Maps and Mazes...

Shenandoah National Park is a short two-hour drive from Baltimore so my girlfriend and I drove down for a quick get-a-way during the 2nd week of April. I took my new 3wt and was eager to hook into some wild brookies. I strung up my 5wt for Stacy, hoping these two days would provide her with some willing trout.

We decided on an 8 mile hike along the White Oak Canyon trail. The stream we encountered began as a literal seep from under a car-sized boulder. Within a half mile it joined another miniscule stream and plunged over an 8ft slide into the first reasonable plunge pool. We stopped and strung up.

The temperature was around freezing and it was pretty early in the AM. Some tricky casting around overhangs yielded 3 takes but no fish brought to hand. We had a long hike ahead and decided to move on.

The stream slowly grew in size and soon we were into an amazing stretch of waterfalls and boulders and slides and pools. We landed our first tiny fish by kneeling on approach to a small hole.

We kept moving downstream, stopping at each attractive spot and taking a few casts. We began to land brookies from each and every pool. The farther we moved downstream, the larger the fish became. At about this point they topped out at around 6 inches.

We soon came to the reason this trail is one of the most heavily traveled in the park. A combination waterfall-slide with a combined length of about 130ft. We hiked to an overlook and stared for a while at the rushing water. We then spied a small car-sized pool formed by the waterfall about 30ft from the top of the falls. We hiked down to it.

Stacy took a few pics while I cast into the boiling water. In two casts I landed a 9 inch brookie. It might have been the prettiest fish I've ever seen.

I then brought in 4 more from the same pool. I was stunned how the entire existence of these fish takes place in a 3ft deep pool sandwiched between a 100ft near-vertical slide and a 30ft waterfall.

We doubled back around and climbed down to the bottom of the slide and made our way towards to main pool at the bottom. I missed 4 fish and called Stacy up from a lower pool to try her luck. On her 2nd cast she hooked into a genuine slam-pig. She deftly played the fish as I took a running leap over the torrent of water to help her land it. I hoisted the 12incher from the water, we stared for a few seconds, snapped a pic, and released it.

The wild brookies of Shenandoah are a treat. Easy to catch and ridiculously pretty, streams that harbor them deserve total protection. It was a great day catching them with Stace and I'll never forget the slammer she pulled out of the giant waterfall's plunge pool. After that fish, with the sunset approaching and a long, uphill hike to the car, we packed up and headed up more than 1,000 vertical feet to the parking lot.

There is something about catching a fish in the place it evolved to inhabit that renders all thoughts of stocked hatchery fish an insult. Especially brookies with greens and oranges that exist nowhere else on Earth beyond the backs and fins of the fish in this particular stream. With their perfectly formed fins and amazing patterns, I am reminded of Cormac McCarthy's closing paragraph in his novel, The Road; "Once there were brook trout in the streams in the mountains. You could see them standing in the amber current where the white edges of their fins wimpled softly in the flow. They smelled of moss in your hand. Polished and muscular and torsional. On their backs were vermiculite patterns that were maps of the world in its becoming. Maps and Mazes. Of a thing which could not be put back. Not be made right again. In the deep glens where they lived all things were older than man and they hummed of mystery."

Groundhog vs. Goose

For those of you whoever wandered why the Discovery Channel never aired Groundhog vs. Goose, this is for you. Searching for golden bones water often proves to be futile, especially where I live. More often than not you find other things to take up your interest like this groundhog, whose only option while scaling a slate cliff is to run by mother goose.

The Approach.

She Is Not Thrilled.

Groundhog Stands No Chance.

Mr. Groundhog resorted to climbing a nearby tree, something I never knew they could do.

Geese scare the shit out of me while I am fly fishing atleast three times a year. They are perfectly camouflaged on their nests alongside trails or streams and they always seem to freak out as your about to step on them. Often this is by complete surprise and the silence is broken by an annoying quack, and a pestering hiss. I sympathize with Mr. Groundhog.

Slumpbuster & Stumping The Schwab

Its been a long time since I was able to have a day or two on the water. A day or two to wind down and get my mind off the realities that accompany the real world. Now during that time the skills diminished quite a bit. I found myself missing strikes, having weak hooksets, and having an altogether unproductive (in terms of fish landed) time on the water. I was officially in a slump. However, it was productive in the fact that I was able to escape and hang out with family and friends and rediscover why I love fly fishing so much.

Landing A Bow On White Clay Creek

ID Adam?

Green Caddis Larva

My first time out brought my brother and I to the East Branch of White Clay Creek, in Chester County PA. It was finally time for my spring break and the East Branch was only 15 minutes across the border from the U of D. The place was packed but we made the best of the situation landing several trout. The upper waters of White Clay Creek offer an opportunity to catch trout in an environment that is pristine compared to other waters found in the tri-state area. Its bounty this particular day yielded a mayfly that proved to be quite the catch as it later briefly stumped a Pennsylvania fly fishing guru.

Landing A Bow @ White Clay

A Stocked Brown.

Quill Gordon?

Same Exact Mayfly.

After White Clay, we headed home to the Lehigh Valley and along the way we received a phone call asking us to partake in a one fly competition the next morning. Having never even entertained the possibility of entering a fly fishing competition before, I was initially hesitant. I was in a slump and was rusty from too much time spent student teaching all semester. However, the thought of entering that contest with my brother and my best friend Adam led to an all systems go. Arriving late Friday night, we tied up our planned flies that would be the ones used during the entire competition.

The competition was held by Rivers Fly Fishing in New Ringgold, PA along the Little Schuylkill River. Six teams of two showed up for the 9th annual competition and a chance to meet the legendary Charles Meck. My brother Matt and I were a pair and Adam paired with his buddy Nate, a rookie fly fishermen. Matt and I drew the honey hole for round one but would take the Dump Hole for round two. A one seed, six seed swap in terms of productivity. So we knew we had to make the best of our situation. The beats were split into hour and a half time slots. For the first 45 minutes of beat number one, Matt and I had not caught a single trout. Switching the side of the stream we were on, we immediately found success as I landed an 11 inch bow and then Matt hooked a 16 incher. For the second half of the first time slot we landed nine fish totaling 116 inches. The biggest a 16.5 inch bow landed at the tail end along the rip rap of the hole. That left us in a good position to win the contest but we had to step up for part two. We had the Dump Hole and the previous competitors had not landed a fish and their judge had no expectations for us. We covered as much water as we could and were able to land two trout an 11 incher and a 13 incher for a total of 11 for 141 inches.

The Competitors Gear Up.

Average Little S. Rainbow.

16.5 Inch Bow.

Back at the shop, I was surprised that we had won the competition and had taken second in the big fish competition by 1/4 of an inch. Adam by himself (Nate didn't have any luck) finished 3rd. Looking back on the comp, it was an awesome experience and it really changed the dynamics of fly fishing albeit for only three hours. Only being able to use one fly and not being able to lose it led to a cautious approach that gradually led to a riskier one as the deadline came. The other fly fishermen were great company and I enjoyed shooting the shit with the judges on the banks of the little schuylkill. The winners received gift certificates that were promptly donated to the local chapter of TU. We also received a complementarily book by Charles Meck that he could sign for us.

The Final Tally

Simple Is, Simple Does

Money.

A great highlight of the day was when I had the opportunity to ask Charles Meck, what species of mayfly I found on White Clay Creek the day before. No one I had talked to up to that point could determine what it was. I had used Meck's book to make a guess at a Quill Gordon and he initially thought the same but he broke it down through a series of questions and taking a close look at my digital photos. He actually had to consult other sources to make a proper conclusion as this species of mayfly is very rare in Pennsylvania. He determined that the species, in his experiences were only found on Clark's Creek, north of Harrisburg. The species he determined was a Great Speckled Olive Dun (Siphloplecton Basale) and pointed to his book, Trout Streams & Hatches of Pennsylvania to elaborate upon his claim. In it Charles Meck states that many fishermen, "who see the hatch believe its a quill gordon. The body of the quill gordon, however, is much darker than that of the great speckled olive" (p. 70). He was surprised to hear it was found on White Clay Creek and remarked, "is that the stream that I found a shopping cart in?" which, I found funny because that very same shopping cart is why I lost a large brown last year.

Charles Meck Identifies.

Great Speckled Olive Dun.

She's A Beauty.

Close Up, With Light.

Close Up, No Light.

Two Tails.

Leaving the competition, we decided to fish for some golden bones. At our golden bones stomping grounds I landed my first "hoss" on the fly and another respectable golden ghost.

For the hoss, I somehow launched a cast across the pond between and under two overhanding branches right on the spot, the hoss was feeding. More luck than skill and I was rewarded for the cast when BAM! the hoss exploded after a long distance hookset. The four minute fight strained by new 5 weight rod before he succumbed to the net. He totaled 10 pounds of pure gold. It was an awesome day on the water, that officially brought me out of my slump.

Mini-Hoss

Fighting the Real "Hoss"

10 Pounds of Pure "Hoss"

One Fly Photos courtesy of Randy @ www.bigdadyrods.com

VOTE!

Help A Poor College Kid Win A Sweet Reel!

Reels 4 Reels Contest

Sponsored By: HOOK TV

1. Register @ www.hook.tv

2. Log In & Vote @ http://www.hook.tv/Flyfishing/Forum/index.php?topic=661.msg3388#msg3388

3. VOTE! For the Best Vid

Tight Loops & Rock ON!

The Realistic Fly Test

For the past month and a half, I have been relegated to the life of a student teacher and therefore have zero time to live. By live I mean go fly fishing or sit on my ass, listen to some tunes, and tie some flies. After one awesome (horrible) day in school, I got out the vice and decided to tie my first fly in months. I had a general idea of what I wanted to construct and I got to work constructing the Winter Wonders Stone modeled after this fella...

Winter Wonders Stone

One Too Many Wraps

Sexy Back

I am admittedly not a very good fly tyer and this fly sure doesn't scream of professionalism. However, my ugly ass flies catch fish, and that seems to matter more in my opinion. This is also my first attempt at tying anything that would be regarded as "realistic" and I think it turned out decent. The high point of the tying session occurred while rocking out to some State Radio. I was attempting one of the final steps when I accidently cut off one of the rubber legs. This on minute 30 something. I let out a roar of **** that seemed to echo and reverberate through the apartment and down main street. A las I finished the fly and decided to play a trick on my roommates. What ensued is quite hilarious...

...ditching the squalor

I currently live in Baltimore, a mere block from Inner Harbor. Amidst the amazing history of the area, the culture of the inhabitants and the views of a city built near the water, there lays a darker side. The Chesapeake Bay is in a truly sad state. One does not need to do anything beyond peer into the turbid waters surrounding downtown to see nothing but trash and black, polluted water to realize that there is an epic problem.

I spent some time on a research vessel with the National Aquarium over the summer taking salinity, turbidity, bottom samples and disolved oxygen readings throughout the Harbor area. What we found was depressing. We used a dredge to sample the bottom of the bay in about 10 different locations. At every single location the 'bottom grab' yielded nothing but a foul-smelling black sludge comprised of sediment, particulate run-off and decaying organic matter. Not one sign of life. Each grab also yielded bits of trash, it never failed. On one of the days, our dissolved oxygen readings in all 10 locations were not high enough to support life. They were barely viable on the other days. Visibility in the harbor area is limited to inches. A few times a year, algea blooms from the phosphate and nitrogen runoff surging into the bay each time it rains are responsible for massive fish kills in the downtown area. Also, Mahogany Tides surge throughout the upper bay on a regular basis. This is when the water turns a bright brown color due to another type of algea bloom. The Striped Bass, or rockfish as they are called here, is one of the only species that has recieved a passing grade in the past two years. However, there are none to be found in the harbor area. The famous Maryland Blue Crab is in dire straights with severe moratoriums on harvesting. Oysters, the keystone of the ecosystem for their filtering ability, are essentially gone.

The Chesapeake Bay Foundation, the Maryland Department of Natural Resources and Save the Bay have numerous programs aimed at tackling this issue. In my science classroom we have grown and planted approximately 10sq ft of submerged aquatic vegetation in the past two years, to act as a run-off fence and protect the precious oysters from sediment pollution. The annual Chesapeake Bay report card has shown that oysters are at less than 1% of historic levels and everything from submerged vegetation to plankton has received failing grades.

In spite of all of this, in the Baltimore area there is at least one freshwater fly fishing location that can truly take your breath away and redeem a spirit beat down by the state of the Bay. It is a section of the Gunpowder River, directly below Pretty Boy Reservoir. Recent electroshocking has yielded estimates of more than 4900 naturalized brown trout per mile in this section. Fingerling 'bows are stocked each year but it appears most are devoured by the resident brown population. There are also a precious few Kamloops rainbows in there that can get massive. The fish are naturally reproducing, healthy and plentiful.

The river itself is magnificent. As a tailwater is flows flat for about 3\4 of a mile before entering a section, about another 1 mile long, filled with deep plunge pools, boulders, waterfalls, riffles and smart-as-hell brown trout. Herons, beavers, muskrat, epic hatches and fellow fishermen can be observed on any given day.

As I arrived there on Saturday for my first trip this year I was hopeful. I had had luck there in the past and the browns were gorgeous. I fished in the 70degree weather for about 3 hours with no luck, however, before I tied on a size 22 RS2. On my first cast, a 7 inch brown took it from a deep, dark plunge pool. I had a toothy grin as I brought the fish to hand. Crouching down to take out the barbless hook I was mesmerized at the coloration on this tiny fish. It appeared like a vein of gold mined from the black granite boulder I was huddled over. I stared for a few seconds, then gently released the fish.


Although she was the only one I landed that day, seeing a healthy, vibrant trout in as wild a setting as the Gunpowder, surrounded by murmuring whitewater and all of the potentials left un-mined from this particular pool, I forgot for a second that I was a short drive from a smoldering metropolis mired in an uphill battle to save the ecosystem and waterway it has been built upon.
-matt

...and now for something completely different.

So, something suitably exciting has happened to warrant my first-ever blog post. My girlfriend and I have secured teaching positions in the caribbean. I think my brother Mark may have been more excited than I was when I told him we had received job offers in this tropical paradise.

For at least the next two years I will trade in my pursuit of trout and other freshwater species for Tarpon, Permit, Bonefish and other assorted saltwater sea monsters. Mark and Adam are already saving for plane tickets and new 10wts, as they know that they have our couches to crash on for as long as they can afford.

I've got a fantasy in my head of living within walking distance of some flats, taking a used boat with a small outboard and a poling tower to any of the 45 uninhabited islands that comprise the BVI, a screaming reel as a tarpon heads for the horizon and hoisting permit upon tarpon upon bonefish out of the water on a regular basis.

I will keep this blog updated on how that's working out for us. In the meanwhile, I've got to teach Stacy (and myself, for that matter) to drop a fly in a 2ft circle from 70ft away.

Thursdays...

After a full week of getting owned by organic chem and cell bio labs, I find myself pursuing what I’m actually attending school for…Aquatic Entomology. Thursdays are dedicated to the research of aquatic insects. Thursday mornings consist of collecting...cough…Fly Fishing, haha. The rest of the day spent in the lab identifying.

While Mark spends his time writing lesson plans, I’m reading journal articles and writing research proposals on territoriality of predatory stonefly nymphs.

Typical Thursday in picture form…

Transportation...

"There he is..."

Lab

Acroneuria

The Drake...Ephemera

Maccaffertium

This is also my first ever blog post...hahaha...weird...

That Time of Year.

With the weather at or near record highs across the east coast and it being February, I thought I would reflect on a forgotten insect that emerges during warm afternoons in January and February, the Little Black Stonefly. I have been fortunate to be on the water when these tiny stones are emerging, often crawling up onto the ice and snow along the edges of streams and rivers. Many times, fisherman overlook the Little Black Stonefly, while those that don't are rewarded. I have caught many a brown trout imitating these small stones and it is a delight to match a hatch in the dead of winter.

Well, Hello Beautiful...

We Are Talking Small...

I often tie Little Black Stones using size 16 to 20 extra long nymph hooks, with black turkey biots, pheasant tail, and some black paintbrush bristles. Using the biots as the abdomen makes a very slim profile, and the paintbrush bristles as tails and legs add to that design. I use the pheasant tail or peacock hurl as the thorax for a little glistening but other than that its a very simple pattern that produces.

Yellow Breeches Brown on a Little Black Stone.

January 2008

Hickory Run Brown on a Little Black Stone.

February 2008

I would like to thank Moldy Chum for this sweet link to watch A River Runs Through It online for free. Im sitting in the University of Delaware's library writing this post and about to bang out some lesson plans for student teaching with the adaptation of Norman Maclean's words ringing in my ears. Nothing like getting your daily fix in, anyway you can.

"How the hell do you help that son of a bitch?"

"By taking him fishing"

http://crackle.com/c/A_River_Runs_Through_It/A_River_Runs_Through_It/2410847

The Best of Signs.