Highs and Lows

Signs of spring...

Over the past six seasons, I've made it a point to meet up with friends in central Pennsylvania. This usually occurs over my spring break and this year it featured a few highs and a lot of lows.

The Wrist Chronicles

Two handed trout...

Still in a brace for my injured wrist, my fishing opportunities were relegated to fishing left handed, or using a two handed rod. With it being spring, I had no problem bombing streamers with a skagit head and trying my hand at catching some local trout. For a few weekends in March I got out alone, with Ryan, or my father. As the wrist slowly felt better, I even got out on the oars a little bit. I considered it my own form of physical therapy. Little did I know at the time, but I actually needed wrist surgery. The doctor wanted it performed immediately but I opted to wait in order to take advantage of the fishing season. Sometimes, you have to have your priorities in order...

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. 

You'll Make a Killing

High and Windy

There is a particular scene in the movie, A River Runs Through It, where Norman and Paul convince the old man to head out fly fishing on the Big Blackfoot River. The three men head out to the river where the Rev. Maclean decides to hang back on the bank and watch his sons fish. Paul tells his father that, "you'll make a killing" before him and Norm head to the river. Later, Paul ends up catching the hog johnson during the climax of the film. Afterwards, the three Macleans reminisce about life by telling stories, laughing, and tossing stones into the river. I couldn't help but think of that scene when I convinced my father to tag along with Matt and I on a musky float.

Circles

Early October on the Home Water

There was a time when our forefathers would take us fishing and have to withstand an onslaught of tangled lines, broken equipment, and overall impatience. In addition to the hilarity that was fishing in our youth, my father would occasionally rent canoes or rafts. In almost every instance, my brother, sister, and me always had difficulty rowing in a straight line. Our father always passed it off as our fault and my brother earned the nickname, "Matthew goes around in circles".  How times have changed. In recent years, I am the one taking the old man out and having to tie all his knots, row him perfectly down the river, hold him up while wading, and catch him when he loses his balance on the boat. When it comes to rowing, I've realized that it never was the fault of my brother, sister, or I for the watercraft going in circles. It was my father. Recent excursions have only reinforced my new conclusions. Fishing in our family has finally come full circle...

October Float

Potential

On a cool and gray day in October high flows ferried my brother and I through mist and drizzle as we pounded the banks of our home river with gigantic streamers. The off color current dragged on the yellowing leaves of overhanging branches and vegetal flotsam lay draped and folded over every sweeping and submerged limb. We were counting on the overcast dankness loosening the inhibitions of this river's increasingly abundant big beautiful brown trout and we were not disappointed.

Forty

Rudder...

It was late August and I hadn't gone tidal fly fishing in 2018. Weighing on my carpin conscious was the fact that that school year was starting in a few days and I'd probably be waiting until 2019 if I didn't get out. I found myself checking the weather and found a window of opportunity that I couldn't pass up. Despite a decent wind, I embarked to a favorable eastern shore marsh to try my luck. It was slow. With the hot summer sun beating down and a flooded marsh, I had a hard time finding any activity, let alone spotting a carp. Around midday, I found myself paddling around during a high tide checking out sparse activity in the choppy water. I had a few opportunities during down periods in wind and was able to land a few small carp. However, I had my sights set on something much larger. 

Being There Yesterday

Carp fishing in the East means long periods of observing, stealth, mosquito bites and making one cast count. Usually. But every once in a while, you might find yourself there yesterday. The mythical day, usually the day before you arrived, when the fish happen to be strangely cooperative.

Mark invited me to go out for carp on a creek that he's caught fish at before and I was more than up for it. It had been more than two years since I'd landed a golden bone and I was looking forward to something that would pull. I put on some overcast colors and we rigged up one rod to share. We quickly found ourselves on an elevated stream bank overlooking a flat that bordered a deep flowing channel. Carp were cruising out of the channel and onto the flat with purpose.

Towards a cruising fish I made one cast from the bank and danced my carp crab downstream in the water column. Headed in the same direction, the fish accelerated and engulfed the fly. I forgot how hard these things pull as I fought it on the shin deep flat with our 6wt.

Savage River Diaries - June, 2018

The Savage is my favorite little river. It is technical but holds cooperative fish. It is accessible but engrossing. It is pocket water around every bend with distinct wild browns right where you think they'd be. It is native brookies, some pretty rainbows and at least one cutthroat. It is beautiful and cold and green. Here, I slide right into a state of flow and it's comfortable like an old and worn pair of leather boots.  This place has become my place of pilgrimage.

Trust the Process

High and Muddy

Fly vs. Jerk

When my buddy Tyler Nonn calls with an offer of fishing, one must be willing to drop everything in order to take advantage of the opportunity. As owner and operator of Tidewater Charters, he plies his craft in the Chesapeake Bay, the Florida Keys, and Alaska offering first rate all-tackle and fly fishing trips to major gamefish like striped bass, cobia, tuna, and more. With a booked schedule and a long list of friends who want to go fishing, that phone call is one I look forward to. When it came this Spring, I immediately canceled the plans I was driving towards, turned around, and drove back home to pack. That night I drove to Tyler Snuffer's house, picked him up, and made our way back down south to meet up at Tyler N's house. We had a great seafood dinner before heading to bed. Awaking early, the final preparations were made and we embarked for a day of sight fishing in windy, overcast, and stormy conditions. 

Perfect.

Anadromous

A Maryland Hickory Shad

There isn't much to say, that hasn't already been said, about the annual Spring migration of shad into the Chesapeake Bay and the lower Susquehanna. Every year I try to make it out at least once to catch hickories below the Conowingo Dam. I typically pick an overcast day and drive about an hour after work to fish for a little bit before dark. This allows me enough time to find a few pods of fish and catch my fill before driving home. This year, I fished the big river in high flows. The most difficult part is navigating the high water, the treacherous bank, and finding a window of casting opportunity with a long rod and skagit head.