The Struggle

                                                                            The Struggle

6/29/26

Being the temperatures have been in the 80’s with high humidity I stay away from fishing for trout in creeks. I mostly turn my fly fishing to river smallmouth and hoping to make them rise to one of my poppers. Recently the smallmouth haven’t been too cooperative coming up for a popper so, knowing they’ll take a Woolly Bugger, I offered them one. 

 

 The river was low enough I was able to wade almost half the river width. I wasn’t able to reach the far side, along the boulders, with my casts but I caught a few river fish anyway. I started fishing the faster water before I got to the slower current down stream. The sun was high but the warmth it brought felt like it was only tree height. The water was bearable, with the recent warm temperatures, but with the many springs and mountain creeks that empty into the river there are cooler waters that trout hang out in. 

 In the faster riffling current I was casting out Woolly Buggers and hooked into a few rascally trout. One being a yellow belly brown trout the looked like a local residence for some years. They put up a good battle and after letting them go they swam away fine.  

 

 

 Down in the tail out of the wavy current I was surprised I didn’t catch a smallmouth in the deeper water. I continued on wading down river. I was mostly casting poppers hoping for a gulping smallie for my poppers but none seemed interested. Maybe over the weekend there were so many watercraft’s, fisher people, and float tubers that the smallmouth were still scared to feed on top or moved to the far side of the river I couldn’t get to? I was biding my time puffing on a cigar and casting poppers without any strikes that I finally decided to attach a Woolly Bugger again. It seems like the smallmouth in the river like brown buggers more than olive buggers more often. The trout on the other hand seem to prefer olive but I’ve caught both, trout and smallies, on both shades..

 I attached one of my brown buggers and was casting it out as far as I could comfortably. As it drifted down stream I felt a grab and hoisted the rod tip up and the line came off the water and tightened. The fish put up a good battle and I was surprised It was a rainbow trout this far down from the cooler waters that was up stream. Heck, maybe he was visiting or was just swimming around away from the faster current? Anyhow, he put up a good battle and even took air like a high jumper  flexing his body over the high bar! I flipped the net over and he swam away without looking stressed. 

 I slowly waded and stopped now and then casting the bugger out across stream. I made a cast directly across stream and watched the bugger plop into the water like an acorn falling into a pond. My fly line laid on the water and slowly arced downstream on the surface. I saw the line pull away without feeling the take. I quickly yanked the rod high, getting the arced fly line off the surface, and the line tightened near where my bugger dropped. I felt the rod sections bow deep near the butt section and felt the tug and pull of the fish heading downstream. There was no stopping him as line slipped through my fingers and then i felt the reel spinning line out of the spool. I knew I had something big on the other end! I’m not sure where he was heading to but he was hauling ass like a 100 meter sprinter.

 I lost a trout earlier trying to horse him to the net. He got unhooked near the net. I wasn’t going to try to horse this big ogre in. The 6 weight bowed like my 8 weight bowing with a furious steelhead on the line. I had 8lb tapered leader on and was pretty sure that was enough to hold him from breaking the leader. I wasn’t sure how far down river he was going but I had plenty of backing and I was pretty sure he wouldn’t take it that far. There were no obvious obstacles I was able to see for the line to get caught on so I wasn’t too worried about that kind of danger. As I felt him slowing on his swimming journey I moved the bowed rod to my right putting some side pressure on him. He appeared to turn towards my side of the river but kept his distance. Slowly I started to bring in line as I brought the rod to my left facing across the river. He slowly followed with jerking tugs. He stayed deep so I figured it was a big smallmouth but had a thought it could be a big brown. 

 It took some struggling and I had him across from me in the distance. He turned, swam away, and again I couldn’t hold him back. The rod bowed deep again and my forearm was feeling the pressure. I was about to put the rod butt in my gut when he quickly turned and swam away with a weighty pull. I held on and had to let line slip through my fingers again. 

 Times like these I feel like enough is enough and start to bring the fish towards me putting a lot of stress on the rod and line. I’m going to let the fish go anyway but I sure wanted to see him in the net. Well, he decided to show me what he was when he broke the surface and shot up in the air like a hurdler. He was shaking his head and his fat body. He wasn’t as graceful as the trout or didn’t clear the water like the trout but he made a showing of his size!! That kinda got me excited seeing this fat smallmouth! After he plopped back into the water, within a second or two later he broke the surface with only his face to his gills visible. His body quivered violently and the water around him splashed everywhere. The line shook and the fly rod vibrated within my gripping hands. He disappeared beneath and started to swim up river. I started to bring in line as fast as I could, holding the bent rod high trying to keep a straight tight line. He was swimming slower but his weight and strength kept me from getting him towards me quickly. We struggled, or I struggled, with him for a few more minutes before I felt I was finally getting him tamed. 

 Bringing him up to the net I saw my bugger hooked tightly into his lower jaw. As he rose he must of felt defeated or just finally gave up and let me scoop him up. He was heavy and I was glad I had my net instead of my tailing glove. I was able to unhook him with a tug with my hemostats. He didn’t even flinch! I got a couple of pics and let him swim away out of my grasp. He was a beauty. 

 I fished a little longer under the hot sunshine and caught one more smaller smallie on the bugger. 

 I have to admit, besides the big smallie making my day, I was tired. Wading the current, struggling with caught fish under the hot sunshine wore me out. 

 Where I was the bank was kind of steep and brush and weeds covered the bank and forest to the road. I wasn’t about to try and make my way through the tangles and slowly waded the river water, along the bank and pebbles, upriver to more promising conditions to get me safely to the road.

 It was a struggling day on the river but I survived happily. 

~doubletaper

They Like’m Wet

                                                                       They Like’m Wet

6/11/26 

 One section of water I always try to fish on Tionesta Creek is usually fished pretty much. Usually there’s campers along the section or a vehicle parked at the site. This morning, as I drove by, there wasn’t a vehicle at the site. I pulled the truck down the lane and got my gear on. My Douglas 9’ 4 weight fly rod was already strung up on the front passenger side. I added some fresh 5x tippet and knotted on an elk hair caddis. I put my gear on and grabbed a few cigars. The morning was already warm out but the sun wasn’t completely over the far hillside or tree line. 

 Branches of green leafy trees lined the creek as far as the eye could see. Half the creek was dark from the shadows of the tree line on the opposite bank keeping the sun from filtering through. The water was clear but the brown stoney creek bed made the water color look like watered down coffee. I stepped into the cool creek water and slowly started wading to the middle of the creek looking for any risers. 

 One fish was rising out so I waded closer within casting distance. He wasn’t interested in the deer hair caddis I offered him. I switched caddis and a tan elk hair caddis got his attention with a swirl but he didn’t take it. There were a couple other risers in the shade of the creek. Though the risers all looked like they were rising for some kind of emerger by the way they splashed the water surface, I stuck with the dry caddis. I was casting upstream from the few risers I saw and letting the caddis drift into their zone but they wouldn’t grab it. There were bubbles and small debris drifting on the surface so I thought maybe the trout weren’t seeing my dry among the floating surface debris. I made a cast that landed the dry right on the spot I saw a rise. As soon as the caddis hit the water a trout rose and grabbed it. I was ready, for many times I had trout not take a drifting dry until I put it right on their head. I reared back the rod and my first trout was fighting against the tight line. 

 I continued to cast the caddis to the other occasional risers but they didn’t appear to be interested. The sun was still rising and I knew in time the shady section of water would soon be in direct sunlight and bringing down the heat. Being that I figured the trout were eating emergers or having breakfast underneath I decided to knot on a couple of soft hackle wet flies. That seemed to be what they were after.

 If I saw a rise in an area I would cast the wet flies upstream from them and let the wet flies drift within their sight. Many times I got a take. The fly line would shoot towards the take and I’d rear back the rod and the line would tighten. The trout would fight in anger as if they were upset they’ve been fooled.  

 If the trout grabbed the wet flies near the end of the swing it was usually a hard take like when they take a swinging bugger. Once caught they fought with head shakes and tugging the line like pulling the ropes ringing the big bell in the church steeple. Some of the rainbows would rise and clear the surface with aerial acrobatics. 

 The brown trout stayed low nearer the creek bed when they fought. There were many stream bed big rocks laying on the bottom so I had to always keep the rod line up from getting caught or rub against the rock edges. 

 It was a race against time before the sun would clear the trees and bear down on the water. I was the first to feel the sun rays being in the middle of the creek. It wasn’t long that I felt sweat on my brow. Slowly the shadows of the trees upon the water surface were disappearing. I continued to make long cast in the shaded areas of the water. Every once in a while I’d get a take on a wet fly. Most of the time it was my soft hackle pheasant tail. 

 Other times it was a Hen back and yellow floss body that I use to imitate a sulfur or PMD. The rainbows like the Hen back and Yellow. 

 It wasn’t long the whole creek was under the sunshine. The surface water glimmered like a fresh coat of satin sheen varnish under the sun rays. The trout quit biting in the area I was in so I decided to head down creek casting the wet flies.  

 I spent another 1/2 hour or so slowly wading and casting out but couldn’t get a bite. The humidity was heavy despite being in the cooler creek water. I turned to the bank and waded out to the truck.

 I never was one who liked to nymph fish. I would hang up a lot and lose my offerings on the stream bed too often. Now that I feel confident in wet fly fishing I’ll most likely stick with it more often than nymph fishing. I’ll still carry the basic nymphs but not as many different patterns. 

 When I started to fly fish I was more interested in dry fly fishing. Watching a trout rise and take one of my surface imitations is the royal experience. Knowing that I needed to know all aspects of fly fishing I continued to learn different technique's of fishing streamers, nymphs and wet flies. With advice from Phil Valdacchino, of Kettle Creek Tackle Shop, I gained confidence in wet fly fishing and feeling that I’m fishing them correctly. Lately I’ve been doing quite well catching trout on the wet flies when the fish aren’t taking surface mayflies or any of my streamer patterns. 

~doubletaper 

Fighting Mad

                                                                             Fighting Mad

6/10/26 

 Sometimes I come across a congregation of trout in far off places in rivers and bigger creeks. Places where it’s not easy to get to except long walks to such places or wading across the stream. I’m not saying that others haven’t been there before it’s just not easily accessible. These are usually on the opposite side of the stream that can only be accessible when the water is low or by a watercraft such as canoe or kayak. I’m sure there’s no secrete spots that fishermen haven’t fished or most of the trout haven’t been caught, I’m just commenting that there are areas that aren’t fished very often.

 The sun was high and the temperature was in the upper 70’s I presume. Nothing was happening on top of the water. The water surface was almost as smooth as a mirror without any shadows and flowing slowly out from the camper. There hasn’t been any rain to speak of and many places the water was so shallow that I could wade across if I wanted to. The trout wouldn’t take a bugger or even wet flies. Maybe they remembered me from last week when I gave quite a few sore lips and they knew my imitation's? Even the trout along the far bank weren’t interested. Down creek a ways there was riffling wavy water that I figured haven’t been fished for some time being it wasn’t close to the road. If people did enter from the road they would have had to make their way through the forest of high weeds, hidden objects, downed tree trunks and limbs etc. If they wanted easier access, they would have to walk through my campsite and either wade down creek or follow the overgrown path of uneasiness. No one has been around for that lately. I waded down creek puffing on my cigar kind of anxious to give the riffling water a try. I figured it was well oxygenated and cooler water for the fish. The far bank looked deeper, maybe knee deep, so that’s where I was headed for. 

 I had a Woolly Bugger on the line and was going to see if any trout inhabited the area. My first two trout were doozies! They grabbed the bugger hard as if it was their first big meal in days and they weren’t going to let any other trout eat it before them. It was tough bringing them up against the current. When I was able to get them across from me it was as if they had another gear and turned down creek with a burst of speed. After netting the first two I couldn’t get another bite in the area.   

 Either the others were wary of my presence, seeing how the caught fish scurried around in panic, or the others vacated the area because of all the commotion?

 I continued wading the shallow riffles, casting the bugger and letting it skirt the area. Most of the time it would get hung up on the rocks and I’d have to go fetch it. Seeing down creek, from about half the distance of the creek to the far bank looked deeper than what I was wading in. I start casting towards the far side and let the bugger swing down creek into, what looked like, knee deep water or so. I wouldn’t say I found the honey hole, but I did find hungry trout that my bugger was too tempting to pass up. The first two fish I caught were small smallmouth. Maybe they were nearer to the bugger when it dropped into the water. After those two it was time for the big trout to feed. They must have scared the smallmouth away cause after the first two I never caught another smallmouth.

 Each trout I caught hit the bugger with a convincing tug. Once hooked they scurried the area down creek to the fact that I wouldn’t dare try to horse them towards me with the 4 weight Douglas rod and 5x tippet. They were strong fighters and worked the oncoming current to their advantage. Some of the rainbows would have enough energy to skyrocket out of the water shaking the line before reentry. When I did get them up across from me, they too had a burst of energy, turning and bolting down creek like a fired torpedo and I had to let line slip through my fingers. Eventually I got most of them to the net, but it was a struggle.  

 For about an hour and a half I was hooking up with some energetic good size trout.  

 By around 11:00 I had enough of the hot weather and the bite slowed down anyway. I wasn’t too crazy about fishing any further down creek. Beyond the fast water it opened up to a wide section of flat water with little current flow. I wasn’t sure how deep it was, but I figured if there were trout in there, they weren’t going to be too active. 

 I turned and waded to the bank. Seeing the hazard conditions on the forest floor and hillside to the road I decided to just wade the bank up to easier access to the road. By the time I got to the camper I was hot, sweating and thirsting for a cold drink. It was 80+ degrees on the thermometer I hang on the outside wall off the camper under the awning away from direct sunlight. 

 It was lunch time and a cold brew. 

~doubletaper

Bronze Back

                                                                              Bronze Back

6/03/26 

  I waded out about half the distance of the river. I made a long cast across stream. The fly line looped the Woolly Bugger forward and it plopped in the water beyond without much slack line. I watched the floating fly line as it floated briefly. I saw the fly line dip beneath the surface and felt a bump. I raised the rod and yanked back the line. The line straightened, the rod bowed deep and the line took off down river with fish attached. It was obvious I had a weighty heavy fish. The fish continued to swim down river pulling line through the eyes as if dropping an roped anchor over the side of a drift boat not knowing the depth. He just kept swimming down river.

 I remember when I got my MoJo bass rod and called St. Croix and asked the representative what kind of reel and line should I get. He told me I wouldn’t need a reel that held a lot of backing because bass don’t run very far. Well, I had a feeling I had a smallmouth but he was running like an escaped prisoner with bloodhounds tracking him.      

 I pinched the fly line some to slow him down. He turned and strained to take more line. The 5 weight G2 Scott rod was arced more than I would have liked but I had to slow the fish down. He tugged and slowly swam back upriver a little further out than the path he used to swim downriver keeping his distance as if trying to fool the bloodhounds.

 Normally when I’m fishing for smallies in the river I use a 6 weight but lately I’ve been keying on trout with dry flies, wet flies and buggers. I wasn’t expecting to hook into a challenging big smallmouth.

 He was pretty much across from me with long hard tugs between pauses. I had the rod up and switched hands pinching the line against the cork grip with my left hand. I started reeling in the slack line laying on the water around me while the fish tugged. Once I got the slack line on the spool I was ready for a fight. I moved the rod back putting more side pressure on him. He turned all right and 180’d back down river. I couldn’t hold him from leaving and line shot through the rod guide again and through the eyes of the arcing fly rod. The G2, being more of a medium action rod, doesn’t have the backbone of a fast action rod. When I felt the rod wanting to pull my wrist down I knew the rod was straining so I had to let the fish take line. Downriver he was feeling the resistance though. He turned and started to swim in a side to side motion. I slowly started to wind in the tightened line as the arced rod flexed with the defiant fish swimming and tugging as I was getting him towards me from downriver. He was swimming upstream with the tensioned line and arcing rod but still keeping his distance. He held steady across from me and I brought the rod downstream and trying to get him to swim closer to me. It was if I was pulling a heavy twisted limb through the current. In the process he turned and started swimming downriver again. This time the pressure of the bowed rod was to much for him to swim too far. We battled back and forth with me shortening the line between us. Finally I got him within sight and slowly maneuvered him to the net. Wow, I would say he’s one of the top 5 biggest smallies I’ve ever caught in the river. A great looking bronze-back. 

 I continued fishing. There were only a few risers within distance. I tried for them with dry flies but they wouldn’t bite. I decided to knot on a pair of wet flies and cast them out. I ended up catching two brown trout and one rainbow on the wet flies. Switching over to a Woolly Bugger I caught one more smallie.    

  The sun was high above but it felt like it was not much higher than an umbrella the way the heat felt on my body. Around 4:00 I called it quits and headed to the truck and back to the camper. 

 An ice cooler full of beer sounded great to cool off!

~doubletaper

Dries and Wets

                                                                           Dries and Wets

6/02/26

The rainbows were pissed when I hooked them on a wet fly. It’s not that the brown trout weren’t upset when I fooled them on a dry fly, but the rainbows fought wildly! It was as if they felt safe from fishermen while feeding on emerging mayflies and drowned bugs drifting with the current without being suspicious. When I hooked them, they shook the line hard, tugged, pulled and were still squirming in the net. It was if they were like a professional burglar that never got caught a second time. When they did get caught red handed, they tried to get away from the tight handcuffs of the police tugging and trying to pull away. 

  The weather recently has been warm and no rain. That sounds like terrific conditions, but the wind has been relentless. With a fly rod it wasn’t pleasant. Tuesday the weather conditions were showing no wind burst and only a slight breeze throughout the day. I assembled my Scott G2 9-foot fly rod and was hoping to hook some trout on dry flies. I took the 1/2-hour drive or so and knew right where I felt I could raise some trout in Tionesta Creek. 

 The morning was slow going casting Woolly Buggers. A couple of risers I did come across wouldn’t take my caddis. I had a looker at my foam beetle but turned away. I started wading down creek slowly casting a Woolly Bugger. I was actually thinking of going somewhere else on the Tionesta but slowly kept wading and casting the bugger. Around 10:00 the water came alive with mayflies and trout started to rise. There were a few March Browns, at first, and a few small sulfurs. Also, there were a few big brown looking drakes and decent size yellowish mayflies fluttering off the water. The sun was shining down with only the far bank shaded in areas where leafy branched tree limbs over hung. The water was flowing calm. Occasional a breeze would blow across the surface and ripple the water. The big Mayflies busted out of the surface water as if they were free from a sheltered life. Only occasionally would I see a swirl on the water surface but no audio splashes that the trout may have been picking off the Mayflies just below the surface before they rose to freedom. 

 First, I tried a caddis, but the trout showed no interest. I switched to one of my brown and slate drake patterns about the size I saw of the natural Mayflies. I was making long casts and though the water was clear as glass I couldn’t tell if any trout were checking my imitation in the distance. Anyhow, I didn’t have any convincing takers. As I saw more March Browns emerging and on the surface water, I knotted on one of my trusty March Brown Para-dun patterns. If I saw a rise, I was after it like a mushroom hunter seeing Morels in the forest before another hunter spotted them. More times than not I got a hook set as soon as they took it under.  

 I’d blind cast when I didn’t see a rise within distance, but I still had trout rising out of nowhere. They all fought like heavy weights in a wrestling match. With the sun above I would have thought they would be hugging the far bank where there was some shade but no. They were rising from the far bank to mid-creek. It was either they were out in the creek where they knew the hatches were happening or they were out sunbathing taking in the warmness of the sun in the cold creek water. Whichever, some of the water they seem to be holding in wasn’t any more than knee deep.

 

I would say till 1:30 I was having a good time hooking trout on my March Brown patterns. Some of the trout would sip it off the surface like they were being spoon fed. Others would rise with a splash taking my March Brown as if they were afraid, it was ready to take flight. They all fought like there was a boundary in the water that they didn’t want to cross. Anytime I got them to a certain distance from me they tugged harder and pulled away. They had lots of lasting energy and when netted I could tell they’ve been eating well.   

  

 What became funny is when the trout seemed to not rise to my dry. Maybe they saw something not looking right or they were line shy of my 4x tippet. When a breeze blew and riffled the water like a narrow washboard the trout would rise to my dry. Maybe they couldn’t see my tippet, or it was the extra motion of my dry fly bobbing on the riffling surface made my dry look more natural as if flapping its wings?   

 I would say after 1:30 I couldn’t get any rises to my dry flies. There were still risers on occasion, but they didn’t look as if they were slurping the surface. There wasn’t any Mayflies or caddis of any amount that I was able to see. I nipped off the dry fly and knotted on a March Brown emerger dropping a soft hackle wet fly below. My first cast out a trout grabbed it like one would grab my bugger sweeping in faster water. I reared back, felt the bite, the line tightened briefly and went limp. I think when I hook a trout with a wet fly I don’t pull the line back hard enough to set the hook in its mouth. They hit the wet fly usually hard enough I figure they set the hook themself, but I need to remember to yank back to make sure it penetrates. 

 I continued to cast the wet fly combination near and far. The trout, that didn’t get hooked on the surface with my March Brown dry, were hungry enough to take my combo. Sometimes they took, one or the other, with a convincing tug. Other times I had to watch my floating fly line to detect a take. The slightest pull on my line outward I knew something grabbed my offerings.   

 The rainbows were excessively aggressive as if they never got caught before or were extremely upset that they were hooked by something they never thought was attached to a line. The browns fought tough enough below, but the rainbows were furious. After the hook up some would skyrocket out of the water shaking their head trying to dislodge the hook. Some of the rainbows tugged and pulled so hard I swear if I didn’t keep a tight enough grip on the cork handle, they would have pulled the rod right out of my hand. Near me, some would circle around me like a revolving tether ball on a pole. They tried everything in their power to get free, but I would say 95% of them ended up in my net. I was having a grand field day catching trout before I called it quits.   

 The sun was getting hotter and the feeding just about stopped like everyone went back to work after lunch time. I saw a few risers pretty far down creek a ways but wasn’t willing to chase after them. I was well satisfied with my field trip and headed back up to my truck. 

 I caught so many trout, sometimes I felt like I was cheating as if I soaked my wet flies in some kind of liquid trout scent that they couldn’t resist. But no, it was that I just picked the right Mayfly imitation and convincing looking wet flies that were buggy enough that the trout thought was edible and not attached to anything!! 

~doubletaper