January 30, 2023 – A Friend of a Friend, A Retirement Party, and Finally Some Wild Trout – A Couple Northampton County Cricks

A real looker this one.

I guess my car goes where it wants to go.  I did not intend to begin my morning where I did, but before I realized that was where I was heading, it was nearly too late.  I just went with it.  It’s not like I don’t love this first creek, but the last time I was here, I had a heck of a time finding elbow room, even on a winter weekday.  It was all holdover fish, too.  I could not interest a wild fish, but I was limited by where I could fish by the strong showing of other eager weekday anglers.  At least I was able to have first crack at my preferred spot this morning before I started running into all the people again.  Fishing was terrible despite decent conditions, but this first stop was apparently a social visit.  I am working on changing my attitude about all the coconspirators, so maybe the autopilot was for a reason?  In the end, I even took a drive and fished the originally intended creek, alone and with some level of success not found at the first unintended spot.  Maybe I was just giving the creek I left home for a chance to wake up because I had some olives and midges that made for a good 90 minutes or more of mid-winter action, even one rather nice, and certainly beautiful, fish for the effort.  She was likely 14 or more, and uniquely colored up and plump.

Small bugs at stop two.  Too many mitches at stop one for pics, I guess.

As I was closing the hatch of the ‘Ru to start my day, two SUVs with single anglers inside were rolling into the lot.  My gut said, guide meeting his sport, so I headed right for one of my honey holes.  I will spare you my feelings about guiding such a crick as this, as the toothpaste has been out of the tube for some time now.  Been mad Jersey up in this piece adding to the pressure on the fishes for years now too.  Anyway, I guess I know a little something about honey holes on this creek (I have landed several big fish and lost a couple even bigger on this body of water) because guide and sport ended up heading my way.  They didn’t see me and come my way anyhow, as I was on a bend in the river and had bushwhacked to get to the spot.  When I got within eyesight of them, they stopped what they were doing, and I said to myself, “I know that guy.”  The guide probably did the same, as he was one of Sam’s good buddies and someone I have gotten to know over the years, as well.  I chatted unnamed guide and sport up for a while, and then worked out a plan to give us all space.  I had already given my best shot at glory with a bugger in the two holes here, anyway, so I headed upstream to a couple other spots.  One my way, I ran into the self-appointed and thusly knighted keeper of this stretch of the crick.  I am glad he keeps an eye on things and engages with everyone, honestly, and I told him that once again today.  Like me, he seems obsessed with all the Jersey plates and the internet heroes naming cricks, so he makes me feel more normal.

Four average wild fish.  Another shot of the nicer one.

He told me one of his buddies was heading where I was heading, but I eventually spotted his buddy camped out in a spot some distance from where I wanted to go.  My second honey hole was dead too.  Perhaps the flows were just a bit too much to mine effectively today.  If fish were up off the bottom for bugs or chasing (which they were not in 40 degree water temps) then it was going to be tough.  Of course, I tried, knowing that there were fish down there, but eventually I decided before it got too late to take a ride to the other creek, which is smaller, shallower, and probably warmer.  Well, I got into my third conversation of the day with the buddy of the creek keeper.  These retired guys want to talk more than fish, but I know I will be one someday in the not-too-distant future if I am lucky, so I engage.  He had as much luck as me, and when I ran into guide and sport, they had had it tough, as well.  Not a fishy day despite it being so nice out.  This creek is like this in the winter.  Tough.  Oh yeah, three other old-timers, two of these guys really, objectively old, were in the lot suiting up, and they wanted to talk!  I eventually separated myself from the tailgate, but it took some effort.  By the accents, they were surely certified Jersey Fresh, and lovely gentlemen at that, so I repeat that I must have come this way for a reason this morning.

Grey end after a sunny start.

Who was doing whom a mitzvah, I am not sure, but the good vibes worked, and the reluctantly social me was rewarded when I finally arrived at the intended creek.  I was prepared to head up to some skinnier spots, deeper cut spots, in case there were trucks everywhere, but I had my preferred stretch to myself from about 1:30 to 3:30 PM.  Blue winged olives and midges were active, and I was rewarded with five wild trouts to end my full day.  I “fished” from 9:30 to 3:30 today, but the actual time spent fishing was far short of that with all the jabbering with friends and strangers.  As an introvert, had someone tried to engage me at this second stop, I may have had nothing left and just nodded and waved.  The fish don’t speak English as far as I know, even Jersey English, so I was better speaking with the size 18 olive nymph dropper in some pocket water.  A couple pics, especially of the nice fish pushing 15 inches, and we parted ways with maybe a one-sided, “Thanks, fishy, I needed that."  No reply needed.