June 9, 2024 – A Visit with a Dear Old Friend for a Few Hours – Northampton County

A couple of each of this size.

I was reminded this morning about why I stopped fishing this creek as often as I once did AND why it was once one of my favorite creeks.  Of the Lehigh Valley limestoners within about an hour of home, it is by far the most challenging and rewarding in equal measure, and that played out today too, even after a long hiatus.  I married one, so no offense, but there has just been mad Jersey up in this piece.  I recall visiting on a winter Wednesday and running into a guide with three septuagenarian sports out for a trip, all with thick New York accents (and none were even Tom C who gets a pass 😉since he has PA street cred too).  That morning, and several others with similar experiences, have kept me away.  I do like to fish cricks until I figure them out or crack the code, and then I often move on to the next one.  I definitely cracked the code on this one, notching some big wild trouts in the process.  I even landed a white whale or two that had owed me on previous encounters, so I guess I had accomplished what I had set out to do here and did not miss it all that much—or so I thought.  If I am being totally honest, once in a while, I do think to myself, “I wonder how this one is fishing these days? Do they miss me?"

Some really pretty bows too

John at TCO guides this creek an hour and change from the shop (another more recent and compounding issue, as he is not alone in this practice) so I spoke to him about the creek a month ago or more.  His take was that crowds had died down again because a lot of guys find this creek difficult, even with a guide.  I trust his honest assessment of most things, so I put this crick back on my list this year and made good on a visit this morning.  Low and clear water, so not the best day back, but a cool, cloudy morning helped out the cause.  Not only did I catch some pretty holdover rainbows and an equal number of wild browns, but I even had an encounter with a good 17- or 18-inch wild fish.  It did not end with a hero shot, as you may have noticed.  I got owned in slow motion by this one.  By this point of the morning, maybe 8:30 AM after two hours of pretty decent fishing, I was tossing a single 16 frenchie in riffles and pocket water on 6X.  After a subtle take of the small bug in 12 inches of water, I gave this fish the respect he deserved on 6X, and he gave me the finger by snaking under a sunken limb that was pinned by the current in front of a big mid-riffle rock.  I watched him swim upstream with purpose but not necessarily panic and duck right under this limb like he knew it was there or something…  Go figure.

Pretty.  Low.  Nature show.  Is a domestic mallard in the wild a holdover, I wonder?

I kept the rod low, hoping I could coax him back downstream and back under, but he did not come back on a straight line and instead wrapped himself.  I tried to get a net under him while he was stuck, but I ended up with both bugs back and no fish.  So, there was one reminder why I used to love this creek: big wild trout surprises with a degree of regularity.  But I also ran into two friendly enough Jersey Boyz chunking spinners in low clear water.  On my approach to a favorite hole, one of those big fish holes, I started noticing that the water was looking dirty.  Hmm… odd, I thought.  A pop-up shower upstream?  Nope, a couple of dudes wading downstream and stirring up the creek.  They were nice guys and were not even aware that the creek held a Class A wild trout population, which gave me a chance to low-key educate them on the importance of handling any of the brown ones with the utmost care.  They were receptive and gave me my space, but it was a reminder that some things about this place had not changed, after all.  I did catch a pair of otherwise pretty rainbows with jaw damage from barbed trebles, but a few of them were pristine, and at least a couple of the browns were pushing into adulthood too, including one likely over 13 inches.

Small trouts can be parr (see what I did there?) for the course in June.

The nature show was in full effect with only me and the boys out fishing the early shift.  I jumped a fawn (my second in the last few days, as I nearly stepped on one while fishing with Tom on Thursday), a beaver swam by (that’s a pretty new one here) and there were many braces of waterfowl of several ilk.  I cracked myself up greeting each of a half-dozen gosling by name, Ryan, Ryan, Ryan, Ryan, and so on.  Justin beaver too.  I guess losing the good fish was more of a good sign, a mood booster even under challenging low water conditions, than a point of frustration.  I was content to end my morning at 10 AM after another pair of wild browns in the 10 and 12 inch range and some more rainbows.  Besides the small bugs, I did get bows to eat a size 10 micro-jigged streamer.  I just showed them something different in a hole where I caught the first time through.  I was hoping to entice another big brown in a particularly deep back eddy with this heavier bug, but I had had my chance, I suppose.  It was good to be back, and I won’t be back again like it’s my job, but John did not lie if I was able to have a successful Sunday morning with very little company.

Bonus shot.