A Drift Under the Surface

A Drift Under the Surface

       by Mike Emanuele / July 12th 2016

       It was getting hot and so was my temper. I had just retied a few new sections of tippet because my concentration had begun to wander mid cast. My nymphs hung up in the branch above me softly swaying and passively mocking my blunder. Sweat dripped into my eyes as it fell from brow. The combination of piercing sunlight, suffocating heat, and a restless night of sleep made my patience subside to a new low. Everything was tied back up and I was once again ready. My eyes focused on a perfect run which was canopied by an overhanging root tangle. I blocked out my thoughts and let my muscle memory take over the cast. The nymphs gracefully plopped down into the perfect angle, a cast I couldn’t repeat. My pride overtook and I let out a smile as a daydreamed of a twenty inch Brown coming from the depths to strike my flies. I would hold him high and proud for a picture to plaster all over social media. The dream had me grinning ear to ear until it distracted me long enough to delay my lead. My nymphs delicately drifted into an unforeseen nemesis, a submerged log. I couldn’t take it. I quickly broke off my tippet and threw my rod and self onto the bank.

             Nothing was going my way and it had seemed this regression had been taken place for the past weeks or so. It was my 73^rd day on the water for the year. Dollars, equipment, blood, sweat, and tears had been sacrificed this past year when I decided it was time to take my fly fishing to a new skill level. Competitiveness can be a blessing, allowing some to attain skills that few men can reach but this instinctive drive that men like myself possess,  can be a true Achilles’ heel of self destruction. My drive to be the best had me sitting on a weeded stream bank in central Pennsylvania having a toddler-esque meltdown.

            Exhausted, I stretched my legs out and put my boots into the water. The cold clear water rushed into my waders through the large holes in my stockings. My eyes opened. I could see once again. I began to see the things that I had always loved. The contrasts of colors of all different forms of life all around me and the harmonic balance of nature that was nestled into the pristine spring water that roared past my boots. I slowly took my boots out of the water and stood on the bank. The silt and gravel that was loosened from feet slowly drifted downstream, nature had begun to clean itself. As the shroud of dirt lifted, a small brown trout poked his head through the jungle of watercress. It was then I had realized what I had forgotten. The foolish pursuit of my own ego had blinded me. The veil of dirt in my own eyes had finally drifted past and I was nothing more than the small creature I had been seeking. A fly fisherman’s version of nirvana…

           

 As fly fishermen we are called to take care of the lesser creature that gives our lives meaning. We must protect the true beauty and innocence of these animals from man’s selfish pursuit of possessions. Man’s ignorance will always leave a path of destruction and it is up to us to be the guardians. Strive to educate your fellow fishermen and help them see the real meaning of this sport. Make sure your mind is in the right place while on the water and not focusing on catching a trophy to brag on your Instagram account. They say that things posted on the internet last forever. Unfortunately the beautiful trout that took ten years to achieve its size that you kept out of the water for five minutes to take the perfect picture of…will not last forever, let alone the next hour.  The concept of life is something humans have become too comfortable with as we set out to build a world of our own. Yet we forget about the mystery of our own beginning and we fail to keep “life” sacred. Do not forget the reason you rise early in the morning, remember that they are out there rising for you too…

The Last Cast

It was late in June, a month that wasn't very friendly for fishing last year. The rainfall had far surpassed the average levels, therefor it was a month long of blown out streams, leaving limited if any places left fishable. On this day, a Sunday Ross and I set out in hopes to catch if we were lucky, a fish or two with the possibility of hitting some nearby brookie streams. We set sails for a favorite stream that was flowing at a CFS that would keep even a hardcore kayak junkie at bay. We arrived at the stream to find that it was basically one big class v rapid, there were very limited areas that looked feasible to even get a drift in. We each found a break in the overgrown rapid and working it over. To our surprise we began picking up fish on some highly visible patterns. It seemed as if the fish took to these small pockets behind structure and just off the shoreline to escape the wrath of the thrashing current. We traveled the road paralleling the stream and pulled off on the rare occasion that we saw a fishable seam. Each seam held many fish, we turned a day where we hoped to get outside and land a few fish into a solid day.

On the trip homeward we fished a few brookie streams in hopes of finishing the day off with a few little beauties. They fished with mixed results. The scenery on these little streams though, is always the best part. Ross picked up quite a few more than I had, it was starting to get late in the day at this point, "Bout ready to pack it up Stew?" Ross yelled over the noise of the roaring streams that was on a normal day but a trickle. One last cast I yelled, just as I always seem do. I walked up to a small waterfall and shot a cast in, BAM, an aggressive little gem of a brookie hit my fly as if he wasn't sure he'd ever see another meal. After enjoying his beauty for a few short seconds I yelled back "Ok now let's call it." We took the scenic walk back to the truck and made it there just in time for the rain to pick up, as was the theme of the summer last year. We smiled as we drove home and laughed as we thought we were just making the trip to "only get out of the house".

As Monday morning came rolling in, it was just another routine day at work and as usual I was still coming down off of my high from spending the weekend in my true home, the outdoors. It was a nice cool morning, in the mid 60s on the mercury, my favorite type of weather. I remember looking into the sky and thinking wow, the sun. I had almost forgot how it had looked. Just at the time everything went black and I felt a feeling I've never felt before. As I came back to I wasn't sure what happened, I frantically felt across my entire body to see if anything was injured. The ambulance arrived and took me to the hospital. There, I was told it was more than luck that kept me alive, it was a miracle. What I felt was 7200 volts of electricity racing through my body and out of my leg. A piece of equipment that I was replacing was mounted next to a feed line and with my lack of concentration I had not realized. After a few nights in the hospital and a few months of recovery I started to get back to my normal life and was finally able to make my return to fishing in the fall, This time with my rod and gear, I carried with me a different outlook on life. In the months leading up to now it's been fishing that has served as a major recovery for me. Pushing myself to walk further and wade harder each time. Now I'm in as good of shape as I've ever been mentally and physically.

So wade a little bit deeper, don't be afraid to lose your flies in that log jam, drive as far as you can to explore new rivers, share tips with a fellow fisherman, share laughs on the streams with friends or family, fish in the pouring rain, the bitter cold, high water, and never been afraid to take that one last cast, for you never know when it'll truly be your last.

Weekend Warriors

A pattern is begging to emerge, Stuck working all week during beautiful unseasonably nice weather and getting one day of fishing in with the worst possible conditions. We've been hit with it all every Saturday so far in 2016, Inches of rain dumping on our heads, freezing cold, feet of snow, drift destroying winds, blizzards, and high water. This weekend was no disappointment, we got caught up in an epic battle between Spring and Winter.

I've been doing a ton of research lately trying to find some new streams to fish, to me exploration is as much fun as the fishing itself. I tortured the internet for a few months until it uttered a few stream names that sounded very promising and supposedly hold some trophy class fish. Ross and I met up a few hours before daylight and headed deep into limestone country. We drove well behind Amish lines and arrived at the first stream. It was a bit small but looked awesome it had a ton of structure and some sneaky deep holes. The weather was very gloomy and it was spitting some rain. Fishing a creek like this was a little bit outside of my skill level yet, but we still managed a few pretty rewarding little fish. Every time I'd see a good hold for a fish I'd attempt a cast into it, only to be blocked by a tree branch. It was as if I were a high school basketball player trying to play in the NBA. Time after time I'd try to get a cast in and get denied by a tree, I'd finally line up a good cast in front and get blocked from behind, it's as if the trees were protecting these precious little gems of a fish from me. While untangling my flies from a branch I quickly realized that I wasn't the only one, as I found a rather large streamer tangled up in the same limb. This kind of confirmed to me what I read that there were some trophies in this small sneaky little stream. I got beat up by branches and the tough fishing for about a mile or so, Somehow I was still having fun and really liked this stream regardless. I came to a nice hole and sent out an S.O.S. as usual it almost instantly hooked into a beautiful example of a wild brown. We even got into a few what I think were wild Rainbows.

Higa saves me yet again

Wild Bow!

I met back up with Ross and we decided to explore a few more streams in the area, driving around these parts was a real blast from the past. It was almost as if we hit some time warp and got sent back into the 1700s, it was actually a very freshening reminder that you don't need modern things to get by in today's world. We arrived at the other stream and it looked very nice, around twice the size of the first and even more promising. The third creek we came to looked the best to us. It fit into the type of water we like to fish. Some nice pockets and big chutes. We're definitely going to have to spend some more time in this beautiful part of Pennsylvania.

On the way back home we decided to spend the afternoon and evening on a stream we were passing by in hopes of running into an olive hatch. We got there and the weather was perfect, overcast and warm, I was down to just a flannel shirt. As soon as we got the the stream Olives and a few Hendricksons were coming off. We picked up a few fish right away, then Winter reared it's ugly head. Sending frigid gusts of 30-40 mph winds instantaneously destroying any drift we attempted and putting a halt to the hatches. Spring would then battle back and the sun would come out and warm the stream up, bringing the hatches back and good fishing with it. This became the template for the day, Fishing was void during the high winds and when they'd stop we'd stick a few fish on olive nymphs. I spent most of the day battling a reel malfunction, free spooling drag made landing fish in pocket water interesting, yet fun, even though I lost a few fish due to it. The day ended with a pretty calm stretch of weather and right before leaving Ross and I each stuck a nicer fish. We decided we were wind burnt enough for the day, so we ended on a high note. We battled our way to a dozen or so fish a piece for the evening including some solid fish, which given conditions was a win. The one nice thing about being a weekend warrior is you have to make the best out of any weather or conditions God throws your way, I truly believe that fishing through such adversity is how you become a better fisherman though. Fishing will seem a little too easy when we finally catch some good conditions (Which is highly unlikely).

Mean Mugging

Love the hooked jaws these fish have in here

 

"You thought I was a big brown trout ya sucker"

Can get used to this scenery

 

 

 

 

We took a long walk back to the truck and talked about some future camping trips that are planned. As we made the journey home, I watched the temperature drop from 50 degrees to 32 in a matter of minutes. Winter blindsided Spring with a surprise attack and we just so happened to get caught up on the battle ground. A few huge cracks of lightning soon led to the worst blizzard conditions I've ever saw. It was absolutely a nightmare to drive in, the swirling snow was making my head spin. I set the Silverado into Hyperdrive (my fellow Star Wars nerds will get the reference) and we flew out of the storm and home safely.

From Gloom to Bloom

First Brown over 20" for the year

I met up with the Ross's for a couple of days on the water and we took advantage of the not so nice weather to throw some bugs at some weary brown trout. We got up at the usual 4 am and started the long journey to brown trout heaven. The trip there actually didn't seem too long, as we talked about what spots we were going to start out at and some new streams we were looking to explore. We got to the parking area a little late after missing a few turns and getting slightly lost on the way.  You would think it was late May with the amount of cars there. We grumbled under our breath about it and threw on the 50 lbs of gear we seem to wear these days. The temperature was around 28 degrees, but it felt a lot colder after the previous day being in the 70s. We started our walk to the spot we usually start out at on this stream, hoping with every step that one of the 50 guys on the water wasn't standing in "our run". We beat our way through the woods and could finally see the stream, we lucked out, no one seemed to have walked that far up stream yet. The usually difficult to wade stream was running fairly low this time of the year, so we crossed it with ease. Ross settled down into a favorite chute of his and I crossed over into a favorite side channel of mine. With great excitement I started working over the usually productive spot. I threw my flies through every little piece of water I know holds fish and it didn't even result in a snag. My indicator hadn't made the slightest movement in the half an hour or so it took to work over the stretch. Feeling that I hadn't "Blown up" the spot too bad I looped back around to the bottom and started over again with some different flies and techniques. I threw flawless drift after drift and came through the section with one 12" brown to show for my efforts. I walked back over to where Ross was and let out a yell to see how he was doing, he had similar results as me, as he signaled that he had only picked up one fish also.

I started working up stream at a fast pace throwing tuck cast after tuck cast into water that I know holds fish. I rifled through my fly box throwing on every nymph and pupa I thought should work in March. As I worked up around the bend, I couldn't help but to notice how beautiful the landscape was along the stream and up into the mountainside that it runs along. The trees along the mountainside made it look like a painting, it had an eye appealing reddish to purple tint. I took me a minute to realize the trees had started to bud and it caused to cool looking affect. It was in this section the fishing started to pick up. I started plucking fish out of pockets here and there on a favorite Stonefly pattern when my drifts were good. I ran back into Ross and he said he got into a bunch of fish up above me. He pumped a few of their stomachs and found that each one had a plethora of different bugs in their bellies, one fish would be full of Caddis, the next BWO nymphs, another Stoneflies. It just goes to show how much bug life there really is living in some of these streams. So I switched over to some generic suggestive patterns and continued to pick up fish, however at a slow pace. Below me, I could see Ross picking up some fish as well. We met up at a small island chain and decided we would check out some new water. On the way back to the vehicle, we couldn't resist getting a few casts in at a nice run just above the parking spot. I took a deep hole that eventually drops off and pushes the current under an overhanging branch, Ross worked down stream to a nice looking hole. I noticed this section of stream looked different than the rest. There were some yellow flowers blooming along the stream and the overhanging tree already had some leaves on it's branches. It was here where my day quickly turned around. I had a few bumps on the pattern that Ross was doing well on. I saw a sucker fish swimming around, so I decided to drop a cream sucker spawn below and things lit on fire. I quickly put fish in the net as if it were Spring during a hatch, not Winter like the rest of the stream fished. Nine fish later (One being a solid 18" fish) I walked back to the car with a big grin on my face. As I sat in the car and ate my lunch, I thought a lot about how the river fished. I've spent enough time in the wild the last few years to know there are many parallels in nature, whether it mirrors itself or just gives us signs for our own lives. The trout stream is no different. Just as the one hillside was dull and wintry, the next showed signs that the Pennsylvania wilderness was coming to life after a long winter, and another was in near full bloom, the fishing was exactly the same. Sections of it fished as if it were spring and in full bloom, others fish as if it were the dull grey mountainside, and some sections showed signs of coming to life for the Spring.

Signs of Spring

We ended the day on a new stretch of water to do a little exploring. It was a promising looking gorge and we each worked some different sections of it over. We met up towards the end of the day and talked about our success. Ross ended up having a great day with around 20 or so and I worked hard to put 16 fish in the net, still a solid day. We decided it was time to go, but not before we worked our way back to the car throwing some streamers in the deep boulder strewn section. Ross quickly turned two big fish. One being in the rare two foot range, he was sick as he laid on the boulder thinking of what could have been. We hit one last hole below the car and I got a huge bend in my rod followed by a miss. It was starting to get dark so we packed it in for the day.

Gorgeous Wild Brown

  

 

 

Ross couldn't make it out for the second outing, but I met up with the other Ross and we set out to see what we could do on a terrible rainy windy day. For once we got to the stream before daylight. We got all decked out in our waterproof gear and started the long trip down to the run we decided to fish. The weather was warm, in the 60s, however when the wind would blow it brought a feel of Winter back with it. After talking for a little, we decided with conditions, we'd start out throwing streamers. We got to our spot just in time for first light. I let Ross take the deeper, more structural side and I worked over the side opposite, this side had a few sneaky drop offs mixed in with some more shallow runs. Ross yelled over "Big fish just chased my streamer in", good sign I thought. I'm not the best streamer fisherman, I probably fish Nymphs 99% of the time, so I was really just playing around with some different retrieves and mostly using it as a learning experience. I was working down stream pounding the banks, as I fell in a deep hole that I forgot was there, my wading jacket saved me yet again. I remembered seeing a big mouth rising here last summer, so I took a step back to get a better angle. The hole lies under a big overhang, so I put to use the cast that GD taught me for such situations during our session a few weeks back. It was right on target and two big strips resulted in a crush that I hadn't felt in quite some awhile. Unlike usual I was ready this time and stripped the streamer hard into the fishes jaw. It was in an instant that I knew It was an above average fish as he took off running. Also, unlike usual, I calmly let him take drag and do his run, although I quickly realized that I was in a bad situation. Since I was lazy and it already had a streamer leader, I had an old reel on my streamer rod and the drag was messing up (goes to show why it's important to take the extra time to have the proper set up).  As I hand fed line out, I carefully followed after him through the difficult to wade drop offs. As I closed in, I caught a glimpse of him when he rolled and tail slapped the surface, Yes!! It was a nice brown. Somehow being so focused I didn't even realize that Ross came running over and was prepared to help me net him. He made a fast dart towards us and I steered him right into Ross's Brodin, a beautiful brown trout that I could instantly tell went over the big 2-0. We let out a cheer and I took a second to pop the hook out of his mouth, we let him revive for a minute in the net and I lifted him for a few quick pictures before being released back into his reclusive den.

That was all it took for me, my day was made. I worked over a few more productive spots and picked off a few more fish using nymphs. Mostly just testing out the Syndicate. Shorty after I caught the nice brown the weather turned for the worst and plummeted in temperature. Neither of us had much more luck. We worked one last section and I took a wrong step and caught a sliding board of a rock that jetted me out into a deep hole. I had to swim back to shore and I figured this was a good stopping point for the awesome, yet unproductive day. We made the trip back to the parking lot and chatted for awhile about how much fun we had. It isn't always about how many fish you catch, even remove the big fish we got that day and it still was an excellent morning on the water with a great friend. Hopefully, by the next time I can make it out the fishing, weather, and landscape are in a more predictable state.

Smile for the camera buddy

"If we had no Winter, the Spring would not be so pleasant, if we did not sometimes taste adversity, prosperity would not be so welcome."  -Anne Bradstreet.

Foul Weather Fisherman

With the weather forecast at home on Sunday supposed to be sunny and beautiful, there was only one thing I could think of to do. Wake up at 5 am after losing an hour of sleep to the time change and drive for hours into a forecast of 100% rain. Anymore, I really enjoy fishing on days where fair weather fisherman would rather stay home, when else could you have a Class A wild trout stream all to yourself? After talking with a good friend for a few months about fishing, we finally found some time on the water together. We pulled into the parking lot and surprisingly the weather was decent. It was overcast and the water looked excellent despite lower flows than I'd normally like to fish. We got out of the car to gear up and it started dumping rain on us. Perfect weather to chase brown trout right? That's why they make wading jackets. We started out at one of my favorite holes, Ross hooked a nice fish right away and lost it at the net. A good sign, so I thought. After cycling through every nymph I thought should work, not even a take. I left the normally productive hole and worked up through a small channel that's usually good for a fish or two. I heard something over the loud current and looked down stream to see Ross holding up a nice fish.

I ran down to snap a picture for him, not a bad catch for one of his first few wild browns. I asked what pattern he took and when he told me, I couldn't believe I didn't try it with the conditions we had. Good thinking Ross! Things started to look up from there. 

We flipped some rocks in the shallow fast water on the way up stream to check out some of the bug life. We found an abundance of small BWO nymphs and tiny green Caddis. We worked up through another productive section of water and caught a few nice fish on Ross's pattern at a pretty decent rate. 

After not having much luck in the pocket water, I saw some little black stones coming off, so I switched over to a suggestive pattern that I thought would work. I was right. I picked up a few fish while picking apart the tiny seams and eddies. Seems like the fish in this type of water have been into the small stuff lately. 

Despite wearing wading jackets, we were fairly soaked by this point. It probably rained about a half of an inch on our heads as we worked up through the first section. We worked up to a section that I've yet to fish due to it usually being a little too deep at higher flows, today it was perfect. We switched back over to a bigger pattern and Ross landed a nice fish right away. A few cast later using a new deep nymphing technique I've been having luck with,  I hooked into something heavy in 10-12 ft of water. As usual, I got overly excited and horsed him off of the bottom, causing him to freak out and shred my 5x off of a boulder. Ross got a good look at him and said he was in the 18-19" range. My heart sunk when I realized how good of a fish it was. We moved on and up towards the head of the hole. I picked up a few fish deep again and lost my rig to a boulder. As I was tying on, I heard Ross say "Fish On". I looked down and knew instantly he had something better than average on so I went down to assist. Unlike me moments before, he calmly fought him in on his 11' 3wt (I really need to invest in one of those, I was impressed with how it performed). After tangling with him for a minute or so he dropped into my net a very pretty above average sized fish for this creek.

After talking about what a great experience it was for a few moments, we moved up to fish one last little run. I picked up four fish quickly on some small stuff before the rain picked up really heavy.

We started the long hike back to the car and felt pretty good about how the day went. Even though conditions weren't ideal and we were soaked, we put up nice numbers. It could have been worse, we could have stayed home and enjoyed the nice weather doing something silly like golfing. I'm really starting to enjoy getting out on the water when conditions and flows are bad. I'm really beginning to enjoy being one of the few foul weather fisherman.

Rock Bottom

 

The routine was the same as it was every other week, day dream while at work about fishing and put those day dreams into reality over the weekend. The temperature finally decided to break towards the end of the week and I hoped this would cause the fishing to heat up. I was wrong again, but it did get some of the bigger fish on the feed if you were willing to work for them. I met up with Ross early Saturday morning as usual to and we headed to one of our favorite boulder strewn, mossy bottom, ankle breaking creeks. This creek could eat up the best of waders and Saturday didn't disappoint. I spent most of the morning doing the Stonefly shuffle on the slippery bottom (And likely earning myself and early hip and knee replacement) , falling in seemingly every other step, and often rolling down stream (The Simms wading jacket played hero again).  Despite fishing a usually productive section of pocket water, it only yielded two fish. A strip of water that put around a dozen fish in my net the last trip. This just goes to show the difference a week can make in trout waters. At least they were gorgeous examples of God's fish.

 

They don't get much prettier than him

Another pretty little pocket water fish

We quickly cut our losses and switched to a plan B that we talked about on the way down. We went to explore a section of creek where we thought some bigger fish may hold. Well, it didn't disappoint. Although numbers weren't as high, we picked up some solid fish for this watershed.

This feisty little guy came out of a root system to crush my nymphs
 

Awesome looking fish that Ross nymphed out of a big chute 

Hard fighting fish that made me run down stream after him.

After quickly picking up a few nicer fish, we started working up into a harder to access part of the creek. It was a beautiful section of holding water and I picked off occasional fish working upstream on a size 22 midge (still amazes me these fish will eat such a small bug in pocket water). Ross did equally as well on a Euro style nymph he ties . Despite being a slower day it was rewarding as we started to pick off some better fish for this little gem. It's only a matter of time before we hit our goal of a 18"+ inch fish out of this fishery and this is likely the stretch that it will come out of. Until then, these pretty little guys will do.

 

 

Thanks for reading! Tight Lines!