Trout Scout Fish Kill Creek, Ithaca, NY

I threw both my 7wt switch and 3 wt in the van when I packed for Emma's unofficial trip to Cornell this past weekend hoping that I'd get a chance to wet a line in either Fall Creek as it cut through Ithaca or Enfield Creek just south of the Ithaca on Route 13.  After a long but great day I lay my weary head to sleep in Horseheads, NY and I didn't think that I'd be up for fishing in the morning. I had to be back at Cornell for a meeting at 1100, but as morning dawned my spirits were rejuvenated and I was off.   I'd checked out Fall Creek the day before and didn't see any anglers which told me that the river-sized creek (and gorge) was GORGEOUS, but hadn't been stocked recently.  

I set my sights on Enfield Creek which my e-snooping indicated was stocked with browns and rainbows and may have brookies in its upper reaches.   Finding Enfield Creek was easy, its located in Robert Newman Park on Rt 13 just inside the Ithaca town line.  Enfield Creek looked promising, rocky bottom with a decent flow as it cut through the bedrock so I pulled into the ranger station for free advice.   The ranger, knowledgeable and happy company,  let me know that they'd recently done a water survey and hadn't found any brookies in Enfield Creek but that there were both stocked and hold-over browns and rainbows.  Normally I would have tried my luck for either, but as I'd brought up brookies he showed me a feeder creek (Fish Kill Creek) he thought held brookies in its upper reaches.  With good directions and a fresh cup of coffee I made my way to 'Lucifer Falls' where Fish Kill Creek joins Enfield Creek with directions to hike up a trail astride Fish Kill Creek for .5 miles before I started prospecting for brookies.  Problem: Lucifer Falls (the bottom of Fish Kill Creek) was too beautiful to pass up so I spent my 45-minutes fishing time working the lower portion of the creek, scaling mid-sized waterfalls and looking for pools.  

I found my first trout in a 20x30 plunge pool as a small fella came up and swirled on my 16 Adams, but never struck.  I suspect it might have been a brown as I couldn't cajole another strike pool after repeated good-presentations.  I continued upstream and found a half dozen trout ranging from 5-7 inches in a long 2-4" deep cut-bank-hole, but as I spooked them and their lair was protected by a cast-catching overhang I couldn't get them interested in my offerings.  With time expiring and Emma waiting for me I turned tail to get back to Cornell.  There are obviously fish here, brookies I suspect, and if and when we come back to the area I'll hit this again.  Next time I'll walk up the Finger Lakes Trail which starts on the backside of the Old Mill and begin fishing the first pool where we I had a strike them prospect upstream from there.

First Trout of the Season on Dry River

Fall Colors compliment a Dry River Brookie

After being thwarted fish-wise in our annual expedition to the Salmon River I was itching to get back on the river and actually bring a fish to hand.  I might have been able to get one more trip smallmouth trip in but the crisp mornings and changing colors beckoned me towards my favorite quarry, native brook trout. 

We started out Dry

Since Scott introduced be to Dry River in 2012 I've fished it 5 times and have always enjoyed myself.  In terms of trout population and accessibility if there's a better stream in Virginia I haven't found it yet.  To recap, Dry River has its humble beginnings as tailwater discharge called Skidmore Fork from Switzer lake high up in the George Washington National Forest on the VA/ WV state line just south-west of Rt 33 about 20 miles west of Harrisburg, VA.  Its fishable for more than a dozen miles from the dam-spillway through Rawley Springs before it disappears into an aquifer (hence its name "Dry River") and then re-emerges and is known Beaver Creek West of Harrisonburg, VA. 

Juvenile Brookie in his element

 The Dry (Skidmore Fork) has some steep(er) gradient as it falls from the dam but by the time it parallels route 33 which it does for the majority of its easily accessible flow, its reminiscent of a Pennsylvania valley stream rather than a Blue-ridge-type high gradient plunge pool run. My favorite place to fish Dry River is parallel to the last straightway on Rt 33 before the first switch back as 33 begins its climb into the GW Forest.  James and I each took a day of leave and headed out the well-worn trail, 234 to 66 to I-81at 0545.  We arrived around 0820, sandwiches packed and ready to for a full day on the river. 

James working a small tail run

 It was rainy and blustery as the first copper-colored leaves floated down around us.  I was VERY happy to see that we were the only ones in the area as I was fearful that we might find hunting season in full swing. James chose his 3wt 3-Forks (a great value small stream rod) while I test drove a new 3/4 wt fiberglass rod from Eagle-Claw.  I tried to buy a Cabelas CGR, as I'd read great things about its full flex/slow action, but I couldn't find one other than on eBay which sold for 4 times its list price.   This rod got good reviews and for 30.00 it was worth a shot.  We walked east down 33 picking up some garbage and dodging traffic and turned into the forest about 200 yards East of where Scott and I had turned in on our first trip.  

All trout returned to be admired again

After some challenges in the briers we found the Dry River running at very low pool even though it was raining quite hard at the time.  The Dry here is characterized by a small central channel with much of the upstream flow dispersed by a bog-forest.  There are many down trees and it's not uncommon to hide behind a tree and snap-flick a fly into a small pool or run.   We had a few fry hit in the bog, but it took till the stream defined itself upstream of the bog for James to land the first trout of the season in a pool nestled in a undercut bank.  The smile on James face was worth the trip as he brought the feisty little brookie to hand.  We continued leap-frog fishing and I began to pick up small brookies along the way.   

Hot hole for James against far bank on left

All the action seemed to be on the surface so we removed our nymph-droppers as the tiny trout battled the rain drops to hit our drys with abandon.   My catch rate was probably 1 out of 5 strikes...lots of fun but relatively low catch rate.  After a period James changed over from his standard tan caddis to a # 16 Parachute adams and his strike rate improved as well.  Lots of rain, not driving but steady and a sandwich later found us ducking under the make-shift bridge around 'Dry River Road' and at the lake pool which in my mind begins the next segment of the Dry before tapers off to the right and the main flow continues to the left (Skidmore Fork).  James Concentrated on the lake while I fished upstream making long slow casts into the defined channel on the left before the next set of riffles.  The Lake was very good to James as he caught a half dozen brookies lurking in the 4-foot deep pool along the bank.  Each was a jolt of joy as it rose to the surface and slapped his adams on the surface.  At one point James yelled up to me, "Hey, this trout fishing is fun".  We continued up the Dry for another 2 hours and the strikes slowed to a trickle I think I caught 4 more.  Wet, tired but happy we bushwhacked back to Dry Rover Road and Clifford to end the day.

Kyped jawed brookie

Fall Colors on the Dry River

Cold, wet, tired......Fish on!.... he's content

20+ trout later...If you can buy one fly ...let it be this one

Salmon River Pilgrimage

Jacob, Fritz and Bill crossing the stream ford

Jacob, Fritz and I started up 95 towards Pulaski, NY at 0358 on our annual trip to the Douglaston Salmon Run on the Salmon River on Friday Morning.  We knew the fish were still in Lake Ontario and in the estuary and hadn't begun to run in large numbers to their spawning shoals up river, but that didn't dampen our spirits as we raced up I-81 to meet Bill who had arrived Thursday night to set up camp at Selkirk Shores. Jacob texted Bill in Syracuse and he met us at the DSR parking lot at about 1045 (we made great time).

3 Generation of Pfeiffer watching the sunset at Selkirk Shores

 This fishing trip is much about the camaraderie, the beauty of the river and the ritual-familiarity of the walk to the river and after missing it last year I was determined to soak-up every second of it. Its a treat to watch three generations of Pfeiffer sharing this experience, Bill's stories about the river, Fritz' quiet, steady determination to bring a keeper to hand and Jacob's buoyant joy; still a young-man but increasingly a grown-up angler in his own right.

Jacob in Profile above Meadow Run

We rigged up after our 350 mile jaunt with salmon weight gear (Jacob with an 8wt/9' Orvis Silver Label, Fritz with a 8 wt/11' TFO switch, me with a 7wt/11' Wildwater switch and Bill with a Lamson 8wt/9' switch) and began the beautiful walk to meadow run, through the forest path, down the 44 stairs to the river, through the muddy middle, up to the hill w Joss hole on the left, through the sorn field, back down fording a side-stream to the island, glimpse Spring-hole, pass the Flats until we came upon Meadow Run ...our favorite place.

Fritz and Jacob at the top of Meadow Run

We were happy to see that the run was relatively vacant and Fritz, Jacob and I crossed above the run to get the the 'guide-side' so we could fish back toward Bill on the other bank.  Bill had told us that the river meadow run had changed and that we'd have to read the water to plan our casts and drifts, he was right the channel is less defined and the deep(er) slot on the guide side had worn away since my last visit. I began casting with a kreelex variant I tied with a barrel-head and .20 lead wraps to help sink it but keep it hook side up as I intended to skitter it over the cobble bottom.

King Salmon -- Dead and taunting

 I hooked my first Salmon on the 10th cast and had him for 5 joyous, adrenalin filled seconds enough for a hook-set, short run then a triumphant jump to end our date. This early action made us all attentive but, unfortunately proved the exception rather than the rule. The Run had plenty of fishers but few catchers. Later on in the afternoon I moved up to the top third of Meadow run pool and had a another great hook-up about 15 feet in front of me not 2-seconds into a sweep. Again the Salmon hit, I set the hook, he jumped horizontally 1/2 out of the water running up stream and as I followed him up stream and put him on the reel he was gone after about 10 seconds.

River chub....Any shelter in a storm and any fish when you're fishing!

 This time when I pulled the kreelex in I found that he had BROKEN the hook, not the line, not knot failure or bent the hook, but rather snapped the hook in two as the shank begins its bend. My lesson here is not to use bass and trout weight wire-hooks on Salmon as these brutes are just too powerful. We left around 1630 with smiles on our faces, tired from the long drive, but looking forward to dinner and another try at them tomorrow.

Jacob and Fritz at Upper flyfishing Pool

Sunrise at Meadow Pool

Sunset over Lake Ontari

 

We cleaned up at Selkirk Shores (thanks Shana), enjoyed a few minutes of sunset looking west across Lake Ontario and then enjoyed a dinner of garlic knots, more garlic knots, cinnamon knots polished off by more garlic knots at Stephanos before we lit a quick fire and fell asleep in our well-loved, but comfortable cabin. 

 Saturday morning we started later than our usual 0600 leaning on the gate norm and repeated our walk to meadow Run where we again set up fishing stations on both sides. Action was VERY slow in the run but some fish were being hooked below the run in the right hand channel (as your looking down) as the bank-slot there was more defined and therefore channelizing of the limited fish.

 Fritz had the most success as he was able to find a good fishing slot below the meadow run and hooked two salmon before they broke off after a few seconds of excitement. About noon all four of us crossed to the Guide-side and began a slow walk up toward Spring hole hitting pocket water where it presented itself. We had Spring Hole to ourselves by the time we got there but couldn't raise a fish in this gorgeous deep, fast hole. Tired and a bit frustrated by our general lack of hook-ups we walked back to the cars and headed to Selkirk for a short rest.

Knowing that we'd fall asleep if we didn't quickly recharge our batteries we all loaded into the Van and headed to Altimar to check out the fishing circus from the bridge that marks the start of the upper flyfishing area.....and it was a zoo. If Salmon fishing is sport downstream at the DSR its a no-holds-barred test of snagging skills as locals look to fill freezers in Altimar. For the few fish that made it up this far they had to run a gauntlet of would be meat-eaters. We left Altimar and headed further upstream past the hatchery, sportsman's and the compactor hole until we reached the last parking area in the upper area where we suited up for an evening fish in the deep pool at the limit of the Fly-fishing only section. Bill, Fritz and Jacob stayed on the near-side while I braved the current (thanks for that wading staff Emma) to get to the far side. It looked like our luck had turned as one gent had repeated long hook-up at the bottom of the hole just above the start of the rapid. Fritz was able to move into position to take over the spot when he left with still an hour of daylight, but try as we might we couldn't reproduce his results. 

Fritz ended up with two high quality hook-up, at least one 'true-hooked' but we couldn't land either in the smallish but deep pool. It was all the more frustrating as Salmon were jumping, rolling and splashing in close proximity...it was good fishing but not good catching! We left the upper pool just before sunset and ended up eating at Fast Eddies, which was fast but more gourmand then gourmet. Sleep greeted us quickly at the cabin after we looked through pictures from Bill's summer Atlantic Salmon trip to Quebec.

 What a gorgeous trip and time. We woke earlier on Sunday, grabbed fresh donuts and coffee along the way and Jacob Fritz and I hit the DSR early as Bill packed up the cabin. Let's just say that we took some gorgeous pictures, enjoyed each others company and our camaraderie was not disturbed by pesky Salmons or steelhead. With no fish tempting us to stay longer and a long drive to VA ahead we packed up frustrated but happy, bid goodbye to Bill and began our long drive home.