Shaking Off the Dust on Cayuta Creek

Cayuta Creek has become an old friend. With the coming of each early spring I find myself drawn to her. Part of that attraction is her beauty. Sweet and petite, her waters bring out the best of early spring, before wildflowers and green leaves fill the woods around her banks.

Cayuta Creek’s beauty shines even before the forests come alive…

And part of that attraction is her ability to help me shake off the dust and lose the rust after a winter spent indoors. Her trout, some stocked, some holdover, and some wild, are always there waiting and often times willing.

Early season fly fishing on Cayuta is largely a stonefly game – little black stones – though traditional nymph patterns and streamers can also work well. Some years, like last year, the unusual early season weather brought caddis and mayflies in abundance leading to some very good dry fly fishing.

I usually fish Cayuta Creek at least once before the opener with fly angling friend Dan, profiled here before. We’ll meet up at a pull-off, rig up with nymphs or wet flies, and fish down or up – more or less walking the length of the special regs section above the Wyncoop Creek Road bridge – catching up, commiserating, celebrating the new season, and conjecturing on what the year might bring.

We met up the weekend before the opener and Cayuta Creek did not disappoint. It was Good Friday in more ways than one! I fished my standard early season pattern – the venerable picket pin – but this time it was one of my own. I fished it as the tail fly to a weighted prince nymph and to my delight, caught a feisty brown on my third cast.

First fish on one of my own flies…

Dan and I fished the lower stretch of the creek that day and found one particular section that was loaded with hatchery browns. We caught them dead drift and on the swing with our nymphs and wet flies. Sometimes they’d even jump a fly stripped in for another cast.

I fished Cayuta the next day, this time on my own, and I did nearly as well. The sun was out and later in the day little black stoneflies were hatching with abundance. They fell like heavy snow, on and off it seemed, and would float and skitter clumsily downstream. The trout did not ignore them, rising aggressively as they sailed down the creek. Unfortunately, I was ill-equipped. I did not have anything that matched those stoneflies, though a black caddis seemed to draw the trout up for a look. A picket pin fished weightless on the swing worked pretty well, though greasing one up to make it float would most likely have been better (again, ill-equipped – no floatant on hand!).

I returned to Cayuta Creek the Friday after Opening Day. I found a very different creek on that overcast and cold day. The water was up and had a dark green stain to it, no doubt the result of snow-melt and recent rains.

A brooding looking Cayuta Creek…

I fished a nymph with a picket pin tail fly and found little success and I wondered at one point if this disturbing finding on a section of the creek that allows artificial lure use only had anything to do with it…

What fly or lure angler would use a ‘Y’ stick…

Later I decided to switch up to a streamer – a picket pin streamer tied by Dave Pelachik of JJ’s Jigs. I fished it upstream dead drift, then stripped it on the swing. Wading downstream, I swung the weighted streamer through a deep run and felt a solid whack and then the head-shakes of a good trout – one bigger than the stockie fare. After a good tussle I landed a brown in excellent condition, heavy-bodied, silvery colored, and quite possibly a wild trout from what I could tell.

A nice Cayuta brown caught on a picket pin streamer…

I fished a little more, lost another decent trout and had a few more swipes from what seemed to be stockies. At one point, a nice older gentleman stopped by to check things out. He spoke to me from roadside, across the creek and I could tell from our conversation that he was an experienced fly angler. He was new to the area, having moved from Pennsylvania and thought he’d check out Cayuta Creek. I fed him with all sorts of good information on this favorite little creek. After a while of pleasant chat, he bade me good luck and told me he’d leave a glass bead midge larva pattern he’d recently had luck with on Kettle Creek. In a way I suppose, it was my ‘little gem’ thanking me for all the praise…

Looking back on 2012

By most accounts, 2012 was a strange year for fly fishing in the Southern Tier of NY. Local anglers I’ve talked to didn’t know what to make of the wild seasonal swings, and fishing seemed to be mixed, at least according to my journal, with phenomenal days followed by not so good outings during other parts of the year.

Thanks to a warm spell in late winter / early spring, fly fishers enjoyed great fly fishing for trout. Instead of a bone-chilling opener, anglers basked in relative warmth and fished near gin-clear water conditions. Even the pre-opening fishing on waters that were open, like parts of Cayuta Creek, shown below, was excellent.

Some anglers reported early season dry fly fishing – as early as March 7th – which is unheard of in these parts. Note the water level and clarity of the West Branch of the Tioughnioga (below) in late April! I didn’t have my fly rod when I took this picture but brown trout were actively rising to caddis, leaving me drooling…

While the trout angling got even better in April, another surprise opportunity was the smallmouth bass fishing in local rivers and streams. Rivers were at low levels thanks to the lack of snowpack. Normally, bass fishing on the larger rivers is not possible until late spring at the very best. I kept eying the “big four” in our area – the Tioughnioga, Chenango, Chemung, and Susquehanna – and watching the USGS water gauge. Even the main branch of the Susquehanna looked enticingly fishable as shown in this picture taken in late April. As a reference, the point to the left in this picture would normally be covered by 6 feet of water at this time of the year…

After reading a post by fellow fly fishing blogger, Dave Pelachik, I decided to give the Susky a try and boy was I glad I did, as detailed in a post I did soon after my trip. My only regret is not spending that entire day on the river…

Fly fishing in general was outstanding on the Catskill Rivers. The tailwaters were able to maintain flows throughout the season: the freestone Willowemoc and Beaverkill were not quite so lucky. In any case, the only ‘off’ part of the spring was the effect the weather had on the hatches. They were in some cases very strong and early and in others, such as the March Brown hatch, reported to be non-existent. But the trout were hungry. One observation I noted in my fishing is that I did not see the same proportion of rainbows to browns that I normally do, but the browns were certainly in very good health.

While the smallmouth season started out with a bang for me, late summer fishing was for some reason a bust, at least on the Susquehanna where I fish it. It got downright befuddling at times, to the point where I began to hunt the smaller Tioughnioga and upper Chenango. Interestingly, these rivers fished better than the main branch of the Susky. Noticeably absent during much of my fishing on the Susquehanna were the younger year class bass, which normally prove to be a nuisance.  These fish were present on the smaller rivers but their absence in the bigger water is a mystery to me.

The West Branch of the Delaware continued to fish well into June…

While summer fishing was slow in some ways, the largemouth bass on the pond out back of our house were ever willing to slam anything tossed their way. And the white fly hatch in early August on the Susquehanna was epic, but didn’t seem to bring out the bass for me, at least.

Saltwater fishing was also a mix. I fly fished Meyer’s Hole near Barnegat Light, NJ on the July 4th holiday, and was fortunate to run into schools of very willing shad that clobbered my clouser streamer to the point where it was nothing more than a jig with no tail feathers. These mini tarpon were a blast, leaping on every hook-up. These were 1 to 3 lb fish, but mingling among them were houndfish, a gar-like fish that on two occasions attacked my clouser streamer and ripped line as they streaked across the surface of the water like an airborne torpedo. My houndfish were not quite the size of the monster shown below (but they were a good 3 feet in length), but these are respectable game fish, and keep your hands away from the business end!

The party boat fishing was also a mixed bag. I went with my cousin Mark over that same July 4th weekend and we caught ‘cocktail’ blues on jigs. We won the pool, believe it or not, with a blue just shy of 2 lbs. We split the winngins at $65 a piece. Go figure…

Later in the year in September I fly fished the bay again with nothing to show for it – then headed out on the Miss Barnegat Light for blues and did nicely, again using jigs. These were 6 to 14 lb fish – the kind that leave your arms sore and put a big smile on your face. Anglers drifting chunk bait in the slick did better than us jiggers. The fish seemed a tad picky – unusual for the ever-hungry bluefish.

Bass fishing in late summer seemed to pick up for me. On one morning I did very well fishing the tail of a pool in the Susquehanna. I had noticed the distinctive water disturbance left by bass chasing baitfish and positioned myself to swing a white Murray’s streamer across the tailout. These fish were very aggressive and were marauding the very shallow parts of the tailout. I landed 4 very nice bass and lost 2 more before the action slowed. One fought like a snag the first few seconds, then had his way in the strong current before I lost him.

The Finger Lakes trib runs never happened unfortunately. I was ready and willing, but the rain just never came strong enough to trigger staging fish to move up the creeks. Oddly, rain did hit the Catskills late one week in October and I knew it would be the perfect set-up for streamer fishing for pre-spawn browns with attitude. I hit the West Branch of the Delaware with the river settling but still nice and murky. The streamer fishing could not have been better. 8 browns, colored up, the males with kypes and besting 18″ came to hand, with as many or more electrifying short takes including one practically a rod’s length away from me.

Striper fishing in the fall was an absolute bust thanks to Hurricane Sandy. I took a trip Thanksgiving weekend with my son, Chris, and no one on the boat caught a fish. I also caught a skunk on the Salmon River in November. The salmon were done then, and steelhead were caught, but not by this angler. Sometimes a river demands its dues before it graces your net.

It was certainly an odd year for me, book-ended by absolutely bests (early smallmouth and fall browns) and filled with some days when an angler should have stayed home and got some things done. What’s most important though is the learning and the loving of the outdoors. One often forgets a day not fished is one less day fishing.

Serendipity on Cayuta Creek

I’m a believer in serendipity, which I quote, as follows, from Wikipedia:

Serendipity means a “happy accident” or “pleasant surprise”; specifically, the accident of finding something good or useful without looking for it. The word has been voted one of the ten English words hardest to translate in June 2004 by a British translation company.

Just so happens I found it along Cayuta Creek, a favorite trout fishery of mine and one that has been profiled here before. I had stopped by on a recent Friday evening for a bit of after-work fly fishing and as usual, the “little gem” did not disappoint…

One of many Cayuta browns that couldn't resist a picket pin streamer...

Fishing one particular stretch that evening, I quickly got into quite a few brown trout – a mix of stocked fish and holdovers. My peaceful 2 hour interlude was interrupted only once by a spin fisherman whose pick-up came to an abrupt stop, with a roar of its exhaust, near where I was fishing. He climbed out of his burly red truck, rappelled down the creek bank, simply outfitted with spinning rod, sunglasses and cigarette, and briefly stopped to ask how I’d done. He then walked downstream, casting his spinner from the bank in rapid-fire fashion. After just a half-dozen casts, he dashed upstream and out of sight.

I found the trout willing to dance with a Picket Pin streamer that had been sent a few weeks earlier, gratis, courtesy of Dave Pelachik of JJ’s Jigs. All it took to produce that magical buttery brown flash of a trout from the greenish depths of the pool was a cast across and upstream followed by a mend to get the fly deep and a few short strips on the swing. There were more short takes than I could count, but for a good while, this tactic produced a number of stockies along with several nice fish. Later, clouds of midges or tiny olives – I’m not sure which -  started hatching, with a few caddis interspersed, and the game changed. On went a Picket Pin wet and Godfather (pheasant tail) emerger. One out of every three or four casts was followed by classic staccato grabs on the swing that every wet fly fisherman dreams of in the depths of winter.

The fishing that evening was so enjoyable, I couldn’t resist another shot the following day. With my wife up in Rochester tending to my collegiate daughter, I figure I’d enjoy another day of the relative solitude that pre-opener fishing brings. I drove west from my home that Saturday and then north in the mid-morning overcast, belly full with the contents of the oh-so-good / oh-so-unhealthy Sausage Egg McMuffin I’d picked up along the way. It was another cool and damp day with spritzes of rain thrown in for good measure.

Driving along the length of Cayuta Creek, I saw only a few cars parked bank-side. But once I reached the special regs section above Van Etten, I noticed a somewhat familiar car in the exact spot I had parked the evening before. The tall gangly figure walking upstream along the road quickly confirmed my suspicions; it was none other than my long-lost fishing pal and former coworker, Dan…

I caught up to him in my car, practically squeezed him off the road, and extended a hearty hello. After parking, Dan patiently waited while I strung up – something I pointed out to him with emphasis since most times he’d be thigh deep in the creek before I’d barely donned my waders.

We fished the same run I’d fished the night before, then walked upstream to a favorite riffle below the bridge pool and fished the creek back down to where we parked, all the while catching up on goings on, re-telling old war stories, and enjoying the willing participation of the creek’s enthusiastic browns. I asked Dan why he hadn’t sent more flies to me, good tyer that he is, and he countered back about not getting him a ticket to the Al Hazzard TU banquet. Through it all, we both seemed at a loss to pinpoint exactly how long it had been since we last shared a day on the water.

Looking downstream on the "Little Gem".

I came that day not looking for anything but some quiet time fly fishing a special little creek, but as happens every once in a while in life, I found something else. As we worked one particularly deep hole, Dan mentioned the sudden passing of some former coworkers, and I could tell it was really bothering him. Interestingly, I too had just gotten word of a colleague from my past who had died at a still relatively young age. We talked about it and continued to fish, but maybe in the silence of each cast, we pondered our own tentative place on this good earth. Our banter picked up after that, as did the sharing of more good memories and the promise of more time on the water in each others company.

We fished every part of the creek on our way to where we parked. After climbing out of the creek and breaking down my gear at the car, all I could think of was a passage from T.S. Elliot’s poem, Little Gidding:

We shall not cease from exploration
And the end of all our exploring
Will be to arrive where we started
And know the place for the first time.

It’s one thing to call up a friend and arrange a day of fly fishing, but quite another to arrive at the same place and pick up as if it had been thoroughly planned in advance. Serendipity is a good friend, indeed, and one I will cherish as long as I can wade a beautiful piece of water and cast a fly…

Short Casts: Could be a soggy opener for PA

NY trout fishing has been open just shy of two weeks. Reports have been mixed – from really good fishing to “not-a-thing”. The variation can at least partially be attributed to the whipsaw weather we’ve enjoyed – and most around these parts know what I’m talking about.

This past Wednesday and Thursday are a classic example – an all day soaking rain and chilly temps on Wednesday, just in time for bluebird skies, a warm 60 degree day-time high, and…

The lower section of Nanticoke Creek on Thusday, 4/14 - robins singing, the sun is out - what more could one want...?

high water with a distinctive muddy stain to it on Thursday. The picture above was taken by yours truly while on lunch break. I hate to admit it, but on beautiful days when I have to work, and could be enjoying the inspiring environs of trout, I’m selfishly glad for high water.

Thanks to two days of drying out, local creeks and streams are settling back down to decent levels, as evidenced by this pic of the Owego Creek gauge…

Owego Creek is back to good fishing levels - just in time for more rain...

and just in time for Mother Nature to throw more slack in that drift with a forecast of steady rain and cool temps for Saturday, which just happens to be the opener to the south of us in Pennsylvania.

Dark green is not good for anglers...

Early bird anglers will be cold, but best off, as the rain isn’t really supposed to kick in until noon. Water levels could be back up by late afternoon with the ground as saturated as it is, so if you plan on hitting the opener in pee-aayy, or some of our local re-stocked creeks in NY, don’t sleep in.

Tight lines…

Listening to guides…

When local fly fishing guide Wayne Aldridge recently spoke to our Trout Unlimited chapter, I took copious notes. Part of my studiousness was in the interest of writing a report on his presentation: “Fall fly fishing on the West Branch of the Delaware”. But most of my note-taking was out of pure self-interest: I have learned to listen to guides. This past Sunday was a perfect example of how listening to a guide can pay off.

After recent dousings of rain, the weekend had looked like it might be the perfect set-up for fishing the Cayuga Lake tribs. A good push of water along with the sting of some frosty nights this time of year is typically what sends a love message to the landlocked salmon and brown trout staging in the lake. The fish sense that the time is right and move up the tribs to spawn, giving fly fishers a golden opportunity to catch the fish of a lifetime. But timing the run is never a sure thing, and while monitoring the USGS river gauge and the weather report are key, there’s nothing like being on the spot and testing the waters to really know when the run is on. And so, an email inquiry was quickly dispatched to fellow blogger and trout bum extraordinaire, Artie Loomis, and the inquiry was just as quickly answered: “Fall Creek isn’t happening yet”. As I stared at those disappointing words early Sunday morning, I immediately started thinking about plan B…

Plan B...

A quick glance at the Hale Eddy river gauge showed perfect wading flows, but the potential for dirty water loomed large in my mind. The tailwaters are known for producing a turbid discharge in the Fall, the result of turnover in the reservoir that feeds the river. Most fly anglers would not even give discolored water a chance figuring the fish can barely see their nose in such conditions. But the advice of Wayne Aldridge suggested otherwise – that stained water in combination with the presence of spawned-up male brown trout in a bad-ass mood can make for some truly outstanding fishing. What’s good for a guide is always plenty good enough for me…

Shortly before 9 am I crossed the river at the Rt 17 / Deposit overpass. The Gentleman’s pool was flowing picture-perfect and its banks were totally void of anglers but the river water was the color of dirty wash-water. I made my way to the river road and was butt-deep in the 45 degree water in no time, armed with my Scott A2 9 foot 6 weight streamer rod, a vest stuffed with flies, and hope in a guide’s advice.

The river was in its peak autumn glory and I had the entire stretch of river to myself. Mist rose off the water and encircled me like cigar smoke, but despite the frosty morning temps, the constant casting, mending, and stripping that’s required when streamer fishing warmed me up in no time.

I started the morning fishing a white conehead zuddler on a river braid above the pool. The water was cleaner there – the channel was fast in spots but the far bank was undercut and laden with thick cover. A downed tree created a deep green pool with a gorgeous back eddy as well. I had once streamer-fished this braid on an early spring morning and experienced one of those vicious, arm-jerking strikes that momentarily stops one’s heart and left my 1X tippet clean of any fly.

The channel failed to produce, so I made my way to the riffle at the head of the pool where two spin anglers had taken up position and now broke the morning solitude. They were throwing what appeared to be spinners based on the glint of light that beamed off the end of their lines. It wasn’t long before the taller of the two caught a small brown, and then another. That was enough for me to change my fly. Tucked in my fly box was a black maribou streamer with a zonker-style body of gold. I figured the gold flash and contrasting black color might show better in the murk of the pool.

I walked downriver below the spin anglers and worked the water thoroughly, hanging up every now and again. Losing flies, especially streamers, can get pricey, but I chalk that up to the price of success after another “guide-ism” that states; “if you’re not losing flies on the bottom every once in a while, you’re not fishing deep enough”. I quartered my cast upstream, then stripped it hard, down and across. After every few casts I moved down a few steps and continued this way, eventually hooking up with a few feisty browns, small but full of spirit.

Mid-morning, I headed back to the car for a break, my legs numb from the cold water. The spinning anglers had also left the river and we chatted a bit in the warmth of the sun. These guys were from New Jersey and had apparently done well on a Saturday float trip of the Main Stem. They inquired as to the fishing of the West Branch and I told them that fall was regarded as the best time to catch the brown trout of a lifetime. Indeed, towards the end of his presentation, Wayne Aldridge had gone even further stating that every year the river gave up a fish in the 27″ – 30″ range.

I returned to the river fishing tandem streamers, starting at the head of the pool and slowly working down-river. Partway through I changed flies again (another guide-ism – to change type and color often when streamer fishing) and this time tied on a snow-white bead-head zonker as my lead fly with a black ghost riding shotgun some 2 feet back.

Halfway down the pool I snagged what I thought was the bottom but then watched in disbelief as a very nice brown launched airborne and tail-walked across the river at the end of my line. The fish fought deep – a solid heavy slug-fest and much more in character with what brown trout are known to do so well. I gradually worked him out of the main current but saw little of his size in the discolored water. Minutes later and after a few misguided attempts, I finally got him part way into my woefully inadequate net…

The pay-off...

After releasing this beautiful male brown, regaled in spawning colors and sporting a pronounced kype, I thanked the good Lord for two things: the advice of guides and ears to listen with…

Tight lines…

Fishermen…

I managed a few hours on the West Branch of the Delaware recently since the local warmwater river haunts were still somewhat high and discolored from a previous spate of rain. While the West was flowing at nice levels, it too had a bit of a stain to it. To those who plan on fishing the tailwaters in late summer / early autumn, be aware that as the weather cools, turnover begins taking place in lakes and reservoirs. Dropping air temps cool the surface water which turns more dense and sinks. The sinking colder water displaces the underlying warmer water, causing an upwelling effect. This cycling continues until water temps reach equilibrium. Any time turnover is occurring, the tailwater drainage picks up color. And as I drove home from fishing on Saturday, the upper section of the West indeed, was very stained, much more so than it was at Ball’s Eddy. When these conditions prevail it is best to fish the lower West for clearer water, and the farther downstream the better.

We fishermen are an odd lot; anyone who plies the waters on this good earth in search of fish is indeed one who remains a little set off from the mainstream. And the ways we ply our trade vary widely: I may be over-simplifying, but on one extreme are bait fishermen – “fundamentalists” – and, dare I say, at the other are the purists, those who seek to elevate the techniques of angling, such as casting, for perfection’s sake.

I set about Saturday morning to nymph a long run that always seems to yield nice trout. I cursed the stain in the water as I fished into mid-morning; the wading levels were ideal and around 9:30 clouds of blue wing olives began lifting off with the strong breeze that moved up-river.

Another fisherman soon joined me. He was an older gentleman, clad in olive drab waders and vest, topped with an old camo hat. He waded into the river slowly and confidently like a king grizzly arriving to partake in a fresh salmon run. He had a bait canister hanging low from his neck and was using a fairly stout spinning rod. Every so often I would turn around and watch this river rat as he worked the water below me – deftly and deliberately following his bait with his rod high in the air. Occasionally he would lift up almost imperceptibly as if he was allowing his bait to swim just above the every rock of the river bed itself.

After a short while I could tell he was into a nice fish – a brown, no doubt – and he played it with this same slow and steady style, carefully working it shoreward. I watched with dread expecting he’d kill the fish, unceremoniously string it up, and then return to his baitfishing ways, but I was relieved when I saw him do the exact opposite; releasing the fish with the same care he seemed to apply to everything he did. So good was he, in fact, that he never touched the fish in unhooking him – and the fish seemed to realize the gentleness of his soul, because it barely thrashed as he held its head slightly out of water and with one flick of his wrist, dropped it back to let it fight again…

The goodly bait fisherman at work...

The old gentleman continued his crawl downstream and caught another nice brown in due time. I could smell a smokey cherry fragrance of pipe tobacco on the air and noticed a cloud of smoke about him as he fished. I let him be after a little more fishing of my own at the head of the pool. The river was not prejudiced in its reward as I caught two feisty rainbows before deciding to call it a morning.

Heading back to the parking access I stopped briefly to watch a dry-fly purist in action. This younger man perched in a fine drift boat, anchored at the tail of the pool above the run I had just fished. His gaze was fixed on the glassy water below him, rod extended and cocked for action. I soon saw what he was after: trout were sipping the water below him at irregular intervals. I watched him awhile but suspected that in the bright light of late morning in such shallow clear water, his chances of hooking up were slim-to-none. I left him too, not wanting to distract him from his match-of-wits game…

I reached my car and began the process of breaking my equipment down and shedding my waders. The parking lot was filling up with anglers setting out for the day, most with drift boats in tow. But one angler was not at all anxious to fish and I immediately recognized him and his blue Jeep from many past outings.

The caster at work...

This older gentleman always parked in the same location, had the back-end of his vehicle open, and would either be carefully practicing fly casting or sitting in a chair by his Jeep taking a rest. He was a very competent caster based on the loops I saw him throw. Perhaps he does this to improve or maybe he does it just to dust off “his wings” prior to the evening hatch but whatever the case, he represents someone dedicated to his craft.

Sometimes you go fishing and catch fish. You come home feeling good and tired and happy, full of fish stories, and a little more schooled about your quarry. Other times, for me at least, you come home a bit wiser about the ways of fishermen. You learn from them in interesting ways and in so doing, realize that just maybe you are a better fisherman because of them…

Memorial Day Weekend Report

The holiday weekend provided ample time for two major outdoor activities; landscaping, which consisted of laying down 2 big truckloads of mulch, planting numerous shrubs, trees, and flowers, and, fly fishing. I’ll skip the report on shoveling the equivalent of 2 truckloads of mulch and get to the good stuff, for the local fishing scene is really coming into its own…

Depending first on snowpack and then rain levels, fishing the bigger warmwater rivers can be an iffy thing this part of the year if you wade and fly fish. Last year, for example, I did not get out onto the Susquehanna until September. The bigger the river, the greater the watershed, and the big rivers just take time to settle down when the weather is persistently wet. This year is quite different so far, with “the big 4″, the Tioughnioga, the Chenango, the Chemung, and the Susquehanna, all flowing at wade-able levels (the Susky is a little full yet, but fishable). I fished the Tioughnioga, the lower Susquehanna (Vestal), and the West Branch of the Delaware and found all to be in good to great shape.

Looking upstream on the Tioughnioga...

The Tioughnioga had nice flows and water temps in the low-to-mid 70′s. Clarity was excellent and I was just amazed, while wading, at the sheer number of crayfish the scooted from rock to rock. Some of these crustaceans were small, but there was a good mix of 3″ to 4″ crayfish that were present as well. I fished the Schoolhouse Pool first, swinging a Murray’s #6 Half-breed Marauder down the pool. I worked the far shore down into the deep water and while casting, saw what looked like a plume of mud directly downstream of me. I cast that way, and while stripping my fly back, had a solid thump and raised the rod on a throbbing mass of power that soon took off downstream. This was no bass, though I sensed some head shakes, but there was no jump in this fish’s fight. I tightened my drag down and the fish then ran across the pool and up the other side. Close to the backing, I started regaining line, but then the hook pulled. This was no doubt a big hungry carp. I’ve had a number of hookups with these big brawlers, but have only actually ever landed one, a 15 lber, upstream on this very same river.

I then worked upstream and picked up a small bass, returned back to the schoolhouse pool as the sun set and switched flies to a #6 Murray’s Brown Marauder. I worked downstream swinging my fly on a sink-tip line and soon picked up 2 more small but chunky bass. Then further down the pool I finally hit pay dirt as I swam my fly around a large (pool table-sized) boulder. I picked up 2 very nice bass around the rock and both fought with typical smallmouth bravado.

On Sunday afternoon, I decided to give the lower Susquehanna a try. The river was flowing just slightly on the high side, but clarity was good. Wading downstream, I saw evidence of many bass beds as well as quite a few fallfish nests.

A fallfish spawning bed...

Fallfish scoop out the bottom much like most fish do to make their spawning bed, but after spawning, cover and protect the eggs with a large pile of stones. Their unique spawning beds can be extreme in size – as wide as 3 – 4 feet, and as in the case of the one in the pic above, a foot or more in height above the river bottom.

I worked a #6 Brown Murray’s Marauder once again as my fly of choice on a sink tip line and picked up a fallfish and then a walleye.

Walleyes will eat a fly fished deep...

As I left that evening I did notice smallmouth bass chasing bait in the very shallow area of pool I was fishing and I also kicked a few up from the shallow edges of the river on the trek back to the access.

On Monday, Memorial Day, I visited the West Branch of the Delaware, for a change of venue. The West was flowing on the low side at roughly 300 cfs and had a water temp of 59 degrees. There was some algae in the water which made cleaning flies essential on every other cast.

Balls Eddy

I nymphed the run below the pool and had my best success with a #18 beadhead sulphur nymph and a #16 sulphur emerger as the trailing fly. Hatch activity was as sporadic as the fishing but I did manage to first lose a very nice rainbow, catch two small rainbows, roll a nice brown, and finally land a rainbow towards the early afternoon.

West Branch Rainbow

To summarize the weekend’s fishing, I’d have to say the smallmouth bass post-spawn funk is over and fishing should be good from here on as long as the rivers behave themselves. Crayfish and minnow imitations always work well in the early in the morning or late in the evening. Nymphing with large dark nymphs such as a Murray’s #6 Hellgrammite is also a good way to go once the sun is up and full.

If trout fishing the bigger Catskill waters is your thing, sulphurs are in full swing but do not forget the large slate drake, also known as Isonychia. BWO’s (Blue Wing Olives) are another good choice, particularly if it is overcast or rainy. Last but not least, the ubiquitous caddis is always a good choice. These guys haunt the local streams all year long.

Tight lines…

Big Rocks

Stephen Covey, the noted personal development author, has a philosophy on time management that classifies all activities into 4 quadrants – Urgent but Important, Urgent but Not Important, Not Urgent but Important, and Not Urgent but Not Important. Covey preaches that the second quadrant (“Q2″), or those things in life that are not urgent but important, are the tasks we should truly prioritize above all others. They are often preventive in nature, much like regular exercise, which is not urgent, but when delayed or worse yet, ignored, can have significant negative consequences on our health over the long term. They may also be an important aspect of personal development, like the earning of an advanced degree. They are the key to a life well-lived.

Covey illustrates the importance of “Q2″ with a demonstration where students are asked to fill a jar with a set amount of sand, pebbles, and rocks. Most students err when faced with this challenge by filling the jar first with the sand and pebbles and find to their dismay, there is no room for the rocks. Covey uses the demonstration as a metaphor for life, placing the big rocks in first, adding the pebbles, and finally pouring in the sand. The big rocks, of course, are the important, not urgent things in life. By placing them first, all of the smaller things fit in around them, leading to a full life of few regrets. By not placing the big rocks first, they never fit in because of all of the little things in life.

I was reminded of this demonstration this last weekend. On Saturday, my sister called and in the course of talking about all of the small stuff in our lives, she mentioned that someone she knew had just lost her husband. The couple had gone to bed the night before and when the morning dawned, this woman woke to the tragic realization that her 40 year old husband had passed on in the night. We talked about what matters most, how short our time in this world can be, and how dearly we must approach our time.

So early on Sunday morning I decided to start my day, in the words of a very close soul, reinvigorating, rejuvenating, and recreating – a definite Q2 activity by Covey’s definition – and a priority. The smallmouth bass spawn was winding down on the rivers and I figured the fish would not be such willing takers after participating in their own “Q2″ work over the last few weeks! The river gauge for the West Branch of the Delaware was looking very attractive with flows of 500 cfs and the weather forecast was fine.

I got up early that morning and drove Rt 17 East through that good country of Windsor, crossing a somewhat murky Susquehanna and the West Branch at the Deposit “quickway” bridge. Looking downstream from the bridge, I quickly ascertained that the Westie was flowing like a trout river should; beautifully blue and dotted with whitened riffle water. Best yet was the fact that not a soul was fishing the expansive glassy water of the Gentleman’s Pool.

I made my obligatory stop at the West Branch Angler, which, oh-by-the-way, was sporting a new addition and lots more gear. Larry Finley, the Fly Shop manager, was able to suggest some nymph patterns, including a caddis emerger, that would end up being the ticket. After my stop, I drove downriver on the hard pan river road and by 9:30, I was knee deep in the 48 degree West Branch at Balls Eddy.

The beautiful West Branch of the Delaware River...

The river level, flow rate and water clarity of the river were all perfect. Early on, there were a few caddis coming off, but little else. I rigged up with a small beadhead caddis larvae and a March Brown spider soft hackle and began a slow methodical search for fish. At the head of my favorite pool is a fast riffle with an interesting pocket where rainbows love to hang. In a previous post I referred to this spot as “the rainbow’s den”, but working my 2 fly rig through this wonderful hold did not elicit a strike. I kept moving down the pool, changing flies, adjusting weight, then working back upstream, each time changing my pattern selection a bit.

Around 10:30, the caddis began coming off more steadily. The hatch was certainly no snowstorm, as it can be later in the day, but it signaled that things were warming up and that the trout might be moving a bit. It was at this point that I tied on the WBA-recommended caddis emerger pattern as my trailing fly, behind my beadhead brassie attractor.

After more dredging of the pool, I finally hooked up with a nice brown. This fish did the normal “brown” thing – holding like a rock in the current, then getting pissed off and suddenly reversing downstream to the safety of deeper water. There he slugged it out a while, finally coming up but still swinging like a punched out boxer.

Nice Westie brown...

Getting the first fish to the net is always a confidence booster and I quickly got back to business after releasing this beautiful wild brown.

I have found I’ll often pick up rainbows on the swing when nymph fishing so I never end a drift until I’ve let my flies tail out, occasionally noodling the rod a bit as they hang in the current below me. On one such swing I felt a strong tug and set the hook on my second fish of the day. The initial response was as predictable as hooking a smallmouth; this rainbow launched out of the water like it had JATO (jet-fuel assisted take off) rockets strapped to it and threw another leap into its repertoire halfway through its electrifying fight.

The rainbow with JATO...

I fished a little while longer and had another, much smaller brown, somehow pull off a short distance release (SDR) as it shot downstream between my legs. The stunt left me bent over in the middle of that majestic river, searching my wader crotch for a very hard-to-find #16 caddis emerger! Score one angler-humiliation for the trout…

After extricating myself from that situation, I decided to call it a short but pleasant day on the river and head back to the parking access. When I got back to my car, I lit up a cigar and took time to actually enjoy the end of my trip – breaking down my rod, pulling off my waders, stowing my gear, watching other fisherman pull in and rig up with all the hope in the world plain as the day on their determined faces.

Then I drove home, windows open, puffing away, thinking of the little rocks waiting for me – the lawn to mow, the weeding to do, the breakfast dishes, the dead tree to take down. None of that really mattered, however; the big rocks were already in place.

Loyalsock Creek

At least a few of my loyal readers are familiar with one of my goals for 2010: to fly fish PA waters. This latest of adventures begins with a previous fishing visit – some 2 years ago – before I’d ever explored the PA fishing wilderness. Back then, Sr. Staff Hydrologist Dan and I were barely acquainted fly fishing buddies and his choice for my first fly fishing experience in PA waters was a pre-season visit to the Delayed Harvest / Artificial Lures Only (DH / ALO) section of the Loyalsock.

Loyalsock Creek, known to keystone flyfishers as “the sock”, is bigger water than many might expect. It is more a river than a creek and those visiting it should be sure to pack chest waders and a 9 foot 4 weight or 5 weight outfit. That first visit, though beautiful in both the weather and the picturesque surroundings, was fishless, and Dan was discouraged, to say the least. But what I brought back was a very much heightened awareness to the fly fishing possibilities “down south” in Pee-Ay” as they say…

Fast forward to just 2 weeks ago. Color the day with similar weather and add more water. Both Dan and I arrived in the parking section, encouraged by the presence of a few other anglers. We hiked upstream, since all of the other anglers were fishing just below the access.

Dan found the long run we had fished 2 years before, and though it was flowing beautiful and clear, there was nothing doing there. We saw not a fish and had no strikes on a variety of nymphs. So we headed upstream further, taking a logging road, and arriving at a location that Dan swore would change our luck.

Dan was right about the luck, but wrong about the riffle. “What the hell…” were the words he uttered as we descended the bank and looked over long flat water with only a hint of current. It’s a little cliche, but nonetheless true, that the only thing one can depend on with creeks, streams, and rivers, is that they change.

On the other side of the “island” that separates the Loyalsock at this spot was some nice water, and it was here that “our”, or I should say, Dan’s luck changed for the better.

Dan playing the "icebreaker" rainbow...

The beadhead hare’s ear nymph he was using seemed to entice one gorgeous holdover rainbow…

This picture doesn't do this rainbow justice.

We continued to fish this upper stretch of the DH / ALO stretch of the Loyalsock without any more luck. Around noon, we returned to the parking area where we chatted with an older gentleman, named Tom, who theorized that the stocking truck was unable to access the upper stretches of the creek, and dumped most of the fish below us, where the rest of the anglers had been fishing. Tom seemed like a knowledgeable angler, a guy from PA who fished the Loyalsock every year around this time, and often did well. Somehow our conversation drifted off to his past as an Air Force F4 pilot. The effusive Tom told a story of flying low over a turkey farm in Alabama, and the roar of his Phantom’s twin GE J79 engines and their combined 35,000 lbf of thrust in full afterburner made such a hellacious roar that $80,000 dollars worth of commercial turkeys stampeded to one end of their barn and trampled each other to death! Needless to say, pilot Tom got a talking to over that mission.

After finishing lunch and bidding Tom a good day, Dan and I headed downstream from the access. Tom had portrayed this water as West Branch Delaware-like – meaning big, deep, and relatively flat water – and he was not far off the mark. Not long after wading in chest deep, a tan caddis hatch took off and trout started showing themselves with random rises. Stoneflies joined in the festivities, and eventually mayflies also took flight. Fishing was frustrating to say the least. Dan landed another nice rainbow and I missed two fish, but the fish were extremely selective. By around 3 pm that 44 – 46 degree water and cold wind had taken its toll and we gave up the ghost.

Was the Loyalsock “loyal” to Dan’s original claims? Well, not really, but this last trip at least showed promise. As we pulled away from the parking access, Dan, himself, said it seemed we did better when we fished apart. So, I’ll have my sights set on a return to this pretty river, but maybe this time, I’ll go it alone, to truly test “the sock”…

Streamers on Cayuta Creek

Sometimes you get the fish and sometimes the fish get you. That thought kept playing in my mind as I traveled west towards Cayuta Creek early Sunday afternoon. Last week’s trout outing, not posted herein, had been the first of the year with STFF Sr. Staff Hydrologist Dan. We fished the Delayed Harvest / Artificial Lures Only section of Muncy Creek, near Sonestown, PA. Though Muncy Creek was gin clear and flowing beautifully that day, Dan and I did not see a fish, nor even a sign of one. Stoneflies were coming off intermittently, so the morsels were there, but the water was a toe-numbing 38 degrees, and it took hours before the bright sun lifted air temps from 15 degrees F to the high 40′s, which was the time we proclaimed, “no mas”.

Cayuta Creek has always been good to me, and I was hoping its bounty would fend off “the skunk” I picked up on Muncy Creek. My first view of the Cayuta as I crossed the creek at the Waverly exit, however, made me wonder about the day’s prospects. The creek was on the high side of behaving itself, and its color was a murky snow-melt green. I headed north on Rt 34, hoping the upstream special regs section would be running a little sweeter, but when I arrived there, I was still a little concerned about the water level and clarity. I skipped the hip waders and donned my chest waders, as the creek was certainly much higher than I’d seen it on my last visit. Based on the creek’s color, I figured dark or very bright-colored flies would be the rule.

Cayuta Creek, still high and snow-melt-green...

I fished a nice stretch of riffles, runs, and pools, adjusting weight and using a san juan worm and picket pin tail fly. At one point I had what felt like a strike on the swing, but that was the extent of it. Stoneflies and caddis were coming off and here and there I heard isolated splashy rises.

I decided to change my tactics after watching a spin fisherman take a few nice trout downstream from me. I tied on a white marabou streamer and added some weight to it to get it down on the swing. It wasn’t long before I had the first of many small browns whack my fly as I stripped it on the swing. After a few more “stockie” browns, I hooked a nice holdover as I swung my streamer under a low-hanging tree.

This brown was holding under low cover...

Despite the decent afternoon hatch, the trout seemed to be keying in on movement and flash. I continued with the same set-up, caught a few more trout and missed a number of short strikes and follows. At one tree undercut, I watched another very nice brown rise up from the murky depths and whack my fly as I stripped it from just under a root overhang.

The home of a holdover...

I rested this hole and returned, only to experience similar results. This brown was hungry but not foolish!

I left Cayuta Creek around 6 pm, but honestly could have fished straight to sunset. I’d forgotten how much fun it was to “chuck meat”. Even the smaller stocked trout would nail the streamer with authority – a totally visceral experience when compared to nymphing or dry fly fishing.

One lesson I learned on this trip was the need for mini sinking-heads for small stream streamer flyfishing. I believe casting is easier and more accurate with a sink tip line than by using a floating line with a long leader and a big split shot near the fly.

Tight Lines…