December 20, 2018 – Got a Do-Over and Did Some Stuff with It – SEPA

Soldier of love?

On December 14, I had a trip cut short after only 45 minutes on the water.  It had to be done, as my wife needed my support with a dental emergency, but it was still tough to drive 90 minutes to fish maybe 40, and then drive 90 minutes or more to get home, especially since the conditions and the fish were telling me things could have gotten good—or at least winter good.  When deciding where to go today, another cloudy and potentially milder day, I owed myself a do-over on this small creek in NEPA, I figured.  I would not revisit the same stretch but, instead, target a couple other spots that would hold wintering fish.  This decision was not a mistake.  I had a really good day, especially for late December, landing 7 decent fish, 2 of them good wild brown trout, still colored up post-spawn—one buck even remained kyped, a soldier of love. 

Prettier cousin.

Fittingly enough, as I drove up beside the creek to my intended stretch, I saw the landowner I spoke to last week.  He appeared to be out enjoying his land with his dog, and seeing him prompted me to dig around for his business card, which I had forgotten to put to use this week but which I still have.  I had no plans of fishing the holes on his land today, but I still hope to reach out and see what’s happening this spring.  When I arrived at the pull-off where I would begin fishing, the thermometer on the Subaru read 36 F, not enough to ice the guides, but also not the kind of morning for a tumble, which happened here one winter a few years ago (I also had to drive back one time to find a rod I left on the roof that rolled off into a snow bank here.  Fond memories?).  I had the right clothing with me, even fingerless gloves and a warm buff for my neck, and felt soles with spikes, so I wasn’t going to let a little cold keep me from the creek, which looked fantastic, slightly stained and still higher than normal for this time of year.

A good start, but a slow one before it warmed up a few degrees.

Not surprising, fishing started out slowly before it started to warm up.  I began fishing with one of Sam’s big golden stoneflies and a small soft hackle pheasant tail up higher on the dropper.  I lost one little fish about 15 minutes into working the first hole, likely on the dropper, but a while later, after reminding myself to let the slowly drifting bugs slowly drift, I successfully landed a respectable wild brown, maybe 11 or 12 inches, on the stonefly.  I could get no other takers in this hole, but it was a good warm up round, and I felt encouraged that fish, especially wild browns, ate my offerings.

Rainbow liked the stonefly too.

The big stonefly has a way of finding the bottom, which is what it should be doing in the winter, but I should have re-tied after yanking out a few too many snags because I broke off the next fish that hit when I set the hook.  In order to find bottom more quickly, believe it or not, I took the opportunity of losing the big stonefly to tie on a bottom rolling caddis larva, and I even snipped off the pt and tied a walt’s worm on the dropper.  I was ready for the soft pockets around the heavier water I had to work through to get to the next hole, but the fish were not really ready for me.  I moved one little fish, but I had no takers.  Besides one or two deep pockets, it was unlikely that any of these spots were the alpha or beta trout feeding lairs, so I kept moving, only trying a few small buckets here and there.

Sucker, streamer, icy riffles, 'Ru in situ.

I was happy to see a decent stain in a favorite hole, one where I caught a brown nearly 20 inches long this year and tangled with a few other good fish, as well.  I fished the deeper part of the tailout with the heavy bugs, but I quickly came to my senses and tied on the stonefly once again.  I don’t think Sam had 22 inch white suckers on his mind as he worked at his tying desk this fall, but that was the first fish I landed from the deep, dark, snaggy pocket in this hole.  I did land a scrappy rainbow shortly thereafter to redeem myself, at least in part.  Rainbows that washed down from the stocked section, even beautiful ones that have thrived since being dumped in March, were not what I was looking for, to be honest.  I wanted to see some wild browns willing to eat.

My mind went to an exciting place after this...

After hoofing it overland and skipping the riffles between this pool and the next, possibly my last stop on this beat, I eventually moved from Czech nymphing to adding an indicator to fish a really deep section of the hole to changing things up altogether and tying on the same small black and olive bugger that caught the attention of Valley fish this week.  That last move, like my choice of stream today, was also one I would not regret.  After letting the bugger drop slowly into this deep hole, I started gently stripping it back and quickly got bumped deep and out of sight in the dark water.

  

And this...

No hook up, so I hoped he might hit again.  Same cast, same slow, strip, strip-strip, strip, and I was hooked up to a respectable rainbow that seemed a little pissed that he fell for it twice.  A couple casts later, and I landed an even better bow, maybe 15 inches, on the same bugger.  This one showed himself at the end of my drift coming up to give the streamer a swipe just before I was ready to lift and re-cast.  Like before, I made the same cast, and was tight.  Now my mind went to an exciting place.  I checked my phone for the time, 1 PM, which was plenty of time.  I somehow knew that this streamer was going to move fish in the two holes I fished with only mild success earlier in the morning, when it was a few degrees colder.

A tough guy, toothy, his kype still irritated

I hiked down the road this time and stalked through the sparse woods to the sucker hole, the same hole where I know big browns like to visit.  After one cast to test how deep I was going to get and see how much line I would need, my second cast with the bugger swung right into the sweet spot.  A few short, slow strips, and I was tight to a big old brownie.  It was not the 20 incher, but it was over 18 and just tough looking.  His kype was still irritated from earlier in the month, and he ate the bugger, no half-assed swipe or slow chase, he just opened wide and ate.  Even with the cold water of winter, he put up a nice fight—no leaps, but a couple brief runs and a lot of head shaking and digging for obstacles on the bottom.  He definitely scared my sucker out of that hole for a minute.  After a quick pic or three, I let him go in good shape.

The second nice brown, slightly smaller but much cuter.

I did not move any other fish in this hole, nor in the little pocket where I fed a fish a stonefly earlier, so I moved through the woods to the first hole I fished this morning, the one adjacent to the mighty Subaru (who needed a quart of oil on the way home to quiet the famous Subaru valve tapping, but my crappy commute home, that is another story).  I tried to swing one cast through this hole, but the sweet spot here is a deep pocket, a slow seam next to a fast moving and deep run, so it would take a different approach.  I lobbed the bugger upstream and let it drop into the hole.  The minute a bow in the line started forming, I gave it a short tug, then another short jig, and on the third jig, I was tight to another very nice wild brown.  This one was a little smaller, hand-measured at 17 inches before the quick release, but it was much prettier, without the war wounds of the first big brown.  Needless to say, I was pretty happy that I not only tried the streamer today, but also that I had the foresight to come back to these honey holes.  Looking right at my car, I decided to end here, perhaps scope out one other spot for the future (which I did before the heavy rain arrived), but end fishing on this high note.  I guess a few degrees in air temp added a couple degrees to water temp, or the approaching warm front turned them on, but whatever the reason, I got one heck of a do-over today.

Sam surely did not have 22 inch suckers in mind for his stoneflies!

December 19, 2018 – My Father the Stockie Slayer (with Fly Rod) – SEPA Freestoner

The conversion continues?

My dad and I continued his fly fishing classes today at a small local creek, landing over 25 fish between us and hooking a half a dozen more, all in the span of 2.5 hours.  Since the last time I was on this particular creek with Chris H, the fish have begun to notice bugs, which they will have to eat to survive the winter, of course.  As a result, during the prime hours of noon to about 2 PM, we put a beating on them with anything small.  No need for a midge, but a size 16 or 18 nymph got their attention.  Midges were hatching in good numbers, however, so these fish may even begin to look up eventually.  I think the lessons today were patience and correct weight/split shot, especially in the winter.  You must let that slow drift slowly drift.  And if you are not on the bottom or close to it while nymphing, you will likely get little attention.  Once my dad learned to wait out the drifts and also to cast far enough upstream to allow small bugs to get deep, he put together 5 or 6 fish in a row, clearly no longer relying on dumb luck or good looks!

Doubled up.

We fished close to each other, and we even landed at least one double, captured on film above.  Most of the fish were cookie cutter rainbows, but a couple 11 inchers were in the mix, and I even landed a brookie, which was also stocked this fall.  There is nothing better than catching a bunch of fish—I think Joe landed 9 or 10 by time we quit—to confirm that you are doing something right, so I am sure this trip helped his confidence a great deal. 

Brookie in the mix.

The water is cold, with skim ice fringing the slowest holes and puddles, so the hits were very, very subtle.  We both fished small bugs under a small indicator, and even then there were takes that ended with a swing and a miss or a briefly turned fish that came off.  My dad is really excited at the prospect of fishing all winter and into the spring, which is cool.  It is a hassle to haul a boat out by oneself (I remember all too well), so this could be his new retirement hobby, chasing stockies with the long rod.  Even if I don’t go tomorrow, he is talking about going to another nearby creek, the same one I took him to earlier in the month.  Sure sounds like he is quickly becoming a convert, yeah?

I had to get in on the action too.

December 17, 2018 – From Streamer to Midge with the Same Decent Results – SEPA

Winter fishing, I guess: midges or streamer, and not much in between.

The rain over the weekend was not as excessive as forecasted in SEPA, but there was enough to spike the creeks twice, a big one late Saturday night and a smaller one later on Sunday afternoon.  Not surprising, Valley was back down again when I arrived about 10:30 AM this morning, but there was still enough of a stain to make me walk back to the Subaru and exchange my nymphing rod for my little 8 foot 3 weight that was rigged with a small olive and black bugger with a tungsten head.  With the breeze, it was colder than I thought, anyway, so the backtracking also allowed me to layer-up with a soft shell.  

Did not move any big ones, but had action on the bugger.

Once I started swinging the streamer, I did not move any big fish, but I landed three and got maybe 3 more to eat that came off, before I abandoned the streamer for a different tactic.  The water was clearing up quickly, plus I ran into another fly guy doing the same thing—me moving down and he up—so after about an hour of throwing the bugger, I rigged up to fish a pair of midges under an indicator.  Technically, I had a size 18 tag fly with a smaller pheasant tail, a true midge, tied off the eye as a dropper.  All but one fish took the larger tag fly, but they would not take a size 14 or 16 when I tried to tightline a few deep runs that were still rather stained.  As I was nearing the end of my short fishing day, a few fish were taking emerging midges and maybe tiny olives, judging by how I saw a few fish suspended up in the water column in one highly-pressured hole. 

Started out cloudy with stained water, but it was clearing quickly.

The fish I landed today, maybe 9 of them in total, ranged from 6 to 10 inches, with the largest actually taking the tag fly not a streamer.  They were acrobatic and fun, however, even at that size, and the 3 weight rod helped too.  I worked on a pair of larger fish, a couple of the aforementioned suspenders, but I could not get them to take the midge or even a soft hackle emerger, even on the swing.  These fish have a lot of spectators on any given day, so I was not all that surprised.  I may get one if they start rising this winter or if I better time the next rain storm, though!  It did not help that their little friends would also eat more willingly.  I pulled two rambunctious 7 inchers out of this same hole while targeting the two better ones.

Midges under a small Air-lock indicator worked on the majority and helped in the wind.

The effects of the cold front stayed at bay until about 1 PM before the wind picked up and the clouds and sun started fighting it out.  I was glad for the indicator for the most part, though they can skate a bit in the wind.  Still, it was better than trying to euro-nymph with size 18 bugs in these conditions—and I think I mentioned that the fish were having no parts of larger bugs once the midges started emerging.  I fished an area of the creek that I don’t often fish, so it was interesting to see the changes that all this year’s wet weather has made to the creek.  Some are good, I think.  A few holes were made deeper and, once the sand gets scoured out, perhaps after a few more storms, they may become productive winter and early spring spots.  A few new trees were in the creek too, and these are good cover for the YOY (and the large fish too).

A decent one still colored up post-spawn.

By 1:45 PM, I debated another move, perhaps downstream to the Park, but then I did a tally in my head and told myself not to get greedy.  Besides, the window for a big fish had closed quickly once the streamer conditions cleared up and the sun came out, and at times by 3 PM in the winter, the bite shuts off, anyway.  I decided to get a head start on any afternoon traffic and head for home, grateful that I can tussle with a few feisty wild fish so close to home, some days on a moment’s notice.  And, hey, I hit 76 trips this year now, and I have a few more penciled in before Christmas!

December 11 and 14, 2018 – A Lot of Effort and Driving to Reach Number 74 and 75 – SEPA Limestoners

Pretty bow from private property.

Well, it’s not 125 like last year, but I am surprised and pleased that I actually reached 75 trips this year (so far).  Between my wife’s ACL and wrist surgeries and the loss of her mom on top of all that, I was not sure I would even eclipse 50, although my soul probably needed it more this year than last!  These two outings were not great, mind you.  In fact, they were both troubled and troubling.  Both involved a lot of driving for little payoff.  Tuesday was my fault, but today was out of my control, cut short after about 45 minutes on the water.  Having had a taste of some little wild fish on Valley, I decided to venture further from home this week and try a couple creeks that have wild and holdover fish and moderate limestone influence, which I was hoping might help mitigate the prematurely frigid waters.  Tuesday in Berks County was still a tad breezy, and the air temps barely hit 40 degrees.  It was not happening, but I kept pushing on, hoping to avoid a skunk before I had to rush home.  I drove an hour, fished 2 hours, caught nothing, and then hit terrible traffic on the way home, which made my life unnecessarily complicated and, well, troubled that evening.  This was also my last week of fall classes, so I was busy and will be busy grading until December 20^th, but not too busy to sneak out today.  I had greater hopes, even in heading north to a Northampton County limestoner, because the overnight temps stayed above freezing and, by the time I suited up at 10 AM, the air temperature was pushing 47 degrees.  I could not tell you if the creek fished well, but I can tell you that there was the potential of it fishing well and the potential that I may not fish this particular stretch again for a long while.

I hope this is not farewell....

In the 45 minutes I was on the water, I probably spent 10 speaking to a new landowner who has plans for a favorite stretch of this small creek that may soon limit or eliminate my access.  I did get his number and email in order to maintain some communication, so I hope I made a decent impression… I also hope I planted the seed that this stream is no Centre County Class A; it is fragile and seasonal and fickle, certainly no destination fishing experience.  The fishery is also significantly supported by the errant stocked fish that happens to be washed down into his property: Not necessarily something on which to build a fishing industry, though I wished him well.  In that short, distracted time on the water, I landed a 13 inch rainbow on a size 18 soft hackle pheasant tail and dropped 3 small browns who could not get their jaws around my big stonefly anchor fly, I guess.  It is also possible that I just sucked today and/or was low-grade miffed by the bad news (for me, perhaps not him) that a favorite hole may soon be offline.  I suppose it comes with age, this losing of spots to private property and changing values about land usage and the (further) commodification of outdoor pursuits.  Although to be fair, it sounded like this gentleman was more concerned about preserving his investment and maintaining the land and fishery for a potential bed and breakfast crowd in order to help defray the costs of owning this piece of land and water.  The morning got worse, however, as I fielded a call from Tami in the throes of pain from an abscessed tooth.  

She was scheduled for dental work on the offending tooth on the 19^th, but the damn thing could not wait.  So, no sooner had I arrived, taken part in a troubling conversation with a pleasant-enough landowner, and lost a few fish, did I have to jump in the car and try to meet my wife at the emergency room some 90 minutes away since her oral surgeon was not in the office on Friday.  I did not make it, of course, but I did arrive home soon enough to help make her day a little less terrible.  I am hoping, for my sake and young Eric’s, that antibiotics and pain meds provide her some relief, as he and I have Sunday (fishing day 76?) penciled in to do some blue-lining in, of all places, private land in SEPA to which he has some creek access!  I hope it is worth the trouble….

December 10, 2018 – Slowly Easing Back into the Wild Fish – SEPA

First fish, all parred-up, came quickly this afternoon.

I took an encouraging trip over a month ago to a section of Valley Creek that was the victim of a chlorine spill and fish kill.  On that visit, I caught a few decent fish, as well as a few very small young of the year.  However, I ran out of time before I got too close to the tributary that was directly affected, so I planned to return and check things out this winter, preferably after I was comfortable that the spawn was over and the water was clear enough to avoid inadvertently walking on any vacated redds.  I guess I have grown tired of stockies pretty quickly because I just couldn’t bring myself to it today.  Even though I had only a couple hours to fish and wanted to stay close to home, I just needed a break from sluggish rainbows.  It is not entirely their fault.  It has been colder than normal, so the idea of some limestone influence also had an allure above and beyond the promise of wild fish.  I decided to do more scouting than fishing, target only a few high-percentage winter holes, and just enjoy the walk on a mild (very) late autumn day.

The afternoon light gets credit for this one.

I quickly landed a pretty 6 or 7 incher in the first spot I visited, and I saw him spook a handful more that were grouping up for the winter in this deep, clear hole.  There was one redd near the tailout of this pool, and I counted about 5 more on the afternoon before I stopped keeping track and started fishing in earnest.  At the next deep hole, I targeted two nicer fish for a period of time before I spooked them by catching their 8 inch cousin, who was simply stunning in the bright sun.  Another favorite winter hole came up empty, but there was some new debris in the middle and fish could have been socked in tight to this cover on a bright sunny day.  A couple other holes produced only one or two little fish, but they showed enough evidence of life in them to lessen my concerns.  Some days, Valley is just tough, so there was no reason to believe that these holes wouldn’t produce on another day.

Certainly not a sluggish, muted rainbow fresh from the cement runs.

No real good fish landed today, but I did land at least 6 that ranged from 6 to 9 inches.  More encouraging, I landed two YOY that were under 3 inches long.  They did not take the nymphs on which I caught the majority of my fish today, a size 16 pheasant tail and an orange caddis grub (which may have looked like spawn too).  At one point, I saw midges in flight and even a couple rises in a flat pool, so I retied with a duo of size 20 zebra midge and rainbow warrior under a small Palsa pinch on indicator.  The two little ones ate the midges, and I hope they continue to feast on the real ones all winter.  These two came from the confluence pool where the tributary that suffered the spill meets the main branch of the creek, so that was a good sign.  Many suckers and juvenile trout were schooled up in this pool too.  Again, like last visit, I ran out of time and did not fish up the tributary, but I am confident that a winter trip on the right day will be fruitful up there too.  Pretty trout on a pretty little creek on a picturesque December afternoon.  Not bad.

Nothing over 9 inches long, but they made up for it in beauty.

December 5 and 6, 2018 – Sneaking in a Few More Stockies – SEPA Freestoners

Explored and found a few spread out in pocket water.

I took the long ride to the beach on Monday and only found the rats that signal that the end of the run is near.  Still, I know some fun-sized fish will cooperate for a couple more weeks, provided this latest cold snap doesn’t cause the water temperature to plummet.  It is already under the magic number of 50, but if the bait hangs around a little while longer, there may be time.  I was hoping to run down to the coast on Wednesday or Thursday but forgot about a few early morning commitments when I was actually mentally prepared on Thursday.  Thank goodness for the local stockies, as I still got out for about two hours on both Wednesday and Thursday for quick, impromptu trips.

Still haven't turned to the midge.

Wednesday was windy and cold, with air temps barely breaking 35 degrees.  When I visited this first creek with my dad last time, it was after a rain and some milder temps, so the fish were more eager to feed and even set up in some current.  Not today.  While I pulled one or two out of pocket water, I ended up catching 6 of the 8 or 9 fish I landed in the slow, deep holes.  I decided not to use an indicator and work on my nymphing technique in frog water, cold frog water, so at least I honed my skills on very light bites in calm water, almost going with a sixth sense that a fish had taken the fly.  The fish were still big but less feisty in water that was in the mid-30’s.

A grayer and calmer day, but lower water and no bugs to help the cause.

Thursday was a still cold but somewhat calmer day, even though the breeze persisted.  After taking care of my morning bus stop duties that precluded me from a sunrise on the beach, I was still itching to get out, especially after spending a couple hours reading mediocre papers from my students.  My time was limited.  Once again, enter the stockies. 

No holdovers today, but some fresher stocked rainbows instead.

I took a trip this afternoon to another nearby creek where I caught a bunch of holdovers in November, knowing this time that fresh fish had been stocked over them.  The new fish must have thrown off the games of the holdover browns or, because there was nothing doing as far as bug life, those holdovers were resting this afternoon.  At any rate, it was all recently stocked rainbows today, and only 4 of them.  I also had a few half-hearted takes, the kind where you see the white flash of a mouth, wonder, Was it? and then drop a sluggish trout after one head shake.  I guess two days in a row of high pressure, cold, and wind, plus no bugs, just made them more interested in simply conserving energy.  Still, I got in a nice walk in the woods both days, saw some deer and wildlife, and caught a few fish within 30 minutes of home.  I will take it in December.

Going to take a lot of midges to maintain this figure.

December 3, 2018 – Day Late, Schoolie Short – Monmouth County Surf

First cast curse.

Sunday was such a wash.  I was set to go fishing with an old buddy, Dolf, who actually re-introduced me to surf fishing some 15 years ago, maybe more, after doing it as a kid but taking a detour (my first of two?) after college into fly fishing and trout fishing in general.  I was packed to go mentally, but I spent Saturday walking in a local parade in support of our coop grocery store, so I was a little tired and so slept in on Sunday morning.  I woke to a text from Dolf, asking if I was in, and I fear my lack of enthusiasm pre-coffee contributed to him bailing when, after a second cup, I had come to my senses and was willing to go fish the second high tide of the day.  To complicate things, I had also floated the idea of meeting Pete, but by the time he and I connected, I had already been roped into other things around the house and had almost made peace with not fishing until Monday.  Pete did well, and he was kind of enough to drop me a pin in Monmouth County, so when I got in the car today, I decided to be a day late to the bite. Besides the high sun, the conditions were good.  Plenty of white water, good 4 foot swells breaking on the bars; bait was still around, and the loons and brant geese were still picking the sand eels when one was unlucky enough to be dislodged from its midday respite.

Certainly sporty enough to support a bite.

Besides arriving a day late, I probably cursed myself in other ways.  Firstly, I invited my dad who declined because he hurt his shoulder on Saturday moving furniture.  Because he mentioned wanting to eat a bass, I put a cooler in the ‘Ru, something I rarely, if ever, do.  Secondly, I walked up and landed a short bass on my first real cast.  That rarely ends well.  The high teens fish hit a 2 ounce T-Hex in the wash, as did another later in the afternoon and one about 12 inches that I dropped in the wash on the surf lip. 

The plug is 7 inches long!

I took a walk and fished around some jetties with nothing to show for it but some cool surfing footage.  The swell was perfect for NJ surfing today it seemed, and guys were having fun.  By the time I walked back to the hole and bars where I began, a small crowd was forming in anticipation of the flood tide and setting sun.  After seeing a dozen 12 inchers landed around 3 PM, my gut was saying go south, perhaps to a spot in Ocean County where I found slightly bigger fish last week, but as the crowd grew, I decided to stay and see what developed.  Not much, in the end.  The pick of very small bass continued until sunset, and no bigger fish arrived.  I attempted to haul my casts off over the bar because the dinks were in the wash, but by 5 PM, I put on a blurple Mag Minnow, just to get a bend in the line, something for all the effort, and ended with another dink before packing it in.  Oh, the highs and lows of surf fishing...

A few hopefuls remained as all hope petered out with nothing but 12 inchers showing in the end.