October 25, 2019 – Midday Success in Late October – SEPA

Fall colors.

There was a moment this summer where I grew tired of typing the words Northampton County limestoner, but today was not one of those moments.  I finally had enough work completed that I could get out for a few hours without guilt, so I was just happy that I could take a relatively short drive and get into some fish.  Twice in the last week or so I thought a little rain would give Valley enough of a bump to nudge me away from my grading, reading, and writing for a couple hours, but the gages were quickly back down to 20 CFS, so I just kept working.  I don’t like to be this busy or productive, but I knew it was coming once I started another graduate program while holding down a full time job.  I am also on a working group for an accreditation process at my school—an honor I suppose for a junior faculty member, but I like my fishing time!  I still wrote a very rough draft of a paper due on Monday night before I left the house this morning around 10 AM, so I was not fishing until 11 AM, but the creek I chose was in average shape for this time of year with enough water to work with even in sunny conditions.  It is also small, so I didn’t have to worry about a wet crotch.  My new waders have since arrived late today, but this morning I was still working with my Simms that are in desperate need of a repair trip to Washington.  As long as I stayed thigh-deep, I was good, so lower flows came in handy for once.

Umm, fall colors.

I did notice some small bugs in the air when I arrived and walked down to the creek.  They may have been olives smaller than size 20.  I also saw an isolated caddis or two, so I had a size 18 pheasant tail jig on the anchor and a weightless caddis soft hackle on the dropper.  Not one fish took the dropper, so it was just window dressing.  I thought of dropping a midge, but the pheasant tail, really more of a pt version of a walts worm, perhaps even a bottom rolling caddis imitation, picked up several fish in the pocket water I targeted, so I just fished instead of tying and retying and experimenting further.  I think I landed 8 fish and missed one with the net in well under three hours of fishing, so it was a fine day on the water.

Measure net got out today.

I landed a handful of typical small stream fish, 9 or 10 inch beauties, but I also landed one over 12, one over 13, and a solid 16 inch fish too.  A couple of the males were looking ready for love, getting those deeper, darker fall colors.  The largest fish was a mystery fish.  It was in good shape and fought well, but even as I fought it I thought in real time that is was not battling as well as a wild fish of a similar size would.  My educated guess would be stocker despite a blush of blue on the cheek and some good colors.  The tail and one of the fins did not seem right.  I have also caught many fish from this creek, and none of them have had this look; it did not have a mess of fused spots or anything, but it was just too spotted and too pale.  The creek does not get stocked in this area, and the only escapees I have tangled with have been club stocked rainbows that travelled miles.  In other words, I am NOT going on record saying I landed a 16+ inch wild brown today!  I enjoyed catching him nonetheless.  It's been a while since I have had that kind of bend in the rod.

Another one colored up pre-spawn.

Because I had to target riffles and runs with some depth to them, I ran out of water more quickly than normal along this stretch.  I was spoiled by the higher water all summer that allowed fish to spread out more.  Before quitting, I dropped into a high percentage hole that only gave up an 8 inch fish the first time through, and this time I managed to hook and almost net a nicer fish in the 11 or 12 inch range—that would have been 9 fish.  I had one more potential spot in mind, so I checked my phone for the time.  It was just past 1 PM, so I figured I would try this last spot and call it good.  

A pair pretty of ones.

As I was slowly working my way into position, I thought I heard something big in the woods, so I stopped and looked around for someone’s dog behind me.  There was nothing behind me, but across the creek from me was a massive whitetail.  I told a couple of my buddies later today that it looked big enough to pull Santa’s sled, and it had at least 10 points too.  I tried to take half a dozen pictures with my phone, but none of them were worth posting here, unfortunately.  On the walk out, I also spooked another smaller buck, so they added a little excitement to the final fishless half an hour.  Like I said above, if you had told me I would be happy to type Northampton County limestoner again this year, I would have called you a liar.  But after a mere 45 to 50 minute ride home, I was grateful for a few stolen—well, earned—hours of fishing today, regardless of where I was.

Stocker a long way from home.

October 11 and 19, 2019 – More Low Water, Boy in Waders – SEPA in Mid-October

Friday fall foliage and fickle trout.

I know if has been quiet on here for over a week.  I have been out twice, but there was not much to write about, just more of the same: busy with work and my own class and uninspiring conditions despite beautiful weather.  I fished the Bushkill on Friday, October 11 and barely avoided a skunk by landing one 8 inch wild brown.  I know I have written about how fickle the fish on that creek can be and how the good days make me doubly content.  I keep going back because of the challenge not because it is easy.  I also got a wet crotch, the seams on my Simms finally giving out, so it was an interesting day and not all that fun in retrospect.  I patched up a few spots, trying to avoid the long wait if I send them to Washington for repair, but I still had a damp crotch this afternoon when the boy and I quit, so I will be heading to TCO this week to ship them back.

The joys of wading.

Today was much more fun, though not any more productive.  The SEPA creeks that get a fall stocking have fish in them now, for the most part, so I took the boy out today to give them a shot with the fly rod.  My dad found him some waders that nearly fit, and I searched Amazon for some inexpensive felt-soled boots.  As you can see from the pics, the highlight for the boy was wading the creek, a joy I’d forgotten but vicariously relived on a beautiful Sunday afternoon on the Pennypack.  The park was loaded with people and dogs and fishermen, so the fish were skittish in low, clear water.  We did give the boy his first on the water fly fishing lessons, even if we landed no fish.  It is good to know they are in there, however.  I like to have some options for a couple stolen hours during the week.  Besides some grading and one meeting on Monday, I have most of next week open, and I will surely get my fix of fishing. For now, I pray for rain!

Having learned my lesson about the limitations of bootfoot waders last winter in State College, I decided to order a pair of replacement stocking foot waders using some LL Bean dividends.  They should arrive by Wednesday or Thursday this week.  It is always good to have a back-up pair, and the Bean’s will be covered for a year, even though they ceased honoring a lifetime replacement.  I have owned multiple pairs of the model I ordered, and the features and layers of material just slightly outpace the comparably priced Orvis Encounters (and I had some Bean bucks, as I mentioned above).  In the meantime, unlike the boy, I will not likely test my wading skills in any kind of depth unless totally dictated by the situation.  It would be nice to stand knee deep and chunk a streamer for some pre-spawn pigges, you know?  Rain, please.

October 8, 2019 – Well, That Didn’t Last All That Long – SEPA

It's been a while, Valley girl.

I have been waiting on a rain, a real rain, for too long.  It’s so bad that this morning I actually got excited enough at the sign of a spike on the Valley Creek gage, a spike to only 40 CFS from 18 CFS, mind you, that I suited up and took a ride over.  I knew it would not be streamer water, but I was hoping for a little more flow and even a hint of a stain that would allow me to nymph for a few hours close to home.  I left the house a little after 8 AM and hit the rush hour traffic, of course, but even with that I was suited up and fishing by 9 AM.  The creek flow looked just about normal, but thankfully there was a tinge to the deeper holes and runs that lasted a couple hours, at least.  It was one of those days where I could watch the creek recover in real time, it seemed.  By the time I quit at 1 PM and started walking back, the creek was clear and low again, but I did take advantage of the all too brief prime time, landing at least one solid fish for Valley, a few average fish, and over a handful of young of the year too.  It was cloudy and cool, slowing turning to breezy and bright, so it was just a nice day to be out.  Even when conditions got tough again, I kept fishing a while longer, grateful that I only had a 20 minute ride home.  I had to teach tonight, but I have not been to Valley since July 12, so one might say I also had to fish.

Every little bit of extra cover helps.

I began tossing the same bugs I had on when I left Northampton County last week, a purple hot spot jig in size 18 and a size 18 hare’s ear on the dropper above.  I landed one 7-incher on the hare’s ear before I swapped out the anchor for something a little heavier and brighter.  Noting that the water was not all that stained, instead of the dark hot spot, I went with a more natural and brighter frenchie on the dropper, and I kept the hare’s ear on until I also swapped that for a something caddis pupa-looking.  There was little bug life beyond midges, and no steady risers, but a few fish seemed to notice very small bugs, perhaps the midges or tiny olives.  Since I caught all my fish in the riffles, some fish in six inches of water right in the head of the riffles, I decided that I needed to get deep quickly.  The plan worked because I caught my best two fish on the frenchie within an hour of making the switch.  The first decent fish was about 10 inches long, but healthy and getting colored up for the fall.

Another pretty and pretty decent one.

My second decent fish, the one with which I opened this post and my best of the day, was closer to 12 inches and rather thick.  It too took the frenchie right in the riffles.  This one also happened to be tucked up under the cover of some branches.  A workable pattern establish—granted, the usual low water pattern minus a dry dropper, I guess—I quickly covered some water, targeting just the plunges and riffles with cover adjacent or within.  The little ones starting waking up as the front moved through and the day brightened, but because I was using a larger point fly, most came right off.  I landed and quickly returned at least three YOY that took the dropper, but I probably hooked and lost five more on the bottom fly as well. 

Count 'em?

I think I counted seven fish that were countable, so without the uber-dinks the action would have been pretty slow for more than 4 hours on the water.  As I mentioned, I did stay out for an extra unproductive hour just to enjoy the improving weather (for humans, not fish).  I also spent some time watching a couple larger fish mixing in with the suckers in two deep holes.  When the water gets low, depth is also cover, but I am not sure many of those fish are catchable without a hatch or dirtier water.  It is certainly beyond my skill set, so I don’t do much more than look at them.  As my last post stated, my short trips have been averaging an hour from home, so today was far from a bust.  I was very happy to get out for a while without the longer drive, especially since I have the boy off from school on Wednesday this week.  I am not as busy with meetings this week, so I will be watching the conditions for Friday and getting all my work done just in case it looks like go time.

A close-up to close?

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!