May 30, 2015 – Senior Cut Day for Some Smalljaws – Susquehanna River

Father/son senior cut day.

The Boy is just about finished high school.  I think he has two finals next week for classes that really don’t matter all that much to him nor in the grand scheme of things, as he’s done the hard part and gotten into a great college for the fall.  We booked this trip with Glenn early last winter, hoping the post-spawn, good flows, and the school schedule lined up.  It did, and we had a great trip.  We arrived to heavy fog resting about 50 feet over the river at 6 AM, and Glenn already had the boat in the water to beat its steady sink to the surface.  We grabbed the lunches and took a short ride to the first of many honey holes on Glenn’s itinerary, and in beating the fog probably beat a handful of other boats out there this morning.  I likened the trip lines on his electronics to the fluke drifts I have seen on the many inshore trips I have made over the years:  The lines don’t lie—all those trips over the same stretches of water are there for a reason, and Glenn knows every inch of those pathways.  

The boy pulled his weight.

He regularly called out the spot within the spot, and thankfully I have not lost my accuracy with a spinning rod, even when visibility was bad and I had to trust Glenn’s memory of what lie beneath the dirty water.  My son inherited most of my patience, and when he’s focused, he’s hard to beat with finesse baits like a ned rig or, like today, a slowly worked swim bait.  We both landed some really nice bass, but he got on the board early (as evidenced by the fog still present in photos) with two 19-inch bass and a handful of other good ones.  The best bait was a modified swim bait with a custom blade attached to the weighted hooks.  My guess is that a couple pops and falls with those blades flashing like wounded prey is hard to resist.  We tried to get a spinnerbait bite going to no avail, but a heavy chatterbait falling off a drop off or a crankbait worked in the flats below islands also notched some bass, including a couple goods ones.

A good start to a great day.  The numbers.  The modification that works magic.

Before the fog burned off, a short rainbow led us to the first of a few multiple fish stops—my kind of pot of gold!  Not every spot was magic, and even though the water was falling, few fish moved up tight to cover like they will very shortly.  Instead of targeting targets and those tight pockets, we had the most success targeting the seams below targets, so it took some patience and persistence to figure out how they wanted it—not unlike when Kenny and I were out with Chris earlier this month.  Glenn worked well with the boy again—he’s a dad of a teen and really patient.  I had the front of the boat all day, but the back was often the advantage spot with the fish sitting back from the cover, and the boy took advantage of that spot a lot.  He did really well.  We landed 88 bass according to the pitch counter, and he pulled his weight for sure!  We only caught one true dink, too.  I think we managed to hit all the mid- to high- teens multiple times.  If we landed all the fish we dropped, we may have gotten to 100 fish in the 7 hour trip.  We debated quitting at 6 hours during a lull, and Glenn gave us the choice of doing 6 or 8. We compromised at one more hour when hour 6 arrived, and we were glad we powered through the midday lull.  A couple of our best bass, bass that matched the early ones for length and weight, came in that last hour.

Some pigs.  Fog to sun.  Son and sunrise

I got up at 3 AM and drove there (and back) so I was getting tired, and the boy was up late, so he was starting to crash.  It’s funny how the average fish start feeling like pigs around hour 6 of a long day.  There was no need to push it to the full 8-hour trip, even though it was sunny and breezy out there, just a perfect spring day after a dreary start.  We had talked about heading to his college, less than 40 minutes away, when we were more chipper at 6 AM.  By 2 PM, we just wanted some Gator-aid and a Sheetz chicken sammich on our way back to Philly.  He slept half the way home, the mitch!  I am just glad that I can still do these long trips and feel good.  In fact, I may make a trip west on Sunday or Monday to catch some trouts, since it’s clear that I can’t stay away from them for too long.  Smallmouth are still number 2 (or 3 behind fall stripers) but I look forward to these trips with my son and catching up with Glenn or Chris, who really work to get him on fish.  If the stars align, we may take a twilight cruise with Glenn like we did last summer.  The schedule is tight with my son graduating and going off the college this fall, so if it does not happen, I am grateful that this father/son trip turned out so great.

A couple late day piggies and the many more along the way.

May 26, 2025 – Quite an Auspicious Start to an Awesome Overall Outing on a Couple of Fast Flowing Freestoners – NEPA

A third cast stud.

My first fish of the morning, on what was possibly my third drift, still standing but a foot off the bank in order to work the softer water closer to me before stepping in and spooking some early morning eaters, was a true day-maker.  I was in full shade at 7 AM-ish behind a bluff, and visibility was not great, so I was in disbelief for a moment at just how strong this heretofore unseen fish actually was.  I had no idea how big.  I knew he was solid, but I was on autopilot just trying to land a good fish of 15 or 16 inches, I guess.  Then he passed by me on a run and disbelief turned to excitement.  He was 20, maybe 20+.  No anxiety, at least.  I got a solid hookset, my knots were tied with love, and I was using 4X tippet on a stretch of water I knew well, so barring any newly deposited wood since I was here in March, I was confident that this would end well.  Okay, when he jumped twice on a short line, I got a little anxious.  I got the pictures but decided to forego the hero shot/selfish when he behaved nicely for an experiment with the patented hand with fish shot.  He went back with plenty of energy and his well-deserved dignity intact.  What did he eat?  The sulfur nymph I had used on the Lehigh River when last I held my 10’6” 4 weight in my hand.  Only half an hour later would I see the yellow sally stoneflies choppering about.  I’d rather be lucky than good some days.

The old stud slowly ceding his dominance to the next generation?

I was again in disbelief when my line stopped a few minutes later.  The drift just stopped, as it sometimes does when a good fish eats in current and has no desire to move unless provoked to do so.  This long, skinny-ass old man was certainly not going to waste much energy.  The fight was not half the battle of the first young stud, but I am not complaining about landing another large fish in the first half hour of my morning.  He got a net shot in case he found his grit right before a photo, but he too cooperated for a hand photo and went back into the cold water.  The fish gods were not done, however, not by a long shot.  Eventually, I put on an indicator to fish a deep glide at the back of this hole, and before an hour of my morning had passed, a third beauty buried the bobber.  This was a sparsely spotted, thick bodied stud in training—high teens, also male I guess by the anal fin, although with a cuter, more youthful face?  I was thinking, Where do I go from here?  Should I just go home?  Go get a fancy coffee and just enjoy the beautiful day?  Nah, I had at least 4 hours of fishing left in me, so I just kept going and tried to crack the code again.

Some net pics, a crick pic, and # 3, the pretty boy.

It did go downhill from there, at least at this creek.  I caught a couple rainbows, one an Eric-tied streamer eater, which was fun, but nothing like my first hour on the water.  Knowing it was a holiday with a forecast in the 70s, I expected to encounter other fishermen if I covered too much water.  Instead, around 10 AM I decided to get a drink and a snack back at the ‘Ru, and it was here that I saw all the “front-platers” had paid the bridge tolls this morning.  No offense, of course.  I married a Jersey girl, but I don’t fish with her, either.  With too much New York and New Jersey around, although no lift kits or stocker lockers to trigger me, I committed to exploring a Class A creek that has been on my list.  I fished it a few times in the past, but last time I was in this area, I did some scouting of a stretch that looked unposted and also held the potential for some deeper water and bigger fish habitat.  As I noted above, the fish gods were not done rewarding me today for some unknown or unremembered tribute to them.  Creek two was loaded up with solid wild brown fish, some angry holdover bows that come from who knows where (the fish gods know, of course) and I even broke off another stud on a leap I unwisely did not bow to, and I lost a second unseen stud that won the game of Run Down the Riffle As Fast As You Can (by Milton Bradley?  Parker Brothers?).  Some nice small stream wild fish were landed and photographed, so don’t feel too bad for me.  This was just a bonus round on a brand new-to-me stretch of crick, anyway.

My second stop of the morning was loaded with willing fish.

Near the access point, this creek has a significant elevation change, so serious flow, but it was wide and therefore relatively shallow. This is what I had experienced further upstream, so I was already thinking about smaller bugs and lighter tippet.  But I was encouraged by a couple of solid bumps in pocket water.  They did not commit in high sun, but I landed a fish on the shady side a bit farther upstream.  Mission accomplished.  This fish was shaped like a stocker, however.  He had the eye spot and good fins and no fused Minecraft-looking patterns, but my gut said holdover.  Unwisely it seems (see comment above about breaking off a stud when he jumped on a tight line) I retooled to 6X tippet and a single, small walts worm, just a confidence fly for me, like the perdigon or caddis larva, but one that might stay in the feeding zone in shallower water without hanging up.  It’s also not a bad searching pattern because it imitates so much and nothing at all—larva, scuds, shrimps, etc.  I connected with some fish that were unmistakably wild brown trouts, along with some strong bows that were right in the current or under it.  I concentrated on the quieter pockets and seams both near and across the way, and that was when more browns came, including the stud that broke my 6X tippet on a jump.  I was aware that fish were digging for cover and scraping line on the rocky bottom, but I had been maintaining and monitoring the tippet too.  After that minor disaster, I changed back to 5X and a single perdigon that I could bounce through that heavy water they seemed to be hanging near and within.

After learning the hard way, twice, a nice wild fish from a tricky spot.

That level-up did not help with a second stud who used the old trick of getting below me and then really below me.  As big fish often do when actively feeding, he had gotten himself up into the only soft spot in a roaring plunge.  Sam always says, The big ones are near the bouncy stuff, and his gravelly Delco voice plays in my head when approaching water like this because I know from experience that he is not wrong.  I gave chase to this fish, losing the battle to keep him in front of me, and eventually lost him altogether when I could not keep up, but I learned my lesson.  He was not alone in that little spot, and I kept the rod low on two more solid wild browns and coaxed them across the creek under the whitewater.  There was a little dance of fish and man in the narrow soft seam, the confined space on my side of the crick, but I netted both of these fish.  One female was in the 14-inch range, so a great small stream fish.  Not the two that got away, but no slouch.  More bows in there too, so a productive stretch of water.  Above it was a long shallow riffle that would have to wait for another day.  It was getting past noon, so I did not push forward after this magical and challenging spot.  I did fish a few pockets on the way back, however, and I even caught another fat fish over 10 inches on that walk.  Besides a leaking wader leg, and one lost stud (or two) that could have been the day-ender to my early day-maker, it was a perfect May outing, yo.

One last nice one before hitting the road.  Quite the day, this one.

May 25, 2025 – A Couple Stolen Hours and a Couple Surprises – SEPA

A nice surprise or two.

I have written about this place a few times over the years.  I rarely visit in prime time, like May, but I typically do catch fish—sometimes fish, singular—even when I visit on a winter afternoon.  It is a unicorn for where it’s located, and I am always amazed that natural reproduction continues through warm, dry summers and flooding rains and polluted run-off and so much dog waste and wet dog-destroyed riparian buffer.  I know a couple others who fish it, but they too tend to treat it like the fragile little gift it is.  I had a couple hours this evening, and I would rather catch one wild trout here than 30 at Valley, so I made the rare spring visit to see what was up.  I caught 7 trout, including a few nicer fish, a couple YOY, and a couple that are probably two years old.  All good signs.  All it takes is one fertile pair of adults and no more real estate development to keep this thing going.  It may never become a fishery, per se, but this is good enough for a Sunday evening or Tuesday afternoon in early March.

A really pretty trout from the old reliable hole.

It took a little bushwhacking through knotweed, vines, and deadfall to get to a deeper run that usually produces a fish for me.  I headed there first in case this was going to be a one fish night.  I was hoping for higher flows, but I did see a lot of midges and even a handful of caddis, both tan and dark brown.  Sure enough, the honey hole held a fish, and it was a fat, small stream fish that was all colored up and par marked.  I would have been happy to quit then, but I had just gotten here, so I pushed on.  After nymphing a couple pockets that I knew had to hold a fish and coming up empty, I remembered the caddis, however sparsely present, and let the single nymph swing the next couple of presentations.  I got a YOY to eat, and then a toddler, so we had three fish for the effort.  Water was low and clear, so I covered marginal holding water quickly, aiming to reach a few deeper holes before I ran out of daylight.

Some crick pics, bonus shots, and the future.

I left a couple primes holes to another time, probably another time not in prime time if my history with this crick continues, but I had a blast at my last stops of the evening.  I got clobbered on the first cast, and then I dropped two decent fish who took the single caddis larva on the fall.  One may have been a creek chub, but I had evidence that this bug would do the trick and these fish were hungry.  I stealthily crossed the creek below the tailout of this hole, so I did not create any further disturbance.  In this better position, I landed a nice 11–12 inch wild brown and a couple 8-inchers that I did not photograph.  They were feisty too!  I was so determined to get a picture of this leaping 12-incher that I almost rushed the fish to the net.  He was not having it!  With water temperatures around 60 degrees, they are in prime condition, so I just let things play out the way they needed to play out.  Despite the low light, I think I got a good shot of the better fish.  I tried one other deep hole and spooked a similar sized fish before I decided that I had a longer walk back to the ‘Run than anticipated.  I was texting Josh and Brian to see if either was fishing on Monday and shared some pics.  I think it was Brian who replied that he would be happy to catch fish that size all day.  Indeed.  It was well worth getting my butt off the couch after a day of lawn work for this one.  The alarm is set for 4 AM tomorrow in anticipation of a full day adventure.

A better shot.  Peep the two eye spots.  Pretty rare markings

May 12, 2025 – First Bass Trip of the Year with Young Kenny – Central PA

A couple of post-spawn piggies.

All at once, the rains have come.  I am not complaining about that.  We need it badly.  However, Kenny and I were concerned that our trip today with our boy Chris Gorsuch of Reel River Adventures might be cancelled.  The mighty Susquehanna was blown out, but after texting back and forth with Kenny, Chris assured us he could put us on fish if we snuck into the Juniata, which was falling quickly.  We launched around 7:15 AM, and we had our doubts.  We had a few hits, one dropped fish, and one landed by the captain himself, who was trying to figure out the bite, in the first 90 minutes of fishing.  The water temperature was about 60 degrees, but it was dirty and up.  At one point we had a belly laugh when Kenny told Chris, “This is fun, but we should get a guide next time.”  I don’t recommend using this line unless you know the guy you’re paying very well!  Chris has a sense of humor and eventually delivered.  Visibility improved slowly but steadily, and so did the fishing once we dialed them in.  They were being dicks, but crankbaits fished slowly with many stops and pauses and swings in the current eventually fooled close to 50 between us—5 more if you count the fish Chris landed while experimenting with size and color of cranks (I don’t 😉).  They were not anywhere near the banks, either.  Just out there using whatever little current breaks and seams they could find to put the post-spawn weight back on.  Soft plastics caught a lot of wood.

A true mitch.  You missed his western shirt from the Levi's Highwaymen Collection.

This was Kenny’s first fishing trip period for 2025.  I may have shared that he has ongoing health issues, so these days together are not undervalued on my part.  We usually have our share of laughs, of course, and falsetto singing as Chris DJs hits of the 70s, but we also have some good talks on the long rides.  This time, he slept all the way back home.  Even though his body might still look sexy AF, this takes a lot out of him.  Dude can still fish, and even when he says he’s done, he can’t help picking up the rod again if he sees nice fish coming at a steady pace.  I get it.  Fishing is life and a motivator to keep on keeping on.  He got into a few good bass, and Chris measured two of mine that were a hair shy of 20 inches.  We stayed out about 6 hours, and the last 4 were solid hours of fishing.  It was the oddest crankbait bite I can remember from my (too) many years of bass fishing.  We had three dudes trying it all.  Soft plastics, chatterbaits, different sizes, light colors, dark colors, and so on.  It was the slow but erratic retrieve that got them to stop following and eat.  Kenny and I both woke up the next day thinking, “Jerkbaits, you jamokes!”  Hindsight is 20/20, yo.

The best day of the week, and a Kenny piggy.

I have another trip, this time with Glenn and the Boy, on May 30^th.  I hope we are on the big river and the conditions are good.  I am pulling my high school senior out of school for this one.  He committed to Bucknell University for the fall, so I hope he doesn’t mind me sleeping on his couch 😊.  I no doubt will become more intimate with Penns Creek, for example, but I would also like to figure out the WB of the Susky, not to mention the region that I fished last week with Brian and Josh!  Kidding.  I will give him his space, but we do have friends in the Lewisburg area with land and even an Airbnb, so the Boy’s not totally rid of me yet.  Both Glenn and Chris have always encouraged me to bust out the fly rod, and I might this second May trip depending on conditions.  I do like the break from the buggy whip from time to time, but smalljaw on the fly is a blast.  Most if not all of the fish are done spawning and should be very hungry, maybe even for topwater in a couple weeks.  We can't wait.

Some more good fishes.  Check that milk chocolate water!

May 2 to 4, 2025 – Three Days of Fun, Only One (or Most of One) in the Sun, in the “PA Wilds” – Northcentral PA

Brian's beauty, and couple from Josh.

Josh and Brian invited me along this weekend for what we hope becomes a new tradition.  Josh reserved two campsites in Clinton County for a weekend of fishing, exploring, eating, and sleeping (poorly) in a lovely state park campground.  Brian and I brought a couple meals, but this was young Joshy’s show.  He had the pop-up canopy, the coffee press, the gas stove, heck, even a Dutch oven—the kind you cook with not the kind where you pull the covers over your spouse after a night of eating and drinking.  None of us had fished these creeks, but we ended up putting together a decent three days of fishing despite rain, very few hatching bugs, and ultracold water in places.  There were no tribs or branches that were barren, but some were better than others, at least under these conditions.  When I saw the forecast for the entire weekend, I left the tent at home and chose to car-camp.  It’s a toss up whether heavy rain hitting the roof of the ‘Ru all night is less relaxing that that same rain hitting the rain fly of a tent, as the boys had the same broken sleep each night that I experienced.  

Brian and I took some nice wide shots of all three mitches.

After taking advantage of the sun and dehydrating ourselves while going hard on Friday afternoon, we fished almost as hard through the rain on Saturday and even Sunday until about noon.  Josh fished harder—he actually went out solo on Saturday evening when Brian and I said, “Uncle!” after a particularly swampy and low fish numbers afternoon session.  That said, I have like 15 years on these mitches, so I maybe fished the hardest 😉 That solo evening Josh was rewarded with the best session any of us experienced.  Overall, the fishing was challenging but just rewarding enough for all of us to want to experience a couple of these watersheds again in late June or early July when this region of the state really gets popping.  While trout fishing on freestone creeks is winding down in SEPA, for example, it has barely begun here with water temperatures in the low fifties and healthy spring flows. 

Some collages from Friday's outing in the warm, wet wading sun.

We were thinking of early July with big bushy dry flies, but nymphing was the main event at times this weekend out of necessity.  Some dry fly eats happened, and Brian probably fished dry/dropper at least 60 percent of the time with success, but I tightline nymphed and Josh did too or used a small indy for most of the weekend in order to catch trouts with some consistency.  It’s amazing what a mature forest and undeveloped valleys can do with excess stormwater!  While it rained and rained, and the water was up and deceptively pushy even on the smallest creeks, visibility barely suffered most of the time.  Creeks cleared in an hour.  It is so alien these days for me to see high, clear flows, not electric brown mud soup after only an inch of rain.  We got a couple of inches, I bet, maybe a few, and there was still visibility in most of the creeks we fished.  And wading was relatively easy even in good flows with no rock snot to deal with.

Some scenes from a rainy Saturday on a bigger freestoner, at least in the morning.

Since I have a lot of pictures thanks to the boys sharing all there’s too, I tried to break down the three days and limit the daily editorializing—let the pictures do the talking for the most part.  Brian’s fish shown in the collage at the top of the page was the best brookie for sure, but you will notice a few other good ones in the mix.  Wild browns were harder to come by, not so willing to eat in general, but especially dickish this weekend.  There are a few pretty browns in the collages too, however.  A couple of the creeks are stocked trout water despite being a Class A mix of brook and brown trout, which is a stupid but common practice by the Commish, so there were some stocker bows to keep it interesting.  At least the locals and the fish/hunt camp dudes seem to fish for the stockers and likely keep the stockers, so there is some method to the PFBC’s madness. Sadly, however, at this early stage of the season, those stockers are inhabiting the best-looking holes, places that will surely hold willing wild and native fish in a month’s time. 

Sunday morning shots.

Despite bad to mediocre sleep, we all felt good and fished hard, fueled by our chef and guide.  We enjoyed a meat-forward menu, even some Spam in our morning scramble.  The showers were hot and the neighbors were quiet and respectful.  This “PA Wilds” marketing shite is working—the campground was at least half-full this early in the season and before school’s out for summer.  Trout fishing and turkey hunting are still events out here despite the push for forest bathing and paddling in the nether reaches of PA.  It was cool for me to roll through Lock Haven and Williamsport on my way home after spending many memorable weeks of my youth fishing Lycoming and Potter Counties with my old man and Ward.  Josh and Brian are good company and good fishermen, and I look forward to seeing them again this spring and summer, hopefully before the Josh Jam on the Juniata.  The only thing missing besides more fish, was maybe a fourth man, like our boy Lars!  Then he could say he’s got at least 15 years on me, and I am the mitch.  Actually, fishing mixed doubles like my dad and I used to do with two boats during our weeks in Canada would be a potential improvement over a three-man rotation.  We made it work well, but we may have covered more ground and been able to share more intel if we worked in pairs.  In the end, a fun weekend despite fishing challenges with many belly laughs, boy humor, and even some real talk.  Good times.

Bonus shots

April 27, 2025 – An Afternoon Avoiding the Wind and Trying to Avoid the Ravenous Rainbows – NEPA

Trickle fishing this afternoon.

I fished a small stocked creek with a healthy population of wild browns this afternoon from about 3:30 to 7:30 PM.  I was hoping to find a place to avoid the wind (yet again) and, ironically enough, catch a couple on a dry fly.  I don’t often fish the afternoon, so I had to take advantage of possibly being there for some surface activity.  This early in the season, I expected that I would have to pick through a dozen bows to find a wild fish, especially after a couple weeks of caddis hatching in the afternoon.  So, if you do the math, I was actually way too on the money.  It would not be an overestimate to say I landed 33 rainbows and 3 browns during my visit.  And, as hoped, I walked into the tail end of rising fish and got a good one to eat the dry.  I should have been there at 2 PM not 3:30 PM.  I was tied up in the morning on lawn duty for my mom—the boy’s parttime job where I don’t get paid but do 40% of the work!  Mom did have fresh meatballs on the stove, however, so I will work for food (and leftover Easter candy).  The best I could do was leave home a little after 2 PM.  I thought about going closer to home, but I had this creek in mind for a couple weeks now and, in theory, it was perfect for a windy day.  I don’t know how the fish were picking out caddis in all the wind-driven pollen and blossoms in the water, and many fish seemed to be chasing the emergers (more on that later) but I got my fattest small stream beauty if not my longest one of the day to eat the caddis dry fly with gusto.  I had a couple refusals and dropped one more before switching to the nymphs, which were eaten on the swing with equal enthusiasm.

A fatty on the dry, and a nicer fish on the swing.

Attack of the killer rainbows ensued.  I could not keep them off the bugs.  I would nymph a hole up to the head and catch a few, and then from the head I would swing the same bugs down and across where I had just fished and catch the rest of them.  Fun, until I started to worry that I would never see another brown this afternoon.  Eventually, I got a little guy to outcompete the rainbows and eat a swinging caddis pupa.  Near that same spot, I got another healthy small stream fish to eat on the swing.  This was a beautiful fish that the low light did not do justice.  The upside of fishing this creek with all the cover was that the wind was partially blocked at times, but the downside is that I felt like I was running out of daylight depending on the bends in the creek and the declining angle of the afternoon sun.  That said, last year I invested in a second (or third) pair of polarized lenses, and these amber yellow ones really have paid dividends.  I can wear them before 6 AM and after 6 PM and still see really well, even in canopied cricks like this one.  For as often as my day ends before noon, these have become my go-to glasses.  Rainy streamer day?  Perfect.

Photographing rainbows = herding cats.  Trout in the classroom (TIC) planting below?

I was also messing with a micro-mono rig today on my 9-footer in anticipation of brookie fishing next weekend with Josh and Brian in Northcentral PA.  I had 25 feet of 10 lb. Maxima green to some thin 3x sighter material to my 5x tippet.  Behind that is my 3wt floating line, so I can easily convert to dry fly fishing in minutes.  Today, despite the wind, I got eats throwing the dry fly on the mono rig.  It’s amazing what you can do with the weight of a dropper nymph and a slightly altered cast to deliver the dry/dropper, so I don’t always have to spend the time unwinding the mono rig, especially in close quarters where stealth trumps long casts, anyway.  I enjoy fishing a dry dropper, but not in plunge pools if the dry is only serving as an indicator.  I am sure young Josh will give me grief about fishing a mono rig next weekend, which is partially why I am doing it 😉 We are going to be camping in the state forest lands in northern Clinton County.  With the low water, a little rain would be nice, and I see a chance on Friday, but either way it should be fun hanging out with the boys and doing some blue-lining.  With all the bows today, my reflexes should be fine-tuned.

Bonus shot from the other angle.  Still bad lighting.

April 21 and 22, 2025 – A Couple Short Trips on the Home Home Waters – SEPA

Crowds on a Monday and brookies.

Maybe I need to pay more attention to social media, but besides my own blog, one fly fishing forum, and one surf fishing forum, I stay off the stuff.  In general, I don’t find it informative or all that exciting, until I decide naively to fish the Wissahickon on Easter Monday AND the day after the big tournament hosted by the dudes in Roxborough.  When I arrived at a park entrance about 7:30 AM on Monday morning, I started to put two and two together.  There were a lot of trucks that looked like fishing and hunting vehicles, not the usual Monday morning dog walkers, cyclists, and runners.  I suited up at home, so I was walking towards the crick in no time.  Peeking over the bridge, I had my confirmation.  Dudes lined up on both sides of the creek, upstream and downstream.  Water is not high, but it’s not low yet, so I decided to avoid the holes, and potentially a 29-inch brown trout or 25-inch rainbow, and fish for the average ones the Comish put in who’ve likely wandered since Opening Day.  There were some midges and caddis flying around by 9 AM, and after nymphing a couple up in the riffles, I actually had the most success and fun doing something different.  I started swinging the caddis pupa down and across.  This also got the attention of little smallmouth bass, rock bass, sunfish, so I was having steady action.  I figured if I was fishing for stocked trouts, then I should practice a skill I find comes in handy during caddis hatches, you know, so I am ready for the main event some morning with wild fish.  I made the most of staying away from the crowds, until they started giving up and moving around or leaving.

Some stockers on the swing.

A slight cold front had come through on Easter evening, so the air temperature had dropped about 10 degrees.  As a result, fishing was not on fire.  I watched a lot of dudes chunking a spinner and quickly moving around and not landing fish.  When I got to a favorite hole, a few younger guys and a retiree were complaining that the fish ate briefly at sunrise and then shut off.  I don’t believe the three younger dudes, sharing two rods, had touched a fish.  I felt a little guilty when I switched to a heavier peeking caddis and hooked a couple in this deeper hole, but not that guilty.  I did not catch 10, just 3, and made my departure for home—I was on borrowed time on a workday, just sneaking out because I had a light morning and had not visited the Wissy since Opening Day with Eric.  I wanted a Monday with some solitude in the park, and by fishing away from the crowds for much of the morning, I sort of accomplished that?

Crick pics and a fat bow.

Skip ahead to Tuesday, and I had to join the procrastinators who had not secured their Real IDs.  I took the day off to accomplish what I assumed would be a 3-hour ordeal.  It was 5 hours.  I was smart enough to put my fishing stuff in the ‘Ru in case I had the itch or needed to decompress after DMV hell.  Stony was right there in N-town, but I decided to head closer to home.  I got some food and Gatorade and headed to another stretch of the mighty Wissahickon.  No one works anymore.  The lot was full of people at 2 PM.  I guess I was calling the kettle black, but I am sure these places are like this every day.  Thankfully, most of the vehicles did not belong to fishermen, although I did see a dozen on the crick or leaving the crick.  Again, not for nothing, but the Comish drives Forbidden Drive and dumps buckets all over, not just at the easy access points!  I took a walk away from the crowds, had two prime holes to myself, and landed at least 7 fish in a couple hours.  It was the middle of the day, so fishing was not on fire, and I had to look for them in a couple of old favorites that were not stocked, but once I found them, I was able to get them to eat.  With the water low and pretty clear (for the Wissy) they just wanted a natural bug, a size 14 green caddis larva.  They’ve been ducking spinners for several days, so I should have fished midges!  Dude in the lot had a whopper plopper on his baitcaster telling me that people were catching them on flies, as I pulled the fly rod out of the back of my vehicle….  It was confirmation that the fish have seen the bugs hatching, however sporadically, and are starting to swear off corn and Velveeta (and topwater).  I am still thankful that I have this beautiful place so close to home—even the jamokes in lifted diesel trucks with bass gear add a special charm to the place.  I encountered no a-holes in two days, just people enjoying the arrival of spring.  Protect the Wiss, yo!

A simple natural bug fooled more than a handful.