Streammagic237
Well-known member
It was the first day of September and after a page through of a well loved book of fly fishing streams of Pennsylvaina, I settled on a small creek that had only warented a mere paragraph from the author. This was to be a trout tip on the fly rod and I was excited with the possibilities new water offers. I arrived a bit after eleven and put on a classic nymph rig . I carefully picked my way through the thick thorn covered deer path to the waters edge and thought “someone should really cut these back “ but with a bit of luck managed my way through them. I waded down stream picking the occasional fall fish in very tiny riffles and my heart sunk as I stood in yet another 80 yard stretch of 2 foot clear slack water. Why did I drive 2 hours for this ? This was not the riffled trout waters of my dreams the night before. After about 2 miles of wet wadding I rounded a bend and smiled. I knew from a bit of quick research the night before that this was a hole a local had spoken of .. On my third cast I hung up on the downed log and my heart raced as I watched a chunky smallmouth come air born out of the water and attack my indicator . I walked back to the bank and sat down , “Why are you trout fishing” I said out loud ? I flipped open fly box and felt the excitement in the pit of my stomac as my eyes settled on an olive and purple cone head wooly bugger. I laid out an all be it sloppy cast and on the second strip I watched a dark green streak shoot out and just destroy my fly. I let out a giggle of pure joy as the 5 weight arched heavily and after 2 circle I netted a beautiful smallie. My Subsequent casts produced more bass , a pickerel and even a chunky sunfish. I sat back on the bank , and smiled, I looked around , no trash , no people , just me , I felt alive and knew this is why we fish. I softly dusted my foot prints out of the gravel bank feeling honored tho have been there and started my way back . I looked at the “bad “water with new eyes . I wadded back throwing casts at the shaded banks and open slack water alike being rewarded with sometimes as many as 3 bass chasing the bugger and the occasional chunky fall fish . I stood mid stream about half way back to the truck , as just 15 yards up stream a gorgeous 10 pointer appeared out of thin air to stand mid stream opposite me . Still in velvet he flicked his ears and gave a lil stamp at me then disappeared back into the woods, I marveled again at how truly majestic a big white tail is up close. I picked about dozen more smallies of various sizes as I wadded back to my starting point. I stood looking at the thorn tangled path again and this time carefully moved the vines, then placed them back,” guard it well , this is a special place” I whispered . I couldn’t help but smile ear to ear on my drive back through the Lehigh tunnle thankful for the experience. I like many others have been guilty of being too rigid and too caught up in how and what I think I am going to fish for on a particular stretch of water . I believe days when you adapt to the conditions , fish present and the water regardless of target species or preferred techniques can produce magical experiences. So, Never let bad water ruin good fishing -.
