Sunshine and Rainbows

                                                          Sunshine and Rainbows

10/05/25 

 It was in the upper 40º range Sunday morning so I wasn’t in a hurry to get out and trout fish. I made myself some coffee and a hearty breakfast of pancakes in the camper before heading out. 

 I got my fishing gear in the truck and headed off to Oil Creek for some trout fishing. The state was supposed to stock the creek on the first of October and I was pretty sure they did.

 In the parking lot I walked down to the water to see the water level. It was sad seeing the creek as low as it was. The once nice knee deep riffles that flowed into a deeper section was now a bunch of rocks strewn about with small streams of water that found its way between the exposed rocks. From a high flying birds eye view it probably looked like a bunch of oversized marbles scattered on a kids play mat. There were two guys fishing a deeper section I presumed? They were 3/4 cross the creek in shin deep water casting out about 25 feet. The fly guy was catching fish but the spin guy wasn’t. I went back to the truck to get my gear on.

 I put on my hip waders as there was no need for chest waders in the shallow creek. When I looked in my vest I noticed I didn’t have my nymph box. I doubt I’d be using nymphs anyhow being the water was really shallow and fresh stocked rainbows like streamers anyway. I did have my wet fly box just in case. I took out my Douglas 4 weight 9 foot fly rod and strung it up with weight forward floating line. I Grabbed a few cigars and headed back to the creek. 

 The sun was near enough to just be rising over the far side trees above the railroad tracks that laid high above the bank. The temperature was increasing some as the sun rose. The predicted temperature was to be in the 80* range though the water felt cool enough not to wet wade in. I started casting out a Woolly Bugger down stream from the rocky riffles and behind the two fishermen. The water was shallow, just about knee deep at the most, and plenty of round and flat rocks so I had to keep stripping the bugger towards me to keep from snagging. 

 The fly guy down creek from me was pretty much catching trout at will. I wasn’t sure what he was using underneath but he must of found a gathering of trout cause he wasn’t moving and was casting in the same small area. The trout he was catching were pretty active when he hooked them and splashed helplessly to his net.

 I made a cast out towards the far bank and slowly strip the bugger towards me as it swung down stream. I felt a grab and had my fist fighting rainbow splashing the surface in the shallow water like an anxious puppy trying to get back to the beach in the ebb tide.  

 I caught one more trout before I was too close to the other fishermen. 

 I waded around the two fishermen and down creek further then where they were casting. I made a cast down and across. I swear the bugger just sunk under the water when I saw a surface splash and swirl. I jerked the rod back more by instinct reaction then actually thinking about it. The line tightened and took off down creek. I held the rod tightly as the trout tugged and carried on. The 4 weight bowed nicely as I fought the trout to the net. 

 By now I felt the sun was shining down from above and brightened all surroundings like a school cafeteria lunch room. I lit a cigar and enjoyed the moment! 

 The water now, under the sunshine, looked as clear as well water that had settled in a glass pitcher with brown sediment laying on the bottom. Normally I wouldn’t think trout would be so active being under the sunshine and clear water. With long casts the trout didn’t mind feeding under such conditions. Once hooked they weren’t all that easy to bring in. They fought wildly from the time I set the hook all the way to the net and then some. Some of the rainbows, once hooked, shot up out of the surface water like a kid on a trampoline. It appeared once the water was stirred up with all the commotion, from the hooked trout, it was more difficult to get one to bite. I slowly waded down creek further and continued to cast into the near knee deep shallows trying to avoid the bigger rocks and flat ledges. Once it got real shallow I started to wade back up to where I started upstream from the two other fishermen.

 By now the fly guy was sitting along the far bank relaxing and verbally coaching the younger guy with the spinning rod. He’d catch a trout now and then but had an awkward time trying to net the trout. Upstream from him I saw a line of trout in knee deep water almost motionless as if waiting in the cafeteria food line. I made a cast up creek from them and further across. When my line hit the water some trout scattered like a bunch of young school kids, in the playground, escaping from who had the cooties. I let the bugger swing down creek with my rod held a little higher than the surface keeping the bugger from bumping the creek bed. Slowly I was stripping line and wham a trout grabbed the bugger on the swing. I wristed the rod up and the line tightened with another nice size fighting trout.  

 The two guys decided to take off and walked up the far bank before crossing to avoid stirring up the trout around me. I caught one more trout before wading down to where the other fishermen were catching trout. Once, within my vision, I stopped and made a stand. There was a school of trout in a small area like children at a school bus stop. I would cast my bugger to the side of them, when I could, and stripped the bugger towards me within their vision. The wind sort of picked up and casting into the cross wind I wasn’t that accurate.

 Sometimes a rainbow would grab the bugger hard but other times it wasn’t so easily noticed. Letting the bugger swing into the crowd I watched the tip of my floating line. At the slightest twitch of the line I had to be quick to hook a trout. At times it was as if a rainbow was swiping at the bugger from the side and not grabbing it fully. All the trout I did catch was by their lips. Hardly any were hooked into their jaw and none were hooked inside their mouth. Most of the rainbows were nice size and healthy looking.  

 It got to be slow going from then on. The trout were evidently being cautious with all the commotion but every once in a while I’d get a strike and I had to be ready for the slightest take. 

 I was having fun catching rainbows and not really paying attention to the time. The sun moved above without me noticing. What I did notice was the shadows along the far bank was moving towards me. The wind got a little stronger and it took more energy to cast into the cross wind. The fish appeared to get bored with my offerings anyhow. Sometimes when my line hit the water there were wakes of surface water from scattering trout.

  I decided to call it a day when the last two fish I caught, after a long period of nothing, were small smallmouth. Overall it was fun for the time being catching rainbows under the sunshine.

~doubletaper

Evening Smallmouth

Evening Smallmouth

9/16/25. 

 After dinner I decided to fish for smallmouth. The river water has been very low for lack of rain. I figured the bass may have been staying in the deepest water during the hot sunny days or holding under the canopy of leafy tree limbs that overhung the far bank. I thought maybe, around sundown, the smallmouth might come out of their hiding places and look for crawfish in the shallow water. After dinner I knotted on a brown Woolly Bugger and walked across the road to the river with my 6 weight fly rod.

 At the river I looked around at the evening sky and water. Gray clouds, not rain clouds, filled the sky looking like left over smoke from a passed steam engine. The sun was well hidden but it was easily determined which way the false steam engine was heading. 

 The river water looked like the wrinkled sheets on the king size bed in the camper. Images of the trees, that stood tall along the river, threw dark shadows along the banks. Mid river their was the mirror image of the sky above. The air was much cooler than the hot sunny day temperature earlier. 

 I stood in ankle deep water and was pulling line out of the spool for my first cast. I looped line forward, only about two rods length, getting ready to make an overhand cast out into the river. All of a sudden I felt the line pulling! I looked and saw the straightening line pulling out from the tip top. I tightened my fingers on the line between the reel and first guide and felt the tugging of the line. A fish had grabbed the brown bugger in no more than shin deep water and was struggling to take it out in the main body as if that’s where it will decide to eat its catch. I got the frantic pulling fish under control and brought him to the net. A nice size smallmouth laid in the net. I guess I was right about the smallmouth looking for food in the shallow waters along the banks!  

 After spilling him out of the net I took more line off the spool and casted along the shallow waters up and downriver a bit. I was hoping to hook another smallie that might be in the shallows looking for food. Well, I didn’t get any takers and started casting out out in the main body of water before wading out in deeper waters.

 I happen to be slowly stripping in the Woolly Bugger, after I let it swing down stream, when I felt a bump. The weighted bugger may have tapped a rock beneath the surface in the shallows or a fish missed a full mouthful of the bugger. I casted out the same distance and let the bugger swing as before. Once I felt it swing into the shallow water I raised the rod some to prevent the bugger from dragging the bottom. Instantly, this time, I felt a stronger tug and reared back the 9’ fly rod. I felt the top section bow and the line tightened. My second smallmouth was on the end of the line trying to get loose. He wasn’t all that big but he was a smallmouth. 

 Every once in awhile the slow moving clouds would expose the sun and brighten up the evening. It was if the mirror image, on the river water surface and beneath, took a different presentation. The surface water became more colorful and the riverbed was more visible. 

 Slowly I continued wading down river and out as far as I could wade till I was about thigh high deep. I would cast as far as I could, towards the far bank. Sometimes down and across or straight across the river water. 

 One cast dropped my bugger in a slow pool of water near the far bank. Something grabbed the bugger just after it hit the water and started to sink. I noticed the dropped line pull quickly so I pulled the slack line back and yanked the rod high behind me. The slack line rose up from the water and tightened. I had another fish on the other end. It felt much stronger than the last and swam and fought well. I took my time bringing it to the net. 

 Downriver I was just about going to call it quits. The air turned much cooler. I was in the mood of ‘just one more catch’ and I’d call it quits. Most of the time it never comes to be. 

 I made a cast long and across. The bugger swung down river and I started to slowly strip it towards me. Lo and behold I felt a take a reared the rod back. The line tightened and I had my last smallmouth fish swimming and fighting beneath the surface. I got it to me handily and netted him. 

 The water beyond widened and got shallower. I hooked the bugger to the hook keeper on the butt section and waded to the stoney bank. From there I walked my way to the path, up to the road and to my camper. It turned out to be a successful, short time spent, fishing the evening for smallmouth.

~doubletaper

Wet Wading the Clarion River

                                                   Wet Wading the Clarion River

8/23/25 

 It was a warm Saturday morning. I had set up my camper at a campground in the ANF the day before just for a few days. I hadn’t fished for a week and was wanting to get out to the river to cast a line.

 I parked along the roadside and got my wading gear on, assembled my 9’ Compass fly rod and grabbed a few cigars. I figured, being a Saturday, there would be watercraft usage on the river. I was pretty far upriver away from the boat liveries and most easy access launches so I didn’t expect to be interrupted too frequently. 

 When I stepped into the water the water felt cool so I figured there was maybe a mountain spring run off upriver. It wasn’t like it gave me goose bumps but I knew, from the past outings, the water feels like warm bath water in the direct sunlight out in the open.

 I already had a Woolly Bugger attached to my tippet being the first long section of water I’de be fishing would be a section of wavy water that ran clear across the river. The radio stations claimed it might rain with a passing thunder shower but not till later in the evening. Weathermen and presidents are the only people who can be wrong more than 50% of the time and still keep their job.

 Looking up the clouds were slowly moving across the sky. They were bright white and puffy at times. Then looking up again they would turn grayish casting an unpredictable uneasy feeling down upon the river. It was like a mood ring on a women’s finger! You never know what her mood is until you looked at the ring! Above the clouds the sinister blue sky, pale metallic blue, was not too convincing of a beautiful day to be out. Even with the conditions so far I wasn’t to worried or prepared for a thunder shower. I donned my palm cowboy hat and didn’t  bring along any rain gear. Since I was wet wading I would just wade out and up to the truck in case of the first sign of rain. 

 On occasion a somewhat cool breeze would blow upriver towards me. It was if I could smell the moisture in its presence. The water was clear so the rocks and bigger stones stood out beneath like ice cubes in a glass of vodka on the rocks! Other than that the water was just about the shallowest I had ever seen it. This meant I would be able to wade out and reaching at least 3/4 across the river with my casts. The sunshine was already above unveiling the stream side greenery of trees and brush as if trying to brighten up the otherwise uncertain conditions.

 I waded to the riffling wavy water and the head of the water was pretty shallow. I casted out and held the rod tip up so my weighted bugger wouldn’t drag bottom and get snagged up. Usually I use a brown bugger fishing for smallmouth in the river but this morning I chose an olive shade I tie. Reason being I already knew trout inhabit the cooler and more oxygenated water I was starting to fish in. I’ve had more trout liking my olive color than brown thou I’ve caught trout on brown and vice-versa caught smallmouth on olive. 

 Slowly I waded further out and down into the wavy current casting my bugger across and letting it swing down river. I got my first take half way downriver where I casted the bugger on the far side of the wavy water that was calmer and looked deeper. A fish grabbed the bugger as if it drifted right into its mouth. Just enough of a stoppage of the line I saw and a nudge I felt that let me know something grabbed it. I reared back the rod and the battle began. He put up a good fight swimming into the wavy water and undercurrent. I had a feeling it was a smallmouth by the way it swam and jarred the line unlike a trout that darts quickly and tugs more frequently and fiercely. In the thigh high water I was standing in I got the smallmouth near enough to net him.

 

  Well, I stood my ground and decided to cast into the same area to see if there were any more around. It was if I found a small pocket of hungry fish waiting for food to pass by. I’m not sure what a Woolly Bugger is specifically suppose to represent but fish love them. Maybe a sculpin or just a clawless crawdad drifting beneath? I pulled out 3 more smallmouth around the same area. I knotted on a popper and tossed it out but didn’t have a take so I went back to the Olive Woolly Bugger and it was like it was the favorite meal of the day. I caught another before moving on. 

 I made a long cast across stream and watched the line as the bugger swung downriver into the wavy current. There was a lull in the wavy surface and I was anticipating a strike as I figured the bugger would enter. Without a strike I let the bugger swing downriver just below me and started to strip it towards me when I got a hard take. The line straightened as I lifted the rod back for a hook set. The fish darted across creek fast and strong enough I let it take line. I moved my rod upstream and he followed like a dog on a leash into the rushing current. There I moved the rod forcing side pressure on him. He eventually gave in, with the side pressure force, and swam downriver. We had quite a bit of a struggle before I netted a nice healthy rainbow. 

 After that I had two other fish hooked but lost them in the strong undercurrent. Just before the bridge I caught two more small smallmouth. Downstream from the bridge the water was pretty shallow or at least looked that way. I waded out, as I casted, until I was pretty much standing in the center of the river casting towards the far bank but no where near it. I was in thigh high water minding my own business when I heard voices upriver. Low and behold, looking upstream, a group of tubers were headed my way. The first few pardon themselves for disturbing my fishing. The river was open all too enjoy so I told them so as long as they didn’t run into me there wasn’t a problem. We laughed as they kept their distance. The last two were headed pretty much right for me. It looked like a young girl with her father behind her giving her instructions how to avoid me. Splashing her feet and waving her arms she was able to stay a little more than a few yards from me. She said she was sorry and I assured her it wasn’t a problem. After they left, floating downriver, I continued my fishing with more confidence but that didn’t catch anything. I wasn’t sure if the commotion scared the fish and they went into hiding but I couldn’t conjure up a strike. A few kayakers paddled by before I waded to the bank and up to the road and walked back to my truck. 

 It was just past 2:00 and I wasn’t ready to quit just yet. I drank some water, locked the truck and decided to go back and fish the wavy water again. I lit up another cigar and stepped into the river again. 

 It was near the same area I caught the other bass that I got another grab. It was hard and meaningful. He fought below the surface like a trout and it wasn’t easy to get him near me. It was if he wasn’t letting go and swam and fought with hard tugs. I finally got him close enough to net him. The hook had just barely pierced his lip and looked like it would of come out if he would have made a jump for it! 

 I hooked into one more trout in the wavy current and a couple of smallies.  

 It turned out a better catching day than I would of thought. The fish wouldn’t take a popper but they liked my Woolly Bugger. On the way back to the camper I filled up jugs with spring water, off the mountain that ran through a well placed PVC pipe. Back at camp I feasted on smoked cheese, Genoa salami, Greek olive medley, wine and crackers. That’s how to spend a camping weekend!  

 Though I usually boondock, camping in a small Federal campground in the Allegheny National Forest, with electric, is pretty easy! At $15.00 a site, the price was worth it for 3 days. 

~doubletaper

Hot Gulping July

                                                               Hot Gulping July

7/29/24 

 It’s been a hot and humid couple of weeks. Earlier in the month it rained almost every day and we felt like we were in the rain forest. The past couple of weeks it’s been so hot and humid that we felt like we were in the Sahara desert. There’s no doubt the Pennsylvania weather is unpredictable but this is ridiculous! The camper thermostat averaged around 84º even with the fan going. The humidity has been unbearable inside and almost outside the camper. This morning it was 74º by 10:00 and I couldn’t wait any longer to float the river for smallmouth after breakfast.

 Outside there wasn’t anything I could actually call a breeze. It’s been so hot the tree limbs bowed downward as if they didn’t have enough strength to keep their wilted leaves up from the lack of water. The forest floor was bone dry and the smaller animals evidently were staying in their burrows underground or hidden in tree trunks keeping out of the sun. Birds were the only vocal noise almost if they were disgusted of the heat. I loaded up the float tube with my fly fishing gear and headed up river to put in. 

 On the tailgate I assembled my 6 weight Winston Boron rod and attached an orange popper. At the water I put on my flippers and waded the float tube out from the stony shallows. Once I sat down in the float tube the water was cooler but still much like bath water without the bubbles. At least I was partially wet and my lower body was out of the direct sunlight that was rising behind me. Floating it wasn’t long before I felt the direct heat of the sun rays upon my back. 

 For about an hour I couldn’t raise a fish to my poppers but I was determined to stick with surface poppers and not fish underneath. The water level had been pretty low and clear so I was staying along the banks casting in front of me and in back eddy pools and near tree debris. Occasionally I’d cast out towards the middle of the river but I was convinced, unless the water looked pretty deep, the fish wouldn’t be out in the hot sun sunbathing. 

 I made a few casts out from a sunken tree log and limbs. A fish rose and gulped at my popper and I reared the rod up and back once he went under and not seeing my popper. As the line tightened I was pretty sure I had hooked him. I felt him swim into the log jam and all line motion stopped. Somehow the fish dislodged the hook and the hook snagged on a limb beneath. I had to flipper my way to the hazard and it took awhile to get my popper back but I managed. I nipped off the frayed looking line near the popper and retied on.

 Floating down further I casted along the banks casting in under a shade tree. I watched as the popper fell to the surface in the shade of the tree. A fish surfaced and gulped the popper as soon as it hit the water. It was if he was a butcher’s dog waiting for a scrap of meat to fall off the butcher block. He went under and I waited and then set the hook. He wasn’t a big bass but put up a good short battle. 

 I was taking my time feeling my way near the bank. I made a long cast ahead of me out from the bank in a slow swirling pool. I gurgle It towards me in a stop and go motion. Another fish rose and gulped at it creating a splash. I reared back the rod and the line tightened once again but this time the rod bowed deep. The line took off through the guides on the arcing rod sections. I knew this wasn’t another small smallie. He swam out in the open current as if he knew that was his best chance of escape. I held on tight  tensioning the fly line between my fingers. He tussled with me in the open water before I was able to get him to swim back into the slower pool. He tussled some more beneath as the water swirled above. Nearer the float tube I was able to lip him. A nice specimen settled for a nice picture. 

 I looked at my phone and it was nearing 2:00. The sun was well above shining down on the surface water like a stove top light on a smooth glass top range. It was heating things up and so was the fishing. I’m not sure if the smallies all of a sudden got hungry or they were just snacking. It wasn’t as if they were rising out of the water at my poppers but just surface gulping with one inhale. Maybe the heat was effecting their motivation also until they felt the piercing of their lips or tongue? 

 I had caught a few smaller smallmouth not worthy of a picture. I also missed a couple hook ups. It wasn’t a banner day but it was cooler in the float tube than being out of the water.

~doubletaper