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| Rubbing alcohol and Aquaseal stat! |
I wasn’t going to do it. The boy is in Orlando for a week with his senior classmates, so I had no reason to brave the Opening Day crowds down the street. That is until young Eric returned a fly rod I lent his kids for Mentored Youth Day last week. He was even carrying a beer as a thank you gift! He planned to head down to the Wissy hyper locally for a couple hours while his girls slept in. They had a full Saturday of sports ahead, and Eric himself is coaching and in high season at his work. I bit the bullet and said, Yes, I will accept this beer. I hedged my bets a bit, telling him to text me in the morning and if I was up, I would go with him. In the end, I set the alarm and decided it would be good to keep a tradition alive and good to hang out with a mitch. It was chilly out there, especially standing waist deep, apparently with several pinholes in my waders on top of the raw, drizzly conditions. We caught a couple fish but mostly just caught up. We met some characters, including some cool kids way into fishing, and everyone was jovial and chill on our little piece of bend pool. Honestly, the crowds were pretty solid—almost like days of old. Eric said MYD was crazy, but also triggering with all the grown-ass men sans kids out fishing on a day they are supposed to be teachers not participants. By 9:45 AM or so, we were done standing in the same hole for 90 minutes. I got a couple rainbows to grab a bugger on the swing—on the hang really, just holding the 10-foot rod out there to let the bugger pulse in front of their faces. I had a dozen short nips in the cold water, but I really didn’t expect much more. Hopefully, we get a real trip on the books in the coming weeks. I may at least convince him to take a 15 minute longer drive into the City for some water that at least looks like trout water, maybe after the Roxborough boys dump a load of monster stockers for their annual derby 😊
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| We put a couple fly rods in the line up! |
The weather looked iffy for Sunday, but it appeared that I might find a window early in the morning if I chose the right creek (hah!). I had a couple creeks in mind, but the further north and west I might go, the more likely I might encounter swollen cricks. I checked one gage in the Lehigh Valley, and it had nary a blip, much like the creeks in my area. The reason I checked this one gage is because the creek I actually wanted to fish does not have a gage itself—this gage was the gage to the closest creek. Boy, was I surprised when I started seeing the gulleys and a small trib that lead into my destination creek. It was completely blown out, unfishable! I had missed a major storm by minutes, I guessed, or the government had shut down the website…. Back at the ‘Ru, I checked the gage of the nearby creek again, and it was totally fine and in working order, that same little blip from a small shot of rain. It was maybe 7 AM, so I was not heading home. The obvious choice was just go fish the low water on the creek with the gage and take advantage of the low light. It took maybe 15 minutes to arrive, just winging it through town at a leisurely pace. I was happy to encounter no other vehicles at spot two, at least. I was also pleased to see clouds continue and a slight stain that might help my chances of scaring up a few in otherwise tough conditions. This small creek is lined with trees and bushes and pretty shallow when not at normal spring flows. Fish tend to tuck up under the banks, so I threaded my way up the middle fishing the sides or swinging back and forth for the best approach to each hole.
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| Pretty, low: a lot different than the swollen cricks on the other side of the valley! |
I hooked one early and it came off, which I saw as a good sign not a sign of things to come. Real talk: It ended up that I could not net a fish to save my life this morning. The first encounter was not an outlier but the norm this morning. I hooked and fought 3 trout and 2 big white suckers, and the picture below is the only one that found the net. Yes, I was even 50/50 on landing suckers for a photo today! I would not have minded missing a couple shots of average 10-inch wild browns, but I actually fought a small stream beauty too! In no more than 8 inches of water, a great 15-inch wild brown took my dropper tag, a size 18 black caddis imitation. He was sitting in full current in the cushion in front of a big boulder with a log wedged in front of it. He jumped twice after I hooked him, but he stayed above me, until he didn’t. All of the sudden he decided to go downstream and fast, right past my feet. He was probably looking for his normal hiding place when he’s not out there vulnerable and eating. I gave chase down the middle of the crick, rod held high when I could avoid the tight canopy. A good 30 feet down the stream, he found a bankside pile of brush and wood to get into. I kept the line tight and was making a move to net him, branches and all, when he sprung loose. He earned his freedom, at least.
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| Karen's kin or future boyfriend. |
I can’t say the same for another 10-11 inch brown that took the small bug 30 minutes later, nor Karen, my old friend the white sucker who was in her usual spot, a spot that often holds a big brown when she’s not in there. She just did a slow motion run all over the pool before deciding, Nope, no pictures for you! I kept working upstream, and did not find any more love. No bugs active, not even midges, no real change in conditions despite rain happening all over the region all morning, just not over me. I fished two holes again on the way back down and managed to land one of Karen’s kin. I was seeing suckers on a spawning run all morning. This one actually ate the dropper, just like Karen, and I actually took a picture of this one so that I had something to show you here for two mornings of fishing. I had fun, but something was up with my net game today! Maybe it was the low light or I was just out of small stream practice. I know at least one spot where this nice brown eats and one spot he likes to hide out, so we may see him again this year.