Birthday Trout 2023

 

Birthday Trout 2023

4/20/2023

 

 She came a day early but I ain’t complaining!

 There’s a section of water, along Tionesta Creek, that I’ve been wanting to explore. I knew it would be a long walk down hill upon a trail leading to level ground. The trail actually heads upstream to the level but I’ll have to follow the creek downstream to get to where I actually think would be better fishing. I was busy trying to find trout in a smaller creek in the morning so I didn’t get to this section of water till afternoon. I parked aside the road and made sure my water bottle was filled and had a couple granola bars along with a couple of cigars. The sun was hot and shining down avoiding the moving puffy clouds above most of the time.

  As I got to the creek I stepped off the bank into the knee deep wavy water and looked down the wide section of water. The prime spot I wanted to get to was a ways downstream. The rocks and stones, beneath my boots, weren’t all that stable so I couldn’t hurry. As I waded down creek I cast my Woolly Bugger here and there in the knee deep water heading to the shallow riffles. A hatch of Grannoms and black caddis started to appear as I went. I’m sure there were a few stoneflies this time of day but I wasn’t concerned about the hatch until I saw rising trout. By the time I got to the prime spot I wanted to fish I hadn’t caught anything but I was ready for some action.

  For the past week I’ve been using my fast action 9’ 5 weight, except for the small creek brook trout fishing, in the Tionesta. It’s not that the 5 weight is all that heavy but casting it all day every day takes it’s toll on the muscles of my casting arm and shoulder. I decided to use my 9’ 4 weight custom rod for the days adventure. It’s a fast action rod also and cuts through the wind pretty well.

  The main shallow riffling current flows towards the far side of the creek along the steep bank. There’s boulders and big rocks here and there lining the bank and it looks a lot deeper. On my side of the creek it got knee to thigh high deep just a few feet from the bank. In between it was anywhere from waist to chest high and maybe even deeper further to the far bank. I wasn’t going to chance wading out too far. The sun was shining down putting a reflecting sparkle on the wavy water like flashes of disco lighting on a dance floor. A heavy gust of wind would blow by now and then so I always had to be aware when casting out.

  I was casting the Woolly Bugger near the darker water across creek and letting it swing down creek in the lighter shaded water. A trout grabbed it, on the swing, with a good tug. I reared back the rod and my first fish was fighting the line in the oncoming current. I didn’t have too much trouble getting him in the net.

 

 Well, that deserved an afternoon cigar. I reached into my shirt pocket and pulled out an Oliva Robusto and lit it up.

 

  I continued to cast out towards the deeper water as I slowly moved down a step or two after each couple of casts. I’d get a bump and maybe a hook up now and then. Since the water was deep enough on my side of the creek I’d make a long cast down creek and strip in the bugger real slow. I wasn’t hooking up continuously but enough bumps and hook ups to keep me entertained while I smoked the stogie.

 

  I made a cast mid-creek with slack in the line to let my bugger drop deep before swinging. Being the water was waist high deep, about 12 feet from the bank where I was standing, I let the bugger swing all the way straight down from me. I felt a slight nudge of a tug and my line quit swinging. I reared back the rod and…

  When I set the hook it was if I puncture and ripped a hole in an overinflated pool raft. The fly line flew out of the water and took off down and across stream with propelling force. I gripped the fancy custom cork grip so tight I was hoping I didn’t leave finger indentations in it. I had the drag set a little on the lighter side which I’m glad I did.

  I wasn’t sure how far this fish was taking me but I had at least 100 yards of backing as fly line shot through the rod eyes from the spinning spool. When the trout slowed down, mid stream and down quite a ways, I clicked the drag a notch or two tighter holding the rod with one hand with the butt section against my chest waders. The 4 weight rod arced towards the, now hard tugging trout, down creek. She tugged her way into the deeper water across creek with a couple of head shakes. I turned the rod straight down creek and she swam her way back into the waist to thigh high water. There she struggled with the line causing water turbulence on the surface with her underwater yanks and antics. She headed up creek just below the surface so I got to bring in some line. When she passed me I saw this girthy oblong shape below the surface water. The sun shown down on it like the spot light on the main character on stage in a theatrical play. I moved the rod closer to the water surface not wanting her to break the surface. She turned and swam down creek with the current.

  I was pretty sure I wouldn’t be able to get her long body in my net so I had to make a plan while playing this rainbow. I didn’t want a bunch of fly line loose in the water so I reeled in line every chance I got. My first concern was to get her out of the faster current. I moved the rod to put side pressure on her while backing up towards the bank. She moved a few feet towards me but still out a ways. For now I figured I had a good tight hook set from keeping the trout on thus far but one never knows? For the next minute or so it was like trying to bring in an old X-large rubber hip boot in the fluctuating under current. I didn’t want to give her anymore line so when she swam down creek I waded down creek with her. The pressure of the arcing rod and line tension got her into the slower water on my side of the creek but still thigh high water. I had her 12 to 15 feet of me a couple of times but couldn’t get her within net range. When she swam down creek I tried to get her onto the shallow stony creek bed but she didn’t want any part of that and with a swat of her tail propelled herself away causing the rod to arc more and I’d have to let tensioned line slip through my pinching fingers.

  It was a struggle trying to figure out how to ‘get her’.

  Once, close by, I had the net coming up behind her. I knew this was kind of foolish because I needed to get her heavier upper body into the net first but I was willing to give it a try since she was so close. I had her drifting backwards with her tail almost in the net ready to scoop her up when she swatted and swam forward. Instead of heading midstream she turned between me and the bank. (Since she wouldn’t get near the stony shallows I was standing in thigh high water.) I spun with her trying to keep her from tangling any line around me. I spun 180° as she swam upstream in the slow moving current. I held the rod high, without giving her any line, until she turned and swam down creek again. She was tiring after the long battle and didn’t have the strength any more to forcefully shoot away. I knew I had to get her head and upper body into the net as much as I could.

  There I was like I was on the deck side of a waist high round backyard pool hooked to a big fish swimming around in it. She stopped and was holding just above the creek bed like a heel hound laying at my feet. The 4 weight wasn’t strong enough to force her to rise so I could net her. She was being stubborn! Holding the rod high she finally started to drift with the current just down from me. I moved the rod between me and the bank making her swim into the current. She slowly swam, following the rod, like a pedigree in the National Dog Show following it’s handlers lead. I had the net behind her and when I moved the rod towards the water surface put slack in the line. She turned down creek and I got her head and upper body into the net before she could swim around it. I quickly put the rod under my arm pit and grabbed the upper part of the net lifting her out of the water. It was like trying to balance a 15lb turkey in one of those grocery hand baskets to the register line as I was carrying her to the shore. I got her on the grass and had to get her out of the net so I could see her head to get the hook out of her mouth. She laid there without moving. I opened her mouth and unhooked the bugger that was secured in the roof of her mouth. She didn’t move a muscle like her mouth had no feeling from a Novocaine shot. 

 

 

  I tried to revive her a couple of times holding her into the current. I held her by the neck of her tail waiting for her to swat her tail and swim free. I let her go but she just fell to the bottom helplessly. I tried a second time but her gills were barely moving. I didn’t want to take her out into deeper water because if she fell to the bottom, with the current, I might not be able to retrieve her. I reached back in my vest and actually had a yellow rope in it.

  I remember when I first started steelhead fishing in Erie tribs I was told I had to have a yellow rope with me. Not that I was ever going to keep a fish but it was kind of a yearly joke.

  Anyhow, I didn’t have a knife to gut her and had to carry this heavy trout all the way back to my truck.

 I did get some nice thick fillets and they tasted good with butter and Old Bay on Saturday for lunch.

 

 That night I relaxed by the campfire smoking a good cigar and drinking a couple of beers.

 

~doubletaper

 

Net Worth

 

Net Worth

4/12/2023

  I put on my chest waders once again. It feels like I’m putting on a space suite. I double knot my worn wading boot laces. I grab my 9’ 5weight Icon rod and jump, well slid, into the seat of my Dodge Ram and down the road I went.

  I caught a few trout the day before but not as if they were stacked up like a bunch of chickens in the coop waiting to be fed. They weren’t too active in the cold creek water until I pierced their lips. Then they acted like they got stung by a bunch of angry swarming bees. One time I thought I had a snag, and in trying to loosen it, I saw a flash of a fish roll. If it wasn’t for the sun shining down like a security motion light I never would have saw the flash. After that when my Woolly Bugger appeared to get ‘stuck’ I’d jerk the rod for a hook set. More than not I hooked a trout. My new, long, teardrop deep net netted the bigger fish without a problem.

 

 

  I stepped out from the grassy bank and into the shallow wavy creek and felt the cold water flowing around my ankles and shins of my chest waders. I carefully made my way down creek to deeper water casting a Woolly Bugger as I moved. There were already two fellows fishing down stream. One at the deeper honey hole and the other down creek quite a ways. Maybe 10 to 15 minutes went by before I got within casting distance of deeper water. Each of the bait fishermen only caught 1 trout each. I started fishing into the deeper section and caught one nice brown trout. 

 

  I wasn’t sure how long the bait fishermen were there but they hadn’t caught anymore and didn’t stick around too long. Once the sun cleared the mountain top it was bearing down like a UV tanning heat lamp. I figured I’d wade out to remove some clothes before a crowd shows up, but never did.

  Back in the creek I was knee deep, on a flat rock, fishing the honey hole section. The water around was at least chest deep in front of me and tapered off waist to knee deep to the riffles. There were plenty of boulders and nice size rocks strewn along the creek bed in this section. There were days I’ve watched bait fishermen pull 20-30 trout out between them. Even I’ve had some good 20+ days. The last few days though the trout just weren’t too hungry I guess? I was showing the fish everything from nymphs, streamers, wet flies and even sucker spawn. You would of thought I was trying to get some spoiled kids to taste the likes of Brussles sprouts, kale or a slice of liver? They wouldn’t have any of it!

  I stepped off the flat rock, in waist high water, and was drifting two stoneflies as I slowly cast and waded downstream. I wasn’t too far passed the flat rock when I got a snag, or at least I thought. I made an easy quick upward wrist jerk to get it released but it didn’t loosen. Another little harder lift and still nothing. I gave a couple forceful tugs and felt a wiggle in my arcing rod and the line started to slowly move outward in the deep section. I thought maybe I had snagged and loosened a branchy stick from the bottom at first. Then I felt a waver in the line like a fish tail wavering to keep balance. I gave a hard tug and with a hard tugging jolt back, the line moved away at a faster pace. The fish took off up creek then turned down creek a ways. I knew I had a good size trout on by the feel of it all but it wasn’t all that frisky, angry or an over aggressive fighting fish. It felt like I was like trying to drag in a river walleye while it was using it’s weight and pulling force trying to break the line. When I netted the nice size rainbow the hook was embedded into the fat of the trouts lip. Maybe his lips were so numb from the cold water he didn’t know he was hooked till he felt something pulling him in the direction he didn’t want to go and he wasn’t sure why?

 

  It took a while to get my next strike as I leisurely fished my way downstream. I was waist high in the middle of the creek casting a Woolly Bugger as far as I could towards the opposite bank. I’d cast across creek, cutting the cross wind with my fast action rod, and let the bugger swing deep. A trout grabbed the bugger within seconds after it hit the water. I yanked back and set the hook. The trout tussled and fought the line and arcing rod aggressively all the way to the net.

 

  Three casts later and another trout grabbed the bugger within seconds after it started to swing. You would of thought these trout haven’t eaten in days and competing for food as soon as something hit the water.

  The rod sections bowed a little more and the forceful tugging was more than I was willing to risk trying to bring him in right away. I let tensioned fly line slip through my fingers and let the drag of the spinning spool keep good tension on the fighting fish. It swam at a good distance up creek, stopped with a good tugging head shake and then turned down creek keeping his distance. The rod tip bounced with liveliness with the quick tugging head shakes and then bowed, tight lined, pointing toward the fleeing fish. I tightened the drag a couple of notches and the trout started to swim to my side of the creek. After a little more of a tussle I had him coming up creek towards my direction slowly like a remote control toy truck with the batteries draining. He passed me and swam about 20 feet up creek in front of me as I tried to keep side pressure on him. I kept him from swimming up creek any further when i moved the rod down creek. He rose just below the surface and turned with the current downstream. The light pink lateral line was easy to see with the sun shining down like stage lights. He tussled up and down creek as I drew him closer to the net and then scooped him up. 

 

Well that deserved a cigar. I reached in my pocket and took out a mild Ave Maria Toro.

 

 Within the next hour or so I hooked one more trout.

 

  After that I hooked the bugger to the rod hook keeper and waded to the bank. I took a couple of good swallows of water and headed back to the truck along the path through the scraggly forest.

  Back at camp I took a quick nap. I fished just out from the campsite and finished the day with another nice brown trout. 

 

  I cooked up a dinner of black bean burritos and nachos. A Black Butte porter tasted great with the Mexican style dinner.

 

~doubletaper

The Demon Made Me Do It

 

The Demon Made Me Do It

4/17/23

  I parked along the dirt road and opened the back door of my quad cab. I knew I’d be fishing this small brook trout creek and had to decide which fly rod I was going to use. I looked at my 7 ½’ 4 weight Powell rod and my 7’ 3 weight Hardy Demon fly rod. A little voice inside my head said “Take the Demon and give’m hell!”

  I’ve fished this creek many times before for years. It’s like going on the same vacation every year to Ocean City Maryland and strolling down the boardwalk. I know every little shop to check out for a good find. The buildings my have changed a bit but they are still there. Kinda like this creek. I know the deeper holes along the banks and boulders and never forget the shallow riffles brookies might be in. I start upstream casting a Woolly Bugger and let it drift into deep pockets around boulders and undercut banks and down logs. Within 10 minutes I hook my first feisty brookie. He fusses and wiggles the 3 weight all the way to the net.

 

 The mountain creek water is cold and I’m never above my knees. I’m careful with my back casts and roll casts not to get tangled up in the overhanging bare limbs that stretch out from the leafless trees and bank side brush. It’s quiet and with no one around I can wade the creek without getting out. I make long casts as not to be noticed by the brookies.

 

 I pick off a brookie now and then but none in the same hole. They are spread out like eggs in an Easter egg hunt. I’m not finding them continuously but every once in a while one takes my offering with a hard tug. Sometimes I feel a bump as if they hit the tail of my bugger but miss the hook altogether. I don’t trim the tail shorter though. If they want it bad enough they have to engulf the whole thing. 

 

 It begins to sprinkle and a cold breeze rattles the bare branches. I put the hood of my rain jacket over my hat not knowing how long or how heavy it’s going to rain. The trout don’t care.

 

My long casts prove effective.

 A deeper section, knee deep or more, I know there’s got to be a couple that might bite. I tease them with different color Woolly Buggers and Triple Threat streamers. One nudges the streamer at the end of the drift. He swats at it but misses. I don’t feel a hard pull so I let it sway in the current and then bring it towards me slowly. He can’t resist it’s getting away and grabs it quickly like a petty thief grabbing a trinket on an open shelf while the shop owner isn’t looking. Once hooked he fights with tugs as he swims to and fro. He tries to swim away but I don’t give him any line. He bounces the arcing rod sections with his quick darts as I cautiously bring him to the net.

 

 The rain comes down a little heavier as dark clouds move across the sky above. I get to where I usually stop, anyways, and wade out to the bank. As the heavier drops fall I listen to them hitting the dry leaves on the forest floor. Drops pitter-patter upon the water surface. I follow the path, leading upstream, near to where I caught my first trout. I walk up the hill to my truck. I dash out the butt of my stogie and head back to camp. 

 The solitude of the brookie stream was a nice break from the fast current and congestion of the bigger creeks.

The short rod and action of the Demon was the right choice. 

 ~doubletaper

 

 

After The Party was Over

 

After The Party was Over

4/16/23

  I can picture an image of a man standing on the bank watching me. He’s shaking his head and calls out “it’s fished out.” He might be right or close to it.

  From Friday till this Sunday morning there were at least 7 tents and a few kayaks in the camp site along the creek. By noon each day more vehicles showed up. During the day, if I passed by, fishermen were in the water lined up like a search party waiting for a signal to move forward. Well, maybe it was nearly fished out but I was sure there were a few left.

  Maybe the trout, they were fishing for, were tired of the minnows, meal worms, maggots and wax worms they were being fed? Maybe the trout were tired of the power bait, salmon eggs and night crawlers? Maybe there were a few trout that were not after spinning blades or the conglomeration of other hardware and that they were able to avoid?

  I swing my fly rod behind me and wait till I feel the weight of the Woolly Bugger load the rod tip section. I move my forearm forward and stop with a quick wrist. The fly line shoots through the cross wind followed by the bugger. Out, in the distance, the bugger falls to the water in a subtle splash. The arc in the floating fly line floats near the water surface and my offering swings in an arc down creek. I watch the floating fly line as my sensitive finger tips pinch the fly line feeling for the slightest strike. I’m not sure if I see the fly line pull away or my sensitive finger tips feel the strike first. Most of the time the strike happens so quick my instincts take over and I yank back the rod while pulling back on the fly line to set the hook. The fly line straightens and the tapered leader tightens on a hooked fish. I hold the cork grip tightly letting my pinching fingers, on the fly line, test the strength of the fighting trout. How much fight and vigor does this trout have? In he heavy enough not to try to bring him in too quickly? How much do I let him play the line before trying to bring him to the net? Evidently this fish avoided the fishing party!

 

 I continue to take a few steps at a time casting my offering in the same manner. Another trout grabs my offering and takes off like Barnyard Dawg after Foghorn Leghorn only to find out he’s attached to a secure line! This trout is heavier than the last. We have a good give and take battle with the tight line between us. I put a nice rainbow in the net.

  I release the rainbow back into the cold creek water.

  The wind blows and filters through my ponytail hanging over my vest. Smoke swirls off the end of my stogie I hold between my teeth and vanishes with the breeze.

  I look over to the bank where the image of a man stood. I wink at him and then turn my head. I take another puff of my cigar. I lift the fly rod and make another back cast with a grin on my face.

~doubletaper. 

 

 

 

 

My Bigger Net

 

My Bigger Net

4/04/23

 ‘According to the gauges Tionesta Creek looked high and flowing fast. I grabbed my 4wt 7 1/2’ Powell fly rod and took off for a stocked mountain stream.’

  It didn’t take too long to put my first trout, since the season opener in PA, in my new custom made net. 

 

 I wanted a bigger and deeper net for when I catch the bigger trout. Not that I was looking for a more fancier wood but the Birds Eye Maple caught my eye! With the longer and deeper tear drop I figured would be a great addition to my fly gear.

  Once the sun rays broke through the naked hardwood branches the trout started to become a little more active. Near noon the sun overtook the cloudy sky and tree tops and it was getting pretty warm. I had caught enough trout to be satisfied as I fished my way down stream. I headed for the truck to remove some of my sweaty clothes and decided to drive down stream to fish another section of water. There was a van and a couple of guys fishing the section of crick I wanted to fish so I continued on down stream a little further.

  Being it was a Tuesady I didn’t figure there would be too many fishermen out. The first day weekend, April 1^st, was a washout with rain, high and muddy water. I’m sure the water conditions weren’t much tolerable here in Western PA., so when I got out Tuesday I figured there should be lots of stocked trout and maybe I’ll hook into one of those big ones.

  I parked along the roadside and made my way down the steep bank to the crick. I played around and caught a dozen or so rainbows in a deep hole near the bank and caught one brown trout.

 

 

 

  Mid stream and further out looked more inviting with riffling water where trout would be holding. Where I was I didn’t have room for a back cast and with the short rod my roll casting ability wasn’t going to get my streamers out there. I decided to take the long walk downstream and cross over to the other side. As I walked the bank upstream I noticed the water was deeper than it looked like from the other side. I made my stand across crick from where I started from and started to cast out weighted Woolly Buggers and Triple Threat streamers. I’d cast towards the middle of the stream and let them swing deep within the wavy current. The bites didn’t come as quick as in the deeper hole but came enough to keep me busy while I finished off my stogie that I started smoking up crick earlier.

 

  One swing a fish grabbed the bugger swiftly like an infielder snagging a line drive. All of a sudden the line tightened and the fish fought with head shakes under the wavy current. I started to bring him in, like the other trout, but this one pulled back hard with force. The rod bowed good and I instantly tightened my grip over the cork handle. Line zipped through the guides as the tension spool spun. The 7 1/2’ fly rod flexed with the never ending head shakes. I knew I had a heavy trout.

  For awhile we fought each other like two angry dogs tugging against one another over a stuffed dog toy. He came to the surface a couple of times. His rainbow lateral line shimmered under the golden sun like a red metallic streamer at an outdoor fiesta party.

  I knew it would be hard getting him to the net in the fast current in front of me so I slowly waded down crick to slower current keeping side pressure on him. He refused to come near the shallow water I was standing in with quick tail swats and darting away so I waded out knee deep. Getting him within distance I could tell my ‘bigger’ net would be no problem getting him in it. Close enough, I scooped him up with one swipe of my hand and carried him to the bank. Yep, this is what I was looking for!

 

 After the release I checked my hook, line and knots making sure everything looked good. I took out an Ave Maria Divinia and lit it up. 

 

 I could again feel the warmth of the sun after my concentration was dedicated to getting the big rainbow in. I had an appointment with an insurance agent and I knew I would have to be going soon. It was a ways down to the shallowest water where I crossed so I slowly started to fish my way down crick casting the bugger as I went. I caught one more brown and a frisky, jumpy rainbow before I hooked into another good size trout.

 

  I just had the bugger swaying beneath the surface down stream when I felt a bump. I pulled back to set the hook. All of a sudden there was an eruption of water down stream where my bugger should have been. Water splashed in all directions as a fish stirred the water surface. Then he went deep and took off like a feral cat let out of an animal box trap. I could feel his weight within my gripped hands and thought ‘here we go again!’

  This one was wilder than the big trout earlier I hooked. I wasn’t sure if he was trebled hooked before and got loose after an extensive battle but he wanted no part of me or a long fight. He fought tooth and nail and came to the surface a couple of times with tugging force trying to loosen the hook. There were times I was worried he was going to break loose as he darted towards me and than shot outward. The line would twang in a loose than tight state when he turned and took off. The 4 weight kept up with him flexing and holding tension most of the battle. He didn't want any part of the net but I eventually got him in it. He wasn’t as long as the white bellied rainbow I caught earlier. His darker spotted completion and darker underside have me believing he was a holdover from some years back. His ruby gill plate and darker reddish lateral line was faint compared to the bigger rainbow that looked like it just came from the beauty salon and make up artist.

  He was pretty active in the net so I got a quick picture and let him go. Maybe now he’ll be more cautious picking his meals?

  Back at the truck I changed into driving clothes and put my gear away while enjoying an Amstel Light. I finished off token on my stogie on the drive home.

 The bigger net came through and was just what I was hoping for!

 ~doubletaper