August 24, 2024 – A Long Hike for about Twenty-Five Casts – Susquehanna River

A long way down on the western bank.

I guess I sat on this report hoping I might combine it with another trip this week, but it has not rained in these parts in a while now (now being September 1).  I will head out somewhere on Labor Day to ring in the new month and the unofficial end of summer, but I took a lot of pics on this date, so I decided to keep an accurate record of my trips.  They don’t all end up successful, though not for lack of effort.  The whole reason for me being out in Amish Country was because the boy missed the deadline to register to retake the SATs at any location within a reasonable distance from home.  Since I regularly drive 90 minutes to fish, and in the wee hours, I said I was the guy for the job if he wanted to register for this distant remaining open location.  He actually had a buddy taking the test the same morning, but I did not want to be responsible for this buddy’s future by being late or running into traffic.  At 8 AM, they close the doors, whether you drove 90 minutes or not.  I guess his parents didn’t want that responsibility either.  Since I had plans to stay, I drove both boys home and treated them to their first Sheetz chicken sandwiches al fresco outside Lititz, PA.  Being 11 miles from the Susquehanna River this particular morning, I had to bring a rod or two.  I had about four hours to kill before the test was over and it was a pretty decent weather day.

A shelter in the woods.

I did a total of 30 minutes of research on google maps and found a trailhead to a path that joins the Mason and Dixon trail.  There is a powerplant nearby, and several boat ramps to access “lakes” formed by the dams in the area, so I tried to avoid those and find bank access near broken water or rocky structure.  I now know that the eastern bank is far friendlier in these parts.  I first drove down a hidden drive that led to some houses and possibly one legal parking spot, but the river looked featureless here.  A couple boats had the trolling motors down and were fishing within sight, so I assumed one of those ramps was nearby.  I decided to check out one other spot where I had put a pin on the map.  The drive was short, but the walk not so much, at least with all the switchbacks.  

A red blaze: loose and steep.

After a 30-minute hike to an overlook above the river, I realized just how high the look was and just how far in hiking steps I might be from the river.  I tried to block out how long the return trip would take and just enjoyed the walk in the woods.  The shelter along the Mason and Dixon trail, a nearly 200-mile blazed walk to Havre de Grace, MD was maybe a sign that the walk back up might belie the “moderate” rating I noted online somewhere in reference to this hike.  Moderate for a 55-year-old dude carrying a spinning rod, I wonder?  In the end, I had to hike down a tributary and traverse a couple water falls to reach the river’s edge.  When I looked at my phone and saw the time, I knew this was going to be a quick fishing session.  I saved an hour for the walk back, and I still had the boys calling me on the phone because they got out of the test 10 minutes early.  I noted some rough terrain on the way down, even one trail I scrambled down that had a telling red blaze.  Yeah, that one required a rest at the top, maybe one rest halfway up, on the return hike.  And no water with me...  Good plan.

A fishless ravine and some waterfalls in low flows.

Oh yeah, the fishing.  I mentioned the tributary I had to use to access the river, but even the plunge pools below the waterfalls were low and devoid of life.  I did not discover a new Class A brookie stream.  The tributary did give me a bit of a clearing near the river to fan some casts.  And there was one other spot where I had enough room without stepping into the river to make a cast.  I was going to wet wade until I saw the terrain I had to cover to get back to the car.  I am glad I did not try this hike in wading boots either!  I wisely kept my Altra trail running shoes (and their very useful rock plate, which I much appreciated a few times) dry for the steep walk back.  Between these two perches, I tossed three casts with a crayfish soft plastic, then three casts with a topwater when a dragonfly got harassed by a panfish, and as a last resort the Kenny tough fishing go-to lure, a trout sized spinnerbait.  I did not get a touch on any of them.  I saw a lot of fry in the shallows, all swimming happily and feeling safe.  It was sunny and getting hot, and the water that looked worth fishing was out past an island and way over by the east bank, where the main current and additional current from a larger tributary were located.  Me, I was standing on the edge of a rocky pond with little life in the current conditions.  Time was short with the looming return hike, anyway, but I did use the rod I carried down a mile and a half (double that with the number of switchbacks and scrambles).  I probably should have carried a trekking pole instead….

Some river views.  Blanked on a couple dozen casts.

August 22, 2024 – Some Piggies on the Twilight Cruise with the Boy (and Glenn) – Susquehanna River

Bass before back to school.

These August rains continue to pay dividends.  It started with the cricks, of course, but as the water has moved into the rivers, it has opened up even more possibilities.  Thanks to Glenn at Reel River Adventures, the boy and I took advantage of the good flows to get some bass on the main river.  I was slow to reserve a split trip with Chris Gorsuch this summer (and last), so he was booked up solid, but when we communicated, he said Glenn might run 4-hour evening trips if the flows cooperate.  Kenny and I fished this spring with Glenn, who is also an excellent guide, and we had a great trip.  He mentioned he did these twilight trips in the summer, which is what prompted me to ask Chris about them as an alternative to the overnight, split trips.  Glenn has his own teenaged son, and he really worked with my boy this evening too.  Not only did he get him on fish, but he improved his casting and probably his fish fighting skills with his attention.  Me, I was just out there killing it, at least for the first half of the trip!  At the first stop, while my son was still shaking off the cobwebs and getting with the program, I landed 9 fish over 17 inches, including two or three over 19 inches (one 20 if we pinched the tail). 

Dad caught some big bass.

A school of big bass were stacked up in the push/cushion in front of an island and readily took rattletraps. I even dropped a tenth big fish that jumped on a long line out in the current.  A handful of fish took the bait the minute it landed, a crank or two of the reel and they were on.  The boy got into the flow and landed a good one too.  When the bite died after about 90 minutes, Glenn bounced around to a few other spots where he caught nice fish while scouting this week.  We caught some fish, but it got tough, and the size got much smaller.  By then, the boy was on his A game and caught a good number of fish up to 15 inches.  He was ready the next time opportunity knocked, but the big ones stayed quiet after that first flurry.  I picked away at some dinkers, but not as many as we would have liked.  The white flies were starting to swarm an hour before dark, and I have a theory that the topwater bite is affected by this sundown event.  Even on the Juniata at the Josh Jamboree, we had no topwater bite until the sun set and the bass started taking bugs.  Before that, during the usual magic hour, nothing happened.  It’s almost like they refuse to look up until the time they know that dinks and bait fish will begin gorging on mayfly spinners.  It’s a theory, anyway....  The water clarity was still off, so there are other reasons why the bite might have shut off with the dying sunlight.

Glenn working with the boy; check out the girth on those two (three if you count a mitch).

Glenn stayed out at least a half hour longer and worked with the boy and a whopper plopper around the islands looking for the one!  They had one blow up that looked to me like a smaller fish, or at least a fish that did not inhale the big topwater bait.  That would have been the proverbial icing on the cake.  Still, I know that boy had a blast catching some hard fighting smalljaws, and I was glad that we were able to arrange this alternative plan with Glenn.  We had so much fun that we talked about doing the overnight trip with Chris on the North Branch AND a night with Glenn next summer.  I have to take the boy out to York County for the SAT (don’t ask why I have to drive 2 hours) and will only be 12 miles from the river.  I have three hours to kill out there, so don’t be surprised if you see a few more bass pics this weekend 😉

A couple more good basses.

A few more bonus shots.

August 16, 2024 – Just Cashing in on the Very Tail End of that Debby-induced August Bonus Round – Northampton County Limestoner

Pretty girl.

Well, things are about back to normal in the waters I fish now that we are nearly two weeks post-Hurricane Debby.  There was still a lot of new wood to snag in this particular creek this morning, but with flows almost back to normal, it was not a chore to get those bugs unstuck.  I started fishing about 6:15 AM this morning, probably 15 minutes later than intended because I hit highway construction that I should have planned for in advance.  Some days I just want to drive and not use navigation, and today that sort of bit me in the arse.  No worries, since fishing was pretty terrible early.  I don’t know if the cooler nights have had an effect, or if the fish really wait for the tricos to emerge before waking up, or what.  It’s not like I saw risers taking tricos, but their increased activity and the warming morning seemed to coincide with more fish activity.  When the swarm was very close to the water, I picked up a couple bows and a nice wild brown on a small, buggy dropper tag, so a few were off the bottom and actively taking bugs in pocket water between 9:30 and 10 AM.  It was a grind there for a while, however.  I fished 3 hours for one small brown and one missed hit from a mystery fish that would not hit again.  And then the last 90 minutes of fishing were really solid.  Not only did I land two nice brown trout, but a handful of rainbows also started eating. 

A bit more battle worn (and in the shade).

I am pretty sure the biggest brown was a battle-worn male based on the anal fin and the sheer girth, but the prettiest by far was the hen I stuck in six inches of pocket water.  I was in deep shade with the first one, so the pics were all dark, while the second nice fish was nearly in full sun at 10 AM.  The fights were night and day too.  The bigger fish took a walts under a bobber that I used for more control and reach in a big, deep, dark hole.  He buried the tiny indicator, but the fight was just some bulldogging and some hole wandering, enough hole wandering to blow up all but the head of the run for any other fish opportunities.  By contrast, the female jumped twice, once almost landing in my net.  I tried to keep her ahead of me in the riffles, hoping to use speed to land her, even if she was still very green.  That almost worked, but I did eventually have to backtrack a couple yards in order to subdue this one in a softer side pocket.  I took a water temperature, and it was 63 degrees, not 58 or something, but this fish and the bows that came from different lines within the same run were hot fish.  The fact that I got two of the rainbows to stop moving and pose for a photo is a triumph in itself.

A couple bows stayed still.

After having that hour and a half of good action, I was tempted to move to another spot or even re-fish some early spots that I knew held fish who were just being difficult earlier in the morning.  When I got out from under the mature trees, it was feeling pretty hot and sunny, so in the end I decided against that plan.  I don’t like to be a glutton, anyway.  Oh, I will do it, catch 50 trouts, especially if the temps are cool and the fish are cooperative or if I have driven 3 hours to fish and need to make a day of it to justify the drive.  That was not the case this morning.  I was just happy to take an hour ride, catch some fish, including a couple good ones, and still be home before lunch.  I actually took the boy out for a pre-birthday burger and finally found a present we’d been searching for online (and even in a specialty shop in downtown Philly) in a Dick’s Sporting Goods of all places.  No one else was working today either, as it was bumper to bumper with bikes and walkers at the creek, on most of the drive home, and in all the retail parking lots this afternoon too.  I guess this is the time of year where camps end and school has not yet started, so parents with young kids are off because they have to be.  I remember those days all too well.

Right up in that stuff and fully oxygenated battles as a result.

My boy is going to be 17 this weekend and will be going off to college this time next year, but he spent a lot of time playing Nintendo Switch in my office(s) at a couple colleges and universities over the years.  I guess he’s a pro at the college thing already, at least the cafeterias!  He and I are on the call list for a Susquehanna bass trip this week if things line up for Glenn, the dude Kenny and I fished with earlier this year.  He sent me some pics of good fish that he caught before Debby while out on scouting trips.  Usually, the main branch is even too low for a jet this time of year, but 7 inches of rain may have changed that this August.  I hope it works out.  This has been an odd weather summer, and the fluke trip was not that fun for him, so some smallies on topwater would be a nice final hurrah before he starts senior year of high school.  I certainly made the most of this rain and look forward to the next round this weekend.  

Bonus shots.  Even boosting the exposure, I did not get a good one of the this good one.

August 11, 2024 – Small Stream Sneaking for a Dozen Wild Boys and Girls (and a Bow) – Northampton County

Do I make you horny?  Randy?

Funny how a little rain and cool weather make me horny… for trout.  I had a little taste on Saturday night, but I did not get to hit half of the water I wanted to fish on one crick let alone have time to check out a second or third one.  I took the wet boots and wading socks out of the ‘Ru last night to “dry,” but I left the other stuff in there with plans to get up early and fish another creek.  I was up at 3:45 AM and fishing before 6 AM at a freestoner that has some limestone influence in one small stretch below where I was but mostly benefits from a good canopy of trees and a rather high gradient for a valley stream.  I took a water temperature reading when I considered quitting at 9 AM, and it was pushing 66 degrees, so the rain may have even spiked the temperature, and my decision to call it was made.  It was cool enough to start, with the air temperature below 60 degrees, making me rethink my wet wading plans, especially while sliding on already-wet boots and neoprene booties before official sunrise.  There was no plan B with the waders 90 minutes away in the garage, so I took the plunge and kept the boys out of the equation for the morning. 

A few cooperated just before sunrise.

The benefit of this plan was that my phone could stay in my back pocket, especially on such a small stream, so I could take a bunch of pictures, which I did.  I took several fish pics of representative sizes and even some of the lairs from which they were captured.  I had a blast, catching a dozen or more trouts in about 3 hours of fishing and walking.  And I never even fished the honey holes upstream after I saw that 66 F mark at 9 and decided a dozen was enough.  I found only one rainbow among the wild boys and girls, but she looked pretty healthy.  She should be, having been lucky enough or smart enough to find herself in one of the best holes on this stretch of crick.  I still have not landed a small stream pig out of a couple of these holes that just look big-fishy—see the log jam, the root ball, and even the live tree perpendicular to the current with a deep hole underneath and washout behind as evidence.  I tried a bugger a couple of times, but I eventually found that fish had no problem finding very natural-colored prey in the slight remaining stain.  To that end, an olive perdigon I put on to maximize quick depth penetration in pocket water and log jams—especially when I had to fish a particular log jam from upstream—was the most eaten bug, with a blue perdigon in midge size a close second.  Like Saturday night, the temps and flows had them eating, but the water was not cool enough to really get them fired up.  I had many nudges and quick pecks that did not connect, which could be YOY or could be dickish fish that simply opened up and let the bug pass over their jaws without bothering to move an inch from their lies.

Some sexy spots, even in the side channels.  Very grrr, baby....

Still, I could not complain about catching over a dozen wild fish and a pretty holdover in such fun and challenging spots.  The flooding rains urged a couple decent fish to migrate into little side channels that I would not have even tried had a couple early attempts in these spots not been rewarded with fish.  Wild fish do get around, and I feel like they sometimes spread out not congregate when the going gets tough.  Why ride out the heat and low water in a deep hole with a lot of competition when you might find one little plunge in a dark recess with no one else around?  I know big fish do that, and I tried these spots hoping for a real surprise, but just the presence of a fish in a few of these deeper cut spots was rewarding enough.  The dry dropper rod was in the car, but I felt like small bugs that dropped quickly into the sweet spots on a micro-mono rig served me better today.  I always have regrets about a potential terrestrial dry fly bonanza in summertime, but I am not sure this morning would have been that.

A honey hole but no cooperative piggy in there (yet).

I was hoping to stretch this trip to 10 AM, and I probably could have, but I was just grateful for a couple more chances at trout in August after the summer we’ve had.  Eric called me at 6 AM on his way to take care of some work when he saw my car missing from the driveway, lamenting that we should have gone to our secret spot this morning.  I know Josh was getting just as excited about the rain, perhaps even more, so that makes me feel more normal.  Heck, he and a couple of dudes on the forum that he may have shamed into taking a look were out there assessing cricks on Friday before most were truly fishable.  I was packed up for Friday, as I may have shared in my last post, but I am glad I had the patience to take the old bull approach and hit a couple cricks when they were just about right, even if I did not hit them all….  They were not perfect at 65 degrees, but they were not 73 degrees either.  Fish responded accordingly.  I am hopeful that that a week of 60s overnight and another shot of rain towards the end of this week keeps this party going.  I know there is summer weather left, but I feel like we’ve turned the corner.

More trouts, including that smart or lucky rainbow.

August 10, 2024 – With All the Rain, I Had to Give It a Try for a Couple Hours – Northampton County

Fishable for sure, maybe a hair warm.

I was packed up for Friday morning if I saw something too good to pass up on the gages, but the only game in town seemed to be Valley.  I guess I was too tired or unmotivated by what I saw because I rolled over and went back to sleep. Valley has to be perfect for me these days to get me motivated, especially this time of year.  It is a crick whose temps spike in the rain too.  Still, there are always regrets about not getting up!  While sitting through a few Friday meetings and phone calls, I vowed to get out at least once, maybe twice, this weekend to take advantage of the falling water and cooler overnight temperatures.  I had to meet the boy and couple of his friends in our garage on Saturday morning to give them a crash course in surf fishing for summer flounder—who am I kidding, fluke!  I had a feeling they would be dealing with 4–5-foot seas post Debby, and I was not wrong, but I did not want to discourage three teens from fishing.  I cut the lawn, which I had not cut in a while since I was away on that bass fishing mini-vacation last week, and it had been a wet week, all the while noticing that it was not all that hot out.  Why not an evening trip, just a couple hours to see what flows were like on a couple cricks without gages, I thought?  It took until 5 PM for me to commit to the plan fully, but I was fishing by 6 PM at a spot less than an hour from home (well, maybe an hour today with Saturday shopping traffic).  The creek looked high but clearing, and I thought about a streamer, but I decided to nymph a dark bug on the anchor and a pink worm on the dropper tag instead.  With all the runoff, the water was mid-60 degrees at this hour, so I was not convinced that fish would be happy enough to chase a bugger.  I was not wrong.  The fish were a little dickish despite the great looking conditions.

Not too shabby.

About an hour into my two hour wet wade, I got a call from the boy saying the surf was rough and asking about what should they do now.  Go out back, I said.  Find a sea wall or a dock on the bay and catch some spot, croakers, blues, sand sharks, whatever.  Instead, I think they decided to try again on Sunday morning before they had to meet the rest of their friend group at another beach town for a day on the boardwalk and the sand.  Like my wife, whose calls and texts almost always precede a run of fish, I guess he too is good luck because I started hooking some dinks not long after.  I caught three little browns on the worm before I finally hooked a nicer fish.  This one was worth the ride and the effort, a good fish in the 14-inch range that fought well.  This better one took a perdigon on the anchor not the worm, but I did break off another good fish on the worm not long after.   That was about it.  Just before dark, I switched to a bugger and had a nip and a couple follows from small fish that I could see pursue and turn away.  Sometimes this time of year, one decent fish is enough to justify the trip.  And I didn’t even have to get up at 3:30 AM!  That is Sunday’s plan, of course….

August 2-4, 2024 – Three Days of (Mostly) Bass Fishing at the PAFF Warmwater Jamboree – Central PA

My accommodations for the long weekend of variable weather and fishing.

It rained enough to stop traffic on 322/22 on the way out to Central PA on Friday morning.  Since I was not hydroplaning or anything drastic, I just slowed down and kept moving.  My intention was to get to the warmwater jam at Josh’s family homestead along the Juniata River early enough to help him set up a bit.  That did not really work out, as I did not arrive until after 11 AM with all the delays, including an accident just past the bridge over the Susquehanna near Dauphin.  Josh had done most of the work himself already, but a couple other guys were there earlier than me that may have pitched in (or not).  Last year I car camped in the ‘Ru, but I decided that a tent was a better option, except for the forecasted rain and all.  I put up the tent between showers and managed to keep everything dry until the rainfly was in place.  It was hot and humid, but the sun returned quickly after the torrential downpours.   

Some chunks

After hanging out with some other early arrivals, Josh and I fished midday and did pretty well.  Always the good host, he cut his fishing short to start prepping an early cookout so that folks, including himself, could hit the river for the evening bite.  I met some good guys and reconnected with a couple others, but the highlight had to be hanging out with Larry, who has read this blog for a long time.  We have talked about fishing together for a little while, but that will certainly happen now that we’ve met.  Food and fishing talk with a couple of the forum moderators and other members was followed by a decent but disappointing evening fishing session.  Disappointing because the topwater bite never happened for most, but Dave W. found white flies, or more likely some other pale mayfly, and had some surface fun after most had returned to camp.  Always one of the last to leave the water, I still missed that white fly hatch while floating a black gurgler with no takers, all while listening to Dave’s success in the dark.  I caught some decent fish in both day and night sessions, however, most on a bugger or a crayfish pattern.

A nice evening after a rainy afternoon.

The tent was plenty comfortable and cool, but a nearby railway with trains sounding the whistle on the hour all night brought back bad memories of poor sleep last year at this event!  Oh yeah, and the rooster was up at 4:45 AM. Good thing I was only in for a 6-mile float in a two-man Flycraft raft on Saturday.  I met Joe last year and communicated with him a bit this year, but I had not gotten out to Central PA to fish with him again.  Even though he took Larry on Friday for a long, hot, rather mediocre fishing day, he did not want to disappoint me, I suppose, so he did it again on Saturday.  It was a very cool experience, and it was good to get some fishing time with Joe, but we probably should have heeded the weather reports.  It was hot to start, then we hit heavy enough rain that we had to bail 2 inches of water out of the boat.  It was the wind blowing upriver, enough to blow us back to the put-in ramp had we not anchored a couple times, that really made us wonder if we’d make it to the end of the float.  We made it, eventually.  Josh and the crew sitting safe and dry under the big top back at the farm sent a couple wise-ass text, but I think it was just their way of showing concern for our well-being.  Yeah, right! 

Joe even got to fish a bit while I rowed; the work it takes to float.

We caught a few fish, but nothing of size and nothing worth the effort we expended rowing, bailing, and casting.  It was a very sexy part of the river, however, so Joe and I were both impressed enough to note that this was a stretch to try again in much more fish-conducive weather conditions.  Joe is about my age and just as obsessed.  Even after a physically and mentally draining day, I think we were riding the high of actually surviving our day on the water or something.  Instead of relaxing and eating the dinner the camp dudes kindly left behind for us on the grill, we suited up again and headed right for the river, still in the wet clothes we'd worn all day long!  It was a good call and truly made the day for me.  Although the dinner looked really tempting at the time.

A very sexy stretch of river worth a redo someday.

That Saturday evening, I decided to experiment with a level/balanced leech under an indicator, and it was a good experiment.  A level leech is basically a bugger that is tied with a jig hook’s eye about in the middle of the bug, not up by the bead.   A pin is used to tie in the tungsten bead ahead of the hook eye, so the bugger hangs level under a suspension device.  I had a vision that this technique of dead-drifting a bugger most often used in stillwater fishing could have deadly applications in certain rivers, especially this stretch of the Juniata near camp.  I was not wrong.  

Balanced leech did damage.

I lost a very nice fish and landed a couple solid teens, close to 20 fish in total in a couple hours of fishing.  The little fish hit like trout, or showed like trout on the bobber, but the bigger bass buried the plastic bubble!  That was exciting, what I imagine steelheading must be like with a similar set-up.  Even with a 7-weight rod, any bass over 12 inches accounts well for themselves.  I fished well into dark and heard Larry land a solid fish on a white wulff when the so-called white fly hatch returned.  I caught fish up to the last cast on the bobber and leech, so I did not switch up.  I think in our haste to get to the river, I neglected to bring my dry fly box anyway, which was my intention for the evening if the leech experiment was a bust.  I remember hearing Larry shout, “You’re the last man on the river,” as he headed back to camp to join the others.  I did join the rest of the dudes and some newer arrivals shortly thereafter.  I even got a shower and agreed to Josh’s offer to sleep on the couch in the house (and in the AC) this evening.  I still heard the train, but I did actually sleep more than an hour at a time on Saturday night.

A nice leech fish.  Many fish that evening well into dark.

Because I was there to fish and we both had the time, young Josh and I trout fished on Sunday, too.  I gave it an admirable try much earlier in the day, making a ride north and west to a watershed I enjoy fishing.  I was up at 5 AM, so why not, right?  Rain totals varied from town to town, ridge to ridge, and this valley had gotten pounded.  The creeks were not fishable, basically, so I got a coffee, a Gatorade, and some gas at Sheetz, and then scoped out a little Class A brookie creek on the way back.  I just walked and did not suit up.  I knew Josh was coming back to the farm to start coffee and breakfast around 8 AM, so I figured I would check in and be a social fisherman for a third day in a row if others were staying.  Sunday was the nicest day weatherwise, and the rain made trout guys like me a bit jittery with possibilities.  When everyone decided to head out pretty early on Sunday morning, I joined Josh alone for a little trout adventure.  

The rain made the trout guys wanna fish.

He showed me a couple spots, and one looked fantastic, but fish were not all that active.  I did witness Josh catch a decent small stream brown of about 10-11 inches, so I trust they are in there.  The second creek we visited did not get the same rain totals, so it barely had a stain.  I caught a few little gemmies and a spring holdover rainbow.  Josh found a couple bows and a few brookies the same size as mine, like 4-inchers.  Still, it was good to spend some more time with Josh, who has been generous with his home waters, heck with his home period.  Not only did he allow 15 or more dudes to camp on his property, but he set the older gentlemen up with beds and linens in the house, cooked for us, put up a big tent alone, shared fishing spots that would highlight his beloved home river, even served as a shuttle for a couple floats.  We fished together this spring, and we made plans to hook up again in the fall once his school year starts.  I also anticipate fishing with Larry and Joe again in the not too distant future.  Part of the reason I have been going to these things and branching out in general is to find more fishing partners, some dudes as sick with it as myself, and even some who can teach me a few things.  Even conversations with the old timers and OG PAFF-ers, like Tom, Barry or the illustrious Les, whom I met when he bought a rod from me some time ago, is not always on the nostalgia tip. Instead, there is a welcomed exchange of ideas with those who are wise, curious, and still young at heart.  Hot, rainy, buggy, mediocre fishing-wise at times, and yet a great weekend getaway with a bunch of good guys.