October 3, 2019 – Rain Gear Was Donned, Fish Were Caught – SEPA

Still finding a few as the tougher conditions continue.

With Valley Creek so low and rain events so few and far, two or three creeks just under an hour from home have become my new Valleys this late summer and early fall.  On days when I only have a few hours to travel and fish—like today, when I had to be on an online conference at 3 PM and teach a class starting at 5:30 PM in the City—these creeks have filled a niche.  Granted, these are creeks I do normally fish several times a year, but I usually would not count them as places for short, “local” trips.  Case in point, I drove 45 minutes today to fish 3 hours, and then drove 45 minutes home.  The medium-sized limestoners in the Lehigh Valley, like this one, are holding up, even though they are far too low to be optimal, and I haven’t caught a fish over 12 inches since the good one from the Bushkill in September, I bet.  I have put a lot of stealth and gamesmanship into fooling some dink wild browns and some slightly less wary holdovers, so I was hoping to get a shot of rain today to make things easier, but although it was cloudy and drizzling, the conditions were not unlike the last few outings.  

A couple on the dropper, a couple on the point fly, none over 11 inches.

There was a chance that we could get .25 inches of rain or .10 inches of rain, but it seemed like we barely split the difference.  Friday may be better, but I have meetings all day, so good luck to those who can take advantage if the creeks get a little bump from any rain over night.  Valley went up all of 5 CFS and is back down as I write, so this was not the front to make an impact.  Hopeful but realistic, I was back to long leader, small bugs, and small stream sneaking again today.  I was throwing a size 18 jig with a purple hot spot on the anchor, and a couple fish took that, the others ate either of grubby hare’s ear or pheasant tail on the dropper, also size 18-ish.  No tricos today, not that I expected them, but I was hoping to step into a hatch of olives or midges.  It was rather dead on the bug front, unfortunately, so the fish I caught came from pockets, deep in the riffles, as they did the last time I was out.  This time, however, they were barely taking the flies, and I got hit without hooking up and lost a couple fish that were noncommittal, ironically, something that did not happen when I encountered hatches and bugs while out in high sun last week.

Only one bow today.

I planned to move through some riffles and runs rather quickly and maybe take a short drive to another creek if this one was dead, but when no rain of note fell while I was out, I just stuck around and worked the entire usually productive stretch.  I landed an 8 inch brown in the first half hour, and then I had a very quiet hour with maybe one half-assed hit.  I finally landed a couple 10 to 11 inch browns, and then a holdover rainbow, and then at least one more brown.  I counted 5 fish that actually made it to the net, but I lost at least one other small fish and, as I stated above, had a handful of frustratingly light hits.  On the walk back to the ‘Ru, I stopped at a favorite hole, much like I did last week, and fished it from a different bank and angle, but this time the plan did not add any more fish to the tally.  The time was approaching 12:30 PM, and I wanted to be on the road around 1 PM or sooner, so I just called it good—well, half-decent.   This week was really busy, I even had the boy home on Monday (and next Wednesday too), so I was content with just getting a fishing day on the books.  I hope that the weather pattern has changed for good now and that the rest of October is more eventful!  Man, at least this man, cannot live on Northampton County limestoners alone.

A pretty little thing.

September 27, 2019 – Low Expectations and Low Water, High Sun, and High Holed – Northampton County Limestoner

Making the most out of this challenging September.

I was not all that inspired to fish low water and high sun again today, but it was too nice to sit home, so I took a relatively short drive to a certain heavily pressured limestoner in Northampton County (one of many, I am afraid!). I arrived around 9 AM and was happy to see no other cars in the lot.  Early in the week, during a break from grading or reading, I had rigged up my 3 weight nymphing rod in the garage with 6X and small bugs—a perdigon and a drowned ant on the dropper—anticipating that if I got out this week the creeks would still be very low and clear.  I was not wrong, and I caught my first fish of the morning tight to cover with the perdigon, but I think I was using 6X nylon by mistake, and it may have seen better days.  Stubborn, I lost three anchor flies before I retied with 5X fluorocarbon—okay, maybe lazy is the word.  I guess I was a little miffed too because some dude high holed me not long after I released the first little wild brown.  For most situations, but especially nymphing, fly fishermen work upstream, so we usually give each other space, especially upstream.  On a day like today, that stealth was essential for any possible success.  Well, dude may have been new or ignorant, but he stepped into and fished the two holes above me.  I don’t know what he was throwing, maybe blind casting a dry because there were tricos swarming, though no spinner fall yet, but something about the way he was moving around so much told me to bite my tongue and relax.

Pretty morning, the first week of fall.

The extent of my anger manifested in feigning deafness when he passed behind me (downstream, thank god, without hitting any of my intended targets further upstream) and asked, “Throwing trikes?”  I guess my gut was right because I was obviously high sticking a pair of nymphs with a bright-ass three foot piece of indicator tippet and targeting riffles and pocket water.  I felt a little bad for ignoring a mitch, but I had been high holed by a less than stealthy fisherman on a creek with miles of fishable water….  A better man, or one who had fished more than three days this month, may have taken the time to educate him, but there is always the chance that the high-holer is not naïve but just a douche, so I just stayed in my lane today.  I did not catch any more fish in the spots he cast into before I did, nor did I expect to, but I did not let it ruin my day.  I had a few nice riffles in mind upstream, so I moved quickly towards those spots. 

Before I abandoned the 6X nylon that had not aged well.

While good in theory, the perdigon and other small bugs were a pain to get down deep in the type of water that looked the fishiest—deep, dark colored pockets within the braided water.  I eventually went with the pink tag fly on the anchor and a really sparse pheasant tail—tailless, so more like a brown walt’s worm, really—on the dropper.  My first of two holdover rainbows took the anchor fly in a deeper seam.  I can’t really remember rain, but I know that it HAD been a rainy year, still above normal after a few weeks of minimal precipitation, so this stretch of wild trout stream now has a fair share of bows that have washed downstream.  The water is cold, so the bows looked pretty good, unlike the ones I tangled with earlier in the month at another creek in the same county.  I was happy to stick a couple more wild browns though.  They took the dropper fly in water that was just a little less bouncy, though not much less. 

A couple white-tipped hold-over rainbows.

Thankfully, I had the remaining water to myself.  The only other soul out on this stretch was a painter doing the plein air thing.  I could only see his landscape oil from across the creek, but it looked rather good, although not as fine at the natural light I was experiencing bouncing off riffles and turning leaves and trout just starting to darken with pre-spawning colors.  I caught one fish in front of him that did not break his concentration, but he definitely noticed the next four fish when I got above him.  Maybe a festively fall-plump angler with graying beard will make it into the final painting?  Besides another smaller rainbow, all white-tipped fins but skinny, I landed three more wild browns in the next 25 yards of broken water before I ran into a long deep pool.

A couple males were darkening and coloring up.

It was nearly 12 PM, the time when I had decided to quit, but the fishing had improved since 10 AM not gotten worse, so I decided to see what was above this long pool.  Had I more ambition, I may have retied and fished a dry, as I passed a small group of decent fish taking spinners, perhaps tricos, though I did see some larger, like size 16 olives around too.  I was content to watch them for a while, instead.  When I got to the head of this long, long pool, the riffles were disappointingly shallow, so no more fish for the tally.  More disappointing was a posted sign, however.  There is every possibility that the sign was a ruse, but looking at maps tonight it appears that a short stretch may actually be private property, so I was fine with not continuing to push upstream.

The Silver Fox said this one looked angry!

I walked a worn deer trail until I returned to familiar waters, but then I crossed to the other side of the creek.  The painter was still working, and this time I got a better peek at what he was doing from this side of the creek when we greeted each other.  Because one usually productive hole had not produced a fish on the way up, and because it was still in a bit of shade, I decided to give it a shot before quitting for good.   I dropped one more small brown when my rod got caught up in some low hanging branches during the brief battle, but I also managed to land a bonus stocked brook trout to end the trip.  He was ugly looking, dark and hook-jawed, so maybe his body was changing due to the imminent spawning season, or maybe he was stocked that way.  Good luck, fella, I thought.  But maybe he’s more fertile than I know and will sneak in and make us a tiger trout this fall! 

Mine was still the only car in the lot, so I have no clue where the other fisherman came from in the morning, or if he was still downstream somewhere.  I am glad I did not let the minor incident ruin my good time.  I ended up landing 7 trout and dropping the one, so it was not a bad three and a half hours of fishing for the conditions.  Maybe the trace of morning rain and fog brought a change in the barometer that they liked, or maybe the weather has been nearly the same for so long now that the fish have just resigned to eat when they need to whether that means becoming heron food or not.  The larger fish are certainly hunkered down, though.  To see a wild fish over 11 inches long, I was debating some night fishing a couple times this week, but I am glad I got to catch some fish in the beautiful, painting-worthy daylight today instead.  I am not ruling out a streamer in the dark yet, but I am secretly hoping for a tropical storm to make landfall in the near future—I just try not to look at long-term forecasts.  The limestoners are hanging in there because of all the water we received earlier in the year, but things are beginning to get too low in some creeks.  I would not be surprised if the diversion of fall stockies is delayed a while next month until the water temps lower and the flows improve in area freestoners.  I owe my dad a trip, and I actually secured waders and boots for the boy.  All we need now is a change in the weather.

Pale and plumping.

September 18, 2019 – Self-Care is Healthcare – SEPA

Count him!

Not that conditions have been great—low water, warm sunny days—but I have not been out in ten days mostly because I have been busy.  With the start of the school year and my semester, my days were filled with reading, grading, evaluations, committee work, shopping trips for the boy, doctor appointments, and so forth.  Always the overachiever, I also volunteered to be the first student to present a book, a 600 page monster, in my Gothic Fiction course this past week: the Mysteries of Udolpho—read at your own peril.  Finally caught up with grading and reading for a few days, I had to fish somewhere today.  Where to go was the issue, especially if I wanted to stay close to home and have some time left in the afternoon to work.  I settled on a creek in Berks that I haven’t been to since the spring.  I knew it would be low, as nearly all the streams in the region are, but it also has some limestone influence, so there was at least a chance I could find some holdover and wild fish on a pleasant late summer morning.

Low and clear in late, late summer.

A nearby gage showed promising water temperatures, too.  I left just before 8 AM, moving slowly after teaching a class on Tuesday night, but once I got away from the traffic of morning rush and started seeing some more rural landscapes, I started to relax and enjoy the ride.  Besides seeing a sarcastically-worded “Pumpkin Spiced Computer Repair” sign—I too wonder how that become a limited, seasonal commodity like the Shamrock Shake or something?—another sign for a massage place I passed spoke to me, so much so that I share it with Tami via text.  She has been fighting a back to school cold, so she needed the reminder too: Self-Care is Healthcare.  Cooperative fish or not, I needed to give myself a break today.

Doub' chub life.

I was surprised to find another vehicle in “my spot” on a Wednesday.  Disappointed for a minute since this was my high-confidence stretch with the conditions as they were, I still decided not to crowd dude in case he needed the solitude and therapy as much as me.  Instead, I drove to another stretch that I have been meaning to explore more.  Low, clear water is not a bad time to see how a stretch of stream really looks, where the holes are, for example, and there is the chance to sight fish even if you spook them before taking a shot.  I have only fished this particular stretch in spring when flows are normally high, and maybe once on a rainy summer day when, again, I was surprised by another car at my intended spot.  I did a lot of walking, running into posted signs too early in one direction and unimpressive water, for the most part, in the other direction.  I spooked a few small wild trout, hooked one in a shallow riffle, and landed far too many chubs, including a few doubles.  Doub’ chub, you know?  I was not impressed with this section, a bit uniform and muddy/sandy, although I did find two more holes that likely hold wild fish.  I even walked up a small tributary in the event that a few smart ones had used the cooler flows for some thermal refuge in the summer and had not yet left.  More chub life, unfortunately.

Great looking little hen.

Around 11:30 AM, when I exhausted the confines of the less familiar stretch or had seen enough, I drove back to my original spot for the last hour, and I finally found 4 fish to cooperate.  On a day like today, I am counting the YOY—pictured at the beginning of the post—that choked on a size 16 nymph.  This stretch has more holding water and a steeper gradient, so even though it was clear and low, I was not surprised that I was able to scare up a few fish to salvage the day, even at this less than perfect time of the afternoon.  The fact that I fished it behind someone else, and there were only a few obvious spots to target today, also gave me some gratification.  Besides the tiny, 4 incher, I also landed another fish that looked really good, great fins, no fused black spots, some red.  The other two were stockies from the spring, I bet. The water was only 64 degrees here, so the fish fought well.  With high sun and uber-clear water, however, the takes were far less enthusiastic than those of the ever-present chubs. I did spook a football of a fish in the tailout of a favorite hole, so if we get some rain this month and into October, I may have to return here to see what else lurks beneath the surface.

Salvaged the day with more holdovers.

Not a great outing, but I did need it, and I did explore a new stretch of the creek, which may come in handy the next time I have a surprising vehicle encounter at a certain pull-off.  It does not look like any immediate change in the weather pattern is coming before the weekend, and I will be busy on Thursday, Friday, and Monday, but I am hoping some of the lurking tropical storms bring future rains.  If we get some rain, I will surely sneak out with a streamer next week.  It may be time to head to bigger creeks the next time I need some self-care too.  Conditions on the Lehigh River, for example, are looking more positive each day, or I could take another shot at the Delaware smallmouth?

September 6, 2019 – A Little Low, a Little Slow, and then a Little Whoa! – SEPA

A good way to end the day and begin my September fishing.

Fall has been slowly making its way here with longer nights and cooler days, and this morning the outer bands of Dorian brought clouds, breezes, and eventually some steady rain by later afternoon.  I finished fishing well before the rain arrived, so the Bushkill near Easton was about as low and clear as I have seen it in some time.  I spent just about 4 hours nymphing, and I eventually put together a good day ( trip 61 of 2019!) after digging into my bag of small stream tricks, like making risky casts under deadfalls and targeting deep pockets in riffles, even those cushions in front of larger boulders within what deeper runs still remained.  To begin the day, the only thing working for me, besides the clouds and perhaps the beginnings of the autumn leaf hatch—which in small doses offers some surface disturbance and cover for my own skinny water intrusions—was the ability to wade into spots that are usually off limits or at least require difficult, over-the-waist wading.  I knew the creek would be low and challenging today, but I chose rather wisely based on the flows of other creeks within an hour and change of home.  I landed five hold-over rainbows and five wild browns, the final wild brown and my final fish of the day a beautiful porker that gave me quite the tussle.

Perdigon, drowned ant, pink tag fly.

I sometimes fish slowly when the water is higher, but today I fished pretty quickly unless I knew I was in a spot (like one of the few braided deep holes) that had to hold fish.  Runs that I usually take my time picking apart were not worth the effort with a nymph, so my approach soon became fishing high percentage spots and difficult spots.  This creek gets hammered, and the fish can be dickish, as I may have mentioned on occasion, so I decided to do it right and risk flies, move quickly to the right targets, make my casts to the right spots count, and do everything I could to fish well so that I didn’t miss any opportunities.  That plan seemed to work because I was bounced only two times where I did not come tight to a fish, and one of those times I may have gotten a rainbow to hit a second time on my very next cast.  I only moved once with the car, but I did cover a good bit of the high percentage water at the two spots on which I concentrated my time and effort.  I also had the place to myself, which contributed to my ability to cover some ground, I suppose. 

Not large, the other 4, but healthy and feisty.

I am back to bus stop duty, so I didn’t leave the house until 7:30 AM, but I was suited up and fishing by 9 AM even with rush hour traffic.  The clouds no doubt juiced the success rate of my late start for this time of year. Had the rain arrived before 2 PM when I was already home, who knows how good it could have been!  My first fish was a plump 10 or 11 inch wild brown who took a perdigon.  I also landed a rainbow and another smaller brown on the perdigon until I hung it up one too many times and had to re-tie.  I rigged up with a size 14 pink tag fly on the anchor and a drowned ant on the dropper and managed one rainbow on the ant and the rest on the tag fly before I quit the first spot right around noon.  I counted 8 fish at this point, 5 bows and 3 browns, so I considered getting an early start home.  I was happy that I took a ride and fished another 45 minutes on another stretch before calling it a day, however.

Pretty bow.

The first browns were small but plump and healthy, even leapers, but I think the hot spells and the lack of survival skills had an effect on a couple of the rainbows, though certainly not all.  One in particular looked very skinny and the peduncle before the caudal fin was atrophied.  This is a stream with limestone influence, so the living is usually easy for the stocked fish.  Many years, the bows that survive hold-over several years and even get brutish at times.  I did not find any of those today, as I did earlier in the summer in another stretch while chunking a streamer. I did dig a hot one out from under a rake of branches hanging over a pocket in the riffles, but the browns still fought far better.  The water temp was great today, but before this cool down and the one before, things may have been tough and made tougher with low flows.  The second stretch I wanted to fish does not see stocked fish unless the local TU has leftover brookies, so that influenced my decision to give it a shot—the chance at wild browns without having to pick through the more desperate bows, not the brookies, I mean, although on particularly tough days I have been happy to see the stocked gemmies too!

Not as pretty as this though.

At the second spot, I made a few casts in an often productive deep hole, but I did not have much faith at 12:15 PM in ultra clear water.  I did wade deep to drop a couple nymphs close to cover, but I soon found myself double-timing it to the next set of riffles.  The riffle and run I thought might hold a fish for me today were disappointing, but there were two last pockets just above this spot.   The one pocket that sits under a catalpa tree with big shade-providing leaves was a bust, maybe because shade was not in demand today. But the final pocket, which is a bank side eddy behind some deadfall and rip rap, was a winner, giving up from the back of the eddy another plump 10 inch wild fish.

Got 80% in the shot and in focus?

I thought that might be it, and I was happy that the second short stop yielded another fish, especially this time of the afternoon, but I had to drop another, better cast into the head of this same feature, perhaps even chance a swing under the branches.  The eddy was not large in the lower flows, all of 8 feet long and 3 feet wide, so I knew the minute I hooked and turned this big trout that he was either going to dive deep into the branches or make a run for it in the shallow riffles all around me, above and below.  He bulldogged for a second and did try to dig deeper into the cover, but once I turned him away the first time, he took off downstream.  I did my best to stay above him and turn him towards calmer water, but this was a big, strong fish.  I should have lost him when he went over the rocks on the shallow lip at the tailout and into the next piece of water.  I cringed when I watched this fish basically go over a very low waterfall and into the next run, but I too followed over the lip and kept him on.  After one shorter run towards the other bank, I was able to take control and get him above me and into the net.  We were now, of course, 50 or 60 feet downstream from where we both began…

A couple shots taken in the big net in case he didn't want to be handled...

I had the big net today, so I kept him wet while I took the pink tag fly out of his jaw and snapped the mediocre photos included here.  I also did a hand measure of 18 and change, and I know how large the bottom basket of the net is too, so I did not dig around for the tape.  After the fight he gave, it was probably a good call.  He squirmed out of my hand after the one release shot where I got 80% of him almost in focus and just sat there a couple feet upstream from me in shin deep water for a few minutes under my watchful eyes.  Eventually, I took a few steps upstream to retrieve my rod, which I had tossed in the knotweed after unhooking the fish, and he darted off for deeper water, perhaps to where I mistakenly thought a good fish might be today.  What an exceptional and exciting ending to an otherwise merely decent day on the water!

August 29, 2019 – Camp Dad Explores the Mighty Delaware River - Northampton County

Pretty spot.

The boy and I took a scenic ride up the river towards Northampton County today.  We didn’t leave home until after 2 PM, and we stopped for late lunch/early dinner on the way.  I was hoping we could stay out and make it close to magic hour with some exploring, wet wading, and hopefully some smallmouth bass.  After rigging up a couple spinning rods, I spent a little while in the garage packing a vest with some small cranks and soft plastics.  I had the idea that a drop-shot with some of Kenny’s Fitt Premium Lures would be effective and nearly snag-resistant for the boy, so he could just cast and take care of business himself.  Before walking to the river, we first explored a little Class A creek to see if we could spot any wild browns in the high sun and low water.  I saw only one, and the boy only saw minnows and maybe some fry.  It was my fault because I stepped up to a likely spot first instead of letting the boy go ahead of me.  I remembered to give him my polarized glasses but still rushed ahead like an excited kid myself in order to spot some trout in a tiny trickle!  When things started getting too brushy, we decided to go fishing.

He bested me!

The river is low, clear, warm, and wadable.  It is also loaded with shad fry, which were jumping and feeding all over the water.  Avoiding the stench of a deer carcass, we targeted a decent hole at the mouth of the creek, before bushwhacking and rock hopping our way along about 800 yards of river to a couple spots where I figured there would be fish.  We spent a lot of time finding random flotsam (sharpie markers, a Nerf dart, salt water lures, you name it) so fishing was only part of the adventure.  At one point, the boy said, “Oh, there’s a mountain, and another one,” so I think he too noticed the beauty of this little spot!  My fishing plan lasted about 10 minutes until Lukas realized that he could cast like a hero with my rod, loaded with braid and a shallow running crankbait.  I ended up fishing the drop shot rig on copolymer line.  My hooksets sucked on long casts.  I am used to braid or the fly rod, I guess!  I dropped at least three bass after a short fight, one decent bass after a longer fight.  The boy, however, beat me by landing his bass on the crankbait.   

Not a fish day, but a good day outdoors.

After a good two hours on the water, we still hadn’t made it to the magic hour, but I had to be grateful that we lasted two hours.  We talked to another father and son in the parking lot who tried for some catfish, and they lasted about 20 minutes, according to the other dad.  There were snacks and the Nintendo Switch waiting at the car for a good ride home—and the boy is always looking for bonus time on the device.  Not a big fishing day, but a good way to spend a late summer day, the kind of day I hope my pre-teen remembers when he becomes a more sullen teen, you know?

August 24, 2019 – First Taste of Autumn or a False Fall? – SEPA

A short early shift on a perfect morning.

A cool and drizzly Friday was followed by a cool and sunny Saturday, so even though I am not much for weekend fishing, I had to sneak out this morning to get a taste of the fall weather and hopefully the happier and hungrier trout.  The boy is in an in-between time, and I am home with him, also in-between—finishing two summer classes and getting prepped for my full fall teaching load—not to mention another graduate class towards my MFA.  Summer camps have ended, school is still over a week away, and Tami is back to work as of August 1.  Add another summer heatwave that just ended, and we have the makings of my typical August fishing output.  Looking back over the blog posts, it appears that I average a whopping two trips per August, especially now that I don’t spend as much time at the shore.  There will be more to come in September, and August is hardly prime time.  Even in the great conditions this morning—air temps in the high 50’s to start, water temperatures in the Lehigh Valley dipping a couple marks under 60—the fishing window lasts all of two hours in the morning, perhaps another hour in the evening, unless one fishes the night shift.  I was tempted this week, when I noticed how long it had been since I’d been out, but fishing late into the night and playing with a boy all day while still teaching two evening classes just sounded like too much work!

Only one in the first hour.

I arrived at my destination just before 5:50 AM, so by the time I suited up, I had enough light to take a short walk followed by my first casts.  The first hour was slow, as it often is, but it was still enjoyable.  I landed one little fish and again saw the two foxes that I encountered the last time I was on this creek.  They look full grown, but they must be young siblings because they were still running side by side, making the geese nervous this morning.  Perhaps their parents have left them to their own devices now, so they are not ready to go it totally alone.  So many geese this morning!  The creek is too small to share, so they will rarely pass here, as they would on a larger creek.  To avoid a ruckus, we had to play nice.  I eventually took the courteous steps up the bank, as if to say, “Go for it,” and they took my cue and whisked on by me downstream with nary a honk, which I believe is as close to thank you as the mean-spirited goose language allows.  Still, it was like waiting for a freight train to pass.

Small, but picking up on the perdigon.

The water was normal, very clear and almost low, this morning, so as it got brighter out, and I had a better grasp of the conditions, I had to make some adjustments and use smaller bugs and tippet.  I was tempted to go back to the car and get my 8’6” 3 weight that was rigged with a dry dropper, but I stuck with my nymphing rod instead, and it all worked out eventually.  The first couple of fish took a small CDC jig, but once I started catching fish with consistency, they preferred a blue perdigon in size 16, so I tied that as my point fly for efficiency sake, putting a smaller pheasant tail on the dropper.  Tricos were present in the same spots I usually see them, but even when some spinners began to fall around 9 AM, nothing took notice on the surface.  In fact, fishing slowed to nearly nada not long after 9 AM, so the trout may not totally trust this short break from the summer heat.  At least some days in July, I can get them to eat until 10 AM!  Fish were smaller than my average here earlier in the summer, too, but I caught nothing under 8 inches, I suppose, and I landed a couple pushing 12 to 13 inches.  All were in good shape despite last week’s heat; many jumped and dashed for undercut banks with some power.  

Some decent ones showed.

After only landing the one trout in the first hour and following my adjustments, I put together a modestly productive two hours of fishing.  I was happy to be out there and happy to be catching pretty, feisty wild trout again after nearly a month without.  I could not land 11 fish, even after trying a green weenie on the dropper and even mining one of the few deep holes with a bigger jig.  Going deeper from 9 to 9:30 AM, all I got was algae on the hooks, so I had to be content with my 10 fish morning.  I was back in the driver’s seat of the ‘Ru by 10:05 and home cleaning up before 11:30 AM, so that is one upside of these early shifts.  Besides being a little tired and/caffeine up, which nixes a nap, there is still a lot of day left.  The boy and I actually took a hike along the Wissy later in the day, as it stayed breezy and below 80 degrees all afternoon.

Another healthy one.

With an Easterly or Northeasterly flow continuing, it appears that the cooler temperatures will remain in the forecast this week, so Camp Dad might get outdoors more this week than last.  The boy and I even talked about fishing one day this upcoming week.  That may be my motivation to get all my grading done on Monday and Tuesday, so I can have a brief vacation before the fall semester gets going.  Even just a little taste of fall—a teasing false fall or not—today got me excited about the end of the summer doldrums and the imminent start of one of my favorite fishing times of the year.

That little perdigon worked for a solid two hours.

August 9, 2019 – A Walk with a Fishing Rod – Wissahickon Creek

Gutsy moves.

Not that I had any major plans in mind, but fishing this week was made nearly impossible because I am doing drop off and pick up for the boy’s summer camp.  He is only participating for a couple weeks, and then it is back to camp Dad (or Mom if he goes to work with Tami).  Valley is too warm for my liking right now, so I decided to take advantage of a break in the humidity and rain to walk the Wissy near my house.  I have some decent smallmouth bass spots deeper in the City, but today I did some prospecting in an area that I trout fished a lot as a kid and which always looks fishy.  I walked this particular area on Monday this week and watched some little bass set up and sipping midges.  I figured that the little guys came from something bigger, so I made a mental note to give this area a shot if I needed a quickie close to home this summer.  Today was the day.  I was hoping for more clouds than sun, but that did not happen.  I did catch a few small fish in the first hour to ninety minutes, however. 

It was good while the shade lasted.

The water was stained and had good flows for this time of year.  Before the sun got too high, I found some eager sunfish and small bass in the shaded riffles and tight to the banks.  I even got a couple sunfish on a topwater slider/popper.  I fished a popper/dropper for about thirty minutes, too, when the streamer bite all but died.  I did see a few lethargic bass come out to investigate, but it was around high noon, so that was all they did, investigate.  On the walk back to the parking lot, I threw a larger streamer, a hail mary, I guess, and I actually moved a hold-over trout.  I would expect a few would live through this wet summer, but I did not expect one to have enough vitality right now to move towards a streamer.  Not surprisingly, he did not move again.

They are in there, but the larger ones are smarter than these fellas.

I may have to sneak out very early on Sunday morning for a short trip.  I am jonesing a little if you can’t tell.  The cooler temps at night and the rain storms that preceded them may give me a short window with which to play.  I know the lows were in the low 60’s in the Poconos last night and that will likely continue tonight, but I will probably check out a Lehigh Valley limestoner or two instead to minimize the drive and maximize the fishing time.  I say I will fish the tricos, but you and I both know darn well that if the flows are good, I will be nymphing the riffles and runs…

Brave subsurface too.