July 27, 2025 – The Accidental Storm Chaser or Right Place Right Time Five (Almost 6) Times – Lehigh Valley Limestoner

A cool reprieve with many fishes.

I intended to toss terrestrials around this morning, but when I arrived at my destination at 5:30 AM, I could hear the creek....  The roads were wet, and isolated showers were around all day, so I wasn't THAT surprised, but I did have to pivot.  Yesterday was cooler and cloudier, so the water temps this morning were great for a short, early trip.  By 10 AM, I was wishing it wasn’t late July, and I could keep the magic going, but I stuck to my own summer rules about 10 or 10:30 AM quitting time.  Fishing was that good for those 4.5 hours.  I likely landed over 15 trout, from my first golden of the year, to several hot rainbows, to 5 solid wild browns, to finding a new white whale.  I hooked and jumped one that was probably 24 inches long and just massive.  I did not have the adrenaline dry heaves after he got off because I was pretty sure I was never going to land him in the current situation.  He ate a size 18 bug on 5X at the end of my 3 weight nymphing rod, and he hit on the swing in a hole that is just full of big boulders and tree limbs.  I think the small barbless bug simply pulled.  He jumped once and then took off downstream.  When I lost the angle that I never really had to begin with, I knew it could not last.  One more leap, and he was gone.  It’s good to have white whales, I think?  It definitely helps get me out of bed at 3:30 AM while keeping these summer trout fishing hours.  I could not call this one a grind, however.  It was humid, but only 73 degrees when I quit, and the water temperature was 64 F.  Despite another predawn drive after very little sleep, the rest of the outing was quite a pleasure.

Pretty holdover bows and my first golden of 2025 before some wild browns appeared.

With the brush (and poison ivy) so grown up with all this rain we’ve been having, I had to walk out on a bridge to assess the creek fully.  It was up for summertime, but I convinced myself that it looked higher and darker than it was.  With the water in the low 60s and the air about 70, there was fog and mist added to the low visibility, but I estimated that I had two feet of visibility to start.  Streamer time.  My dry fly rod was probably not going to cut it, so I put a black jigged sculpin on my nymphing rod that I was wise enough to pack and took the predawn plunge—quite literally.  This stretch of crick involves some deep wading, so I was waist deep and having to piss 12 times in no time at all.  I caught fish right away and kept on catching, just with different methods as the conditions changed.  Two hours into my trip, the streamer window was already closing, and I saw tricos everywhere, so I rigged to nymph small bugs under a small Oros bobber.  Even when tossing the sculpin, I had a small soft hackle on the dropper tag, and that got eaten early and often too.  I caught a palomino, a stocker brown, and several stocker bows on the dropper tag on the swing.  I caught several better bows on the sculpin, most on the hang not just stripping, before hooking something a little different. 

A crick pic and just a perfect specimen of a "North American Brown Fish," and a streamer eater.

With few exceptions, I can always tell when a wild one eats (most holdover bows that have been around for a long time still give themselves away with a leap).  This fish dug and shook his head and simply would not give up.  He ate on the swing, and they always have the advantage downstream, but I roped him in twice, once in the soft water behind me, only to have him take off again.  I generally try to end the fights faster this time of year, but he was like, “Dude, I am feeling more than fine in 64-degree water full of bugs and tasty little fish eating those bugs.  Let’s do this!”  This was objectively the handsomest fish I encountered all day, but it would not be the last good fish by a longshot.  Because streamer eats are fun, I stuck with it a while longer, but when I approached a deep, shaded, honey hole, it was bobber time.  I thought that the first of two high teen hens I landed next was a snag until she took off.  She just sipped the 18 perdigon on the anchor and stayed put, so the bobber sunk slowly like it had hit a stationary snag. I was a little surprised that the fish wanted a bug I would find invisible in the stained water, but its proximity to the bottom may have mimicked trico nymphs, which I am told crawl.  I caught another hen in the same size range not long after on the same nondescript brown bug, so I did not doubt its effectiveness again.

Hen 1 and hen 2, maybe hen 2 and hen 1.  Both solid fish.

I may have landed another if I didn’t have the bright idea to take off the bobber and swing a couple casts through there.  One fish hit so hard that it just snapped my tippet off at the tippet ring.  Oooof.  I wanted to tightline the bouncier head of this hole, anyway, so I rerigged with a single perdigon and, after hooking a couple more rainbows, I landed a toothy male that was arguably the best fish (landed) of the morning.  He was an angry one and would not quit, not even in the net.  I had to sit with him for a minute after a gentle release.  He just chilled at my feet breathing hard, and it was my chance to have the conversation, “Dude, why would you struggle more in the net when you knew you were had?  What were you proving then?”  I took that moment with him to hang the thermometer again just in case it was me.  It was 64 F, so it was both of us, but mostly him.  I thought the pocket water between this hole and the next was going to be bonkers, at least with small wild fish, but that did not play out as expected.  I did catch two average wild boys and another rainbow in some fun water, but they were not spread throughout the pockets and riffles.

A studly male and another gorgeous female before losing a true monster.

That may have been a sign that the water temps were getting warm during these hot weeks, and they have moved from the riffles to the deep holes to ride it out.  That jibes with all the active fish close to deep, cold water.  They moved up to the first drop off to eat nymphs, and there were some risers early despite the color of the water, but they were not ready to spread out like the summer was over.  This happens on the fish-active winter days too.  The bobber can be key.  That said, I enjoy nymphing without it more, so I was happy to hook another mid-teens fish before the aforementioned encounter with my new white whale.  It was about 9:45 AM by now, so losing that pig convinced me that it was best to go.  I don’t like to overstay my welcome even if the fish are telling me there is still time.  The stream thermometer concurred, and the air temp was only 73 on my car thermometer too, but why be a glutton?  These days in the summer are rare, especially if you are not a trico chaser.  I had streamer eats, bobber eats, tightline eats.  No dry fly eats on big terrestrials as planned, but I have no reason to complain about that.  That will likely be the move the next time I head out, unless I am lucky enough to stumble into another post-storm bonanza.  Then I will act accordingly, of course.

Bonus college.   Some of the bows were solid too.

July 20, 2025 – The Things I Do for Trouts Sometimes (the Grind Part III?) – Lehigh Valley Limestoner

The grind continues.

Man, an eagle showed me more courtesy than the first angler I encountered this morning.  It wasn’t even 6 AM before I got high-holed by some jadrool, and I nearly lost my shit.  Let’s just say I clearly communicated my feelings with words, made a splashy exit from the creek, and took a walk to cool off—I was not going to let some idiot ruin my morning, but I suppose I had to make him feel something too.  Dude either knew better and was being a douche, or he was new to the sport and did not know.  I saw three anglers all morning, so he had plenty of other holes to try, but he walked in like we were fishing for stockers on the Wissy.  Come to think of it, we kind of were.  This creek used to be a Class A wild brown trout fishery, but it has not been in some time.  I actually caught a wild brown today while fishing water where I knew there had to be a couple if there were any left.  Before this lone wild brown, I could not even find YOY, which I have typically encountered this time of year even during this steep habitat and population decline.  They were a cause for hope, but that is dwindling each year that I visit.  The water is still cold, like 62 F this morning, which is why I was here, so the rainbows are looking great.  Some of them are either wild or Trout in the Classroom plantings—they are shaped like wild trout and their fins are perfect.  I have actually caught 4 inchers in this stretch too, so I would not be surprised if the lack of browns is allowing some rainbows to breed successfully.  If the place once again gets wilded, I don’t care what species they are, but it would be really sad if it simply declined into a creek that needs stocking be a fishery.  Parts of it already are.

Pretty bow with all her parts in place.

Not long after I settled into a long stretch of pocket water to start my morning again for the first time, I heard a loud splash downstream, and my mind immediately went to my other nemesis: dogs off leash!  It was actually an eagle splashing down to eat a trout.  It looked like a decent rainbow, too, but at least he didn’t high-hole me.  I saw mergansers and several herons, so when the water is low, they are not helping the struggling wild population of trout, but that does not seem to matter on other creeks in the region with similar wildlife.  There are bugs too, but not as many as in the recent past.  I spoke with a friendly and courteous trico chaser later in the morning (perhaps only to confirm that all stream etiquette is not lost) and he found a few swarms and no rising fish in some of his favorite spots.  I saw some today myself, but not as many as before.  I had the most success throwing a single, olive nothing on 6X.  With all the flies these fish see, I usually find I have to throw dull brass or black beads and small natural bugs with no hot spots or anything too flashy.  In the darker predawn minutes, I began tossing the bugs I had on from my last trip in NEPA, but when I had three short hits in a row and no fish to show for it, I retooled for success based on previous experience.

Another pretty holdover.

That simple, buggy olive nymph got down enough and fell slowly enough not to collect weeds and algae, and so it did the trick.  I caught 5 rainbows in pocket water and stuck two others that jumped off in shallow riffles.  When that nymph didn’t work in a deeper, braided hole and plunge—where I was convinced a brown had to live—I rerigged with a size 16 perdigon on the anchor, a 18 CDC soft hackle on the dropper tag.  It was that little dropper with a lot of movement from the CDC that notched the only brown trout.  It was not a YOY, either.  I wouldn’t say it was a big adult fish, more like a toddler, but it was something.  By 9:30 AM it was already getting hot, so I decided to quit after finding this brown trout.  The only reason I was out this morning was because Saturday was cooler and cloudy, so the creek stayed in the safe range all day.  I was not so sure that was happening today, even though Monday through Wednesday looks great.  It was good to catch some trout in July, but I am not sure I will return to this creek for a while.  It lived up to my expectations, which is not a good thing.  Along with the creek I visited a couple weeks ago, it is just a place I visit once a year, just to visit, I think.  Maybe it’s just nostalgia because it’s certainly not the fish or some of the anglers I encounter here.

Toddler not YOY.  He must have parents, but where are they?

July 13, 2025 – A Visit to the (Replenished) Beaches with My Son in Search of Some Evasive Keeper Flukes – Ocean County, NJ

The old (almost in) college try this morning.

Well, we gave it the old (almost in) college try this morning.  The Boy and I were on the beach at 5:30 AM near low tide, scouting for some holes in the clear but choppy water.  Clear does not mean clean, however.  With all the swells from weather system after weather system, things are still stirred up.  Grass was so bad it got annoying, especially since it tends to accumulate in the holes!  I have not been on the sand since December of 2024, the tail end of striper season, so I had no intel but my ability to read water.  It did feel good to be out there.  Sadly, due to all the sand pumping to please bathers and to protect homeowners’ investments, holes are hard to find in some of my old haunts, and I was tortured by beach replenishment at every turn (more on that below).  We fished the front beaches until about 8 AM, and we caught maybe 7 short flukes, all under 14 or 15 inches, a couple like 10 inches.  Thinking the little ones in the wash were a sign that there are fish in the bays and inlets still staging to come outside, I suggested moving to the back of the inlet for our second and final stop of the morning.  We took a relaxed attitude towards this move, towards the day really, which is sometimes against character for me.  No rush today.  I figured that if fishing was going to be mediocre, then I wanted to make sure my son and I had a good day together, either way.  We actually pulled into a park that had bathrooms and outdoor showers and refreshed ourselves before continuing our drive.  Pissed in flushing toilets, not the dunes.  We even had some food and water before driving to the second spot.  Civilized.

A lot of smalls in the wash right now.

A couple other pairs of fishermen and dog walkers were at this second spot, one of the more unique public access spots to the bay and a place where I have had decades of fishing success.  Despite folks using the park this morning as intended, the boy and I found some space by taking a couple longer walks, but I was disappointed that all the pipes and barges, and eventually the large working boat/tug that hauls this stuff out to the ocean to pump sand, are still being stored back here.  We are talking over 200 yards of stuff just anchored parallel to the shore in 10 feet of water.  I know no one wants this nonsense behind their houses, but if beach replenishment is going to happen for perpetuity, then all this industrial equipment sitting in prime water with public access is going to be here for perpetuity too.  It also hurts the common folk like me and the many others who visit this state park land for free beach play and kayak launching and even temporary party-mooring.  The boy’s pic of me with our only keeper fluke burns the spot if you know it, but you can have it these days 😉 It’s surely been in decline since a severe hurricane washed away hundreds of yards of sod banks, but without the barges obstructing, it still allowed land-based anglers access to prime fluke and weakfish holes.  It is frustrating to say the least.

Nice fluke and that grass out front AND in the back.

I actually caught three fluke, including a nice one over 21 inches, in the moving water between the barges and the shore, but I would have loved to have waded out waist deep and hit some of the channels where the boats drift—this was possible back in the day.  I have fond memories of boaters warning me that “the water drops off right there,” as if I wasn’t wading out there for that very reason!  Thanks, Cap’n….  The boy was getting tired and tired of challenging fishing with all the grass even back here.  You can see in the pics all the grass piled up on the beach.  When the SE breeze died out, the greenhead flies were pretty bad too.  The fishing was not worth the frustration after a nice morning outdoors.  We saw porpoises, multiple ospreys, and a working team of pelicans out front.  Even in the back with all the human industrial machinery and noise, we saw hummingbirds, a sea turtle, mating horseshoe crabs, and a working pod of cormorants.  The weather was comfortable, and the water was perfect for swimming.  It was a good day despite my ranting!  At some point when I sensed The Boy was done, I promised we’d quit after 5 more casts, and the big fluke came on my 4^th one.  I kept my word and took another cast, of course, but I was happy to end on a high note and not torture him with the never-ending one last cast.  We returned to the showers and bathrooms and changed clothes—again, real civilized and all—and we even sat down and had lunch at a pizza shop on the way home, not just a $6.00-dollar Hoagiefest special!  I hope we can get out for fluke or maybe some smalljaw one last time before he leaves for college.  Only five weeks and counting if my math is right.

Sort of an East/Southeast start to the day, but sunny by noon.

July 9, 2025 – Welcome to the Grind, Part Deux – NEPA

Pretty bow

I was off today, and I wanted to trout fish.  I had taken off Tuesday and Wednesday this week because I had a fluke trip (that was cancelled due to weather) on Tuesday, and pre-planned to have a day of rest and/or fishing on Wednesday.  With heat and rain for what feels like forever, there weren’t many choices today, honestly.  I usually have to be pretty desperate in like early August to hit this particular creek, but this has not been a normal year.  The creek is a bottom release tailwater, so the water temperatures rarely get above 60 degrees when the reservoir is holding a good bit of water.  It sees temps in the low 50s well into the late spring most years.  Today, the water temperature was 58 F and the storms last night gave a (too) brief break in the humidity, so I was in the best possible place besides a swimming pool this morning.  The beach may have been less comfortable!  It was still hot and going to get close to 90 degrees today, so even though I was timid about making the first steps into the cold water at 5:30 AM, it felt pretty damn good from the start.  I waited until 7 or 8 to get the undercarriage wet, but I felt like swimming by 10 AM.  I hit two spots with some public access (one public-ish) and caught a good number of fish.  The creek has wild browns, and I have caught some decent ones over the years, but today the only evidence of their presence was a strong showing of one- and two-year-olds.  The big old bows, full of piss and vinegar in cold, oxygen-rich water, made up for it.  I had a blast during a couple of really fishy spurts, incredulous that they just would not give up fighting.  Water was on the high and stained side, so I did not get the dry fly action I was hoping for, but I pivoted and caught fish both nymphing at spot one and fishing a dry/dropper at spot two.  Even as the sun got higher and the fog burned off, I was comfortable, so I stayed out until 11 AM, which is sometimes unheard of this time of year.  That said, I bet I did not catch a fish from 10 to 11 AM—I was just casting and staying cool—so I headed home after that.

Big, angry hen!

I started out with a dry dropper because that is usually an effective way to fish this creek.  It is not all that deep most of the time, and because it’s cold and full of stocked trout, the fish spread out.  I saw some dimplers before 6 AM, and they ended up being wild brown trout youth.  After catching a few 4-inchers in a row, I decided to leave these little guys alone.  I found some deeper water and changed to a bobber to get some reach to deeper water.  Eventually, it seemed like the bobber with small bugs was the move.  To begin the morning, I was throwing a 5 wt with a floating line to push a big stimulator out there, but I love to bobber nymph with my 10’ and 10’6” rods and a mono rig.  I am just so used to being able to keep almost all the line to the bobber off the water while high-sticking.  Before walking up through a riffle to the next deep hole, I went back to the ‘Ru and picked up my 10’ 3 weight rod.  I had a walts on the anchor and on the dropper what I can only describe as a soft hackle version of a zebra midge.  It was an 18 not a 22 or anything too crazy, but that little dropper got the job done on some solid holdover rainbows.

Cold water and laurel in bloom.

The biggest one fought so hard I was convinced I had finally found a big brown.  When she showed silver, I was a little disappointed until I realized she was a handful on a 3 weight rod and 5x tippet!  She even jumped a couple times before I took a successful swipe with the net to end this fight in a reasonable amount of time.  She was a big, fat bow.  I got a few more solid fish in this same hole before deciding to forego wading another shallow riffle to look for holding water and, instead, head to another spot.  I still wanted to throw a fly line today, perhaps even catch a couple on a dry fly.  I drove past one spot that I had in mind, but I was curious if anyone else was out on a Wednesday, so I drove further to a far more popular stretch.  There were three cars, but a couple looked like hikers or dog swimmers, so I decided to investigate.  I actually saw no other fishermen in range, so I decided to fish this spot.  I have had some success with browns in the area and was still holding out hope for at least one adult.

A good place to be on a hot day.

Well, my brown trout hole had a tree in it, and I did see another fisherman downstream in a deeper stretch, so I made the most of my visit and tossed the dry dropper for a while.  I had success from 9 to 10 AM but could not buy a hit after 10 AM.  As I noted above, I stayed and worked some water I have not worked in years.  The three rainbows I did catch in the first hour were not as large or ornery as the first stop, and they did not eat the dry.  I did get to throw a fly on a fly line and have them pull the dry under while eating the dropper, however.  I guess that is some novelty after a spring of nymphing a lot of high water.  Today was less of a grind because the humidity was down early in the morning and the water was cold, but it was still a grind.  Up at 3 AM, on the road by 4:15 AM, but I took a nap after I got home around noon, so I had a relaxing and successful trip and day.  Not the best day to have off work, but not the worst one either.  The grind continues.

Some nice looking stockers.

July 6, 2025 – And So the Summer Grind Begins – Lehigh Valley Limestoner

Welcome to the summer grind.

It’s been hot, but a little less humid (until today).  Flows are still decent, however, and we had two cool, clear nights that dropped into the 60s, so never say never.  My buddy Ron has already called out how long my so-called last trip of the season can stretch on and on every summer.  Guilty as charged.  I call this time of the year the grind—not the MTV dance show and workout tapes but the early morning wet wading to find a few willing trout.  Up in the dark, arrive before dawn, sneak around low water, and hope there are some happy fish before 10 AM.  Sometimes, like this morning, I can scare up a half a dozen or more smalls, and sometimes I even find one that makes the grind worth it.  Sometimes, I just catch some dinks and am grateful for the chance to fish and enjoy the outdoors before the heat of the day sets in.  I probably messed with about 10 fish, from 10 inchers, to holdover bows, to a few YOY that I sent flying with hero hooksets.  With flows so good for July, I even nymphed pocket water instead of tossing a dry dropper.  Tricos were thick, but it was feeling hot by 9 AM, so I did not wait for them to hit the water.  It’s just not my scene to fish with 7 or 8X in marginal water temperatures.  On some really popular spots for this pastime, I am packing up at my parking spot before the others even start arriving.  To each his own as long as they are carrying a thermometer or chasing stockers that are probably going to die this summer.  No trico chasers today, but one other dude was out there nymphing this morning.  He arrived about an hour after me, but I still give him props for embracing the grind.

Decent one at sunrise.

I got on the board early with a couple of dinks before sunrise, but I also landed one of my better fish for today before 6:30 AM.  The 9 incher was tight to a plunge on the soft side of the white water and ate like he was hungry.  Fortunately, or unfortunately, however you want to look at it, the pattern continued with one fish in each prime spot of each similar run.  If a better one was in there, but I caught the first dink wiling to eat, I would never know.  This can happen when flows get lower and fish get spookier.  The only place I caught more than one fish, the second fish was a rainbow, so that does not really count.  I was mostly tossing a single, natural colored bug with a brass bead early, but a single natural, jigged walts with a silver bead got some attention as the sun rose.  Dry and dry/dropper are fun, but I also enjoy tossing a single small nymph on 6X and a micro mono rig.  I give it time to sink into the deeper pockets or heavier water, and I lead it through the skinner stuff.  I even get some on the swing.  I also like to throw the single nymph to the spots I would toss a dry.  Because the splash does not disturb them, it sometimes triggers them to eat on the fall.  That happened a couple of times this morning.  I was hoping one of the eaters in these prime lies close to cover would be a better fish, but not today.

A solid showing of small fish.

I had to follow rough deer trails to a couple honey holes because the brush, grasses, and deadfalls were pretty thick.  I actually find that encouraging because it means no one else has been back here in a while.  That said, one of my honey holes produced an average brown and a holdover rainbow (so it was my two fish hole!) and the other honey hole held my second 9 inch fish of the morning, which would be my last fish.  I dropped a thermometer at 9 AM, and the temperature was fine at about 65 degrees.  There were cooler spots near springs and seeps, which I could feel with my wet legs.  It was me who was too hot.  After a couple bushwhacking sessions, my glasses were fogged, and I was regretting not wearing a ventilated trucker hat.  Standing in the cool water returned the balance I was looking for, but too much sun was going to ruin this party in no time at all.  I decided to end with the second decent wild fish and head for the deer trails once more.  There was shade at the parking area, so I prolonged my time in the woods a little longer than I normally do.  I had a snack and some iced coffee on the bumper of the 'Ru, which allowed the wet pants to dry a bit for the ride home.  Even at 9:30 AM, it was already too hot to roll the windows down on the drive home.  Welcome to the grind, y’all.

Bonus shot