Two of a Kind

Two of a Kind

6/30/25 

 The reason I camp is to go hunting or fishing and have someplace in the proximity to come back to. This is why I bought a camper in the first place. If I just wanted to camp I’d sit in my backyard by the fire pit, drink beer and smoke cigars.

 Being the weatherman said there were possible scattered thunderstorms around 3 I decided to get out early on the river. It started as a gray overcast morning but the sun was filtering through the cloud cover brightening up the morning sky. With that brought the humidity up so I couldn’t wait to get myself in the water. I knew where I wanted to float so I got my gear put in my float tube and drove down River Road. I left my bike at a house along the river that I know the owner and drove back upriver to where I put in. I assembled my Winston 6 weight fly rod, got my flippers on and put the float tube in the water. I was ready for some smallmouth fishing teasing them with my home made surface poppers.

 Orange appeared to be the choice color the past few days so I clipped one on my Fas-Snap. I’m not sure if the smallmouth are really that picky with surface commotion when they’re hungry but the orange poppers appeared to encourage more strikes. 

 I was just feeling my way along the bank casting down river and stripping the popper towards me. The river was on the high side with pretty good current. Being the water was on the high side I knew I’d be swept down river quickly in the float tube so I figured I’d just float near the banks where I can reach bottom here and there and ground myself now and then. 

 I have found that when the water is on the higher side I’ve caught more smallmouth out in the open water but there’s always a few sticking around near the banks. Knowing this I’d cast out in the more open water when I was able to if I had enough back casting room from the bank side brush and tree limbs. 

 On one occasion I casted as far as I was able out into the open water. The current was still kind of lazy not far out from me. As my orange popper drifted with the surface current I’d strip it now and then, gurgling it, trying to make enough surface commotion to entice a riverbed hugging smallmouth. Well, he came up and swiped at my orange popper like he was in contention for a jump ball! I waited a second or two after my popper disappeared from the surface and yanked the rod up and back for the hook set. The rod bowed towards the take and tight lined like a guitar string. He took off out in the deeper water as line peeled off the spinning spool and shot up through the eyes. I thought I had a good foothold but the force of the escaping smallmouth tugged me off the  riverbed stones my flippers were trying to hold on too. I started to use my flippers to find a boulder I could stop myself as the smallie continued swimming with force out in the undercurrent pulling me along with him.. I found a boulder beneath to steady myself and now was more comfortable to engage in the battle for dominance! I tightened my grip on the fly line without giving him anymore line. The rod bowed deeper and forced him to swim across stream downriver from me. I had 8lb tapered leader so I wasn’t too worried that he’d snap my line as long as I played him out. We had a good battle going on with him being able to dart away from me every once in a while as I got him closer. I was almost waiting for the popper to come out but the force and the way he was fighting I figured I had a good hook set so I kept the pressure on like a full court press seeing if he could deal with it. He eventually had no options and I started to bring him in handedly. Near the float tube I lipped him and found he engulfed the popper into his mouth cavity. He must have been pretty hungry and didn’t want his morning meal opportunity to get away. I didn’t have any trouble retrieving my popper. His big open mouth gave me the opportunity to find the hook and extract it with my hemostats. I had my first smallie hooked by 10:00am.

   

 I continued on floating near the banks in the shallower water trying to keep a foot hold on the bottom stones and rocks to slow me down. I’d cast out towards the open water now and then but mostly concentrated along the bank sides where big boulders jutted out from the banks making deeper pools of water.

 I get a kick when a bigger smallmouth takes the popper inconspicuously like a trout taking a helpless grasshopper off the surface knowing it can’t fly away. The water along the bank wasn’t all that deep so when the popper landed I’d give it a good gurgle and then just swim it my way. I was stripping my popper in slowly and letting it drift back with the current now and then and not causing too much surface commotion. I watched as a mouth rose to my popper and nonchalantly inhaled the popper like it was an everyday dying big surface bug. I waited long enough for him to close his mouth and yanked the rod up and back. I felt the rod bow and saw the surface water spiral where the popper once been. The bass took off towards the open water followed by my tight line cutting the water surface. He went downriver in a hurry but my 6 weight was holding him back after a few yards of him trying to escape. I could tell that he wasn’t as big as my last smallie but he had a lot of fight. After getting him near I reached over the float tube to lip him but in his furious attempt to get loose he splashed the surface and got himself free. Oh well, that happens.

 I lit another stogie and continued on my way. I caught a couple small smallies that weren’t worth a picture. I also missed a few.  

 Down river a ways, I made a sidearm cast under pine boughs where it was shady. A lot of times I find the bass hold in the shade along the banks when the sun is up and its rays are shining down upon the river. I straightened out the arc in the line and started to strip it, gurgling, my way. A smallmouth erupted out of the surface water and inhaled my popper. I waited long enough, after he went under, and yanked the rod up and back for a good hook set. The 9 foot rod bowed deep with a tight line straight towards the disturbed water surface. All of a sudden the smallmouth took off towards the open water. The leader cut through the surface so fast I swear I heard the tight line sounding like a straining guy wire attached to a radio tower swaying in a wind storm. I tightened my grip on the cork handle as line sped through the rod eyes. He got into the main body of the current and was swimming downriver, tugging, like a lost wading boot bumping the riverbed as it tumbled downriver. I tensioned my fingers on the fly line trying to slow him down. After putting quite a distance between us he finally turned heading straight down from me. I still wasn’t able to bring in line but at least I got him from taking line out. All of a sudden he leaped up out of the water and into the air shaking his head and body trying to release the popper from his mouth. He dropped into the surface splashing water in all directions. He gave another run out towards the open water with force. I had my wrist locked and my forearm tightened trying to hold him from going any further. I took a chance that my 8lb tapered leader was strong enough, along with my knots, that weren’t going to fail. Slowly I started reeling line in during the battle. He kept on tugging the line as I was binging him near the float tube. Near me I lifted the rod high and he splashed the surface trying to get away from the tube. A couple of attempts and I was able to lip him in his wide open mouth. What a nice smallie. It was if he was dressed in some camo colors that hid him as a predator ready to ambush his next meal. 

 It wasn’t long after that it started to rain. I didn’t mind getting wet but when I heard thunder in the distance it was time to move onward. It’s not easy picking up speed in a float tube even with flippers on. As I continued floating down river I looked along the banks at all the good looking areas smallies would be hanging out. It was like driving slowly down a street looking at all the souvenir shops already closed because of a power outage. With the dark clouds behind me I wasn’t going to chance fishing and getting caught in a down pouring thunder storm. I got to where I intended to disembark before the heavy storm. 

 I was planning on returning soon to cover the areas I missed!

 Back at the camper what better way to wait out the storm than enjoying a self made charcuterie platter with a glass of white wine? 

~doubletaper

Trout For the Taking

                                                              Trout For the Taking

4/30/25 

 As I compose this story this morning I feel the effects of fishing for at least 7 hours yesterday. When I stepped out of bed, for some unknown reason, my left heel was sore to walk on. My right elbow burns now and than either from the ulnar surgery I had back in January that is still healing or the friction of my elbow joint from casting? My backbone is sore even after taking extra strength aspirin before bedtime. My nose is runny from morning allergies that seem to go away after an hour or so. Oh, I won’t even go into my arthritis finger. I’m either too young to feel this old or need to exercise more to keep in better shape?

  I fished a branch of Tionesta Creek yesterday in morning in the ANF and I was having fun with hook ups so it was hard to leave.

  On the way back to the camper in the afternoon Tionesta Creek was desolate. There wasn’t a car or fisher person to be seen. Even the camping spots along the creek were empty. Maybe because it was a warm Wednesday evening or because the creek was still on the high side and kind of opaque. It was only a little after 3:00 by then and too early to call it a day. I parked at one of the empty campsites and decided to give the creek my presence. 

 I assembled my Icon fast action 5 weight with weight forward line. I figured on making long casts as far as I could being I knew I wouldn’t be able to wade out too far. There was a couple of anglers up stream a few days before fishing around a huge branchy fallen tree. I figured I’d start there and fish my way back to the truck.

 I made my way along a narrow path through the forest. I remember I felt like a contestant in an outdoor challenge game show. I had to avoid getting poked in the eyes by small branchy twigs, trying not to trip over well placed limbs along the path and avoiding grass covered pit holes. I had to be careful walking up and down small ravines where water flowed from the nearby mountain side. I’m not sure what 68 is suppose to feel like but after fishing for about 5 hours earlier in the morning and then threading my way through the forest I think I was feeling it!

 I started casting a Woolly Bugger into the wavy current caused by the down tree limbs. A trout grabbed one of the drifts and tussled with the line in the current. I brought a small trout in pretty easily. Not getting any more grabs I slowly waded down creek casting the bugger out and letting it swing as I went.

 One thing I like about using no knot fas-snaps is that I can change streamer colors easily without shortening my tippet. Some people have claimed that the fas-snaps don’t let the buggers or streamers move to entice a strike. Well, I got tons of pictures of trout I catch using the fast-snaps! 

 It was around 3:30 as I recall with plenty of fishing challenging time left. I didn’t feel like I was racing against a game show clock or other contestants. On my way down creek I caught a couple of brown trout. One was a wide brownie that took me for a ride. He hammered the bugger and took it with him as he bolted away. The Icon 9 footer bowed and we played the trout carefully to the net. 

 Not too far down creek a rainbow took the bugger almost at the end of the drift. Upon hooking him he leaped out of the water displaying his athleticism like a high flying acrobatic sketch act on the Ed Sullivan show. He twisted and turned before entering back into the water with a splash. It didn’t take as long bringing him in but he was a fighter. 

 As I continued on I made a long cast towards the opposite bank. A trout grabbed the bugger on the swing. He raced down creek after the take and I wasn’t sure when he was going to stop. He eventually stopped down creek with a couple of hard tugs before heading back upstream. I was holding the rod up, keeping the line tight while bringing in line. He swam towards me, from the far side, and then turned quickly swimming almost directly down creek from me. I had to let some line slip through my fingers being he was pretty forceful. He played around trying to get loose with heavy tugs and pulls swimming in different directions until I got him close enough to net. He didn’t appear to like the idea when he got close enough to see me and tried to swim away. The Icon rod bowed a little deeper but I could tell he was tiring and I wouldn’t give him anymore line. I brought the rod up and he followed to the surface. He squirmed around in the net a bit before he settled down enough for me to get the bugger out of his jaw and for a quick picture before releasing him. 

  He sported some nice ruby gems along his lateral line and a couple just above his  yellowish belly. All his fins were full grown so whether he was stream bred I’m not sure but he’s been in the creek for a good while.

 Just out from where I parked I almost called it quits. I figured I’d make one more cast before wading out. I made another long cast as far as I could towards the opposite bank. My bugger plopped into the water. I was bringing in slack line, from the cast, to straighten the line before it swung down creek. A fish grabbed the bugger as it was still sinking before I was able strip in all the slack. I noticed the tip of my floating fly line slightly dip under the surface. I reared the rod up and  back pulling the slack line to straighten it. The line came up off the water and the rod tip bowed pointing towards the take. I had another trout on a tight line. He jerked the line for a second or two before heading down creek. We had another good battle and I was able to get him to the net also. 

  After him I made a few more casts before wading out.

 It had been a good day of catching and I was ready to relax and eat.

~doubletaper 

 

The Gray Fox

                                                                    The Gray Fox

5/20/25

 From around 10:00am till around 3:00 I missed more trout on dry flies than I could remember. The one’s I did catch should have been embarrassed!

 Even though it was that sulfurs or caddis weren’t coming off till around 10:00 I couldn’t just sit in the camper twiddling my thumbs waiting to leave till then. Besides, the guys in the next site were suited up and leaving to go fish. There were other vehicles passing my camper also on their way to fish. It was only around 8:00 in the morning. The sky was bright and it looked like we were finally going to have a nice day. I couldn’t resist any longer. I got my waders on, packed the truck and left the campground headed down creek to the wider section of Kettle Creek to dry fly fish.

 Where I started I casting out Woolly Buggers figuring I’d pass the time until a hatch started. The water was wavy fast and the trout weren’t biting. Being that no one was around where I was, I decided to just fish my way down creek till I catch a trout or see a rise. Down further I saw my first rise but it was way too far to cast to. The water was too deep to wade out any further. I knotted on a sulfur dry anyhow and continued to wade down creek casting the dry fly.

 I finally saw a rise within distance. I waded out as far as I could, in waist high water, and stood on a flat rock which got me thigh high in the water. I started casting to the one rise I saw. In the next couple of hours more fish rose. Sulfurs, caddis and every once in a while a March Brown would appear and flutter it’s wings to dry them off before taking flight. The trout weren’t rising in a feeding frenzy but only occasionally and rarely at that. I casted out sulfurs, caddis and even a March Brown. I never knew when one would rise to my offering. When they did rise to my dry I missed them. From about 10:00 till about 3:00 I missed so many trout on my dry flies that the ones I did catch should have been embarrassed! 

 I was missing risers whether I drifted my dry down creek, across creek or upstream. It didn’t matter, I just couldn’t hook any. I’d watch the trout turn on my offering and go to grab it, nothing. I watched the trout rise to slurp it in, nothing. I wasn’t sure if I was pulling back too soon. Whatever I was doing wrong I just couldn’t figure it out. I finally got upset around 3 and waded out disappointed and upset.

 Driving up creek every place I thought about fishing there was a vehicle or 2 parked. Even in the Delayed Harvest area vehicles were parked and fly guys were out in the water. I got to the campground and found only 1 SUV parked in the parking space next to the creek. They were getting ready to fish with their conventional rods laying on the roof. I got out and assembled my Powell 4 weight fly rod and headed down the path.

 I stepped down off the bank and into the water. Looking downstream there were already big sulfurs flying around and fish were rising. I got out of the water and up on the bank. I walked a little further down the path and easily stepped into the water nearer where the fish and sulfurs were rising. 

 The water was clear with rolling surface water. Sunlight filtered through the canopy of trees casting shadows upon the surface.

Sulfurs were coming off pretty regularly fluttering like butterflies looking for a place to rest. Trout were rising sporadically all the way down to the shallows downstream. I waded out just ankle deep trying not to stir up the creek bed. I knotted on a #14 Sulfur and picked the closest riser near me. My cast was upstream from the riser and I watched it drift into its feeding zone. He rose and sucked it in. I’m sure he saw me standing just about 14 feet from where he took my fly. It was too late for him to spit it out as I yanked the rod up and set the hook. He dove down and rattled the tight line flexing the fly rod tip. He darted out away towards the far bank but didn’t get very far for I held the line, tensioned, between my fingers. He gave a couple head shakes like a halfback maybe trying to fake me out as to what his next direction was and loosen my tight grip on the line. It didn’t work. He felt like he was a good size trout so I didn’t force him in but let him use up energy scurrying around like a kid at the playground. A nice size brown trout laid in my net with the sulfur stuck to his upper lip. 

 I caught a few more risers with sulfurs before the sulfurs tapered off. 

  Smaller sulfurs started to appear along with the segmented beige flies that appeared the day or two before. I decided to knot on one of my Gray Fox variants to see if I was right about what I figured they were. I casted out the #14 Gray Fox towards the next riser downstream. It took a couple of drifts before he came up and grabbed it. I yanked the rod back and the line tightened once again on a struggling trout. 

 After that I kept casting out my stash of segmented Gray Fox imitations. I was hooking up with just about every rise I saw. It was like feeding pigeons in the city park.

 While I was having fun, hooking up, a couple of fly guys entered the water up creek. They were dry fly fishing also. I was paying more attention to my own casts and dry flies so I really couldn’t say whether they caught anything but I was sure they saw my tight line now and then. 

 Some fish were rising between me and the other fishermen so I slowly waded upstream casting to the risers. The fellow closest to me let me know he was going to wade behind me heading down creek. I let him know there were still fish rising down there. The other guy kept trying to catch a trout on his dry flies but wasn’t very successful. He let me know he was going to go downstream also. He said there was a trout rising just out from a tree branch across the creek. He told me to get it!

 The area we were fishing was narrower than the wide sections way down creek. The problem with reaching the far side of the creek was that there wasn’t much room for a back cast to get momentum for a longer forward cast. Sometimes it was easier to just roll cast a dry fly towards the far side if you could keep the dry fly afloat. The rise under the tree was in slower water than the faster current in front of me. I knew that once my dry landed the trout only had a few seconds to grab it before the faster current drags my line and dry fly down creek. I made a side arm casts leaving a slacken line behind my dry letting the drifting fly drag free. The trout rose and I quickly pulled the rod and line back and set the hook. I kind of laughed and called out to the other guys, “Got’m!” 

I think I caught one more trout mid-stream where the wavy water calmed down before I called it quits. The last 8 trout I caught were on a Gray Fox. Pretty sly of me. 

~doubletaper

 

Testing 1, 2, 3

                                                                 Testing 1,2,3.
                                                                      6/08/25

  For the past week trout have been rising in the water just out from my camper. I’ve fished over them the first day and another day earlier but not within the past 5 days. I mean, why scare the fish? It would get boring fishing over the same fish everyday. It would be like throwing sticks at yard rabbits every day. They’re like pets. After a while they’d find somewhere else to go. The trout rose to March Browns when I did fish for them as well as an Elk Hair Caddis.
 I came back to the camper from the Big Foot Festival Saturday evening and there were fish rising everywhere along the section of Tionesta Creek outside the camper. Mayflies were coming off the water in bunches. I suppose it would be like finding yourself in a blueberry patch while hiking without a basket to put the berries in. You’ll just gorge yourself till you had enough. This is just what the trout appeared to be doing at will.
 I actually took a step in the creek, with slip-on llBean’s, and grabbed a fly near the bank. I was pretty sure it was a Brown Drake. There were smaller mayflies appearing also but one wouldn’t come close enough to be caught. I took the Brown Drake to the camper for a reference when I decide to tie some up, in which I did. 

 Sunday morning, after breakfast, I tied up some March Browns and some Brown Drake imitations. I tied up two different patterns of Brown Drakes.
 Around 10:00 March Browns started to come off the water in spurts. Though the water was stained a light brown, trout had no problem finding the MB’s fluttering or drifting on the surface. I knotted on a March Brown imitation and was hooking up pretty frequently to the risers I was able to reach, even though the water was a bit stained brown.   

 After a nice brown trout grabbed one of my March Brown imitations, like fooling a young bride to be with a Cubic zirconia engagement ring, I wanted to see if a trout would rise to one of my Brown Drake imitations. 

 I was never a believer that trout knew when a hatch quits or they know what time a hatch starts. I figured if trout are used to eating certain mayflies or caddis, if they’re hungry, they are going to eat them no matter what time of day it is. And especially the same flies after an evening hatch the night before. Now if there is a heavy hatch going on then maybe the trout will key on the hatch and not another fly. I mean if there is a special price, at the jewelry store, on a certain pendant I would think most buyers will buy that pendant and not another.
 I knotted on a Brown Drake and casted out to the risers. It took a little convincing but after missing one and hooking one I was convinced the less pickiest trout will take the Brown Drake.

  Now, my Brown Drake pattern doesn’t look anything like my March Brown pattern. My Brown Drake is tied on a #10 3x long hook, brown body and either a deer hair wing or mallard flank feather wing with medium blue dun hackle. My March Browns are more of a beige body on Tionesta on a #12 1x long hook. I tie it with a brown rib, wood duck feather for a wing and, hard to find, barred golden straw hackle. So telling those two apart is very easy. (Unlike the March Browns that come off on Kettle Creek that are a much orangish-beige body.) This is why I tie my own flies instead of buying them on line. The Mayflies on different creeks and rivers will vary by color and size which I feel is important.

 After hooking and teasing the trout within my casting ability I decided to go up creek. There were trout rising pretty often up creek. The sun was overhead by now and I was getting pretty hot from dressing for the early chill. I went back to the camper, undressed some, and walked up the creek to the risers.
 While fishing to the risers with the March Brown and occasionally one of the Brown Drakes I was wondering if a trout would take a caddis. I casted out a deer hair caddis with a dark body but couldn’t get a trout to commit. I knotted on a bigger elk hair caddis and tossed it out. I had been doing well with an elk hair caddis wherever I’d be fishing on Tionesta Creek. I had three risers for the caddis and netted two.   

 Now, that confirmed my thinking. If there isn’t a prolific hatch of one or two kinds of Mayflies, or caddis, trout will take something they have eaten recently in the past couple of days. 
 I found out that even the small sippers aren’t always smaller trout. Also some of the bigger trout I caught were mid-creek and not hugging the far bank which is usually the case when the creek water is very low.
 All of a sudden a trout slapped the surface twice not too far upstream from me. It was if he missed an emerger first and then got it the second time,,, maybe? I already had a March Brown knotted on and made a cast upstream quite a bit in front of his feeding zone. I was pulling in slack line as my offering came towards us. I saw the trout rise and sip it off the surface. I reared back the 9 foot rod and pulled in line to set the hook. The line tightened and he dove deep. He took off in a hurry as if he had just stolen a priceless neckless off the jewelry counter. The rod bowed in his favor and line stripped off the reel as the spool spun. I knew I had something special that I hooked in the middle of the creek. We had a good go around before I convinced him to settle down and come to me. A beauty of a butter belly brown laid in my net with the March Brown I offered him just on the tip of his upper jaw. Fighting with him much longer may have gotten the hook released? 

 There’s nothing I enjoy more dry fly fishing than making a long cast to an unexpecting trout. One had been feeding close to the far bank just out from a low hanging tree limb. I waded a little further out for more room for my backcasting. I made a looping single haul cast towards the far bank. The fly line unrolled in the air followed by my March Brown. My cast was a little short of the slower water he was feeding in but I let it drift over the wavier water near him. He rose and grabbed it on the wavier water. I chuckled as I reared back the long length of line forcefully to get the long length of slack off the water. The line tightened and I’m sure the trout, on the other end, was surprised. We had a good tussle and when I finally netted him I found my dry was just inside his mouth. He was pretty sure it was the real thing. I had to hold him delicately upside down to reach in to get the hook out. It wasn’t as bad as I would of expected and came out easily. I released another nice brown trout unharmed. 

  The one trout I was after, down creek a ways, wasn’t cooperating until I skated a caddis across the surface and ‘Gotcha”.   

 I caught more trout on this outing on March Brown dries tied Catskills style. I didn’t have any trout take my para-post March Brown which I was surprised. Maybe because the water was calm with gentler flowing surface current. I usually do better on the para-post on riffling or wavy current where the trout have less time to inspect it.   

 When it started to rain, more than a sprinkle, I waded out and headed to the camper. Tomorrow was another day and I didn’t think the trout were going anywhere! 

~doubletaper.