Medalist

Medalist

3/05/25

 It was a gloomy morning here in PA. Though it’s winter season the temperature was already 50 degrees when I left to go fish’n in the morning and suppose to be close to 60 degrees just afternoon. Oh, with a possible shower. It looked like a good day to go fish’n.

 I headed to Volant to the Delayed Harvest Area of Neshannock Creek. They had just float stocked trout the past Saturday and I was going to catch me some. After buying a pair of felt wading boots, at the Orvis shop, I parked the truck in the big parking lot and got my fishing uniform on. Let’s face it. You know a cop, a fireman or a soldier by the uniform they wear so I imagine it’s no different than a fisherman. With our waders, boots, fishing hat, vest and dark sunglasses who could mistake us for anything else? 

 I assembled my Scott SAS 5 weight, grabbed a few cigars and the rest of my fishing attire and headed to the creek. Just off the bank I saw a fisherman catch and net a nice golden trout. The water was a dark limestone gray color a bit on the high side by my standards. The shop guy said there was 2’ visibility but I wasn’t quite sure after looking at the water. I was able to see some boulders beneath the surface out in the middle but couldn’t see bottom. There was good current flow though so the conditions weren’t bad. I stepped off the bank into the water, with my new wading boots, and carefully waded knee deep in the oncoming current testing my footing. All was good. 

 Casting out a Woolly Bugger in the middle of the creek it didn’t take too long to hook up with my first trout. I netted a small rainbow who squirmed around in my net. That deserved my first cigar. As usual I doin’t smoke my first cigar until I catch my first fish.

 I continued on casting toward the middle and far side of the stream. It came to be known to me that the rainbows liked my Popcorn Woolly Bugger but the brown trout were interested in my Olive Buggers.  

 One such brown grabbed the bugger on the swing. It was just a soft take that I felt the take, between my fingers pinching the fly line, just before my fly line stopped its swing. I reared back and immediately the top section, of my 2 piece rod, arced towards the take as the line shot up from the water. I knew this wasn’t some small rainbow. I bit down on the cigar between my teeth a little harder cause I figured this was going to be a good fight. The trout stayed low not wanting to rise off the bottom without quick body maneuvers like a rainbow. It used its weight and tugs while we battled for superior control. I knew it had to be a brown trout. Once close enough I was able to net the hefty brown. I had him backed into the net like a fire truck carefully backing into the firehouse garage.

 Continuing to cast buggers in the grayish water I would pick off a trout now and then. I noticed  a few other fishermen were doing the same whether they were fly fishing or using spinning gear. It wasn’t like we were catching trout one after another but with patience we’d hook into one.

 Switching colors now and then my observation got more truth than fiction. The rainbows liked  the Popcorn Bugger. 

 One rainbow took the bugger with a healthy grab at the end of the swing. It was if he was waiting for the bugger to stop its arc and settle down beneath the current. He swiped at it and I was Jerry on the spot and pulled back for the hook set. Right off I could tell it was a rainbow by the way it fought with tugs, head shakes and twists as it fought the line. It rose just shy of the surface shaking its head trying to throw the hook. Its silvery body displayed a pink stripe down its side like a sportsmen jersey. I finally got him settled down enough to get him to the net. A nice fat rainbow laid in the net with a Popcorn Bugger snack in its jaw.

  After that the bite started to peter out with just a couple of small rainbows teasing my bugger offerings. I tried nymph fishing but didn’t attract any hits. A few more fishermen showed up as the gloomy weather cleared and warmth finally was felt as the wind, carrying dampness, quit all together. I went around the fishermen fishing the big pool of water and headed down creek. In a shallow riffle, maybe knee deep at the most, I casted out toward the far bank and let the bugger drift in the discolored water. I was only about a couple of yards off the bank in the knee deep water. I let the bugger drift all the way straight below me about the same, a yard or so from the bank. I felt a tug and reared back. The rod arced good again and I had another good weighty trout.  Another brown fought in the knee high water right to my net. 

 My next brown was a doozy also. I was down creek a bit further to the next deeper hole I’ve caught fish before. I caught a smaller rainbow on my Popcorn Bugger before switching over to my Olive Bugger. I made a cast midstream and let the bugger drift as if I was nymph fishing with my rod following the drift down creek. I stopped my rod and let the bugger drift further on. The line all of a sudden sagged as if something grabbed the bugger on its way upstream. It surprised me at first but I quickly took in line with my left hand while raising the rod as high as I could to tighten the line and set the hook. The line straightened and I gave a hearty tug upwards to make sure the hook penetrated. Evidently the trout didn’t like being fooled. With a bugger in its mouth, and tight lined, he took off towards the far bank like a thief escaping the cops, putting distance between me and him pulling line off the tensioned reel. He then took line down creek in a hurry. With a couple of forceful tugs he turned and swam upstream 3/4 across the creek. Staying deep, I watched the fly line cutting the surface water as if not able to cut the surface as fast as the fish darted up through the undercurrent. I raised the rod high hoping to cut down on the surface drag the fish was putting on the long length of line. The trout tugged a bit more, flexing the 8’ 6” rod without much trouble before it swam down creek pass me. The water had cleared up some so I was able to see the football sized object pass me like an otter chasing something downstream. Down creek it pulled and tugged. I waded down some reeling in line while he fought the taut line. After a bit I had him coming nearer with my rod high in the air. He just about reached the surface when he dove back down like a dropped anchor that I had to let him take line fearing a bad mishap. The trout took off downstream again and line slipped through my fingers. We battled longer than I expected. He wasn’t giving up too quickly as he swam around, out from me, like he was looking for a place to hide. I played along being patient though I was afraid the longer we were attached the better chance he had to unattach us. I finally got him towards me and had my net ready. With my rod hand holding the line, pinched against the cork grip, I began trying to guide him towards the net. It wasn’t easy by any means. I could feel my wrist quivering with the arcing rod and force of the brown trout just within reach. He surfaced shaking and twisting. I reached out the net as I backed the rod behind my head. He slowly came near and I scooped him up. Wow, what a fish and a nice weighty brown. 

  After dropping the net and letting him swim away I felt like that was in need of a reward. I hooked the bugger to the hook keeper and reached in my jacket and pulled out an A. B. Medalist cigar. If they were giving out awards today, as if in a contest for most big trout, I’m sure I would have been in the running for a medal. 

  I didn’t catch anymore trout where I was so I headed back up to where I started. I kept swinging the buggers changing colors as I slowly waded down creek again. I caught one more decent size rainbow that wanted his picture taken, like a soldier at attention, as it laid still in the bottom of my net.

 He actually liked the Olive Bugger I was tossing out.

 The sky began to turn grayer up above and the wind started to stir in different directions. I looked up and it looked like rain was coming. I made my last cast without a strike, waded out and headed for the truck. By the time I got to the truck it started to rain. I took off my chest waders and put them in the truck with my new wading boots. All this time it started to rain harder and coming down sideways with the wind. I didn’t even have time to reel in all the line before it poured down like a fireman’s water hose. I quickly separated the 2 piece rod and slipped it on the back seat safely with the rest of my fishing gear. Kinda of wet, from the rain, I hopped in the front drivers seat and relaxed a moment before taking off. 

 It turned out to be a better day than I expected. I’m not sure those browns were recently stocked though they looked like they’ve grown up in the creek for some time!

~doubletaper