December Trout

With my freestone SNP streams entering cold water dormancy and Henry and I anything but we set our eyes on the Pohopoco tail water in east-central Pa to slake our fishing thirst.

Hen surveys the spillway and start of the fishable Pohopoco

It’s a hike from Va so I joined the Ritchie’s for one last stay at their Gaskell home and Henry and I headed out Friday morning.  Beyond the fishing excitement it was also the maiden journey for some new fishing gear for Henry...  A handsome F-150 that like a sled dog is begging to pull something. 

It was warmer than we expected, about 45 when we stepped into the water, but with a High PA ridgeline defining the East side of the river and the low December sun, no warming rays ever kissed Pohopoco.   The river was running at 48 degrees and at a healthy 60.6 CFS which looks to be the sustainable release level at the time of the year from the Beltsville Dam which loomed just upstream.

There was a bit more green river snot on the rocks than Hen remembered and we had to really work to find the runs amid a uniformly shallow shale-gravel bottom. We fished together exploring hidden runs and chutes which I'm sure sheltered resident browns, but just couldn't raise a strike despite throwing everything at them.  After we were skunked at a particularly lovely deep fast cliff-side run we knew it wasn't to be our day on the Poho.

While reassessing  our day we met a local who was also having a slow day and he offered that we might drive 30-minutes north and wet a leg at Hickory Run.  Fortified by Subway and coffee and excited to check out another well known PA trout stream we motored north on 476 (damn we needed an easy pass) and worked out way into Hickory Run State Park home of both Hickory Run and its somewhat lesser known sibling Mud Run.  For geographic reference this is deep in the Poconos,  about a dozen miles NNE of Jim Thorpe and just East of the Lehigh Gorge where Hickory Run lends its flow to the Lehigh River.

Hickory Run is a small freestoner about the size of the uppermost Rapidan or Hazel with lovely drops, pools, and chutes.   Henry joked that I was very much at home.   There are many fishable sections and we concentrated on the stretch to the left from just below Camp Daddy downstream.  Trout were not rising in the shaded cut the run had worn into the shale(y) old mountain so we stayed we stayed with standard nymphs under dries and indicators.  It was slow as the water was cold, clear and low but eventually we enticed a few small trout to hand.   As many of you know, on a slow day any trout is IMMEASURABLY better than no trout so these game little fellows put smiles on our faces.

Hickory Run ... a lake section looking upstream on a perfect late fall afternoon

Ne'er was an angler more happy to make this brookie's acquaintance

Thanks For checking out our adventure!

Big Hunting Creek

 The Catoctin Mountains opened in front of me and I couldn't suppress a deep smile as I jeeped north my stomach grumbling me onward to breakfast with Henry at the Kountry Kitchen in Thurmont.

We've caught trout on several presidential waters; the Rapidan and Spruce Creek and wanted to add Big Hunting Creek to our list of POTUS escapes.    It'd been a balmy 47 when I left Virginia and it was 41 when I pulled into Thurmont, a taste of the finger numbing cold to come.  I wasn't finished my first cup of coffee when Henry jostled in for a great breakfast and review of our plans.   Big Hunting Creek is the major watershed in this section of the Catoctin Mtns and draws water from both sides of Hwy 77 as it flows both into and out of Hunting Creek Lake. Above the Lake is Cunningham Falls where our adventure began.
 

After working around some construction we found hwy side access to the section above Cunningham Falls and the fall beauty took our breath away...ok sliding down the water worn rocks of the falls
took our breath away too. 

Armed with a 7' TFO BVK 3wt Henry got the first action of the day with a surface-roll to his top dropper in the plunge pool at the bottom of the cascade of falls but try as we might we couldn't get the trout to hook-up.  Trusting the metal crews in my boots (too much) I scampered up the smooth rocks and found a bathtub sized plunge pool 3/4 of the way to the top and dipped my dual dropper rig into a plate sized back eddy....WHAM, much to my surprise a 9-inch fall speckled brown nailed my offering.   I net netted him and hollered to Henry to check out my net when he scaled the cliff.  With a big smile on my face I sat among the Polar Cave-like boulders and didn't need to leave.

The Big Hunting Creek above Cunningham Falls quickly reaches the saddle in Catoctin ridge and loses the steep gradient which channelizes and gives it its character, we fished it for another 200m and walked back to our vehicles looking forward to checking out another portion before lunch.  We surveyed the feeder trip in the lower left hand corner of the map above and decided our better option was to fish the special regs tailwater section along Hwy 77. 

We noticed the nice flow and pocket water on our drive in and were soon questioning riffles and pools with dropper combos.   We both got a few stikes but Henry was the the only one able to land his quarry. 

With temperature dropping the the wind starting to whip up the river cut we decided to try our luck 15 Miles West at Beaver Creek.  After gas station sandwiches we found our way to Beaver Creek Fly Shop and must have met the owner on a bad day as he didn't seem appreciative of our support your local fly shop ethos and seemed put upon to offer advice...weird.    After I told him I wasn't interested in getting lectured about fall redds he broke out a map and gave us some advice (not sure if it was good or a false flag).

Beaver Creek is a classic spring-fed limestone creek.   I don't have alot of experience on them and in my view they are advanced degree fly fishing.   We tried a bit of everything (scuds, midges, nymphs, streamers) as we hunted likely flows, pools, undercuts, etc. w/o any hookups.    As the our line guides were freezing and the sun was dropping behind the trees to the West we finally found a lovely pool with good sized trout feeding subsurface and occasionally breaking the water.   Battling numb fingers, iced guides and the fading light we couldn't get these trout to come tight and left only when we weren't sure we could find out way back on the trail.


  

Salmon River 2017

Our annual fishing trip to Salmon River is a highlight of the year, as much for the camaraderie as the fish, but some years when the salmon run cooperates its simply amazing...this was one of those years. 

Paul and Jacob were not able to join us this year so the our fishing fire-team was Bill, Fritz, Henry and yours truly.  After beating traffic out of DC well before the crack of dawn I met Fritz lounging against his bumper at our favorite parking pull-out at the top of the Upper Fly Section East of Altmar and just down stream from Salmon River Reservoir.  Fritz and Bill had been fishing and visiting for several days and Fritz had the relaxed satisfaction of already having fought, landed and released some monsters.    Some years we count success as a single fish brought to hand...this year we didn't even count. As we walked through the woods our senses caught the rush of the river punctuated by splashes from the jumping salmon and cries of 'Fish-on' from the resident anglers at the upper hole.   At the upper hole hooking up and landing is a matter of location and drift.   Fritz went about 5 minutes before his 8wt Recon bent with the weight and fight of a handsome Chinook (king) salmon, brought to hand on a salmon river flea a local fly tied the night before.

After 90 minutes Henry rustled through the woods behind us his hearty fishing smile letting us know he was happy to see us and to be off the long miles on I-81.  We fished till sundown with many hook ups some foul but most fair until we couldn't see to tie on a fresh fly.   Here's Henry in the darkness that smile as large as the hump on the king's back!





The next morning found Henry and I at the prime spots at Meadow Run.   We hadn't started particularly early and were surprised that there was but one other angler there upon our arrival.   As we watched our watches expectantly we finally made our first casts at whaat we guessed was 30 minutes before sunrise, the start of the fishing day on the DSR and then on my second cast with Salmon running right in front of my knees a King lit me up in the predawn light purple.   He fought for a good 15 minutes and I was super happy to bring him to hand.   As the day wore on we made the acquaintance of the other early morning angler and he was fascinating.   He was (well he still is) an engineer from Quebec who fished for steelhead -- he catches some salmon but kind of considers them a necessary evil as they pave the gravel with eggs beckoning the Steelhead will to a meal.   This fella more than ties his own flies but makes his own hooks out of stout chemically hardened piano wire!   I might have called BS on the story until he showed us one of his many fly boxes...here's a picture of his art.

Henry soon brought a king to hand and with fish in the book and smiles on our faces we enjoyed the morning.    Bill and Fritz arrived and for an hour or three we all enjoyed fishing meadow run.

Salmon River Flea -- Salmon Slayer

Henry Took the picture but is in the photo in spirit

The rest of the trip was spent visiting, eating and hooking into salmon after salmon, you'd bring some to hand, lose other good hooks and break off foul hooks.   We split our time between the familiar haunts of the DSR and the upper fly fishing section 10 miles upstream.   In the future we may forgo DSR passes and just stick with upper section if the salmon are in greater numbers further up.  Several flies seemed to work really well, green and black zonker streamers were lights out as was the Salmon River flea a local creation discovered and retied by Fritz to all of our benefit.

Flush with catching all the Salmon we needed to we also enjoyed exploring more of the river in the lower estuary area and found dissagregated water, almost trout stream water holding monster salmon...what a treat!

This smaller salmon and Henry's monster below came from skinny water!

This Epic Photo will travel back to NZ to the Epic shop Henry visited and the Epic Owner

Watch out for your fingers!

We also really enjoyed the upper fly where Fritz in particular made a killing. Here he is working his drift to a tight seam in an otherwise stiff current.

Fritz surveys the run

works his drift along the rock bank to find holding water

enjoys the salmon of his labors

 We had other great ties along the way incluoding seeing Henry fall (twice) in slow motion into a fast pool whole hooked into a big salmon -- yes he could have steadied himself and not dunked but that would have lost tension on the chinook so he dunked and skidded alongt the bottom with his right arm raised above the current keeping tension on that fish!  Well played by fiend well played.

A large bow (not quite a steelhead) who came to play

Dead Kings were everywhere, note the birds had pecked out the soft eye tissue!

Henry -- salmon on -- the scenery was gorgeous 

My stick an 8wt 11'6' ECHO switch w a 9/10 wt TFO prism reel pared with 540 grain shooting head 

Sunset over Meadow Run

Salmon Drag marks lead the way home during a night time walk to the Jeep

Sunset at the DSR lot

Thanks for reading about this adventure -- for videos please see:

Fall fly fishing in New Hampshire

    New Hampshire will always be my home. Even though I haven't lived there since 1979, I'll always consider it home.  So when the opportunity for a two day late-September escape from the 90 degree temps in Florida, I jumped at the chance when my brother said come up for a couple days of fly fishing.  When you have only two days to fish, you really don't want to spend much time exploring, so we headed to tried and true waters in Coos County at the headwaters of the Connecticut River. 

When you mention Pittsburg(h), most people think of the Steel City in Western PA -- home of the Pirates, Pens, Steelers and Iron City Beer. But Granite Staters think of a different Pittsburg, namely the one that's the northernmost city in the state, and probably has more moose than people.  With the rustic Buckrub Lodge  and Buckrub Pub as our base of operations, we fished hard for two solid days.


Water levels were a bit low, and the 90 degree temps I sought to escape 1400 miles further south must have followed my north as Day 1 temps pushed the low 80s.  Undeterred, Marc and I headed to our favorite remote brook trout stream.  Marc fished with a 6'6" 2-wt and I had my Orvis Superfine 7'6" 1-wt rigged with an Elk Hair Caddis and Parachute Adams, respectively.  Working our way upstream, we consistently picked up wild brookies in the 6-8" range.  Brook trout are beautiful fish to start with - but fall brook trout are breathtakingly colorful. 


After a few hours working upstream, and with another river to hit before day's end, we switched to steamers and worked our way back downstream, picking up equal numbers.  The Golden Retriever was the go-to fly, but the Mickey Finn - the favorite streamer of my dad - was equally effective. 

    Here's Marc working the far bank.

   The stream had some bigger water and 3-4 ft deep holes further upstream.

    Nothing like having a stream 100% to yourself.

So after Working our way back to Marc's truck, enjoying an ice cold beer, we struck out for another favorite stream -- the Mohawk River.  The Mohawk runs from Dixville Notch westward along Route 26 to Colebrook where it drains into the Connecticut River.  With only about an hour to fish we fished downstream again, swinging streamers.  I spotted a few trout finning in a long run, and while positioned above the stream-bank, directed Marc to the top of the run.  As he swung the streamer on his first cast - bang! - fish on.  That was pretty exciting watching the cast and hookset. And then we played out that scenario several more time, switching roles along the way. 

These were rainbow trout.  Again, absolutely stunning in appearance with their trademark pink stripe running down the length of their side. 

Satisfied after landing that last fish and with the sun setting over the hills we called it a day, breaking down our gear and enjoying a cold one after an awesome day on the water. 

Part of the allure of Pittsburg is the character of the region, and nowhere do you gain a greater appreciation for the area more than at the Buckrub Pub -- the one and only dining establishment / watering hole in town, and only a 30 second walk from our comfortable motel room. After a couple of Buckrub Brown Ales, we were ready to call it a night with expectations for another stellar day on the water. 

The Connecticut River is special in so many ways.  No two days ever seem to play out the same on the river - and this day was no different.  Our plan was to head far downstream as this river gets pounded - hard.  But before we struck out down, I had to take a shot by the dam as I usually have good luck just below the dam.  I recently purchased an Orvis 9 ft 5 wt Recon and was anxious to give it a try.  Within minutes I had fish on.  But this day we were determined to walk far downstream so we hit the trail for about 30 minuted before dropping down in the water.  The river here runs fast, and wild... and as I found out not long thereafter after a misstep -- cold!  

Browns, rainbows and landlocked salmon ruled the day. Nymphs ruled the day.  Copper Johns, BH Princes, Pheasant Tails and later in the day Marc tied on what I'd best describe as a Drowned Caddis which really seemed to work well.  Enjoy the pics.

Marc with a nice Brown Trout.

The Rainbows were healthy, strong and colorful.

Marc landed the fish of the day - a gorgeous leaping salmon.And he lost a fish that was even bigger.

Enjoy the pics below.

Another fantastic day on the river.  One year, I'd love to have about a week or two to explore this river.  As incredible as the water is that we're currently fishing, I have to believe there may even be some more productive water either upstream between a couple of the other lakes or possibly several miles further downstream.  There's so much water to explore not on simply the Connecticut, but nearby rivers and streams in this amazing countryside.

But after two hard days on the water, and having caught more than enough brookies, rainbows, browns and salmon it was time to pack up the gear until that next opportunity knocks.

Until that time, today's memories will have to hold me over.