The Hour of the Mouse

"...this past weekend, Mark and I met to float the West Branch of the Delaware river, one of the only rivers around with consistent cold water and reliable hatches. Last August we had an excellent weekend of dry fly action in much higher flows. This weekend the water was very low. We planned to do a night float, our first, throwing streamers and mouse patterns for nocturnal browns.

The Knife's Edge

Baxter St. Park and Mt. Katahdin

Old Rag

Old Rag, Virginia

Spring Smallmouth

Visual Eats...

Spring smallmouth bass in the Mid-Atlantic region is a hotly anticipated event that must be taken advantage of. For a few short weeks, the bass put on the feed bag as they prepare for the spawn. This short period produces some absolutely bonkers fly fishing. On one particular day this Spring, we simply stopped taking pictures as cookie cutter 16 inch bass kept coming to the boat on seemingly every cast. If you didn't hook one, you at least had an interaction. It was an adrenaline filled day as bass after bass visually attacked streamers from 4-8 inches. These experiences are often best shared with friends and family and I will fondly look back on these moments for the rest of my days. 

Highs and Lows

Signs of spring...

The Wrist Chronicles

Two handed trout...

and I ran back to that hollow again...

A beautiful Maryland tailwater...

The Gunpowder River in Maryland is a gem of a wild trout stream just north of the city of Baltimore. I have fond memories of fly fishing with my brother Matt on these waters. When he started fly fishing, the Gunpowder was his playing ground. When he lived in the city, I would often make Friday night runs after work to fish the sulphur hatches in the spring. At night, I would crash at my brother's house and hang out in the city. On the weekends, we would always make sure to fish the river for a day. With the river being chock full of beautiful eager brown trout, we always had a great time. Despite the large populations of small trout, there are some big fish in the Gunpowder and those moments are permanently entrenched in my long term memory. Those recollections will always bring me back to this little hollow to find some fly fishing vibes on any day of the year.

Scrantonicity

Urban Angling

On a cold winter Sunday, Ryan invited me to check out his local haunt. Nursing a fractured wrist, I rigged up a switch rod for some two handed fun and drove north. Any jaunt with Ryan into the electric city always produces some memorable moments. Besides the large wild and holdover trout that call this river home, one can always expect to be reminded of the urban center through which the river flows. On a typical outing, you will be dodging hobo encampments, drug deals, and losing flies into a wide variety of junk that the river collects. On this day, my favorite scene was the Christmas tree decorations of plastic sheeting, tarps, blankets, and other debris that were hanging from the river's trees from the last high water event. They added an additional obstacle for any errant backcast. No longer a secret, the river is chock full of anglers that are willing to put up with the scenery to catch gold. Try and be the first person to fish your favorite stretch in order to take advantage of the relatively eager trout. That, or try and mix up techniques/flies to show the trout a different look. It is urban angling at its finest. 

Winter Jawns

For a split moment, my competitive nature returned, as I launched myself at full speed into the air to block a disc during an indoor Ultimate match. I wrote off the ensuing injury to my casting wrist as a simple sprain. The pain never really left. So, I finally went to the doctor to reveal a slight fracture. After a few weeks in a brace and cabin fever setting in, I decided to go fly fishing. The plan was to fish left handed and ply my trade on some small streams. In reality, I think I needed the fresh air, the crunch of snow under my feet, and the sound of rushing water between my legs. As always, the wild browns of eastern Pennsylvania were an added bonus whenever I managed to make a decent presentation...

When Life Gives You Lemons, Make Lemonade

Swing it like you mean it...

"When life gives you lemons, make lemonade". On each five hour drive north this winter, that proverbial phrase popped into my head. It was triggered whenever I looked at the weather or flow forecast. I realized that the chances of catching some nice steelhead on the swing were greatly diminished and that it was going to take a lot more effort than usual to bring some nice ones to hand. If your three trips of the year coincide with 2000+ cfs flows, you are in for a difficult task, especially when your steelhead philosophy is that of "swing or go home". When it is combined with rapid drops in air/water temperatures, days of downpours, or large increases of the flow a few hours before you arrive, you try and make best of the situation. Our persistence and positive attitudes paid off with two relatively good trips that flanked a steelhead skunking. The big pulls and nice casts will always bring us back, no matter the conditions and no matter the shenanigans that one may encounter on a highly pressured Great Lakes tributary.