A little slice of heaven...
Time was of the essence as I left work to travel several hours into the heart of Pennsylvania. Reports suggested uncommon mayfly activity for this time of year and I was eager to arrive in time to catch the evening "hatch". This time of year, the march browns were out in full force but hendricksons, quill gordons, bwo's, and blue quills were still making an appearance. Reports also suggested that the first sulphurs were beginning to emerge producing a symphony of evening mayfly activity. With the car loaded down with camping and fishing gear, I decided to cram in one last item: a mountain bike. A secret weapon of sorts, I planned on riding my bike to a far flung hole and returning via headlamp. I arrived a little later than expected, unloaded my bike, threw on my waders, and rode down the gravel road and onto the trail. I didn't go as far as planned, but managed to find an opening at a productive hole. March browns littered the air but so did a lot of the other aforementioned mayflies. I settled on a size 12 mahogany spinner to produce a silhouette in the low light. With limited backcast room, I fished downstream at a tailout and managed four fish before dark. The ride back was pleasant. The cool Spring air chilled my face and the smell of old growth forest, campfires, and roasting meat put a huge smile on my face. I eagerly looked forward to Katie's arrival as well as a few friends the next day. A three year anniversary was at hand...
A few years ago, my buddy Dan invited Katie and I to central Pennsylvania for a weekend of camping and fishing with his girlfriend Jessica. I had originally met Dan at the Somerset Fly Fishing Show and we quickly became good friends. Having both grown up in eastern Pennsylvania, we shared a lot of common interests. Jess's father, Larry, was our host on the excursion and I was told that he'd been reserving the same lean-to for almost thirty years. Although familiar with the creek, I had not fished it during this particular window of Spring and I was eagerly looking forward to the trip. Little did Katie and I know at the time, but Dan was also planning on proposing to Jess at some point during the weekend. He ended up pulling the ole "engagement ring in a fly box trick" along a famous section of dry fly water during a slow evening hatch. Jess said yes, and they moved to Miami for three years because Dan got a job working for the Bonefish and Tarpon Trust. After those years in Florida, Dan and Jess moved back to Pennsylvania where we met for a three year anniversary celebration. Little did we know, but they had another surprise in store for us. They are expecting!
Zoey and Katie
In the morning, a newly arrived Katie/Zoey combo traveled downstream with me looking for open water. We found only other anglers, more than I have ever seen in this stretch of water. We eventually found a small slice of water at the tailout of a large pool and the beginning of a cascade of pocket water. We spent as much time hanging out on the bank as fishing. Anglers continually moved in and out of the area, some with little regard to etiquette. At times, it felt like I was in Pulaski. Nonetheless, we caught a few. If you left the water alone for awhile and simply observed, you could see risers, even in the swirls of faster water. Several small browns and brook trout came on top with a few others on soft hackles. Two larger fish came off the far bank. One was a steady riser that required some technical wading and presentation skills to get him to eat. Due to a heavy current, the presentation immediately had drag which caused me to miss the eat on my first attempt. Ten minutes later, I tried again. This time, I positioned myself farther upstream and utilized an "S" cast. This gave another precious second of drift for which the trout obliged, willingly.
Soft hackle FTW
Careful, "fun," wading...
The ever watchful eye of Zoey. Never too close. Never too far. Only an approaching angler, rising fish, or a squirrel seems to capture her attention. Catch a fish and she is the first to lick it on the head.
Zzzzzssss
Long walk back to camp...
That evening, we met up with Jess, Dan, Larry, and Jess's brother, Chris. We fished a large bend pool until dark. Surrounded by rising fish, we all caught a few.
Visitors in the night...
We all slept in the following day and didn't venture back to the creek until well passed noon. We decided to stick together and rotated in and out on a popular pool. Dan caught a few fish on top and I had two pop off.
All paws on deck...
Release
After a few hours, we headed downstream for a bit. As I was watching Katie fish from an elevated bank, I noticed a splash mark on a boulder on the opposite side of the creek. A little notch upstream of the boulder created a swirl of water, just slow enough, to be an ambush point for a trout beneath. After ten minutes of watching and not seeing a fish rise, Dan approached urging us to head back to camp for some dinner. I told him about the splash mark and asked for a few casts. After some shots, I finally managed to get my comparadun in that little slot upstream of the rock. It swirled around before riding downstream along the boulder. Bingo...
That evening produced the largest concentration of march browns that I have ever witnessed. I parked myself in the middle of a run, between riffle and pool. Fish rose steadily until the magic hour and I caught many of them. As more and more mayflies congregated in the skies above me, I stayed in my spot while Dan and Jess headed downstream to a different pool. Things shut off on my end as I watched them hook up and land several fish in a slower pool. We reconvened after dark to discuss the evening's events. After saying my goodbyes, I hopped in my car and drove the several hours home thus ending a special weekend with special people.
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