June 6, 2017 – A Day of Small Stream Pigs – Northampton County in the Rain

Not my best camera work, covering a 1/4 of the fish!

I had second thoughts this morning as I headed up north in a steady downpour. I wanted to fish, and I was prepared, dressed, even enthused for rain, but this was not what was supposed to happen.  I was supposed to have at least from 5:30 to 8 or 8:30 AM without rain or with maybe a drizzle, according to the radar.  I was also supposed to expect a half an inch of precipitation, at best, during the day.  I guess I didn’t catch the fact that it may all come at the same time!  I am glad I didn’t turn around, though, and I am equally glad that I cut my ride about 20 minutes short of my intended destination.  The mighty Brodhead was truly mighty today, according to the gauges.  Seeing the rain, and how the water was coming up on creeks I had already crossed, I had a perfect creek in mind, and it did not disappoint.

Have to start somewhere.

The morning was foggy and dark, so the first few photos are not great, but I hope I did a couple of these wild browns justice.  I landed 6 fish between 15 and 18 inches, according to the measure net, plus at least that many more from 8 inches to 12 inches, even a couple rainbows with white-tipped fins and nice colors.  The fish that opens this post may have been bigger than 18 if I had stretched a tape across him, but I was just happy to get the timer on my camera working and satisfied that I returned this fish, and all the others, in great physical shape.  These were healthy fish too, heavy and wide-bodied.  A couple of them would not quit and made me grateful for my choice of 4X tippet.  Fittingly enough, the day started inauspiciously enough with a 9 inch wild brown who took the tungsten pheasant tail on a jig hook.

A foggy shot of the first good one of the morning, and yet the smallest of them!

The water was muddy, which doesn’t happen on this creek very often, so it must have really poured for a while upstream before I arrived.  I considered tossing a big streamer, but the first fish convinced me that they could still see my offerings in the faster riffles and runs I had intended to target all morning with a single dropper Czech nymphing rig.  I did put a bright pink SJ worm on the dropper, feeling like it might get their attention as the lead fly coming downstream at them.  I tried the same with a black stonefly later, when the water really got dirty, but I had no takers on that particular fly.  I did catch a couple on caddis pupae, walt’s worm, and even a prince dropper, too.  With the stained water, and where the fish were set up feeding, it was more about getting a fly in front of them, I believe.  That said, the 15 incher, my first quality fish of the morning, did take the pink attractor fly, as did a 17 inch brown, my third quality fish from the same short stretch of braided water.

17? 18?  Eating the pink SJ worm I thought would just be an attractor.

One of the reasons I love this creek, besides that it holds up well and fishes well in the rain, of course, is that the browns here almost always jump, even the big fish.  I don’t care how many big trout you have caught, the sight of an 18 or 19 inch fish going skyward 3 and 4 times is a sight to see and will make this grown-ass man giggle.  I truly expected to see a 20 incher this morning, but I am not complaining about hard fighting, jumping 15, 17, and 18 inch wild browns!  The biggest fish of the morning would not quit!  I applied side pressure, had my long leader up through the guides so I had a short line with which to maneuver him into the net, and still it took maybe three passes to finally get him down to the tailout and out of danger so I could net him.  

They were set up in the fast runs and under cover. 

After landing 4 fish from this first hole, 3 of which would have made my day, any fisherman’s day on a small stream like this, I moved upstream and worked some more riffles and runs before landing another 17 inch fish out of the tailout of the next deep hole.  This fish did not jump, but he slashed all over the surface immediately after hooked, no doubt trying to shake the pheasant tail out of his jaws.  Unlike at the Little J in late May, I did not drop any of the fish I hooked today, and I used the butt section of my 10 foot 4 weight to apply just enough pressure to land them all rather quickly.  This was becoming a little unreal, and I really did expect to see one of the real monsters I know live in this creek show his face to me.  Before 8 or 8:30 AM, I was already harassing Eric, Tom, Kenny, even Kevin with pics.  Kev was actually on his way to the Brodhead himself this morning, until he saw the same weather, and the creek’s response, that I did.  We shared a little intel on the phone, and he had tentative plans to head where I was, but I was on the road towards my second stop of the day by about noon, so I never saw his truck.  I did run into another fly fisherman who told me he talked a bait guy tossing nightcrawlers into releasing a fish over 20 inches long that he witnessed him catch.  I heard the same story about 30 minutes later from the horse’s own mouth.  The bait guy admitted he was guilted into releasing it, and subsequently maybe 3 other good fish.  I told him that I would have given him the same trip, but I would have offered to snap a photo and send it to him, at least!  Sometimes a little education with the right tone works, so the fly guy I spoke to definitely did a good job convincing the bait guy of just how rare and old and precious a 20 inch wild fish in a creek so small really is, and he was still in the other guy’s head when he released other nice fish this morning, no doubt.  I hope I helped sealed the deal, as well.  He seemed like a good guy, who just liked to hang a trout in the smoker once in a while, but I am glad that this big wild fish is not there this evening, you know?

A 17 incher from the second hole I fished too!

I jinxed myself “bragging” to Kev that I was killing it, and all large… I had a run of 4 or 5 little browns as the morning got later.  However, I must have humbled up enough to deserve one last good one because I actually landed a sixth quality wild brown at the tailout of another deep hole.  This one was all of 17 inches, maybe more, and a jumper as well.  He took a caddis pupa under an overhanging tree and gave me another wild fight before coming to the net.  After catching another cute little guy, I landed the aforementioned rainbow, which indicated that I was getting closer to stocked waters, so I turned back to have a snack, finish my morning coffee, and refill my water.  As usual, I fished 6 hours or more today and two creeks on only water, coffee, and trail mix.  I really could have used some beef jerky or something…

Just a brute and a beaut: another 17 or 18 inch acrobatic wild brown.

Same brute before the release.

It was about noon, and I debated taking a longer hike downstream and working back to my parking spot, but the water really was muddying up by this point, and I had done plenty of damage in a rather short while.  Instead, I headed to another creek that was on the way home and made for a convenient stop to piss and stretch the legs if nothing else.  It too was way too high to fish effectively by this point in the day, but I managed to hook two decent rainbows and land one before I decided that I was tired of being swampy and stumbling through creeks where I could no longer see my feet below me because of muddy water.  Man, this was a good one, though.  Not a day of pigs, but for a very small creek in SEPA, definitely a day of piggies!

I believe the parr are our future....

I landed half a dozen other fish too, but I turned back when I landed a little rainbow.

Maybe this one plus the first pic work in tandem to do the biggest fish of the morning justice??  Maybe?

May 27 to June 1. 2017 – Wind and Rain are Four-Letter Words, but fortunately so are Bass and Pike

Rainy and windy days made for pretty sunsets, at least.

The five days that my dad and I spent in Ontario this week were a bit unsettled weather-wise, as I hope my photos show, but we had some good days and good times while dodging storms and other setbacks.  The cottage he arranged was fancy, sitting atop a high bluff with new dockage (without electricity to recharge batteries, which is just poor planning on our landlord’s part) and many finely designed appointments, not bad for 100 bucks US a day.  We only spent about one third of any given day in the place, most of it eating or sleeping, so that really didn’t matter.  I must say, the ability to do laundry after a rainy morning on the water was quite nice, and the view out my bedroom window was worthy of a real estate posting or vacation magazine.  We saw plenty of wild life, as well: loons, mink, beaver, deer, fox, groundhogs, hummingbirds, osprey, bald eagles, vultures, heron, even a whippoorwill who liked to wake me about 1 AM to remind me to get up and relieve my bladder.  A certain murder of crows that nests on the same isolated bank every year are also a treat, sounding like anything but birds as they communicate with each other non-stop, probably about Joe’s hot blue rain jacket.

My old Canucky home for 5 days = tres posh

We trailered Joe’s bass boat as usual, so we were able to fish 2.5 different lakes, venturing into the channel that joined Dog and Cranberry Lakes, while spending two days on Dog and three on our old favorite, Loughborough.  The first two days on Dog were interesting to say the least.  We launched from a public ramp in a back bay, and when it came time to leave, we could not find the way back.  These lakes are byzantine with channels and islands and false bays and false landmarks.  When you have taken an 8 hour car ride that started at 3 AM, unloaded at the cottage, launched the boat, and fished just because you needed to wet a line on day one, regardless of the other factors, things happen.  Besides getting turned around, we ran aground and were pulled off an unmarked shoal by a Jersey boy on a jet ski (such a kind and helpful cliché!), Thankfully, there was no damage to the boat or the motor, as we were on a slow idle looking for landmarks in all the wrong places.  People on the water were very helpful, or tried to be, as a few were from the Commonwealth like us and had no clue, but it took a while to get our bearings, literally.  

Cats can swim.  Finally, a landmark we knew after wandering for a bit.

At one point, we followed a few young bulls in a pontoon boat who offered to show us the way to the ramp, the wrong ramp, before a nice young couple in a canoe who had a Canadian-enabled set of Google maps, set a waypoint for me on my phone.  We slept well that night, and vowed to not go back to Dog the next day, as the fishing was not great in the heat, high water, and churned up conditions.  It was hot and windless too, not a great combination to induce bass to bite in shallow waters.  Apparently, the region had record rain totals this spring, but I didn’t need to see the stats to confirm that fact.  Pieces of unmoored docks still littered the shore, and many once exposed hazards and landmarks were submerged or looking quite different from previous trips.  After the first painful afternoon, the plan the next morning to avoid the drama of Dog all changed when we saw a bass tournament forming at the boat ramp for Loughborough. 

Hmm, should have taken the pic BEFORE leaving the dock....

Loughborough is a lake we have fished for 30+ years, and it has changed over that time.  The biggest change is the development in the area, mainly from Kingston, ON, which was once a college and military town, but now is just a small city on Lake Ontario.  Though we arrive before the summer season, and folks don’t celebrate our Memorial Day up here, I picture Wallenpaupack-size crowds come July these days.  

Doubles aplenty (mine's bigger)

That said, we still catch some pigs, at least a couple 4 or 5 pounders each day on a good day, and always at least one day of 100+ smallmouth in the main basin, provided the fish are not post-spawn.  They were actually pre-spawn this year, thankfully, which has been a rare occurrence in recent years.  You can see how fat the females are, and the males (most, if not all, of the smallmouth) were green and feisty and competitive, often 2 and 3 chasing a squarebill crank back to the boat.  We had a few doubles, and when I was running the boat, I got into the habit of swinging back around and re-fishing a productive piece of structure.  This most often resulted in one or both of us landing another fish or two from the same area.  All bank was not created equal, as we sometimes find at the height of the spawn and pre-spawn nest building (real estate is limited in a lake that quickly drops from 5 feet on the bank to 30 or 60 within casting range of the shore).  By the end of one day, I could predict when we would catch a bunch of fish; a pattern slowly emerged and saved us time and arm strength for only the most productive water.  The howling wind helped move us along whether we wanted to or not.  Thank god the fish liked the shallow crankbaits and spinnerbaits in the wind-stirred water on our most productive days.  At times, a drop shot or a 1/4 ounce tube or wacky jighead-rigged Senko worked too, but fishing the bow in the line was a challenge.  Joe actually started using a reel with fluorescent yellow Stren, and I was impressed with how well it improved his game in the wind.

Okay, his was bigger this time.

Some slabs to be had.

To generalize, the days on Dog were hot and sunny, but the small numbers of fish we caught were bigger on average, and this has been the case over the last 4 years.  The days on Loughborough were more productive in the numbers area, but we also landed a couple 4 lb largemouth and a bunch of male smallies over 3 lbs.  Give me a 3 lb smallie all day, any day, and I would be happy all the days of my life.  I actually take the long trek with my dad every year because of my memories of the smallie days on the big water.  This year did not disappoint either. We also had a morning of 100 largemouth on Senkos and drop shot in the shallower foot of the lake, and unlike past years, the average fish was larger and feistier before the spawn, not tired and hooked 20 times like post-spawn.  One afternoon, my dad tangled with a handful of decent pike too.  Neither lake is known for large pike, though the numbers are good, but all 5 or 6 we caught that afternoon were solid fish.  A pike hit is great regardless of the size, but it is good to have one fight hard after the first lunge too.  We checked that box this year too.  We try not to handle too many of the slimy, smelly, toothy things, however, so no grip and grin shots of pike.

Some frying pan size sunfish and decent crappie too.

Selfish before Joe figured out my phone.

I brought the fly rod, so I did catch a few crappie and other panfish, even a hammer-handle pike, from the dock, but most nights it was just too windy or rainy after dinner.  The owner of the cottage left a 10-foot recreation kayak and paddle on the dock, and I was hoping to get out at least one night with the long rod, but the only kayaking I did was of a different nature.  One especially stormy and windy afternoon, while my dad took a well-deserved nap after batting 20 knot winds with the trolling motor all morning, I took a walk down to the dock where we had hastily tied the boat before lunch.  Well, you know where this is going, yeah?  As I came to the last landing of the long set of cliff-descending stairs, I did not see a bass boat on the dock.  The wind was honking out of the SSW, so I looked left from the north shore, and sure enough it was bobbing down the lake about 50 yards away and, thankfully, close to the bank and headed for a grassy bay (not a bad worst case scenario).  My dad may have had (another) heart attack, so I was glad he slept through it.  I worked up a sweat, but I stayed surprisingly calm despite the weather conditions.  The little yak was surely close to taking on water over the bow a couple times, but I was too busy praying the secondary stability I have read so little about was not a myth promoted by the purveyors of a shrinking market for sit-inside kayaks.

A pike close (enough) up....

A man of action this day, at least, I jumped in the kayak, whose 10 foot length and light weight did not provide me with the initial stability I have experienced on sit-on-top kayaks.  Truth be told, until this moment, I have never paddled a sit-in recreation kayak, but with heroic music humming in my head (see Swiss Army Man), I launched, paddled and rescued the boat in pretty quick fashion.. The hardest and yet most mundane part, honestly, was walking down the steeply inclined and loosely bouldered bank to retrieve the beached and tied-off kayak, which in retrospect I should have thrown on the front deck of the bass boat.  Next time, I will know?  Next time? Moral of the story, don’t trust the pre-fused or -joined loops on low-end dock ropes, which the post-rescue diagnosis revealed as the weak link in the otherwise secure docking procedure by two seasoned, albeit wind-battered and tired, sailors.  It made for a good story over dinner and likely will for years to come. Joe is lucky I didn't have my phone to document the action in photos.  I considered a re-shoot or reenactment, but the actors were being difficult.

Hiding in a boat house while it poured (again).

The fish didn't mind, however.

So to review, the low lights included running into a shoal, getting lost, getting rained on several times (to the point where we hid in absent island vacationers’ boat houses on a couple occasions—thanks, folks!), being wind battered, sunburned on a couple ungodly hot and windless afternoons, no dockside battery plug-ins, dodging a bass tournament in what used to be a lightly fished region of lakes, and almost losing a boat.  

A good 4+ on the digital scale!

The highlights were many, however:  No father/son spats, good food, a few big bass, at least two days where we caught 100+ bass over 2 pounds on average, strong enough data to allow my phone to serve as a mobile hot spot (so I didn’t need to take off work, dig?), great amenities, wildlife, good Samaritans (Canadians, and Americans), impromptu self-taught kayaking lessons, even some of the largest, pre-spawn pumpkinseeds and blue gills I have ever seen inhale a drop shot rig intruding on their nests.  We ended with a second day of 100+ good fish, this time all smallmouth besides one big female largemouth, and that is probably all we will both remember when it comes time to decide on whether to return to the same lakes next year. Funny how that works isn't it?

We arrived home around dinner time after an uneventful drive home, which was nice.  I even took a few work-related phone calls once we got into New York again. Even the cat was happy to see me when I got home, so the time away was good.  I got the boy his first sling shot at the duty free and helped Dan Akcroyd's retirement years by buying one of his screw-cap Merlots.  I am sure it's breathtaking.  Perhaps I will drink it with my wife and retell the story of my daring kayak rescue on the stormy northern lake or write a "Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald" homage to mark the day.

Until next year.

Random shots from a 100+ smallie day!

And the only largemouth of the entire smallmouth-dominated day.

May 23, 2017 – The 14-Hour Nymphing Master Class with Sam – Little Juniata River

Sam high sticking later in the day in one of the fishiest places in the run.

During a perfect break in a week of unsettled weather, I took a 23 hour tour of the Juniata Valley today.  I was up at 2 AM, out the door before 3, and knocking on Sam’s door at 6 AM.  He was upstairs tying, unless he uses “tying” as a euphemism for something there’s no need to discuss here, after a day of fishing with another buddy from TCO who works down in the Bryn Mawr shop.  On Monday, Sam landed two beautiful 19-20 inch browns, so he was in no rush this morning, which was an unexpected benefit for me.  Since Sam was content to hang back and take his time in the morning and periodically throughout the day, I got to have a free guide over my shoulder at different times, and I got to see how he works as a guide when he is working, which was cool.  I said this before, and not just because he’s a friend, but if you are considering a guide to fish State College or the Pine Creek gorge, Sam is the man.  My confidence in euro-nymphing skyrocketed by the end of the long day.

1st stop: Chalky spring limestoner water on a cool morning.

 I did not get tired until I was 2.5 hours into my return drive home, and I was entitled at 12:30 AM on Wednesday when my day began at 2 AM on Tuesday, not to mention 14 hours of hiking rails and wading slippery limestone in good flows.  My body felt good, even my tennis elbow, which I seem to have cured by fishing 4 days per week (and losing nearly 18 pounds over the last few months).  Capzasin works too, but don’t do any “tying” for a day after applying because it stays on your hands for a while.  The label says apply while wearing gloves, which is just good advice in life, I think...

On the bigger end of the scale for the day, but beautiful "river fish" who don't play nice.

As a drive past the lower end of the gorge confirmed later in the day, the river was a zoo due to rumors of green drake hatches.  I just followed Sam all over a 15-20 minute radius and avoided other fishermen all day, not a one in sight, honestly.  We saw plenty of small bugs and some large caddis during the day, but instead of staying overcast, the sun popped out by late afternoon, so the sulfur hatch, which was decent, did not materialize until the light was really, really low, too low for this guy who squinted at sighter line or an indicator all day long.  Sam tied on a dry right before dark and hooked one, which might have even been an acrobatic fallfish, but I just watched for the last 15 minutes, content with a steady pick of fish all day and the sights, sounds, and smells of dusk on a postcard stretch of river.  Rare, but there are times when I just stop and smell the horse manure.

A lot of Little J average fish took flies subsurface at a steady pick all day.

We hit about three, maybe four different stretches, and targeted only the fishiest runs and pockets, a Little J greatest hits tour, while avoiding the popular ballads and crowd pleasers.  The area is amazing and unfair!  Wild fish are in every run, brook, and roadside piece of running water, some too small for me or even Melvin to fish.  I saw a 12 incher in a trickle next to the gas station, you know?  It’s just not fair!  We used nothing fancy, just Sam’s simple, functional, and beautiful jigged tungsten pheasant tails and mayfly droppers.  Fish took both in equal measure.  My largest, which I lost before a photo op, took a big brown stone, I believe.  The agreed upon plan was to look for the “one,” not necessarily numbers.  The one did not come, though we both missed one or two better fish in a prime lair or two, and we saw a couple that would have made for a great grip and grin shot.  However, I had a great day regardless.  At the first drop I caught a couple in the 12 inch range, along with the Little J average fish of 10 inches or so, but I also caught a 14 inch football that jumped 3 times.  Sam calls them river fish, and I know what he is talking about.  Catching a 12 incher in fast pocket water with heavy flows most of the year is a different experience than even a 20 incher in a flat pool or a Jordan Creek jumbo.

A real looker, this one, with a bad attitude.

My best fish of the day bested me after a couple runs through the boulder field downstream of his lair, but one gorgeous, pale 12 incher later in the afternoon thought he was huge!  I could barely turn him after he took the nymph, as he headed right towards the roots he probably hides in most of the day.  I fish rivers, like the Brodhead, for example, so I really appreciate a strong, pretty fish, even if he’s not 18 or 20!  Sam uses 4X and a 5 weight for good reason.  I have to become more confident in the butt section of my rod’s ability to turn them out of dangerous territory quickly, so besides getting a lot of helpful tips on my nymph rigging and fishing, I also filed away another lesson on fighting fish. If an 18 takes my fly next time, I will be more confident that I can seal the deal.  That said, I have caught plenty of big trout in my life, so I honestly don’t get upset when a good one gets off, especially if I got to enjoy the take and the fight and even saw him in close.  Barbless, small flies, treacherous wading that precludes the downstream pursuit of a hot fish, all these things weigh in the fish’s favor, and I am cool with that.  I have rarely felt the urge to heave a golf club into the pond in fishing or in life (Although, there is one 10+ pound fluke I lost in the Old Grounds that kept me up at night for a while, but that was because Ward was there and it would have made him give up fishing for life J.)

A solid one from our second, maybe third spot, who knows?

I also trusted my gut at times and added split shot or changed flies or added an Airlock "bobber" if conditions warranted.  With a gifted angler watching sometimes, it is easy to second guess, but I am getting confident again in my fly fishing skills, and fishing with Sam today was no different that fishing with Eric—it was just fishing with a buddy who can kick my ass most days.  It must be what fishing with me is like for a lot of my fishing buddies, especially mitches like Kenny and Eric!  My dad will feel like that all day in Canada next week, no doubt ;)  I am packing and prepping for 5 days away from home, so not much fishing before Saturday, if any, but I am bringing the lap top to Ontario for work, so I may write a little each night about the bass and pike fishing.  The place my dad secured is unbelievably nice, too nice for a couple of smelly fishermen, but I am really looking forward to it.

I'll be back again...