Ending the Fishing Drought

 

Ending the Fishing Drought

2/27/26

It’s been a long cold and snowy winter here in PA. Weeks went by with temps in the teens and some nights in the single digits. Snow accumulation from 12” to 20”. Once the snow started melting the river and creeks were near flood stage, so fishing was mostly impossible. I suppose those with snowmobiles and ice fishermen might have enjoyed the outdoors to some degree, I wasn’t all happy with it. Even some of the hard water fishermen I know weren’t going to tread thru the many inches of snow, shovel a place to fish and dig a hole through the thick ice. I’m sure there were some, but I doubt many. It’s just not my cup of tea anyway.

 When it finally warmed up to melt the snow, once the water leveled out to be fishable, I was itching to get out of the house. Friday, I headed to Volant to fish the Delayed Harvest area. I got there around noon and joined other fishermen for our quest of hooking up to some trout. I didn’t see any of the nymph fishermen catching anything while I watched, but maybe they had when I wasn’t looking. Down from the shop I hooked into 2 nice trout. The first was a lunker of a rainbow that was a real tug-of-war getting him to the net.

 My second trout was a rough and tumble lengthy brown trout that gave my 5 weight, 9’ Icon rod a real work out.

 Those were the two biggest trout I caught but they were worth the hour drive from home and broke the fishing drought I needed to end!

 I don’t usually fish on weekends since I retired. It’s frustrating to me fishing with a gathering of other fishermen. Close quarters of side-by-side fishing, crossing lines of those that don’t respect the others space. Then having to listen to jabber jawing and phone calls of those that need some verbal conversation. I go fishing to get away from the normalcy of everyday living. I like the peace and quiet of being out in nature away from the disturbance of everyday life. Don’t get me wrong, I like people but having to listen to their noise on the water just is annoying. So, I mostly fish during the weekdays.

                                                                            3/04/26

 Wednesday of the following week, after Volant fishing, I drove an hour and a half to the next creek I wanted to fish. I haven’t fished the Kinzua Creek for about 30 some years. I looked up where the Delayed Harvest area was on my PC and charted it on my phone. Just before noon I reached my destination. Looking over the water looked in great condition as far as wadable water level though it was quite clear to be questionable to not spook the trout. I was just getting my gear on when a fellow fisherman came to his truck I parked next to. In conversation he said there were plenty of trout down a bit and he didn’t venture any further. Even from the parking area, where we stood, I was able to see a couple of golden trout. He was holding a spinning rod. I thought to myself “I wonder how the trout would like a fly fisherman’s offering?” I assembled my old SAS 5 weight, 8 ½’ Scott rod and attached a Woolly Bugger to the tippet. After grabbing my sling pack, and a few cigars, I headed down to the creek where I saw the golden trout. In the meantime, another truck pulled into the lot and 3 guys, with conventional gear, were getting their waders on and gear together.

 When I stood on the bank, I looked down creek and saw a big pod of trout. I’m not sure how many bucket full were there, but there were many huddled and strung out like a gathering of a new marching band on a football field waiting for further instructions. I was hoping that they weren’t all spooked by the spin fisherman and it wasn’t till I swung my first cast down creek towards them that they didn’t appear to be spooked at all. They evidently were hungry also! For about an hour or so I was picking them off one by one with different shades of Woolly Buggers and Triple Threat streamers.

 Early on I connected with a husky rainbow. My SAS bowed deep as I fought the trout. He splashed the surface spraying water everywhere. My knots held up and I got him to the net safely. What a brute!

 One of my other catches was a nice brown trout. He was pale in color and fought like a Tasmanian Devil. The rod tip flexed in all direction as the trout scurried beneath tugging and trying to free itself. Nearer the net he alligator rolled, like most brown trout do, trying to tangle himself up in line making it harder to corral him.

  As I was fishing one of the guys with a spinning rod crossed the creek and started fishing to the back end of the pod I was fishing for. By then I had caught many trout and didn’t mind. Not that I owned the water, but it didn’t get me upset we were fishing for the same fish. He wasn’t catching many trout anyhow. He switched his lures often which gave me a chance to make longer casts to the far end of the pool.

 I can’t really estimate how many trout I caught without maybe over exaggerating. Later on, the spin fishermen left and, being the trout quit biting, I waded down creek to fish. I ended up only hooking up twice more before returning to where I started. There were two young boys standing on the bank with spinning rods. They pulled a trout out of the pod now and then which I enjoyed watching. I hooked the Woolly Bugger to the hook keeper and headed up to the truck.

 I drove downstream quite a way till I got to a section with a parking area close to the creek. I fished for about another hour and was able to pick up one more rainbow and missed a quick take. By then it was around 4:00. I called it a day, dressed into street clothes and headed home.

~doubletaper

Branching Out

                                                               Branching Out

6/10/25  

 Yesterday’s rain and the overnight rain left everything around the area high and muddy. Even Blue Jay Creek was high, fast and discolored. As I looked out of my camper window the morning sky changed from cloudy to sunshine to overcast. The weather experts claim it was going to rain on one radio station yet another weatherman didn’t mention rain. It all depended on which radio station I listened to. It was like betting on a horse race in muddy conditions. You can throw the odds of who’s going to win out the window. It didn’t actually feel like it was going to rain when I walked out but 6 miles away, over the hill tops, it could be. I ate breakfast and decided to journey out to see if I could find a small creek that would be fishable. I wasn’t too sure so I just dressed in street clothes and brought my fishing clothes with me. If I couldn’t find fishable water I could always visit the butcher shop and winery nearby!

 I took a drive up north and found a smaller stream fishable. I hadn’t fished this branch for years but it has always been on my mind in these kinds of conditions. I didn’t remember where I actually used to fish it but it flowed through the ANF and is stocked waters. I figured there might be trout anywhere. Not sure how much pressure it gets, being it flows through the ANF out away from any main road. Anyhow, I was going to find out.

 After parking and getting my hip waders and wading boots on I assembled my 7’ 3 weight Hardy rod because of the close quarters I’d be casting from. I put a couple of stogies in my vest pocket, mainly to keep the bugs from my face, and then weaved my way through the tall grass and ferns heading upstream. Once I got to the bank of the small stream I was impressed by the stream improvements.

 Log poles were placed along the banks in the straight runs. Big rock and boulders had been placed along the banks on bends and deeper pools. Maybe either to eliminate the erosion of the banks from water flow or just good cover for trout from predators. 

 I started casting a woolly bugger not really expecting to catch many trout. Though this small creek is in the National Forest it’s evident that it gets visited often. There’s a big parking lot upstream for visitors and it looks as though a club monitors the creek. Way back when I used to fish this creek it was mostly stocked with brook trout. Every once in a while I’d catch a native brookie but not often. I’m always positive when trout fishing that I’ll catch a trout no matter the conditions or time of year. This was one of them.

 I slowly casted across and down the narrow section of the creek. Sometimes it was from the bank trying not to stir up the stream bed should I wade the water. I had one bump before the bridge in a narrow passage just out from an overhanging brushy small leafy branch. The fish tried grabbing the bugger at least three times before it was uninterested. Maybe it was a small brook trout that couldn’t get it’s mouth open enough to grab the #10 hook of my woolly bugger. I just quit playing with it and continued down stream. Just under the bridge I finally got a good take. He was a feisty one.  

 Down from the bridge there was an overhanging tree. Branches were leaning over the water making it almost impossible to cast beneath with a fly rod. From upstream I roll casted the bugger in front of me and let out line getting the bugger beneath. I did have a hard take but I wasn't in a position to lift the rod high because of the tree branches and brush around me. I tried to strip set the trout but he was so quick that it didn’t connect. I tried a couple more drifts under the tree overhang but didn’t have any takers. I had to walk around the high grass and walked back to the creek. There I came to a big pool of water. The narrower flow, from the bridge and overhang, opened up into this big pool. It was hard to tell how deep it was in the center but I was sure it held trout.

 A faster wavy current entered on the far side along the man installed rocks and boulders along the bank. It flowed in a semicircle, along the bank, until it emptied into a narrower run downstream. Before the end of the pool the water circled back into the wide section of the pool, like a back eddy, with almost no surface current flow. I looked over my situation and stepped easily in the water trying not to stir up any silt or waves to concern my presence. 

 My first cast was across the creek up where the water entered the big pool from the overhanging branches. The bugger fell into the water and under the small wavy current. It didn’t travel too far when a trout grabbed the bugger like it was the first meal of the day. The 3 weight flexed as the trout scurried around the big pool till I got him to the net. Well, that was fun and I expected more of it! 

 After I released the rainbow I noticed a couple trout moved up into the thigh high water just in front of me. I’m not sure if the fish I caught scared them out of the deeper pool section or they maybe thought it was feeding time and they wanted to be the next in line. I lit up a stogie and figured I was going to stick around here for a while.

 I was casting out the bugger until I saw a fish rise in the slowest current down from me in, what looked like, the deepest part of the pool. I didn’t see anything of size flying around except tiny little insects. That wasn’t going to stop me from knotting on a dry fly though. I nipped off some of the 5x tippet and knotted on a section of 6x. It was a clear sunny day and I didn’t want to spook the trout anymore than I had already with the rainbow I caught. 

 A trout came up again pretty near where I saw the rise just seconds ago. I made a side arm cast and laid the small Gray Fox dry in the vicinity. I waited patiently!! The Gray Fox laid on the surface almost motionless. I know that a trout had to see it. I stood puffing on the stogie like a statue gripping the fly rod ready to set the hook on the first sign of a take. And I waited, picturing in my mind when and how big the fish would be. Well, if there was a trout beneath he outlasted me on my first cast. He outlasted me on a couple more tries until I gave up casting on the slow to no current surface flow. I pulled back on the rod and line and made a cast just this side of the good wavy flow across creek. On the drift a trout rose but missed my dry completely. I reared my dry up anyhow knowing that it passed him. Maybe he was surprised seeing the surface fly on the wavy current? Maybe when I lifted it out of the water he may of thought to not be so nonchalant taking the next one. (I know I think too much but it keeps my mind concentrating on the situation at hand.) 

 Growing up I hated when my parents or an adult relative told me to do something because they ‘said so’ without giving me a reason why? There’s always a reason! Same thing with trout fishing. There’s always a reason why a trout won’t bite so I try to think of why or a better way to entice him to take my offering.

 My next cast, upstream on the wavy current, I watched the Gray Fox bob on the waves. The trout came up in a hurry and was more accurate this time. I yanked back the 3 weight and the tip section bowed with a tight line. The 3 weight flexed wildly to and fro as the trout on the other end fought in disbelief. 

 I continued casting out the Gray Fox or a Wooly Bugger for quite some time. I caught trout now and then. It wasn’t one after another but if I picked the right offering one would grab it.   

 I was enjoying this opportunity catching these unsuspecting trout on a dry fly or bugger while puffing on my cigar!  

 When the bite finally stopped I decided to go back up creek and try for that first trout that tried grabbing my bugger but couldn’t. I walked up around so the trout wouldn’t be aware of me. I had a smaller bugger, size #14, that I had tied for my youngest son to fish the small native trout in North Carolina he fishes for. I knotted this to the 6X tippet. I knelt down along the bank upstream from the brushy bank down creek for where I figured he was. I made a gentle cast down creek and let line out till it was near the brushy bank. I felt the quick peck and reared back the rod, probably a little more than I had to. The line tightened and with that the little trout was already headed my way from my forceful pull upstream. Hey, sometimes I get overexcited when I’m pretty sure I’m unexpectedly right!. It wasn’t much of a battle but he was a frisky one darting back and forth as I got him to the net. 

 I caught one more up creek while I was investigating more of the small stream. When my cigar gave out I called it quits.   

 Oh well, it was a fun opportunity. I’m glad the other creeks were high and muddy that got me to venture elsewhere. 

~doubletaper

November Chill

                                                                November Chill

11/20/25

You’ll forget all about your problems, how cold you are and how uncomfortable you are when you’re either dead or hook up to a steelhead!  

It was 34º, at 6:00am, when I left home and headed for Erie to steelhead fish. I figured once daylight hit and by the time I got to Erie, a two-hour drive, the temperature should rise. Wrong! When I pulled in the lot my truck read 28º. I haven’t fished for steelhead below 32º since I don’t know when. I got up to Erie early to be the first one at the place where we finally found a good pod of fish the day before. Brian pulled in about 10 minutes after I did. One thing for sure we were the only vehicles off the road. I figured we’d be the first there? Not!

 We got our waders on and gear and headed to where we wanted to fish. Brian showed me the trout beads he was planning on using. I figured he bought them in Alaska when he was up there in September fishing. I heard that’s what the guides and fishermen use. The box full of beads he showed me looked like colored pearls all the same size. I would imagine if they don’t work he could always sell them to some jewelry maker? The 10 minute or so walk along the path warmed us up. When we were in vision of where we wanted to fish there were already 2 guys fishing, one on each side of the creek. There was enough room for all four of us so that wasn’t a problem. By the time we started to cast a line it didn’t seem to be below 32º and we managed after that.

 The guy on the other side caught a steelhead so the guy on our side crossed the creek, with their net, to help him net the fish. He ended up staying on the far side so Brian and I had our creek side all to ourselves. Brian started off with his trout beads and I started off with a streamer. 

 The day before we fished in a section with a few fish, Brian was the only one to hook a steelhead. We went elsewhere after noon. Brian ended up leaving and my bud Kevin, who came up with me, drove further upstream where I figured that the steelhead would be holding in a deeper run. Sure enough we found them along with only one guy fishing the hole. The steelhead were pretty particular or not hungry at all. I hooked only one steelhead for a second or two. Kevin said he had a couple taps. He wasn’t using an indicator. We left without hooking up. At least I knew where they were though. I planned on coming back up Thursday. Brian said he’d meet me at the same place I found where the steelhead were holding.

 For a while it was like the steelhead were picky. I finally got a hook up with a light shaded sucker spawn. The heaviness of the fish bowed the 7 weight rod into the lower mid section. As the steelhead took off the tip pointed to where the fly line entered the water but the fish was beyond heading up and across creek. I lifted the rod to keep as much line out of the water as the steelhead started head shaking like a lead guitarist, in a hair band, playing a familiar hard rock riff. I could feel my forearm muscles tighten under the constant tugging and pulling of the steelhead and my heart was beating like a drum solo in excitement. 

I knew I had a fair hook. We battled. The whole fight continued with him head shaking trying to get the hook out. He wasn’t making it easy and I wasn’t making it easy on him. Brian grabbed the net as I was backing up to the bank. I wouldn’t let the fish take any more line unless he had a burst of energy. Brian got down creek from him as I raised the rod bringing the steelhead higher in the water column. He scooped up the fat steelhead and I had a big grin on my face. After the past two visits up here fishing for them I had my first steelhead, this season, in the net. 

  Brian hooked up next, soon after, on one of his light colored beads. The fish put up a good fight. After the tough battle I netted the steelhead. It too was a fat one.

 My next hookup was as if the steelhead was in a race to grab it before others in the same race. My indicator took off up creek in a hurry. I tightened the line quickly within my grip to set the hook and then let go, as the line shot through the eyes towards the swift swimming steelhead. I held the rod butt in my gut like an honor guard, trying to hold the flag pole steady, in a windy and gusty parade. The steelhead swam wildly is the big pool like the front man in a rock band on a circular stage! I thought at first it was foul hooked but during the battle I saw the steelhead swimming up creek with the line tightened towards its mouth. He wasn’t giving up easily and It took longer to get him into the net than the last. Once Brian netted him I could see why he wasn’t giving up. He was a big fatty!! 

 For some time after that the steelhead evidently kept their mouths shut. I watched over and over again as Brian drifted his beads, under his float, into a pod of steelhead. They must have had their jaws clamped shut like a bunch of clams. In time Brian gave up and said he had things to do at home and left. After that there was a lull in the action like the next band was late to be present. I accidentally snagged a couple fish but the hook came out during a short melee. 

 A young guy joined me and the guy across the creek. He fished downstream from me in shallower water.  Maybe a little over knee deep but the steelhead were easier to notice. Neither of us were hooking up. I started to cast out sucker spawn in just about every color I had without a strike. I’m not sure what the others were using but the fish just didn’t appear to want any of it. I decided to show them some of my old nymph collection like presenting old, one of a kind, rock and roll memorabilia. I thought I had a bump on one of my depth ray stoneflies but missed. I continued with it for a few more drifts until I got snagged up and lost it. I then knotted on a copper john. On my third drift through the run my indicator went straight under. I lifted the rod for the hook set and the line tightened with a heavy load. The steelhead fought with head shakes and quick turns throughout the pool. Once he quit his energetic maneuvers, like a lead singer starting to perform a slow song, he settled down to holding in the oncoming current. I kept side pressure on him to tire him out forcing him to come my way. The young man, down creek from me, grabbed his net to help net him. I got the steelhead turned downstream and safely got him towards the net and into it. 

 Maybe that’s what they wanted all along? I hooked 2 more steelhead on the copper johns as the sun was setting. 

 I lit up my last cigar and fished for about another hour before taking off. I wanted to get home before it got dark.  

~doubletaper

MK, Wine and a Lunker!

Mary Kay, Wine and a Lunker!

11/15/25 

 The kitchen counter was filled with snacks and finger food. The dining room table, china closet and book shelf was filled with Mary Kay products with a Christmassy theme. The GF’s Mary Kay open house was from 11am to 6pm so I had to get out of the house and find something to do.  

 I decided to go trout fishing. I loaded up my truck with my gear and headed to Volant to fish Neshannock Creek. The state had stocked the Artificial lure only project area of the creek back in early October and the fly shop float stocked their Lunker trout fund with Lunker size trout. Like a women using MK cosmetics, and was coming to the open house, wanting to see and buy the new products, I was going down to get me a Lunker!

 In the parking lot my buddy, Kevin, was already getting his gear on. I gave him some Triple Threat streamers I had tied for him and he gave me a bottle of his home made wine. I thought that was a fair trade.  

 Down at the creek there were already a few fishermen casting out into the stained water under the gray cloudy sky. It was already in the upper 40’s with the weather people predicting 50º and higher. There wasn’t as many fishermen as I expected so there was plenty of room to find a place to move in.

 Kevin connected first with one of the triple threats. I wasn’t near him but I saw he had a decent size trout. He said it was a brown. Just after that I hooked up to a trout but got off in a matter of seconds with a triple threat. That’s when I realized I didn’t have my hemostats or split shots. I suppose it’s like a women at the open house looking in her purse and finding out she left her checkbook in the car. I waded out and went back to the truck and got my hemostats and split shots.

 Back at the creek, the guy between Kevin and I took my spot. No matter, I told him, there was plenty of other places to fish. It was a long and slow process, without a bite, trying to get another trout. Out of the 5 other fishermen, nymph fishing, I only saw one guy catch a trout. Kevin and I didn’t move too far from the deep hole by the shop to very far down stream and still couldn’t find a hungry trout. For the rest of the morning and into the afternoon us or the other fishermen were having a tough time finding a hungry trout. Just after noon Kevin had his friend call him and he took off to go sight their guns in. I fished a bit from where we started with triple threats and woolly buggers before I decided to fish wading down creek quite a ways. 

 I hooked up to two trout on a triple threats but they found their way to get themselves unstuck before I got them near me. I caught one nice rainbow in the rough water downstream with a Woolly Bugger. It looked like he was having a bad day. He could have used some make up for the picture. 

  After him I fished the rough wavy water for some time trying to catch another. I even tried nymph fishing the rough water but didn’t come up with anything. I looked at the time and it was only a little past 2:00. I still had a lot of time to kill so I decided to go back up creek to where I started in the morning. I lit another cigar and headed up.

 I was within vision of the shop and saw only two guys fishing. I fished down creek from them and it wasn’t long before they gave up and headed out. Looking up and down the creek I had the whole creek to myself to explore once more. The way things were going though, if it wasn’t for the MK open house I would have left. Yes, I hooked a couple trout already but not as often as I would have liked.

 Up where I started I knotted on my favorite Woolly Bugger, puffed on the cigar and decided to just fish till I felt it was time to go. That would take an hour or so, to drive home around 6:00.

I casted out towards the far bank and let the bugger swing down creek. On one occasion I felt a tap and noticed the arc in my floating fly line pull a bit. I reared back the rod and sure enough a trout was on the other end. It was as if he just picked up the bugger, like a women picking up a bottle not sure if she really wanted it or not. The take was so subtle that if it wasn’t for me seeing the slight pull on the floating fly line I would have never noticed the take until it may had been too late. The trout fought like a lazy fish without much vigor. Maybe he had been caught before and didn’t feel like wasting too much energy? Any how it gave me a little hope in these later hours. 

 I continued wading down stream slowly casting out the Wooly Bugger. I added weight when I was fishing the deeper water and took the weight off when it started to hang up some in shallower water. I was taking my good old time trying to waste time casting out as I wadded down creek. One long cast dropped my bugger towards the far bank and I watched the floating line as the bugger swung down creek. All of a sudden, before the line straightened out, I felt a good grab and watched the floating line sink. I reared back the rod instantly over my left shoulder and felt the fly rod arc almost in the butt section with a tight line. A trout rose immediately, half out of the water, twisting and turning splashing water in all directions trying to shake loose. I tightened my grip on the cork and waited for his next move. He went under with ferocious tugs and pulls as he began to swim up creek. It wasn’t long before he surfaced again, half out of the water, with more ungraceful twisting and turning. I saw I had one of those lunkers. He went back under and swam down creek. I only had 4 pound test tippet so I wasn’t going to try to horse him in. Downstream he turned and swam up creek still tugging the line. I could feel the rod sections fluctuate with each tug and pull. Once he got across from me I moved the rod to put side pressure on him. He evidently didn’t like it and rose one last time in disagreement. He went deep again and headed down creek. After a time I could tell by the way he was swimming he was tiring out, so I thought, and clicked the drag a notch tighter. Down creek I started to force him my way, holding the arced rod tightly and reeling in some line. He followed momentarily until he got within his sight of me. It was like I had a disgusting cologne on and he forcefully turned away and down creek and took off like a heavy truck load of logs straight on a down hill run. There was no holding him back. Again line peeled off the spool and slid through each section eye. The drag kept tension on him and with the arced rod resistance he didn’t go very far before turning my way. Twice I had him near me but twice more he avoided getting any closer with powerful heavy turns. I was in shin deep water and moved the rod to get him towards the bank but he had no intentions on getting beached and swam in the opposite direction. Twice more I had him within net distance but upon seeing the net he turned and finned himself away. 

 This was taking too long. Once near me I was able to see my bugger in the crook in his jaw so I knew I had a good hook set but playing so much I wasn’t sure it was going to hold much longer. Swimming near me I raised the rod with the fly line pinched between my finger and the cork handle. I had my net ready so scoop him up. He was just under the surface when I reached out and was able to get most of his body in the net as he flopped around, his tail outside the brim of the wooden net frame. I carried it to the bank knowing that I wouldn’t be able to handle the heaviness of him in the net to get a picture or even trying getting the hook out of his jaw. On the bank I got a quick picture and got the hook out without much problem. I laid him in the water for one last picture. I then grabbed him by the neck of his tail and faced him into the slow current until I felt his tail swipe and I let him swim free. I wasn’t sure he was about his wits yet as it looked like he wasn’t sure which way to go. I slowly started to follow him and in the deeper bank-side water he finally took off healthfully towards the main body of water. 

 After grabbing my rod I casted out a few more times before calling it quits.

 Back at the truck I changed into street clothes. Though I already smoked two cigars to pass the time I felt I really deserved one more for the drive home. Before I left the parking lot it was near 4:40. It was a good hour or so drive home. 

 On the drive back towards home I thought that I know I wouldn’t have stayed so long fishing if it weren’t for avoiding the Mary Kay open house.

~doubletaper