Spring Creek Carnival

 

Spring Creek Carnival

6/11/2021

  Being that the Clarion River, where I was camped, was a chocolate mess in the morning I was still determined to go fishing. I ate a quick oatmeal breakfast and filled my travel mug with coffee. My intentions were to hit Black Moshannon Creek Delayed Harvest waters. When I got service on my phone I checked to see what the difference was to Spring Creek in Central PA. There was only a minute difference in time of arrival. As much as I love small cricks, Spring Creek was a no brainer. Both have wild trout but I was in for more open waters.

  On the drive east I was driving through a rain shower that I had thoughts of turning around. The sky Eastward looked cloudy but brighter so I just kept on going.

  I pulled in the parking area around 8am. There was a light misty rain and the sky was stone gray above. The water wasn’t chocolaty at all. Maybe a little on the high side but looked very fishable. I was ready to try and fool some wild trout! I knew that trying to hook and net these picky wild trout would test my skill level like skittle ball under the arcade tent.

  Because of the misty rain I took out my ole’ SAS Scott rod. I use it whenever there is inclement weather trout fishing. Not that I’m afraid to use my other rods, it’s just what I do. I took a couple of cigars, put on my vest and put on a light rain jacket and headed to the water.

  The greenery was thick along the path as I made my way upstream along the crick. I went cautiously not wanting to get the 8 1/2’ rod tangled up or rip my waders on some unseen sticks or jaggers. I took my time like walking through the corridors of an amusement park fun house not knowing what’s around the next corner.

  Of course I started with a couple of Woolly Buggers and within an hour caught a colorful fat rainbow. 

 

  I saw one caddis flutter across the crick so, since I wasn’t too productive underneath, decided to dry fly fish even though I didn’t see any trout rising.

  My one cast was on the far side of a wavy riffle. When my caddis imitation drifted in the open dead zone, left by an exposed boulder which caused the riffle, a trout took it as if he’s been waiting for breakfast to show up anytime. I snapped my wrist back and played another colorful rainbow to the net.

 In the next hour or so I tried top wtaer, nymphs, streamers and even wet flies as if I was trying every carnival booth playing to win a prize. I caught one small brown on an emerger pattern and another nice brown trout that gave me a battle of wits in the strong current.

 

 By now the rain stopped and the sun began to appear between the cotton clouds on rare unexpected occasions like a balloon clown to cheer up an unhappy child. It brightened up the sour day for a time being. With the sun out a few more caddis started to show up and fluttered about like loose strands of cotton candy in a slight breeze. I hadn’t caught anything in some time before I spotted my first rise.

  Across crick I saw a tail of a brown trout cut through the surface in the shallow water. It wasn’t much later, not that far away, another trout rose at the end of a small wavy current. As I was tying on a caddis I glanced up and noticed another rise a little further behind the first. I wasn’t sure if there were three, two or maybe only one trout moving around like someone at the cookie tables in the bakery tent, but I was determined to get me one.

  I couldn’t see anything on the surface so I figured they were sipping small midges. I didn’t have anything that small with me except a #18 caddis. For the next half hour or so I tried to get them to rise to my offerings but they wanted nothing I had to offer. They would take something off the surface right next to my dry at times but ignored my dry like a partially eaten cookie on a cookie tray. As they kept rising to whatever, kind of got me frustrated. I waded out of the water and went back to my truck like a sore loser that lost money and got a sore arm trying to tip over three clowns in a row at the ball toss booth. I did have one more hope I was relying on. At the truck I grabbed my midge box and a small box of small Adams.

  In the same section of water I was before I knotted on a section of 6x tippet and to that a #20 parachute Adams. There wasn’t any trout rising but I was going to see if I could make one rise anyhow.

  In the same feeding area I threw out #20 and #18 Adams. I tried #20-#18 BWO’s and one might have been a #22 midge of some kind. Not one trout rose and it was if I was wasting my time trying to get one out of 12 rings around the neck of a bottle to win a knife.

  It was past 2:00 and I was planning on leaving around 3:00. I gave up and knotted on a couple of nymphs and decided to work my way downstream. When I got straight across from the third riser earlier he rose again to something. I figured I’d give it one more shot. Maybe he saw me wade down a bit and wanted to tease me one last time before I left again in frustration.

  I knotted on a #18 tan caddis and checked behind me for any hanging branches not to get caught on my back cast. I took out line and figured I’d drop the caddis right on top of his head. My caddis fell maybe 6” shy of where I saw him rise last. The caddis didn’t drift more than 12” when I saw a trout quickly following my offering downstream. When he grabbed it I was ready to set the hook. The teasing was over. He was fighting a tight 5 weight DT line, a 5 weight 8 ½ foot SAS fly rod and me! He fought in the current swimming every which way but loose. Trying to bring him towards me, in the strong current, was like trying to hold onto a bunch of helium balloons with one hand while walking against gusts of wind. I was happy enough hooking him even if he would have gotten off but I netted him safely.

  

 His dark black spots shown like glossy onyx stone against his brownish body. His belly was a pecan shell shade. A perfect specimen, in my opinion, of a stream bred brown trout. Whether he was stream bred I’m not sure but he didn’t turn that wild looking just over a few years.

  After letting him go I waded and fished downstream as happy as winning a big stuffed animal at the milk can tossing game at the county fair and smoking a fat stogie! 

~doubletaper