May 21, 2023 – (No Pussyfooting) the Mitch is Back? – Lackawanna County

Stud.  The fish not the hooded dude.

I wake up early enough for fishing that I often get to hear overnight radio programming, which is definitely a throwback to another time.  This morning at 3:30 AM, I was lucky enough to hear side one of (No Pussyfooting), a collaboration between Brian Eno and Robert Fripp (King Crimson), in its entirety.  It had been years since I’ve heard it, and I got lost in the loops of space guitar—think the mature era of Bill and Ted’s Wyld Stallyns, for which Fripp and Eno were definitely inspirations, and you somewhat get the idea.  I got so lost in the analogue experiments that I neglected to read modern electronic signs telling me that the PA Turnpike was closed ahead.  Thanks for letting me know Google Maps!  I downloaded Waze a long time ago, but old habits die slowly.  After a 20-minute detour to Route 33 north, I was back in business, but I decided that no pussyfooting was a good theme for the day.  A weekend warrior I am, and that is a new challenge, but I think I rose to the challenge today, even when the going got really tough and really small.

One nicer fish on a bugger early, and then hours of dinks, many dinks.

Not only did I get up at 2 AM to fish for trout, but I chose a challenging location and paid my dues until I eventually cracked the code.  Honestly, I feel like I’ve made a deal with the devil when it comes to this particular watershed.  I have yet to have a bad day, and I have come to count on catching multiple fish in the 15 to 20+ range.  This river and I seem to have some tacit understanding that if I make the effort, no pussyfooting, then it might just reward me.  Man, it did today!  That is not to say that I didn’t have my doubts creeping in.  I have had dink days here, but not as dinky as today’s early shift.  I stuck a nice 13-inch fish on a jigged bugger before 6 AM, and I had a monster charge and not come back, and then it was probably 15 nymph fish after that, not one bigger than 10 inches and most in the 5-to-7-inch range.  There was certainly a successful spawn a couple years ago, and probably last year too because I saw many uber-dinks chasing my flies in the likely spots for YOY as I lifted to recast.

No place to hide but broken water.

The water was low and pretty clear, so the holes and runs were not productive at all.  There were some larger caddis, but only some, and many smaller bugs, but fish were not showing, not even the aforementioned dinkers.  I cycled through some things in the old honey holes, even fished the spot where I got my first decent fish of the morning a second time with bugs this time around.  More dinks.  It was when I committed to finding fish in the riffles that things got interesting.  I have fished this place in June and only fished pocket water and have had 40 fish days, mostly smalls and average fish, but it is still fun, and there are often surprises too.  I knew from experience that I might find the random piggy hiding in the best water of these same spots—little potholes and depressions, under overhangs, tight to snags and bankside rakes of wood.  I rigged up with a bomb walts on the anchor and my favorite little brown nothing hares ear in size 16 (it is dressed as an 18 or 20, I bet, just on a 16 hook) and decided that if I was going to catch dinks then I was going to do it in the most fun way possible short 15 dry fly takes or something.

A couple more shots of the piggy.  Clouds and sun, but mostly clouds helped too.

Fun I had.  Before my expectations were recalibrated, I turned a big old fish with a half-committed hookset.  With that evidence that I was doing something right, I focused on what I was doing and was rewarded with a good 20-inch class fish from 18 inches of water.  He sort of behaved, sort of, and did not require a long, stumbling, downstream chase, but the rest of the fish were not nearly so cooperative.  Not long after the pig above and that opens this post, I landed a skinny 18-inch hen in a foot or less deep pocket below a large mid-riffle rock.  Pattern now established, I had a blast for the next 90 minutes.  I had a handful of fish over 12 inches and at least 3 in the 15-16-inch class.  They were taking the size 18 brown nothing hares ear, so the anchor walts was dragging, I guess, and I eventually lost it when a particularly angry buck got shallow in some snaggy bottom.  I changed to a sparse size 14 French pheasant tail on the anchor fly after that, and the fish started hitting that too, probably because it cuts the water and gets down like a perdigon.

More nice fish in the shallows.

I lost another big male in the 16-inch range that leaped three times and then found the only stick in the riffle to wrap around.  It was a popular evasive maneuver because I was fortunate enough to land another similar sized fish that I captured right from the same stick as he fortunately dropped off into my waiting net.  It was pretty bonkers for a while, and I was getting winded chasing these fish around, trying to keep pressure on them while keeping my rod out of the overhanging trees, and trying not to fall into the 57 degree water.  All good problems to have after such a dinky morning, and no one said charmed had to be easy.  I hope I did not jinx my next visit to this area, but it surely warranted mentioning (and a little digging through past blog posts to confirm) that I have not had a bad day here.  It’s that kind of experience that hopefully helps the future me push through a tougher day/morning and come out the end as an old mitch grinning with a stud fish (or two) in his hands.

Some insurance net shots in case they didn't cooperate and more nice fish.