long before the fish and I were in direct sunlight, so I started fishing the bounciest stuff that would provide cover.  A couple of those more perilous wades and casts paid off with nicer fish, but I had a feeling I would have to be content with what I had been given today.

Bows brought the girth and sometimes the brawn.

Catching a mess of little wild browns in pocket water is fun, and the rainbows filled in the void with some girth once in a while.  It was a good morning.  I probably covered about 500 yards of pocket water and riffle/run as thoroughly as possible and had a steady pick for four hours.  By 10 AM it was too hot for waders.  I was thankful I had them in the 58 degree morning in water that was in the low 60’s, but I was getting swampy exerting myself for holdovers and small fish.  The plan was to quit around 9:30 AM, but I got a bonus hour in fishing the remaining shade line on the opposite bank for another hour.  It was productive too.  I believe the best wild brown of the day came in this final hour.  I didn’t have enough water with me, and no food (and I already mentioned I had a rough day on Saturday, so my body was still only about 84%) so I stuck with the plan of ending early with that slight deviation of bonus hour.  I was not going to drive to another spot for 20 minutes of fishing in diminishing returns—11 AM is about the time the bite shuts down completely, and that is only if those 9 or 10 AM flurries of hatches happen.

Smalls gotta eat, and they did eat.

I usually quit the Brodhead for the year after one last July visit, and I didn’t think it was going to happen this year with the heat waves and low water, so I was happy to get one in even if I was on the road back home before 11 AM.  Not that my teenager is nagging to see a parade or fireworks, but it is never a bad thing to get home early and have the rest of the day to chill.  I will definitely not be drinking with the young father’s club tonight, however!   I am taking a mental break from grading this holiday weekend because all the final papers for my first summer classes are due on July 6^th, and I start my own classwork again on the 7^th before my second summer teaching overloads begin, so I even considered checking out a Lehigh Valley limestoner for a few hours on Monday morning.  We shall see.  Honestly, sleeping in is sounding like the much better option right now.

July 2, 2021 – Stayed Chocolaty for a Long Time – Wissahickon Creek

Not prime conditions, but a good day to wet wade and wet a line.

The rain was exciting, but not after another heat wave.  In other words, it was not a day to target my trout friends in 68 to 70 degree water temps, although I am not promising Saturday or Sunday are off the table with the cooler day and night on Friday and possibly more rain!  To mark instead the end of this second heatwave of June, I took a walk around some old haunts on the mighty Wissy this morning and scared up about ten small smallmouth on a sculpin with a black bugger trailing about 18 inches behind.  I also landed a few sunfish and a couple rock bass, and all the fish seemed evenly split between the black and the olive offerings.  The sculpin did more damage in the riffles where visibility was just starting to improve at 1:30 PM when I quit.  Black worked on the swing in deeper pockets.  With the mud hanging around way too long, for the duration of my stay from 10:30 AM to 1:30 PM, in fact, it was not on fire by any means, but it was good to chunk a streamer and have something jumping on the end of the line.  Wet wading was also nice, as the humidity continued even if the temps stayed below 80 degrees.

A number of smalls ate Eric's sculpin or a black trailer.

I still have not heard cicadas around my house, though I mentioned I heard them in Berks a while back.  That creek is like bathwater now and best left alone.  Curious about the Wissy, I stopped an older couple who looked like regulars and asked if they’d heard them in the park this summer.  They said no, but I still plopped a pattern down in some likely spots under trees before I left today.  No takers, not even when I added a weenie on a dropper, but it was about noon when I decided to change it up for a while, so that is not prime time by any means.  I hope to get out at least one day this weekend for trout before the heat returns, maybe even one adventure next week.  The boy is off from summer camp this upcoming week, so it could be a camp dad excursion as well in the canoe or wet wading the Big D or something, some fluke? Stay tuned, yo.

Chocolaty enough at 1:30 PM still to need a black bugger in water over 18 inches deep.