December 5, 2015 – Surf Casting Practice in the Dead Sea

Morning has broken...

I was on the road to an Ocean County beach at 3:30 AM again on Saturday.  My dad was fighting a cold and sinus thing, so he stayed in bed.  The only thing he missed was the scenery.  When I lead with two sunrise pics in a week, you know fishing is slow!  I arrived and started fishing around 5 AM.  I started by throwing a black SP minnow with a teaser on my 10 footer, but within 60 minutes I went back to the Subaru for my lighter set-up with a smaller plug, hoping for schoolies or even rats.  I just had the premonition that it was not going to happen today. 

The water was clean and the surf was calm due to a couple days of NW wind, but there should have been at least short resident fish on some of the structure I could reach.  I targeted holes and cuts I had scouted when I fished blindly on Thursday.  Since it was a Saturday, I had more company today, with plenty of bait guys set up and buggies running back and forth hoping for signs of life in the form of birds or bait.  I spoke to some guys and watched many others who came up dry, not even skates.  I made a lot of casts to good structure like the cut below.  The fact that I didn’t get a bump would have been depressing had it not been such a nice day.  After sitting on a bench for a relaxing 15 minutes to cool down, and watching gannets dive in the distance and bored dudes soaking bunker chunks, I was back on the road home before 8:30 AM.  I am hoping with a warm future weather pattern in place for a week or more that I will at least get a shot at the schoolie run that should be happening soon.  It would be nice to get the old man on some fish too.  Trout on Monday morning??  Maybe…

The view from the bar.

December 3, 2015 – Indulging another Passion on LBI

...like the first morning.

I don’t know where November went, and I can’t believe I have not fished since late October, but I guess life happens.  There was a time not that long ago when I put a lot of miles on my vehicles going east to the ocean and bays.  I spent nearly 10 years renting a shore house on LBI with Ward and friends, and we fished a lot for fluke and weakies all summer.  He had a 28’ center console (replace by family and golf clubs for the time being) and I had a couple backbay boats (one still sitting in my driveway waiting for something, perhaps the boy…).  I also acquired my surf fishing passion around that time, reintroduced by my boy Adolf, who spent the summers of his youth at his Grandma Helen’s place in Beach Haven West.  For many years, from mid-November to late December, I would make a least one long trip per week to surf fish for bass and blues.  Even my early spring trout fishing was interspersed with back bay and surf fishing for bass.  I think all that changed after Sandy.  The Ocean County beaches I frequented were changed drastically, and then the resulting replenishment efforts up and down the coast put an even bigger damper on the fishing, especially the fall run, burying jetties and filling cuts and holes, places that would make a bait fish and bass come in close to shore.  My rediscovery of fly fishing and my trips to the beach not being worth my time and money directly coincided.  I stayed away from the fall and winter after Sandy, except to help a family friend clean up on LBI and to lead a service trip to Breezy Point, NY; instead, I trout fished all winter and got pleasantly sidetracked.

My hundreds, maybe thousands of dollars’ worth of salt water gear has been calling my name again this year.  I took time before Thanksgiving to clean and oil reels and tie teaser rigs and put together a plug bag, and then work got crazy and family got sick and…  But today was the day.  The conditions and tides were right, the temp was nice, and I had a “sick day” to burn.  I was up at 2:30 AM, too excited to sleep until the alarm went off at 3 AM, and I got on the road by 3:30 AM.  Not having done any scouting and purposely not reading reports while I was not able to fish (just makes things worse!) I fished blind at some old haunts, a stretch of beach on the north end of the island that had undoubtedly changed since I last walked the beach.  I fished in the dark for a couple hours without a bump, throwing a black Daiwa SP minnow with a black feather teaser.  When the sun came up, I saw that there was a lot more sandbar than I remembered, and even the exposed jetties (or re-exposed jetties – nature vs Army Corp of Engineers?) were covered in pumped sand in shallow water.  I took advantage of one such massive bar, and waded out when I had enough light to see my feet. 

The conditions were great until about 8 AM: clean water, enough wave action from a SE swell to create whitewater despite the strong west wind, which usually knocks the surf down flat.  While out close to the outer edge of the bar, I got that familiar bump of a striped bass unloading on the T-Hex and teaser I had chosen so I could get out deeper with my casts.  In their native element, the surf zone, bass fight so well.  A healthy fish, but a short of about 27 inches hung from my black teaser after a short battle.  He hit right at the outer lip of the bar, not 20 feet from my feet.  Fun, I tell you, fun.  Standing out on the bar with waves rolling by, I left my phone under my dry top and quickly released the fish, hoping his cousins were swimming along the bar with him.  I caught no other fish, so no fish pics, but I did snap the shot above before I waded in from the increasing surf.  By 8:30 AM, the wind against tide was stirring up the waves, and I was getting more weeds on the line, and I certainly didn’t expect fish to be active in bright sunshine, so I called it a morning. 

One fish on the line, and I am already plotting my next trip to the beach, maybe Saturday morning with my dad.  I can trout fish all winter, but these bass won’t be here forever.  There were plenty of signs that things could be good next time: gannets diving for bunker a half-mile from shore, some nice cuts and holes to break up the bars, great reports from the boats working in-shore.  It’s a long ride, but the scenery, the exhilaration of being waist deep in the ocean in December, that alien tug on the line in the pitch black night…  I can see why I was hooked for so long…  Am hooked again??

As a bonus, I got to stop by a favorite store on the island, Fisherman’s Headquarters in Ship Bottom.  My sister gave me a gift certificate for my birthday back in April, and I finally got to use it on something I really don’t need: more plugs!  Thanks ANo!  Maybe she’ll bring me better luck next time; that is if spending a weekday on the beach on a 50 degree December day can be considered bad luck.

October 26, 2015 - A Skunk on a Very Crowded Tully

At least the scenery and the weather were nice.

I slept terribly on Sunday night after a stressful three or more weeks of house guest and funerals and work, so I decided to take a mental health day and hit the Delayed Harvest section of the Tulpehocken Creek near Reading.  I took my time in the morning, having an extra cup of coffee and watching a little Colbert on the DVR.  The ride out was pleasant enough.  The leaves were at their peek out by Morgantown, PA.

I know the Tully is popular, but, man, there were a lot of dudes fishing on a Monday!  There were four or more cars at every lot, so I just found a spot and hoped for the best.  I am sure I fished “used water” all morning, and I came up with a goose egg, the second skunk of the season.  I only saw one fish caught in the 2 or 3 hours I was there, although there were some sporadic hatches and at least one fish rising.

Second skunk of the year...

I got home early and enjoyed the rare treat of a nap.  I am hoping the striped bass season kicks off soon, as I have finally had my fill of trout for a while.

October 25, 2015 – Kenny Lands a Big Girl in the Poconos

The net is 14 inches long!

Murphy's Law: bad shots of good fish.

Ken and I headed to the mighty Broadhead this morning and had a tough day that ended with a great moment for Ken.  

It was raining when Kenny arrived at my house around 5 AM, and it lightly rained all the way up, continuing to drizzle a bit for the first hour of fishing. The trace of rain didn’t help, as the water was about as low as I have seen it in a couple years (and last year was bad). 
I had not been out fishing in a month, so I definitely misjudged when the sunrise would happen (a bit over-eager too, I guess).  We made great time, and arrived streamside in total darkness, so I made the call to go to a diner that I haven’t been inside since I was a drunk 20 year old college student.  Good old Besecker’s is still alive, and even got a facelift in the form of a front dining room, but the original trolley car diner in the back is still exactly the same, with the same booths I sat in as a young buck.

After a little breakfast, we started out the morning fly fishing a section that usually receives a fall stocking, and there were some fish around, but with low, clear water, it was tough getting them to commit.  I got one rainbow on a prince dropper and battled a sucker or very sluggish trout for a minute on a pheasant tail beadhead in a deep pool.

This bow needs more to eat...

Ken had some action on spinning plugs, but they all seemed to come unbuttoned.  He finally brought one to hand drifting a hare’s ear under a float.

Another rainbow.

We got tired of no action and no signs of life, so we left for a section of the creek that we fished earlier in the summer with some success.  I also did well with the fly rod another morning on this same stretch, so we figured it had to be better than where we were.  After a short drive and some water and snacks, we walked into a favorite stretch of the creek. 

Late fall on the( not so ) mighty Brodhead.

As evidenced by Ken’s healthy brown above, there are wild fish present, and the PFBC also stocks the mile long stretch with fingerlings because access is limited but habitat is great.  I decided to spin fish this stretch too, so Ken and I could fish closer together.  Ironically, I was too far away to help him land or photograph his nice catch.  So that plan really didn’t work out.  I got one pretty wild brown on a brown trout patterned CD 5, and I moved a couple other fish.  I missed the same rainbow twice in a shallow riffle, but I was pretty tired and hot by that point in the day.

Eating his future young?  I managed a pretty wild one on the CD 5.

Our trying morning didn’t seem to affect Kenny, as he caught the biggest trout of his life and a wild one to boot!  After throwing 10 different lures throughout the day (Kenny's usual MO), the piggy hit the tried and true Rapala plug.  He held it up for me and took the bad pictures above.  I estimate the fish was a good 18 inches, fat and healthy.  Ken is beating himself up for bad photography, but that’s Murphy’s Law.  The biggest trout I ever caught, a legit 28 inches, lives only in my memory, and as recently as this spring I botched the hero shot on a big wild brown.

Today was a tough but memorable day, but I was glad to be fishing again this fall.  I am feeling one of those “sick days” coming on this week…

September 25, 2015 - Thanks to the Papas – Marsh Creek Bass Fishing

Because of the Pope-nado descending upon the East Coast, I was given two bonus days off this month.  I hadn’t been out fishing with my dad all summer, and neither of us had been out for bass since our Canada trip in June.  My dad loves Marsh Creek Lake, and he has a right to since he has caught many big bass there, fish that are hard to come by in the rest of Southeastern Pennsylvania.  We were both just happy to get out on a nearly perfect morning.  

It will rain for the Pope's mass on the Parkway, but it was perfect today.

We arrived around 6 AM and tried to launch in the dark on the main ramp, but the water was far too low.  With few exceptions, all the boats, including us, had to launch from a small gravel ramp with deeper water.  With a couple more hiccups, we got in the water and witnessed a beautiful sunrise, my only picture of the day.  Before the sun was officially up, my dad landed a nice 2 or 2.5 lb largemouth, so we thought we were in for a treat.  However, the lake is off this year due to some tinkering with mother nature by the PFBC and others, who apparently removed weeds, partly to assist giving the regatta of kayakers, sailors, and canoeists who descend upon the lake every day more water in which to play, and partly in an attempt to improve the lake’s ecology???.  It has done the former, for sure, but with no weeds, the lake is a muddy and low mess right now, and has been most of the summer it seems.  Fishing is way off.

I ended up with one dink on a Senko, and I maybe missed only one other hit.  Besides my dad’s nice bass, he also had a couple other dinks.  We also witnessed some guys land a nice muskie on the troll.  Having not bass fished in months, and doing nothing but trout fishing this year, mostly with the fly rod, I was happy to get out and also hang with the old man.  Thanks to both papas, I had a bonus fishing day during a busy time of the year for me.  If it rains on Sunday, as forecasted, I will be chasing fall trout though!

August, 22, 2015 – Some Pocono Trout to End a Dry Spell

Smoke on the water.

I have not fished since Ken and I got out nearly three weeks ago, and I was really itching to wet a line.  It’s been hot and dry for weeks.   I haven’t even cut my lawn in over 2 weeks (and it was still starting to burn out).  But the whole region received a full day of rain on Thursday this week, with flash flood warnings to boot.  While not crazy about floods like that, I was excited to have a good rain in August, followed by some cooler temperatures, so I was watching the gauges all day on Friday hoping the creek would keep dropping.  When Ken and I fished the Brodhead on August 2nd we had our spinning gear, but I saw a lot of pocket water that I was dying to throw a fly into.  The creek was low that day, under 40 CFS, but I was praying for 120 CFS today (it was 4 or 5 times that on Thursday).  I got 100 CFS and a bit stained, so conditions were not bad at all.

A pretty spot on a beautiful morning.

I was up at 3 AM, dressed and coffee-ed and out the door by 3:30, anticipating false dawn by 5 AM.  Man, the days are getting shorter already!  Three weeks ago, it was light by 5:30 AM, but today I began my one mile hike into the stretch I wanted to fish in almost total darkness, compounded by the fact that I was in a valley with good tree cover.  The forecast was calling for fog, but the most I saw was some “smoke on the water” as I climbed down into the upper limit of this stretch.  The water was 62 degrees at my first drop in, but the air was 56, so I stayed on the bank and perched on boulders trying to stay dry for a while.  I was surprised to hear, and then see, a couple other fly fishermen drop in below me in another deep, quiet hole, but we kept our distance, and I only saw them one other time late in the morning.

To begin, I fished a couple deep holes with a variety of nymphs and small droppers because the one or two fish I did see show themselves early appeared to be chasing emergers, but water clarity was an issue here.  The deep holes did not produce for me, and a huge carp was creating a startling amount of noise for so early in the morning, but I did pull two good rainbows out of the riffle at the head of the pool before I took a walk to put some distance between myself and the other guys. 

First of the morning, perched on a rock while staying warm and dry.

The faster riffles were clearer, and fish were actively feeding in them.  I had success on small green caddis nymphs, as well as a larger flashback hare’s ear.  I had a WTF moment after dropping a couple, including a decent wild brown, on the caddis.  I didn’t have the net with me and I was tired, I suppose, but something wasn’t right.  I had a good hookset and played the fish fairly well for being in fast, boulder-strewn pocket water.  It didn’t make sense.  After reeling in and inspecting my rig, I finally ascertained that I was unwittingly using barbless hooks on this particular caddis nymph.  I can’t see anymore, I guess.  To that end, I actually bought a pair of cheater glasses for tying knots this past winter.  I wouldn’t have cared much about dropping a fish or two, but I would have liked a picture of the only two wild browns!  The bows here are pretty pristine though, having been stocked as fingerlings, so I had to be content with photos of rainbows.

A pristine rainbow.

I ended the day swinging a soft hackle with success, though I had another WTF moment when I lost a good fish.  A solid bow took the soft hackle that I had tied below a heavier beadhead hare’s ear, which was really just a weight to get the soft hackle down.  After a short fight, the fish took a good run and POP!  I thought I had tied a hasty, bad knot, but the actual hook on the hare’s ear broke at the point where I had tied the dropper, which was a first for me.

Swinging a wet fly in the current was effective.

I wound up catching at least 8 trout, and missed a few too, so it was a good morning despite some minor mishaps.  I caught fish where they were supposed to be, which is always a lot of fun.  Seams and soft water in front and behind boulders were productive, and the jolt through the rod you get while swinging a wet fly in a fast run is a blast, especially when the fish takes a leap right after being hooked.  

A pickle.

This stretch of the creek is beautiful too.  Even at the end of the morning, the highest water temp I measured was 64 degrees, which I will take on August 22nd after the previous hot and dry 3 or 4 weeks.  After not fishing for three weeks, this morning was better than expected.  With the semester starting in a week, it may be another 2 or 3 weeks before I get out fishing, so I am glad I had the opportunity to sneak out on a weekend and still find relative solitude and cooperative fish (if not cooperative terminal tackle. WTF!).

By 10 AM, I was ready to quit, so I began my hike back.  My final WTF moment of the day came as I came back upon the Suburu.  I had a note on the windshield warning me not to park where I had parked.  Maybe someone was giving me fair warning, or maybe someone doesn’t want me in his fishing spot?  At any rate, I guess a longer hike is in my future the next time I fish here.  Or I will make Kenny or Joe drive?

August 2, 2015 - Brodhead Creek- Early Morning August Wet Wading

A much tamer late-summer Brodhead Creek

I hung up the fly rod for today and headed to the Poconos with Kenny for some August wet wading with the spinning gear.  The plan was to target a stretch of the Brodhead that only receives a stocking of fingerlings every few years and has a decent population of wild browns too.  In order for a creek to have this type of stocking, it must be able to sustain favorable year-round conditions, so short of a limestoner, tailwater fishery, or a small, heavily forested mountain trickle, this area of the Brodhead was one of the few good bets for this time of year that was within a reasonable drive.  The flows looked good for August, slightly above normal at 37 CFS, and there was even a good flooding rain on July 27^th, so I was not surprised that the plan worked out, but I am always grateful that a plan works when I have another fisherman along for the ride.  I knew we only had a short window to fish, from about sunrise to 9 or 10 AM, before it got too warm and too bright to fool some fish, especially the skittish wild browns, so Ken was at my house by 4 AM.

Ken wet wading into position to target a nice pocket of water.

After parking and a little hike up the railroad tracks, we dropped into the water and began casting Rapala CD 3s and 5s.  The air temperature was a comfortable 62 degrees at 5:45 AM, and the water was reading about 64 degrees.  I had wading boots and long pants and even a layer of wools socks, but Kenny in shorts and a t-shirt was borderline hypothermic for the first hour, I think.  After his third piss in less than an hour, he asked me if his lips were blue.  They weren’t, and he survived, even catching a few nice rainbows and a little wild brown on an arsenal of spinning lures.  I think he got one on each type of lure he threw: Rapala, spinner, soft plastic, etc.

A fingerling who grew up to be a strong, healthy rainbow with a taste for other little fish.

The creek in this area, especially in high flows during the spring when whitewater enthusiasts sometimes give it a run, is like one long riffle.  I love the Brodhead in general, but fishing this type of water in particular is some of my favorite because fish are in pocket water and behind mid-stream boulders and bankside runs and riffles.  Rainbows seem to thrive in this fast mountain water, and they did not disappoint today.  Besides one nice brown that I fooled on a zebra midge that I tied as a dropper under a trout magnet, it was all nice rainbows.  They fought well, much better than the average stockies, as they have been around fattening and strengthening up for a few years in some fast and fertile waters.  Hatches were minimal today, however, some midges, though we were headed home before 10 AM.  I did catch one lone yellow stonefly in my hand, I believe, and found stonefly husks on a few rocks.  Ken found live stoneflies turning over a few rocks, big 1/ 2 inch black ones, so I know what I will be tossing on the fly rod next time I visit!

Some beautiful stonefly water.

I landed 9 rainbows and had a least a hit or some action in every stop, so I was pretty content.  The highlight of the morning, besides my fishing partner decked out in pick-up basketball gear and flats booties, was my tenth fish, a great wild brown.  The Rapala only managed to trick one bow out of a hole that I knew had to hold a dozen fish.  A couple other fish showed themselves chasing emerging midges, so besides the fact that it was one of the few legitimately deep holes in this otherwise mile long riffle of the Brodhead, I just knew we couldn’t leave it without giving the hole another approach.  I tied on a purple trout magnet and a float and quickly landed another bow.  

A few rainbows on the trout magnet too.

I still believed 2 was not enough for this prime spot.  While looking for another color magnet, I saw one to which I had previously tied a dropper with a zebra midge on some prior trip—and lazily never clipped, separated and put away.  I tied that “dropper rig” on the line and got two more bows on the white trout magnet.   But the last fish I fooled in the hole took the midge, and it was a solid wild brown trout, what I was secretly trying to catch all morning.  

Mission accomplished.  Wish we had found more!

We pushed on and had a few more fish, but after about 9 AM fishing slowed.  We still were getting hits, but more often than not we were missing fish or just getting noncommittal follows as the sun made its way over the valley.  Instead of beating ourselves up, we decided at around 9:40 AM to hike back to the car and let Ken finally warm up.  We were home before noon, tired, but happy to catch double digits during the dogs days of summer.

One long riffle if there were higher flows.