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| Should have been the spot, low water or not! |
September can be crueler than March for fly fisherman. Actually, even with saltwater fishing I have always had a love/hate thing when it comes to September. The water is often cool enough to fish, but the fish don’t always get the memo. I did great last weekend in NEPA, and the previous in Central PA, but I struggled this weekend in SEPA trying to stay close to home. I think that is common too. Comparing yourself to others at this time of the year is also rough since conditions vary by region, by type of creek, by weather and water conditions. Mountain freestoner with some rain, magic hour. Limestoner in between tricos and the next batch of olives, maybe not so good. A creek with some limestone influence where fish move miles each year to seek summer refuge? Easy to jump the gun. I try to stay off social media in general but even more so this time of year. Like this weekend, I just try to enjoy the cooler temps with a walk in the woods with a fly rod, knowing the party will start soon, albeit in fits and starts. Some company and, like this weekend, some wildlife sightings often make the walks more enjoyable. Eric and I fished our spot on Sunday morning and were met with typical September low water conditions and borderline temps in certain stretches. As a result, we struggled to find much more than chublife during our time on the water. We covered a lot of ground and got to assess the many changes that have happened since the spring. A lot of tree work, manmade and natural, has occurred. One favorite stretch looks like a beaver pond, but no rodent was involved, just two trees giving way. It is great for duck hunting this fall, which the landowner will do, but not great for the fishing—nor the stream flow below this massive, growing impoundment.
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| Buglife, chublife. |
We had fun and got a lot of walking in. We also spooked an immense buck, who had bedded on the bank right next to one of our honey holes. Eric and I were sneaking up to the spot through the brush with high hopes of actually sticking a trout when we heard what sounded like a cow jumping into the deep hole! Not long after, a huge animal with many, many tines scrambled under a cattle fence and up the steep bank opposite us. As an archer, this made Eric’s day, of course, but it was pretty exciting for me as well. Last night when Eric texted him that we’d be on the creek this morning, the landowner actually asked us to avoid a stretch of crick downstream of here. He had been seeing a couple big bucks on his trail cams. Either this was a third one, or Eric and I met one of his dream quarry this morning. Notch this up to things you would not see if you had chosen to stay at home today. To that add the stick bug that landed on Eric’s rod. As for fishing, well, I dropped one brown trout after a short battle on a jigged bugger deep in a root ball. Otherwise, we had to be content with chubs and other wildlife to keep it interesting.
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| Eric trying to make it happen and better flows on a SEPA limestoner. |
I packed up on Sunday night in case I had the drive to get up again, but my research that night did not leave me charged up or with any clear plans. I slept in and took care of some Sunday stuff on a Monday before the gorgeous weather gave me enough FOMO to pack up the ‘Ru for an evening adventure. I drove under an hour to a SEPA limestoner to poke around for a few hours, but mostly to get out and enjoy the wet wading and the bushwhacking. I spotted an eagle, jumped another buck, and actually caught three wild trouts. Two of them were barely legal, but one was at least 8 inches long. A family with young kids was out swimming in the creek, so I dropped a thermometer a couple different times and found temps between 66 and 62. They and the trout were swimming in chilly waters. Flows were also amazing for this time of year, so the springs were charged up. I kept expecting to raise a good fish, and I even tossed a bugger after the sun had dropped below the western ridge. Again, the fish really didn’t get the memo that conditions were looking prime out here.
Where's Wal-buck?
When I got up to the hole where I was convinced I might find at least once decent fish, I only found one of my two dinkers there and willing to eat. All the fish hit a drowned ant pattern on the dropper tag. In the absence of any aquatic bugs besides size 28 midges, a terrestrial was likely the move. I thought I saw two pale evening duns, but I saw zero rises even at magic hour, so am not sure that prospecting with a terrestrial dry would have netted any more fishes than my nymphing and bugger chunking. I hit one more hole upstream and then fished this honey hole again with a bugger. Nada. I tossed the bugger in likely spots on the way back, but I had a bit of a walk to take with limited daylight, so I move back along the bank pretty quickly—and loudly enough to spook a decent buck and a couple doe. I even thought I saw a coyote at a distance, but they are far more ghostly than deer. I have had a sighting here in recent years, however, so it probably was not just my eyes playing tricks in the waning light. Again, a reason or two beyond the actual fishing to get me off the couch and into the woods while I wait for the real fall fishing to commence.
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| Some actually wild browns this time ;) |
Yes, March is cruel but I have found that September can be as well. Still, it was good to get outdoors in the much cooler temps and also spend some time with young Eric before deer hunting consumes his time. I will probably be at it again next weekend. Some bigger NEPA creeks are getting close to what I like to see, and there is always the longer drive to Central PA on the table. When I look at the blog, September often has fewer trips than January, so I will be grateful and take a wet September with below average temperatures. If I keep getting out of bed, there will be more big fishes and more double-digit days ahead. Until then, I guess I just have to enjoy the changing seasons and the walks in the woods with a fly rod. Patience, I tell myself. Patience.
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| Bonus shot |