~StreamSide Tales~

Slump Busters

2026-10-15T09:06:45.468-04:00

Slump Busters

10/14/26

Brown trout like wet flies!

Let me start off by saying I’ve been in a slump of not hooking up and not bringing any fish to the net. This includes trout or smallmouth I fish in the river. I suppose it’s like a professional baseball player coming to bat each game and not getting a hit. This has been going on for the past few outings.

They had stocked the creek I was wanting to fish on October 1st. It’s a fly fishing only catch-and-release. While camping around 45 minutes away I visited this stream twice later on and couldn’t hook up at all. Another day I visited, driving from home, and fouled hooked one and missed a grab on a streamer. I went 0 hits in 3 different outing spending at least 5 hours each day.

I tried everything from nymphs, dry flies, streamers, sucker spawn and imitation terrestrials without a hook up. Not that I saw any of the other fishermen hook up but I felt, with my experience, I would do better! Sure the water has been pretty clear and low level conditions but there are deeper pockets and plenty of faster water to fish. On the 14th I decided I was going back out there and was determined to hook up at least once!!

It was an overcast, gray sky kind of day. Autumn came early as the trees changed their leaf colors that seamed like all at once. The colorful landscape around was pleasant. With that the gusts of wind played a part in blowing the more fragile leaves off the branches and limbs to the earth. This amounted to surface, as well as beneath, to hamper the drift of whatever I decided to offer the fish. Just getting my offerings between the floating Leaves was a challenge in itself.

It had rained the evening before and overnight. I was right in thinking the water would be a bit discolored just enough to maybe disguised my leader from any line shy trout. The water level didn’t appear to rise any. Being this was a tail out, from an over the wall dam, I didn’t expect it to rise much. As far as the water temperature it was well below ‘too warm to fish’ conditions.

I assembled my 4 piece, 4 weight Session rod and attached my Hardy reel with double taper line. I put on my waist wader, fly vest and grabbed a few cigars and my custom made trout net. I had everything to offer the trout in my vest pockets and was determined to use every last one of them to hook up to a trout.

At the water edge I was able to see some oblong shapes of trout below the surface but it had dirtied up from the rain as I thought it would. The sun was barely shining through the overcast conditions which didn’t appear to effect the dirty water much. I started out with a couple of nymphs but switched to streamers within a few minutes after not getting a take on the nymphs. Well, the streamers, Wooly Buggers and Triple Threats weren’t drawing any attention either that I could tell. I did have the whole section of water to myself and slowly waded, fishing this upper section of the project area from the beginning wire to the section that got too deep to wade. Let’s just say I spent hours of casting. I kind of felt like a baseball player, at the batting cages, dreaming about getting a hit in a ballgame and breaking the slump.

It wasn’t long after I started fishing rain feel down like a heavy mist from the sky. It blanketed the whole area that it almost looked foggy down stream. I went back up to my truck and put on my light rain jacket as it was still in the 60 degrees temperature wise. Without any takers in the past hours I pulled out another cigar and thought about the situation. How can I not hook up with at least one stupid trout that have been stocked just 13 days ago?

As I recall, according to the stocking schedule, the state had stocked the creek with brown trout. In all my experience I have caught more brown trout on wet flies than anything else I have offered them in tough conditions. I knotted on a wet fly and dropped a beaded nymph below. I lit my cigar and was going to intimidate them, once and for all, with a wet fly.

Up near the deeper wavy riffles, I stood on the bank, and dropped my offerings, under an indicator, up in the wavy water and high-sticked it down in front of me and beyond. On one occasion, as I was bringing the line towards me, watching my indicator dragging the surface towards me, when I saw a trout rise to my offerings. It must have snapped at one or the other at least 4 or five times. I gave another cast up stream and watched the same thing happen again as I was bringing the line in again. Without hooking up I decided to remove the indicator and try high-sticking my offerings. Being the water was kind of deep I added a small split shot to make sure my nymph drug near bottom while my wet fly drifted mid-level. It took a while, but I finally got a good strike at the end of the drift, and my first trout was fighting the line. The 4-weight rod bowed good as the trout took off across creek. It was a battle as I was fighting the heavy fish on 4lb test. He went up towards the bridge of surface rocks that caused the riffling water but turned downstream with the resistance of the rod. Upon him going down creek, with force, the Hardy reel clicked out line, like the rhythmic tapping of a woodpecker against a hollow tree trunk! I slowly walked the bank down creek some to calmer water getting a better place to net this angry trout.

Initially, I was able to see I had a good hook up in his mouth but down creek he must have rolled and now, as he swam up and across creek, it was if I had him by the tail. This made it extra hard getting him to me but I prevailed and netted him safely. I found my bottom nymph had him by the tail but my dry fly, the top fly, was hooked in the inside of his mouth. After dislodging the tail hook up I got the nice brown trout turned in my favorite and unhooked the wet fly from his mouth! What a bruiser of a brown trout!

My slump was over! The initial hook up was a fair ball with the tail hook as an error for extra bases. Whatever, The slump was over.

After releasing the brown trout, I just knotted on two different wet flies. I left the small split shot pinched about 12” from the top fly, and without an indicator, decided to fish this way until my cigar burns to the nub.

On occasion, and throughout the day, trout would rise here and there as if taking emergers. When I see fish splashing the surface, rather than sipping, I feel they are taking emergers as they rise to the surface before the emerging fly flies off. There wasn’t anything apparent I could see drifting on the surface and the only thing I saw flying about, rarely, was small midges in the 20 hook size range or smaller. I did try a small dry fly earlier but couldn’t get any takers. Most of the fish rising lately were down stream in the shallower riffling water. I slowly made my way towards them casting across creek as I stopped and go, and let the wet flies drift down creek. On one occasion I saw a trout come towards my offering but refused it. On another occasion, before I got to the shallower riffles, I felt a tug of a take and yanked the rod for the hook set. The trout took off up creek and I knew I had him by the mouth. He fought tooth and nail but I kept side pressure on him and tired him out till he swam down creek in defeat. It wasn’t that tough bringing him towards me and getting him in the net.

Another real nice brown.

Upon releasing him he was pretty worn out. I faced him upstream to get fresh water through his gills and when I felt him revive, I let him go. He took off slowly but was upright swimming towards the deeper water. With him taking the brighter top wet fly, I had confidence I had two wet flies that the hungry trout couldn’t resist.

Down creek I casted up in the riffles and kept the rod high so as not to let the fly line drag too much before pulling my offering too quickly downstream. Once they drifted down creek some, I would drop the rod and near the end of the drift raise it slightly to let the wet flies rise. I kept the split shot on even though the water was shallower risking a bottom snag.

Watching my fly line it took off up creek and I knew I had another taker. As soon as I set the hook, the line tightened and the trout turned and took off down creek as if he was propelled with the help of the strong current. Battling a trout in shallow water I feel is more intensifying than in deeper water. I feel the riffling, wavy surface current causes more erratic line fluctuation than a straight-line fight in a deeper pool. Anyhow I had a good battle getting him to the net safely.

He was a nice bruiser of a brown trout.

Keeping on for some time, with the wet fly combination, I noticed a few rises way across creek that looked a tad deeper. The problem with casting over there was a semi-surface bolder, between me and there, a bit downstream causing a back eddy and swirling water behind it. Again, the risk was possible but the opportunity for a hook up was more overbearing!

I landed my cast just upstream and just beyond the boulder. My floating line caught in the back eddy not knowing what would become of my offering below. Just then I saw my floating line pull up creek and I reared the rod back, pulling in slack line, for the hook set. At first you would of thought I had a bottom snag or caught the semi-surface boulder as the line lifted off the water and the 4 weight bowed as if the line was stuck to the rock, but no! The line took off up and away and I could feel I had a monster on the other end. He tugged harshly and swam around in the distance with frantic pulling and tugging. The 4 weight flexed and arced with each tug as I held tension on the fly line. Maybe, as he felt he wasn’t getting away at this point, he turned down creek and decided to take the battle to a different area. The line cut through the surface water, missing the semi-surface boulder, and continued down creek. The Hardy reel clicked loudly as line pulled out and through the rod eyes. The trout didn’t stop till he was well in deeper slower current downstream. There he put up a good fight while I was able to reel in line when I felt comfortable to do so. (I didn’t want a bunch of line floating around when I got him near me.)

He, we, put on a good fighting show should have anyone be watching. He splashed around now and then and I was patient enough not to force him in. Once I felt the tension of the line ease up between my fingers I started to bring him up creek against his will. Once in the shallower water he wasn’t all that grateful. He started splashing water around like he was drowning and didn’t know how to swim. By now I figured I had a real good hook set and kind of laughed to myself even though I knew something could go wrong. I slowly waded to a deeper portion of water and slowly forced him towards me. He swam down creek but was unable to convince me to give him more distance. All in all I had him coming to the net and scooped him in. Wow, another bruiser of a brown trout!!

He was pretty worn out so it took some time to get the energetic life back into him. I took my time facing him upstream getting a good flow of water through his mouth and gills. Once I felt a good tail swat, as I held him by the neck in front of his tail fin, I let go and he calmly swam into the current.

Now, though they just stocked this 13 days ago this is a catch-and-release area. I’m not sure how big of brown trout they stocked but usually the freshly stocked brown trout have white belly’s and not as much a pronounced body pattern. Besides that I never known them to stock a bunch of big brown trout in a project area not specified as a trophy trout section. Wherever these big brown trout come from they looked well fed and had the energy of well trained fighters.

My cigar was almost to the nub so there wasn’t much time left for my exit. My arms could feel the cold wetness from the constant sprinkling of rain and I could feel the temperature getting a bit colder. I was thinking one more catch or if I get snagged up on the bottom I’ll call it a day.

It just so happen that I got snagged up and broke off. I reeled in my empty line and strolled back to the truck. I took time to dress into street clothes and put on a warm sweatshirt while the truck heated up under the fine misty rain.

The slump was over. I was as happy as a league leader in hits and RBI’s!

~doubletaper

Tionesta Smallies

2026-09-04T09:26:40.538-04:00

Tionesta Smallies

9/01/26

It was a cloudy overcast day when I started out. The light blue sky was rarely seen in the background as the clouds below moved slowly. Every once in a while the sun would appear as often and as quick as a shooting star might be seen streaking the sky at night. A cool breeze would gently blow up stream but not enough to cause wild casts with my 9’ foot fast action 5 weight fly rod.

I was prepared to catch some long time resident trout. I had all my trout offerings including Wooly Buggers, Triple Threat streamers, San Juans, nymphs and dry flies. Usually the trout would hang out in the cooler water across creek where mountain water ran down the shale mountain side and spill, like a spigot, into the stream. I waded out and started casting towards the far side hoping to interest one of those homely trout. I was mostly casting out Woolly Buggers, Triple Threats and wet flies but wasn’t having takers for the past hour or so. I bided my time puffing on a cigar as I waded and fished myself down creek. I decided to knot on and just keep using a Triple Threat streamer and cast towards the far bank.

The water was a bit colored but I was able to see the boulders beneath the surface water out quite a distance. The water I was casting towards looked anywhere from 2 to 4 feet deep but could have been deeper in some areas. I had plenty of room for my back cast so I was able to make long forward casts out across creek.

From years past I knew there was a deeper pocket I was slowly moving towards. Near enough I stopped wading and took a stand, like an ice cream truck in a vacation rental complex in the off season, hoping to attract any residence. With a back cast I timed perfectly, I whipped a forward cast a few feet from the far bank across creek.The Triple Threat fell into the water and, after it sank some, I slowly started to strip it in to prevent it from snagging the creek bed of rocks or other debris. The floating fly line was still curving down creek when the line kind of slowed and stopped drifting. I thought maybe I got caught up on a snag so I wristed the rod upward to free it. With that I felt a tug and I realized I had a fish. I forcefully yanked the rod back trying to make sure the hook point penetrated the mouth of the taker of my streamer.

The fish swam upstream initially before turning down creek with more weighty tugs. It didn’t fight, scurrying forcefully about, like a trout but kept with tugging pulls. My 5 weight flexed with the fighting fish but I was able to bring the fish in without much trouble. I netted a nice smallmouth.

I wasn’t too surprised being I have caught a smallmouth on occasion but not too often. After I released him I straitened out the polar fibers of the Triple Threat and started to cast towards the same area.

Maybe it was the second or third cast out when another fish took the streamer as it drifted down creek. I felt the take as the line pulled outward. I yanked the rod back with authority making sure it would penetrate a smallmouths jaw where as I needn’t to be so harsh in a trouts soft lips. The fish pulled forcefully towards the far bank and then down creek. I felt and saw the 9’ fly rod sections bow into the middle sections. I held the cork grip tightly as the active fish shook and pulled more as he swam down creek. The reel spit out some tight line as I felt it slip though my tensioning fingers.There was hardly a current I was fighting him against but he fought with weighty pulling trying to free himself. Once I got his aggressive tugging energy tiring I was able to bring him towards me. Closer to me, though, he had enough energy to dart away but the resistance of the bowed rod kept him going too far. Near me I got the net beneath him and quickly scooped him in it. He was a bit angry as he flopped in the net to get free. He was a fat good creek size smallmouth.

After that, I fished a little longer but couldn’t get any more fish interested. All the while I puffed on another cigar till it got too hot to be comfortable enough to fish. The heat from the sun felt like a laser beam pointed right at me and I felt like I was melting like the wicked witch. Looking up the heavy cloud cover, from this morning, was reduced to small cotton candy puffs slowly drifting below the bright blue sky. I waded out and headed for the truck.

~doubletaper

Smallmouth Stunts

2026-07-11T06:02:13.003-04:00

Smallmouth Stunts

7/03/26

They say fish have a brain the size of a pea. I have friends that say state raised trout, (pellet heads), are dumb. I’m not sure but sometimes I think the smallmouth I catch are pretty dumb also. They will chase and gulp a popper making commotion on the surface no matter what the color is at times. This is why I don’t spend too much time coloring, air painting or making my poppers eye-catching to the human eye. Just different colored poppers, tail feathers, dry hackle behind the foam popper and some rubber legs make enough commotion and must look like dying bait fish or swimming frogs that draw their attention. Every once in a while though I hook into a smallmouth that appears to have some thought of how to get unhooked or get into danger snags to the hooker. Besides them exploding out of the water, with a popper hook in their mouth trying to throw the hook, they have other stunts to get tangled up.

It was another clear blue sky with little cloud cover to speak of. Greenery lined the banks and the morning sun was still rising over the tree cover on the far bank. The water had a brown tint from previous night rain. I lined my 6 weight, 9’ fly rod and attached a popper to the no-knot snap. I put on my flippers and plopped the float tube in the water for a mile or so float. There was nearly a breeze and the section I was fishing was slow and not much faster, wavy water until way downriver near where I would be getting out. The water was in good depth which not shallow enough where I would be scraping bottom and yet just deep enough in the usual shallow areas where the smallmouth should be in and away from hugging the shaded banks until maybe the sun moves overhead of the river. I situated myself into my float tube and lit a cigar before pushing off.

As I was floating down river I was casting towards the middle of the river and towards the banks. My first activity was, after setting the hook on an exploding smallmouth at my popper, was a hefty smallmouth. He actually was pulling my float tube towards the middle of the river while I was flipping my way towards the bank where I could get a foot hold. Once I got a foothold and he wasn’t able to pull me, he exploded out of the water but not getting enough height to get his tail off the surface. His tail splashed water everywhere as his body wavered just above the surface. He dumped back into the water and there we tussled some before getting him to the apron.

Downriver, not far, I was drifting out from the bank, casting and down away towards the middle of the river. Almost at the end of the drift I started stripping the popper in intervals. I let the popper drift freely before making another strip when a smallmouth rose and grabbed it with an audible gulp. I waited a second and yanked the rod up for the hook set. The line tightened and the 6 weight bowed towards the expanding wavy circle where the smallmouth took my offering. I was able to get a foothold on the riverbed a ways out from the bank. The smallmouth fought with heavy pulls out towards the middle of the river. I wasn’t letting him have any line so he started to swim just downriver from me. I was bring in line when I noticed my 9 foot leader was pointing down towards a sunken ledge of a boulder. The smallmouth wasn’t swimming to either side of the boulder and it must have found a safe hideout under the boulder ledge. I tried lifting the rod and line high trying to coax him out but he wouldn’t move out. I could still feel his movement through the fly line. I started to tug the line left to right trying to get him to move out but he still wouldn’t cooperate. I was afraid if I kept it up my leader would eventually tear rubbing against the ledge. I slowly started to flipper towards the bank to be at an angle of the ledge. As I neared to him, with my rod towards the bank and high, he finally didn’t have the ledge for hiding behind and swam out downriver. Without any more stunts I was able to get him to the apron.

As I drifted I was hooking up and missing some of the hungry smallmouth with the popper. Some of them were nice size and some were smaller ones.

I was casting towards the bank when the water widened and got shallower across the river. The sun was up and shining down. There were log jams along the bank and half submerged boulders that hugged the bank. I was slowly drifting, touching bottom now and then, casting near the bank and down river from me. I started to strip the popper in and wham, a smallmouth rose and gulped it in. I dropped the rod tip and then yanked it high and another smallmouth tugged at the other end. He started to swim towards the bank so I moved the rod away trying to force him away from the logs. The rod sections bowed and forced him away. I was about 20 yards or so away from the bank but was able to get a foothold at times. The smallmouth was down river towards the bank and we were having a good battle with one another. Then suddenly the tight line stopped moving but I could still feel the fish moving. I started to drift down stream from where my rod tip was pointing. I felt the smallmouth had snagged us up on something. I had to let line out as I was trying to flipper my way upriver to see what we were caught on. When I got to the snag the smallmouth had wrapped the leader around a thin branch stuck to the bottom of the river with a bunch of thin twigs branching out. My line was pretty tangled in the twigs and looked like a thick spider web that intertwined in the twigs. The smallmouth was still hooked and it was if he was looking at me laughing like “now what are you going to do next?” I could see the hook was hooked pretty securely in his mouth as he was just swishing his tail to keep his upright position holding on. Maybe he thought he had me tangled so bad that I would just cut the line and he could swim out of it. Wrong! I took my time untangling the mess while he stayed put. I was breaking the wet flexible twigs and getting my leader untangled. Every once in a while the smallmouth was trying desperately to swim away but he tangled himself good and couldn’t break free until I got most of my leader free. Once I got the line straightened out to him he turned and took off towards the middle of the river. He seemed pretty worn out, from being tangled, and I was able to bring him in pretty quickly. I guess he thought getting himself tangled up I’d give up on him but it wasn’t so.

After letting him off the hook I continued floating down river casting poppers. I caught a couple more smaller smallmouth before the fast wavy water that was to fast to not watch where I was going. I was nearing my exit point and guided myself towards the bank. It was another enjoyable float hooking up with some ‘smart’ smallmouth!

~doubletaper

Popper Fun

2026-07-07T06:36:46.894-04:00

Popper Fun

7/01/26

Recently, in the week or so past, I fished for smallmouth in the Clarion River. I was hoping to get them to rise for my popper selection but they haven’t been cooperative. Wednesday I decided to give them another chance.

I had my float tube in the water ready to go by 9:30am. It was already in the 70’s and the sun was out and about emitting it’s laser sharp rays in between the light cloud cover. The humidity was high and the only relief from the warm temps was I’d be in the cooler river water in my float tube. I had about a mile stretch of water to tease the river smallmouth into rising for one of my poppers.

The section of water I’d be floating was slow moving with boulders along the banks. Being that most of this stretch isn’t easy access from the road I figured the smallies weren’t fished over much.

Dancing with the first smallie on a popper within the first hour of floating gave me confidence that the smallies will rise. Watching the popper float upon the water and making short strips for bubbling action, was too much a temptation for some.

Most of the smallmouth I caught weren’t the biggest but some were a bundle to hold on to while we were partners. Watching them all of a sudden rise and gulp my popper was as much fun as catching a trout on a dry fly.

I was dancing with them off now and then but I never knew when or where they would participate. Likely spots I thought one would rise weren’t so. Other times I was just casting out towards the middle of the river and a smallmouth would gulp up the popper with a sudden splash. I’d wait a second or two after it took it under and rear back the rod up with a determined hook set. Most of the time the line would tighten and the 9 foot rod would bow towards the strike and the fight was on.

I puffed away on a stogie as I slowly drifted.

Occasionally I would get a foothold on a big boulder beneath that was reachable and steady myself. I would cover the area, within casting distance, stationary on my foot hold. Many times I would get a smallie to commit into grabbing one of my poppers. It was easier getting them to the apron when I was stationary than drifting without a foothold.

I din’t hook all the takers but I was about 90% on my game. Some smaller ones I didn’t take pictures of but the bigger brutes I did. It was obvious that the smallmouth were well fed. They were fat and energetic. The river has lots of crayfish besides bait fish. Many times when I catch a smallmouth it will spit out a small fish or parts of a crayfish. They are like pigs and don’t seem to ever get their bellies filled at times.

I was getting into shallower water and I was feeling my way with my flippers on the bedrock. Along the rocky bank looked a bit deeper so I concentrated my casts along the bank. The sun was above and lit up the water like a dance hall. A lot of times I find that smallmouth like to sit along shady spots along a rocky bank even in shallow water.

I made a cast just out from the rocky bank and watched my popper plop into the water. I stripped the popper across the water in slow intervals making the popper bubble and splash the surface water like a helpless dying bait fish. A smallmouth rose, like the chance to dance to the last song at the ballroom dance! She rose half out of the water where my popper was. She went under and I yanked back the rod with a hefty pull. The slack line zipped off the water and tightened like a banjo string. She went under and swam towards the center of the river as a wake followed her. The river water was shallow all around so it wasn’t hard to see her as she swam from my point of view. She maneuvered here and there as if dancing on the ballroom floor and I was keeping my eye on her. I wasn’t sure what music was playing in her head but she rose to the surface, splashing water now and then, as if wanting the attention! She danced a bit more and I was able to get her to the apron safely.

I was within sight of my exit point still feeling my way with my flippers. Every once in a while I would cast out towards the middle of the river when I saw a current flow of riffles from a boulder just under the surface. Usually the water is a little deeper behind. My cast was just beyond the narrow riffles and I gave a sharp pop’ and let the popper drift with the riffling current. Another pop and I started to strip it across the surface, in intervals, as if swimming towards the bank downstream out of danger. I watched as in an instant an oblong figure flashed behind it and gulped at it. I yanked back as quickly as I could. I had a lot of slack line arced on the surface and the way the figure appeared I didn’t have time to think about waiting to set the hook a second or two. I just yanked the rod up towards the bank trying to straighten the arcing line. The line straightened and tightened. The rod bowed towards the surface splash where my popper once had been. The smallmouth disappeared beneath tugging and pulled away towards the middle of the river. I followed him with the rod tip and let him have a little tensioned line I had pinched between my fingers. He gave me a good show as if he was the feature dancer of the ballroom gala. He splashed the surface, jumped out of the water and swung around in his performance. I kind of chuckled as I was bringing line in and after all that performance I was pretty sure my hook set was tight and not going to come loose. Near the float tube I reached down and pinched his bottom lip and brought him to the apron.

He wasn’t as fat as the smallmouth I caught upriver in deeper water but he was a nice size smallie with a lot of spunk for dancing!

Just before I made my way to the bank of my exit point I caught one more smallmouth near the bank. I was surprised because the water I was casting in didn’t look any more than shin deep. There must have been a deeper pocket of water he was resting in?

Well the dancing was over and it was time to go home.

~doubletaper

The Struggle

2026-07-01T06:28:36.585-04:00

The Struggle

6/29/26

Being the temperatures have been in the 80’s with high humidity I stay away from fishing for trout in creeks. I mostly turn my fly fishing to river smallmouth and hoping to make them rise to one of my poppers. Recently the smallmouth haven’t been too cooperative coming up for a popper so, knowing they’ll take a Woolly Bugger, I offered them one.

The river was low enough I was able to wade almost half the river width. I wasn’t able to reach the far side, along the boulders, with my casts but I caught a few river fish anyway. I started fishing the faster water before I got to the slower current down stream. The sun was high but the warmth it brought felt like it was only tree height. The water was bearable, with the recent warm temperatures, but with the many springs and mountain creeks that empty into the river there are cooler waters that trout hang out in.

In the faster riffling current I was casting out Woolly Buggers and hooked into a few rascally trout. One being a yellow belly brown trout the looked like a local residence for some years. They put up a good battle and after letting them go they swam away fine.

Down in the tail out of the wavy current I was surprised I didn’t catch a smallmouth in the deeper water. I continued on wading down river. I was mostly casting poppers hoping for a gulping smallie for my poppers but none seemed interested. Maybe over the weekend there were so many watercraft’s, fisher people, and float tubers that the smallmouth were still scared to feed on top or moved to the far side of the river I couldn’t get to? I was biding my time puffing on a cigar and casting poppers without any strikes that I finally decided to attach a Woolly Bugger again. It seems like the smallmouth in the river like brown buggers more than olive buggers more often. The trout on the other hand seem to prefer olive but I’ve caught both, trout and smallies, on both shades..

I attached one of my brown buggers and was casting it out as far as I could comfortably. As it drifted down stream I felt a grab and hoisted the rod tip up and the line came off the water and tightened. The fish put up a good battle and I was surprised It was a rainbow trout this far down from the cooler waters that was up stream. Heck, maybe he was visiting or was just swimming around away from the faster current? Anyhow, he put up a good battle and even took air like a high jumper flexing his body over the high bar! I flipped the net over and he swam away without looking stressed.

I slowly waded and stopped now and then casting the bugger out across stream. I made a cast directly across stream and watched the bugger plop into the water like an acorn falling into a pond. My fly line laid on the water and slowly arced downstream on the surface. I saw the line pull away without feeling the take. I quickly yanked the rod high, getting the arced fly line off the surface, and the line tightened near where my bugger dropped. I felt the rod sections bow deep near the butt section and felt the tug and pull of the fish heading downstream. There was no stopping him as line slipped through my fingers and then i felt the reel spinning line out of the spool. I knew I had something big on the other end! I’m not sure where he was heading to but he was hauling ass like a 100 meter sprinter.

I lost a trout earlier trying to horse him to the net. He got unhooked near the net. I wasn’t going to try to horse this big ogre in. The 6 weight bowed like my 8 weight bowing with a furious steelhead on the line. I had 8lb tapered leader on and was pretty sure that was enough to hold him from breaking the leader. I wasn’t sure how far down river he was going but I had plenty of backing and I was pretty sure he wouldn’t take it that far. There were no obvious obstacles I was able to see for the line to get caught on so I wasn’t too worried about that kind of danger. As I felt him slowing on his swimming journey I moved the bowed rod to my right putting some side pressure on him. He appeared to turn towards my side of the river but kept his distance. Slowly I started to bring in line as I brought the rod to my left facing across the river. He slowly followed with jerking tugs. He stayed deep so I figured it was a big smallmouth but had a thought it could be a big brown.

It took some struggling and I had him across from me in the distance. He turned, swam away, and again I couldn’t hold him back. The rod bowed deep again and my forearm was feeling the pressure. I was about to put the rod butt in my gut when he quickly turned and swam away with a weighty pull. I held on and had to let line slip through my fingers again.

Times like these I feel like enough is enough and start to bring the fish towards me putting a lot of stress on the rod and line. I’m going to let the fish go anyway but I sure wanted to see him in the net. Well, he decided to show me what he was when he broke the surface and shot up in the air like a hurdler. He was shaking his head and his fat body. He wasn’t as graceful as the trout or didn’t clear the water like the trout but he made a showing of his size!! That kinda got me excited seeing this fat smallmouth! After he plopped back into the water, within a second or two later he broke the surface with only his face to his gills visible. His body quivered violently and the water around him splashed everywhere. The line shook and the fly rod vibrated within my gripping hands. He disappeared beneath and started to swim up river. I started to bring in line as fast as I could, holding the bent rod high trying to keep a straight tight line. He was swimming slower but his weight and strength kept me from getting him towards me quickly. We struggled, or I struggled, with him for a few more minutes before I felt I was finally getting him tamed.

Bringing him up to the net I saw my bugger hooked tightly into his lower jaw. As he rose he must of felt defeated or just finally gave up and let me scoop him up. He was heavy and I was glad I had my net instead of my tailing glove. I was able to unhook him with a tug with my hemostats. He didn’t even flinch! I got a couple of pics and let him swim away out of my grasp. He was a beauty.

I fished a little longer under the hot sunshine and caught one more smaller smallie on the bugger.

I have to admit, besides the big smallie making my day, I was tired. Wading the current, struggling with caught fish under the hot sunshine wore me out.

Where I was the bank was kind of steep and brush and weeds covered the bank and forest to the road. I wasn’t about to try and make my way through the tangles and slowly waded the river water, along the bank and pebbles, upriver to more promising conditions to get me safely to the road.

It was a struggling day on the river but I survived happily.

~doubletaper

They Like’m Wet

2026-06-17T06:28:14.684-04:00

They Like’m Wet

6/11/26

One section of water I always try to fish on Tionesta Creek is usually fished pretty much. Usually there’s campers along the section or a vehicle parked at the site. This morning, as I drove by, there wasn’t a vehicle at the site. I pulled the truck down the lane and got my gear on. My Douglas 9’ 4 weight fly rod was already strung up on the front passenger side. I added some fresh 5x tippet and knotted on an elk hair caddis. I put my gear on and grabbed a few cigars. The morning was already warm out but the sun wasn’t completely over the far hillside or tree line.

Branches of green leafy trees lined the creek as far as the eye could see. Half the creek was dark from the shadows of the tree line on the opposite bank keeping the sun from filtering through. The water was clear but the brown stoney creek bed made the water color look like watered down coffee. I stepped into the cool creek water and slowly started wading to the middle of the creek looking for any risers.

One fish was rising out so I waded closer within casting distance. He wasn’t interested in the deer hair caddis I offered him. I switched caddis and a tan elk hair caddis got his attention with a swirl but he didn’t take it. There were a couple other risers in the shade of the creek. Though the risers all looked like they were rising for some kind of emerger by the way they splashed the water surface, I stuck with the dry caddis. I was casting upstream from the few risers I saw and letting the caddis drift into their zone but they wouldn’t grab it. There were bubbles and small debris drifting on the surface so I thought maybe the trout weren’t seeing my dry among the floating surface debris. I made a cast that landed the dry right on the spot I saw a rise. As soon as the caddis hit the water a trout rose and grabbed it. I was ready, for many times I had trout not take a drifting dry until I put it right on their head. I reared back the rod and my first trout was fighting against the tight line.

I continued to cast the caddis to the other occasional risers but they didn’t appear to be interested. The sun was still rising and I knew in time the shady section of water would soon be in direct sunlight and bringing down the heat. Being that I figured the trout were eating emergers or having breakfast underneath I decided to knot on a couple of soft hackle wet flies. That seemed to be what they were after.

If I saw a rise in an area I would cast the wet flies upstream from them and let the wet flies drift within their sight. Many times I got a take. The fly line would shoot towards the take and I’d rear back the rod and the line would tighten. The trout would fight in anger as if they were upset they’ve been fooled.

If the trout grabbed the wet flies near the end of the swing it was usually a hard take like when they take a swinging bugger. Once caught they fought with head shakes and tugging the line like pulling the ropes ringing the big bell in the church steeple. Some of the rainbows would rise and clear the surface with aerial acrobatics.

The brown trout stayed low nearer the creek bed when they fought. There were many stream bed big rocks laying on the bottom so I had to always keep the rod line up from getting caught or rub against the rock edges.

It was a race against time before the sun would clear the trees and bear down on the water. I was the first to feel the sun rays being in the middle of the creek. It wasn’t long that I felt sweat on my brow. Slowly the shadows of the trees upon the water surface were disappearing. I continued to make long cast in the shaded areas of the water. Every once in a while I’d get a take on a wet fly. Most of the time it was my soft hackle pheasant tail.

Other times it was a Hen back and yellow floss body that I use to imitate a sulfur or PMD. The rainbows like the Hen back and Yellow.

It wasn’t long the whole creek was under the sunshine. The surface water glimmered like a fresh coat of satin sheen varnish under the sun rays. The trout quit biting in the area I was in so I decided to head down creek casting the wet flies.

I spent another 1/2 hour or so slowly wading and casting out but couldn’t get a bite. The humidity was heavy despite being in the cooler creek water. I turned to the bank and waded out to the truck.

I never was one who liked to nymph fish. I would hang up a lot and lose my offerings on the stream bed too often. Now that I feel confident in wet fly fishing I’ll most likely stick with it more often than nymph fishing. I’ll still carry the basic nymphs but not as many different patterns.

When I started to fly fish I was more interested in dry fly fishing. Watching a trout rise and take one of my surface imitations is the royal experience. Knowing that I needed to know all aspects of fly fishing I continued to learn different technique's of fishing streamers, nymphs and wet flies. With advice from Phil Valdacchino, of Kettle Creek Tackle Shop, I gained confidence in wet fly fishing and feeling that I’m fishing them correctly. Lately I’ve been doing quite well catching trout on the wet flies when the fish aren’t taking surface mayflies or any of my streamer patterns.

~doubletaper

Fighting Mad

2026-06-15T06:00:59.042-04:00

Fighting Mad

6/10/26

Sometimes I come across a congregation of trout in far off places in rivers and bigger creeks. Places where it’s not easy to get to except long walks to such places or wading across the stream. I’m not saying that others haven’t been there before it’s just not easily accessible. These are usually on the opposite side of the stream that can only be accessible when the water is low or by a watercraft such as canoe or kayak. I’m sure there’s no secrete spots that fishermen haven’t fished or most of the trout haven’t been caught, I’m just commenting that there are areas that aren’t fished very often.

The sun was high and the temperature was in the upper 70’s I presume. Nothing was happening on top of the water. The water surface was almost as smooth as a mirror without any shadows and flowing slowly out from the camper. There hasn’t been any rain to speak of and many places the water was so shallow that I could wade across if I wanted to. The trout wouldn’t take a bugger or even wet flies. Maybe they remembered me from last week when I gave quite a few sore lips and they knew my imitation's? Even the trout along the far bank weren’t interested. Down creek a ways there was riffling wavy water that I figured haven’t been fished for some time being it wasn’t close to the road. If people did enter from the road they would have had to make their way through the forest of high weeds, hidden objects, downed tree trunks and limbs etc. If they wanted easier access, they would have to walk through my campsite and either wade down creek or follow the overgrown path of uneasiness. No one has been around for that lately. I waded down creek puffing on my cigar kind of anxious to give the riffling water a try. I figured it was well oxygenated and cooler water for the fish. The far bank looked deeper, maybe knee deep, so that’s where I was headed for.

I had a Woolly Bugger on the line and was going to see if any trout inhabited the area. My first two trout were doozies! They grabbed the bugger hard as if it was their first big meal in days and they weren’t going to let any other trout eat it before them. It was tough bringing them up against the current. When I was able to get them across from me it was as if they had another gear and turned down creek with a burst of speed. After netting the first two I couldn’t get another bite in the area.

Either the others were wary of my presence, seeing how the caught fish scurried around in panic, or the others vacated the area because of all the commotion?

I continued wading the shallow riffles, casting the bugger and letting it skirt the area. Most of the time it would get hung up on the rocks and I’d have to go fetch it. Seeing down creek, from about half the distance of the creek to the far bank looked deeper than what I was wading in. I start casting towards the far side and let the bugger swing down creek into, what looked like, knee deep water or so. I wouldn’t say I found the honey hole, but I did find hungry trout that my bugger was too tempting to pass up. The first two fish I caught were small smallmouth. Maybe they were nearer to the bugger when it dropped into the water. After those two it was time for the big trout to feed. They must have scared the smallmouth away cause after the first two I never caught another smallmouth.

Each trout I caught hit the bugger with a convincing tug. Once hooked they scurried the area down creek to the fact that I wouldn’t dare try to horse them towards me with the 4 weight Douglas rod and 5x tippet. They were strong fighters and worked the oncoming current to their advantage. Some of the rainbows would have enough energy to skyrocket out of the water shaking the line before reentry. When I did get them up across from me, they too had a burst of energy, turning and bolting down creek like a fired torpedo and I had to let line slip through my fingers. Eventually I got most of them to the net, but it was a struggle.

For about an hour and a half I was hooking up with some energetic good size trout.

By around 11:00 I had enough of the hot weather and the bite slowed down anyway. I wasn’t too crazy about fishing any further down creek. Beyond the fast water it opened up to a wide section of flat water with little current flow. I wasn’t sure how deep it was, but I figured if there were trout in there, they weren’t going to be too active.

I turned and waded to the bank. Seeing the hazard conditions on the forest floor and hillside to the road I decided to just wade the bank up to easier access to the road. By the time I got to the camper I was hot, sweating and thirsting for a cold drink. It was 80+ degrees on the thermometer I hang on the outside wall off the camper under the awning away from direct sunlight.

It was lunch time and a cold brew.

~doubletaper

Bronze Back

2026-06-14T07:21:43.851-04:00

Bronze Back

6/03/26

I waded out about half the distance of the river. I made a long cast across stream. The fly line looped the Woolly Bugger forward and it plopped in the water beyond without much slack line. I watched the floating fly line as it floated briefly. I saw the fly line dip beneath the surface and felt a bump. I raised the rod and yanked back the line. The line straightened, the rod bowed deep and the line took off down river with fish attached. It was obvious I had a weighty heavy fish. The fish continued to swim down river pulling line through the eyes as if dropping an roped anchor over the side of a drift boat not knowing the depth. He just kept swimming down river.

I remember when I got my MoJo bass rod and called St. Croix and asked the representative what kind of reel and line should I get. He told me I wouldn’t need a reel that held a lot of backing because bass don’t run very far. Well, I had a feeling I had a smallmouth but he was running like an escaped prisoner with bloodhounds tracking him.

I pinched the fly line some to slow him down. He turned and strained to take more line. The 5 weight G2 Scott rod was arced more than I would have liked but I had to slow the fish down. He tugged and slowly swam back upriver a little further out than the path he used to swim downriver keeping his distance as if trying to fool the bloodhounds.

Normally when I’m fishing for smallies in the river I use a 6 weight but lately I’ve been keying on trout with dry flies, wet flies and buggers. I wasn’t expecting to hook into a challenging big smallmouth.

He was pretty much across from me with long hard tugs between pauses. I had the rod up and switched hands pinching the line against the cork grip with my left hand. I started reeling in the slack line laying on the water around me while the fish tugged. Once I got the slack line on the spool I was ready for a fight. I moved the rod back putting more side pressure on him. He turned all right and 180’d back down river. I couldn’t hold him from leaving and line shot through the rod guide again and through the eyes of the arcing fly rod. The G2, being more of a medium action rod, doesn’t have the backbone of a fast action rod. When I felt the rod wanting to pull my wrist down I knew the rod was straining so I had to let the fish take line. Downriver he was feeling the resistance though. He turned and started to swim in a side to side motion. I slowly started to wind in the tightened line as the arced rod flexed with the defiant fish swimming and tugging as I was getting him towards me from downriver. He was swimming upstream with the tensioned line and arcing rod but still keeping his distance. He held steady across from me and I brought the rod downstream and trying to get him to swim closer to me. It was if I was pulling a heavy twisted limb through the current. In the process he turned and started swimming downriver again. This time the pressure of the bowed rod was to much for him to swim too far. We battled back and forth with me shortening the line between us. Finally I got him within sight and slowly maneuvered him to the net. Wow, I would say he’s one of the top 5 biggest smallies I’ve ever caught in the river. A great looking bronze-back.

I continued fishing. There were only a few risers within distance. I tried for them with dry flies but they wouldn’t bite. I decided to knot on a pair of wet flies and cast them out. I ended up catching two brown trout and one rainbow on the wet flies. Switching over to a Woolly Bugger I caught one more smallie.

The sun was high above but it felt like it was not much higher than an umbrella the way the heat felt on my body. Around 4:00 I called it quits and headed to the truck and back to the camper.

An ice cooler full of beer sounded great to cool off!

~doubletaper

Dries and Wets

2026-06-13T06:34:57.525-04:00

Dries and Wets

6/02/26

The rainbows were pissed when I hooked them on a wet fly. It’s not that the brown trout weren’t upset when I fooled them on a dry fly, but the rainbows fought wildly! It was as if they felt safe from fishermen while feeding on emerging mayflies and drowned bugs drifting with the current without being suspicious. When I hooked them, they shook the line hard, tugged, pulled and were still squirming in the net. It was if they were like a professional burglar that never got caught a second time. When they did get caught red handed, they tried to get away from the tight handcuffs of the police tugging and trying to pull away.

The weather recently has been warm and no rain. That sounds like terrific conditions, but the wind has been relentless. With a fly rod it wasn’t pleasant. Tuesday the weather conditions were showing no wind burst and only a slight breeze throughout the day. I assembled my Scott G2 9-foot fly rod and was hoping to hook some trout on dry flies. I took the 1/2-hour drive or so and knew right where I felt I could raise some trout in Tionesta Creek.

The morning was slow going casting Woolly Buggers. A couple of risers I did come across wouldn’t take my caddis. I had a looker at my foam beetle but turned away. I started wading down creek slowly casting a Woolly Bugger. I was actually thinking of going somewhere else on the Tionesta but slowly kept wading and casting the bugger. Around 10:00 the water came alive with mayflies and trout started to rise. There were a few March Browns, at first, and a few small sulfurs. Also, there were a few big brown looking drakes and decent size yellowish mayflies fluttering off the water. The sun was shining down with only the far bank shaded in areas where leafy branched tree limbs over hung. The water was flowing calm. Occasional a breeze would blow across the surface and ripple the water. The big Mayflies busted out of the surface water as if they were free from a sheltered life. Only occasionally would I see a swirl on the water surface but no audio splashes that the trout may have been picking off the Mayflies just below the surface before they rose to freedom.

First, I tried a caddis, but the trout showed no interest. I switched to one of my brown and slate drake patterns about the size I saw of the natural Mayflies. I was making long casts and though the water was clear as glass I couldn’t tell if any trout were checking my imitation in the distance. Anyhow, I didn’t have any convincing takers. As I saw more March Browns emerging and on the surface water, I knotted on one of my trusty March Brown Para-dun patterns. If I saw a rise, I was after it like a mushroom hunter seeing Morels in the forest before another hunter spotted them. More times than not I got a hook set as soon as they took it under.

I’d blind cast when I didn’t see a rise within distance, but I still had trout rising out of nowhere. They all fought like heavy weights in a wrestling match. With the sun above I would have thought they would be hugging the far bank where there was some shade but no. They were rising from the far bank to mid-creek. It was either they were out in the creek where they knew the hatches were happening or they were out sunbathing taking in the warmness of the sun in the cold creek water. Whichever, some of the water they seem to be holding in wasn’t any more than knee deep.

I would say till 1:30 I was having a good time hooking trout on my March Brown patterns. Some of the trout would sip it off the surface like they were being spoon fed. Others would rise with a splash taking my March Brown as if they were afraid, it was ready to take flight. They all fought like there was a boundary in the water that they didn’t want to cross. Anytime I got them to a certain distance from me they tugged harder and pulled away. They had lots of lasting energy and when netted I could tell they’ve been eating well.

What became funny is when the trout seemed to not rise to my dry. Maybe they saw something not looking right or they were line shy of my 4x tippet. When a breeze blew and riffled the water like a narrow washboard the trout would rise to my dry. Maybe they couldn’t see my tippet, or it was the extra motion of my dry fly bobbing on the riffling surface made my dry look more natural as if flapping its wings?

I would say after 1:30 I couldn’t get any rises to my dry flies. There were still risers on occasion, but they didn’t look as if they were slurping the surface. There wasn’t any Mayflies or caddis of any amount that I was able to see. I nipped off the dry fly and knotted on a March Brown emerger dropping a soft hackle wet fly below. My first cast out a trout grabbed it like one would grab my bugger sweeping in faster water. I reared back, felt the bite, the line tightened briefly and went limp. I think when I hook a trout with a wet fly I don’t pull the line back hard enough to set the hook in its mouth. They hit the wet fly usually hard enough I figure they set the hook themself, but I need to remember to yank back to make sure it penetrates.

I continued to cast the wet fly combination near and far. The trout, that didn’t get hooked on the surface with my March Brown dry, were hungry enough to take my combo. Sometimes they took, one or the other, with a convincing tug. Other times I had to watch my floating fly line to detect a take. The slightest pull on my line outward I knew something grabbed my offerings.

The rainbows were excessively aggressive as if they never got caught before or were extremely upset that they were hooked by something they never thought was attached to a line. The browns fought tough enough below, but the rainbows were furious. After the hook up some would skyrocket out of the water shaking their head trying to dislodge the hook. Some of the rainbows tugged and pulled so hard I swear if I didn’t keep a tight enough grip on the cork handle, they would have pulled the rod right out of my hand. Near me, some would circle around me like a revolving tether ball on a pole. They tried everything in their power to get free, but I would say 95% of them ended up in my net. I was having a grand field day catching trout before I called it quits.

The sun was getting hotter and the feeding just about stopped like everyone went back to work after lunch time. I saw a few risers pretty far down creek a ways but wasn’t willing to chase after them. I was well satisfied with my field trip and headed back up to my truck.

I caught so many trout, sometimes I felt like I was cheating as if I soaked my wet flies in some kind of liquid trout scent that they couldn’t resist. But no, it was that I just picked the right Mayfly imitation and convincing looking wet flies that were buggy enough that the trout thought was edible and not attached to anything!!

~doubletaper

Presentation

2026-06-12T21:21:43.294-04:00

Presentation

5/29/26

It was a blue bird morning sky. Clouds were light and appeared like a light fog moving slowly across the sky. Birds are chirping in the trees and chipmunks are scurrying upon the crispy leaves that lay upon the forest floor from the winter past. Butterflies circle around me like they do around horse manure before they land. Green leafy branches over hang the creek downstream. The sound of the riffling water, over rocks and boulders, are enough to be a soothing sound to put a lazy camper to sleep. The clear water flows easily in the tail-out of the small waves and down creek. Sunshine filters through the tall trees standing on the far bank bringing layers of sunshine on the water between the darker shadows on the surface water caused by the tree reflections.

After taking in the sounds around and the scenery that surround me I knot on a caddis to my 5x tippet. I lite a cigar and observe the water in front of me. There aren’t any risers to be seen but I plan on making them rise for breakfast.

I’m fishing in a well fished area. Close to the road that’s easy access to any fishing road hound. There’s no doubt in my mind that there’s trout leftover from the others that fished here. Maybe the trout, others caught, they set free. Maybe some of the trout got orientated with the natural food in the creek and no longer get fooled by odd bait or shiny spinners.

I always feel, aside having the right profile and shade of a dry fly, presentation is most important. I know bottom fishermen claim the same when presenting a nymph, and may argue, but having fished both, I feel presenting a dry fly on the surface is more critical than fishing below.

Fishing across an even flowing current there isn’t much in presentation except to follow the dry with your rod tip with the current. Usually no need to mend but if doing so keep the mend closest to you as to not to interrupt the dry. When there is crossing currents it gets trickier. I like to make sure my dry fly drifts downstream first, in front of my leader/tippet. This is why I mostly try to be upstream from my target areas. I can make a looping cast with ‘S’ bends in my fly line as it floats along the surface water giving my dry a drag free drift with the current. Like these two trout gulping my well drag free caddis.

On occasion, I might mend the line if I intend to let the dry fly drift down creek further from me. When doing this I’ll follow the dry with my rod tip trying to keep the dry from dragging the surface water. Though the water might be shallower down creek, near the bank, I never know what trout might be lazing out of the main current flow waiting for a meal. Wham….

Casting up stream and hooking a trout is always a problem for me. When a trout is just up creek, out in front of me, I’ll keep my rod tip high and bring in line as need be. When casting out, across creek and upstream, it gets a little more challenging. So this one trout is rising up creek just this side of the faster wavy current. I have to make a long cast and get my dry upstream from him. I wade upstream a bit so when I cast the leader doesn’t splash down above his feeding zone. I draw the rod behind my left shoulder and make a sharp cast upstream dropping my dry just ahead of where I saw the hungry trout feeding. Maybe I surprised him or he had to look it over. He doesn’t take it and it drifts by. I make another cast in the same manner and this time he doesn’t waste any time grabbing for the caddis. I yank back the long length of line, the rod tip arcs and the line tightens. Another fighting trout enters the net after a grueling battle.

Blind casting out I notice a trout turn towards my dry caddis as if my dry passes by him too quickly and he turns away. My dry was actually dragging across the surface near the end of the drift but still drew his attention. Now that I know where he is I’ll make a better cast towards him with the dry drifting, drag free, into his feeding zone.

With all my experience, dry fly fishing and watching natural caddis as well as Mayflies, they more than likely flow with the current before taking off or resting. Very seldom do they cross the current before taking off unless on a windy day when they get blown off course. Stoneflies on the other hand frequently cross the current, fluttering their wing, as if to reach the other side of the creek. So they say “the grass is always greener on the other side.”

I make a looping cast in front of the last trout I saw inspecting my dry caddis. This time my caddis is drifting into his feeding zone, drag free and right towards him. He slurps my dry and I lift the rod quickly for the hook set. He splashes the surface in defiance for a good second or two before going deep. We tussle with one another but the hook stays set and I net another angry trout.

Time tics by and the sun is pretty much above and more water is now under the sunshine. There are fewer risers and little caddis are starting to dap the water. I continued to cast dry caddis out to nowhere in particular. I hook a trout now and then but there are long pauses in between.

I make a long cast towards the far bank over the wavy current onto slow water. If there’s a trout hungry enough he’ll have to grab my dry caddis before it gets pulled down creek with the wavy current against my fly line. I make a few casts consistently with big loops upstream on the wavy current trying to make sure my dry rests enough time for a take. I make another cast and watch my dry hit the water. Immediately a trout grabs it rising to the surface. I’m surprised but my instincts takes over as I quickly raise the rod and long length of line off the water and the line tightens once again. I grin and call out, gotcha!!! A nice brown trout scrambles in my net.

I have seen this one trout rise in the slower tail out of wavy water. I had tried for him a few times earlier but he refused to take a sample. I gave him plenty of time before my last cast to him and since I hadn’t saw him rise in some time maybe he’s hungry by now.

I wade down creek to get a batter cast towards him. I’m not sure where he actually is but I know within a close location. Near enough he should see my caddis under the sunshine coming towards him. I make a cast onto the tail-out wavy current. My dry caddis drifts flawlessly down creek. The wavy current turns into a calmer flow downstream. A trout surfaces for my caddis as I see the swirl from where I stand. I lift the rod and long length of line. Again the rod arcs, this time deeper, and the line tightens. The trout surfaces, upper body exposed, and fights the tight line, with head shakes, splashing water in all directions. He dives deep, though the water only looks shin deep, and rushes upstream. I bring in line as quick as I can and keep the rod lifted to keep the line tight. He gets across from me, still a ways across creek, and I move the rod even with him. He shakes the line and the upper section of the rod responds with flexing effect. He turns down creek and I have to let line pull from the reel for fear of snapping my 5x tippet or freeing my knots. I put tension on the line, after he swims down creek a bit, and he turns into the current. My knots hold up and the line is still as tight as a lumberjacks guide rope making sure the tree falls in a safe location. He battles down creek and I slowly bring him upstream. Getting him close enough to net isn’t easy but I maneuver the rod and get him into the net safely.

A trout is feeding in the faster wavy current. I wade across from him and make a long cast is his direction. After the third cast, and no response, I let my dry caddis flow into the softer water, still dry fly first. I notice a swirl at my dry but the trout doesn’t take it under. I refrain from pulling the dry back as I still see my caddis above the water. It slowly drifts by and wham, the trout rises and quickly takes it under. I set the hook as quick as I can and again the line tightens. The trout rises to the surface shaking the piercing hook like getting stung by a hornet. My line stays tight as the fish dives in the deeper water. We battle against one another as I’m laughing how I fooled him by not lifting the dry off the water after his first initial swirling test. I get him netted safely.

It’s pretty hot out with the sun overhead. I feel I had enough fun dry fly catching for the day and head upstream to my truck. It’s another day challenging my skill, making correct presentations and fooling the local trout!!

~doubletaper

Not Being Picky

2026-06-05T10:02:57.506-04:00

Not Being Picky

6/01/26

Clarion river has an assortment of fish in the river. The last few days I’ve been targeting trout with dry flies, nymphs and Woolly Buggers. I wanted to fish a different area along the river where I know smallmouth bass and trout both inherit the water. Not that the other place didn’t but I usually catch more bass than trout where I was going to fish. I usually use a 6 weight fishing the river for bass and tempt them with poppers more than streamers. My 5 weight Icon was already ready to go so I took it out of the truck and knotted on a Woolly Bugger.

I carefully made my way along the side of the road and down the bank to the river. Shin deep along the bank I took time to look the conditions over. The sky was light blueish with white puffy clouds that appeared to float above in no hurry if you watch them long enough. The sun was out and was warming the morning. The river flowed clear across without any visible obstacles above the surface water. I could tell the hidden obstacles beneath by the swirls in the surface current. Any hazards stuck to the bottom I wasn’t sure. Other than the birds chirping every once in a while I’d hear or see a couple of geese down river. I felt alone but there was a road on each side of the wide river and occasionally a vehicle would pass by. Other than that I was the only one on the river fishing as far as I could see.

I figured I’d start off casting the bugger in the faster riffling wavy water that didn’t look more than thigh high deep. I wasn’t sure how far across I would be able to wade so when I did I was careful about it and really didn’t get as far across as I wanted. No matter, I was out far enough that I had plenty of room for a long backcast which gave me plenty of distance for a forward cast. Casting out among the riffling waves and fast current I felt my bugger wasn’t getting down deep enough on the swing. I brought in line and added a small split shot at least 15” above the bugger. This might seem a lot but I wanted the bugger to swing without touching bottom and I also felt the bugger would swing more freely than the weight being closer to the bugger.

I was puffing on my cigar and was as relaxed as I could be. No rush to cast to any certain spot on the river. I knew there had to be fish in there and would only hook one if one happen to be hungry. I hadn’t seen anyone wade fishing the area and usually the fishermen in canoes and kayaks don’t usually have anchors. They may pull over in a back eddy behind a big boulder along the bank but there were none in the area I was fishing for them to do so. Though it is a Monday, with lots of activity on the river the weekend before, the fish are used to that and I didn’t feel they would be too worried about feeding. I mean I’m sure we all have been in restaurants were there was many unruly, noisy people but we still eat our meal and try to just tune them out. I imagine the fish are the same way. As long as no one is swimming near them or throwing stones near them they aran’t going to move much and if food passes by, if their hungry, they are going to grab it.

Slowly wading down river and casting out I had 2 hookups but was unable to get them very close at all to net them and I thought ‘here we go again!” A few days ago I hooked up several time in the faster current but couldn’t keep them on the hook. I know I was going to let them go anyway but I would have at least liked to get an eyeball on them.

One offer a fish grabbed the bugger as it was swinging. The line straightened on the surface water before I yanked the rod up and stripped the line in. The fish fought, tugging the line, where he grabbed the bugger before taking off down creek. Playing the fish towards me against the undercurrent was a challenge. I didn’t horse him in as I did the others but I wasn’t going to have him have his way swimming long. I got him to the slower water between me and the bank and got him netted. A nice brown trout laid in my net.

Continuing wading slowly and casting the bugger out, pretty much as far as I could, I caught a couple of nice rainbows that looked like they were well fed.

Practically after the end of one drift I had a take. I pulled the rod back and the line tightened once again. The fish on the other end fought to and fro but wasn’t that hard getting him in. I wasn’t all surprised by my catch as long as I was catching fish I was happier. I wasn’t picky who I got in the net and took a picture of the smallmouth.

I was pretty much down creek from the faster riffling water where the water was a bit calmer and looked deeper. The bugger swung a lot slower which I figured was drifting deeper. A fish grabbed the bugger almost at the end of the drift. I lifted and yanked the rod back and the fish was on. I knew I had a husky fish and soon learned he wasn’t going to be easy getting to the net. I wasn’t surprised by sure glad I didn’t catch him in the faster current. We fought back and forth not giving each other much time to rest. It took time but I got him in the net safely. He was a nice bronze colored smallmouth!

By now the sun was up above the river and everything around me was quite lit up. The hillside downriver looked greener, the puffy clouds above looked whiter. The river water surface looked like a wrinkled satin sheet, shimmering under the sunlight, across and down river. I puffed on my stogie and relaxed a bit enjoying the scenery.

I wasn’t getting any hook ups down river any more so I went back up where I started and figured I’d spend another 1/2 hour or so covering the water I had already fished.

I was still swinging the Woolly Bugger with every cast. I was a bit out further than before in just over my knees. I was making long casts out and across though, because of the gusts of wind on occasion, I wasn’t sure where my bugger was going to fall. Being that I was in deeper water I would let the bugger swing straight down from me. On one occasion, after the bugger got to the end of the drift, down from me, I started to slowly strip it towards me. A fish grabbed the bugger as if it wanted to tear it apart, like a hate crime! After I tightened the line on him he pulled back with force and headed to the faster riffling current out in the river. I tightened my grip on the cork handle as line stripped through the guides and eyes as if an airplane took off the runway with a banner attached. The fast action rod arced into the midsection and I knew I had a good fish. It stayed beneath pretty much the whole ordeal so I wasn’t sure if it was a brown trout or a husky smallmouth. We had a good battle like two kids tugging on each end of a stuffed animal in the playground. Neither of us were giving in. The funny thing was both of us was going to lose if we both lost out grip on the toy we were tugging. He wasn’t coming in very easily and trying to disrupt his fight I would move the rod towards the bank. When he followed and tugged, I’d swing it back to my right. I guess I was trying to confuse him but doing So I wasn’t able to get him closer to me. I backed up towards the bank so I was in water just below my knees. I was coaxing him upstream in the riffling current. When he got, just down from me, I swung the rod towards the bank and lifted it. I had already had my net out dangling from the elastic cord to my belt. I grabbed the net with my left had and as I raised the bowing rod, he came up from the bottom shaking his body to no avail. I netted him cleanly. He was a nice brown trout that looked like he lived in the river for quite a few years!

Downriver I was casting a bugger in the slower water. I was waiting for my cigar to burn down before wading back up river and to the place I entered the river. I made a couple of long casts across the river and let them drift into the slower current. I saw the end of my fly line dip down and I felt a nudge. I lifted the rod quick with a hard wrist set. The line came off the water and the line tightened. I felt a head shake and then the line took off down and away. I knew I had something with some muscle. He didn’t head shake or twist and turn quickly like a trout but used his muscle and weight to guide the line and rod tip where he wanted to go. We had a good battle and I was glad we were in the slower current. Eventually I got him in the net. Another fine bronze back got its picture taken.

By now the sun was high above and in full view. I swear it was getting hotter by the minute. After that I made a couple more casts but called it a day and headed back up to the truck.

~doubletaper

Monday Before the Heat Wave

2026-05-24T06:27:07.325-04:00

Monday Before the Heat Wave

5/18/26

I knew, Sunday, right where I wanted to fish Monday. The weather was to get into the 90’s so I knew I’d have to get to the section of Kettle Creek before it got too hot. I ate a good breakfast, Monday morning, got my waders on at the campsite and made sure my vest was filled with what I felt was needed for the days adventure.

I was the first to park along the dirt road in the morning. The sky was ocean blue without a cloud in the sky. It forewarned me that when the sun came overhead it was going to be hot. I was counting on a mayfly hatch of some kind to fish over. I wasn’t going to waste much time swinging Woolly Buggers and I was hoping for risers or I was going to make’m rise. Without any wind advisory I assembled my Scott G2 9-footer fly rod for some dry fly casting.

The sun was coming up behind me, and it was already warm enough to just wear my Columbia fishing shirt. I knotted on a Woolly Bugger to my fresh 7’ 6” 4x tapered leader and stepped into the clear cool water of Kettle Creek. I might have casted out twice before I saw my first rise out in front of me. I nipped off the bugger and knotted on a section of 5x tippet. To that I knotted on a #14 caddis. I casted out to the one riser a few times but he didn’t seem interested. No matter, I continued to wade across creek so I could cast to the far side of the wide section of creek,

I casted out the caddis to the few trout that were rising sporadically. I caught one but after that not any were much interested. There were a few other risers but didn’t want my caddis I had chosen so I switched colors, still nothing. A little later on I saw a March Brown pop up and fly away. I knotted on a #12 March Brown but couldn’t get a strike. I switched to a #10 March Brown para chute and casted out to nowhere in particular. A trout finally rose to it and I was Jerry on the spot and nailed him. He fought like the dickens, twisting and turning, tugging and head shaking trying to release the hook but couldn’t. I played him well and my first trout of the day made it to the net safely.

After that I couldn’t get a strike for some time. I knew I had to be patient and not give up and go elsewhere on the creek. About an hour before noon March Browns were coming off the water pretty regularly. Trout were breaking the surface as if grabbing an emerger before it got to the surface. I figured they were taking emergers, but I convinced myself I could catch one on a dry March Brown. I casted out to the many risers but many weren’t interested in my dry fly at first. I did catch a couple on my MB dry offering, but the majority of the trout ignored mine and they continued to pop out of the surface after an emerger.

I took out a cigar and decided my next challenge.

Not getting any more to rise to my dry I knotted on a March Brown emerger. I tie them similar to those sold at the Kettle Creek Fly Shop. In no time at all I caught 2 nice hearty brown trout on the emerger. They both fought as if they made up their minds they weren’t going to be netted. Wrong!

After those 2 the hatch all of a sudden stopped! The wavy water flowed without interruption as if there were no trout in the area. None were rising and no March Brown naturals were seen.

I would say the hatch only lasted about a half hour. Maybe I was stubborn and could have caught more trout on the emerger if I would have knotted one on earlier?

When I couldn’t catch any more on an emerger I knotted a March Brown nymph under the emerger. I caught 3 sticks, the last one broke off my MB nymph, so I quit nymph fishing!! By now the sun was up above throwing down the heat like an infrared light source. I know my body temperature was heating up so I decided to call it quits. I had a way to go to wade to the bank, so I decided to knot on a small hackle wet fly and cast it out as I stop and go towards the bank. I caught one trout pretty quick.

Continuing towards the bank I stopped for a moment and made a long cast across creek. I lifted the rod, like I was nymph fishing and slowly lowered it as the wet fly continued its path down creek. Wham! A trout grabbed the wet fly as hard as if it was one of my swinging Woolly Buggers! I jerked the rod back to make sure the point penetrated. The trout shook back and wasn’t very pleased, but she was stuck with me for a while.

She fought to and fro like we were square dancing. She’d swing to her left and do a Do-si-do. I extended the rod to the left trying to bring her up creek, but she had lots of energy and resisted. She swam to my right, down creek keeping her distance, and I swung the rod to my right and she did a couple more Do-si-do’s. She finally seems to tire some and I had her coming up creek to my right. She passed by me in a hurry as I held the rod tip high, bringing in line and keeping the line taunt. She then decided to swing around me as if we were now partners. I followed her lead, with my rod and turned with her, as I swung my partner round and round! She still appeared to have lots of energy, but I was kind of tired of square dancing with her. I put a little more tension on the line and let the rod arc more following her go around. That must of tired her out some and she wasn’t so playful. I got her a little closer and she decided to Promenade with me as we spun around once more. As close as she was now, I was ready to scoop her up in my net. I lifted the rod high and she rose in front of me and I swooped her up. The dance was over. I got a picture of my lady and let her go so she could change partners the next time she wanted to square dance.

When I got to my truck, and started it, the temperature gauge read 99 degrees. It felt steamingly hot and I wasn’t willing to play anymore in the heat.

~doubletaper

Variety Show

2026-05-23T06:24:57.921-04:00

Variety Show

5/17/26

Sunday I had a variety of offerings I took to the show. I assembled my Hardy fly rod with my Hardy featherlight reel and doubletaper line. I headed down Kettle Creek from the campground and was going to present my offerings to the trout. My first trout took a Woolly Bugger but when I saw caddis flying around and saw one rise I switched over to a deer hair caddis and tossed it out. He took it like the first shopper at my caddis offering. He wasn’t a big trout but the brown fought well in the oncoming current.

I lit up a cigar and I had a feeling my offerings were going to be wanted.

I casted out to get another taker and I sold 3 more to consumers. It wasn’t one after the other but if they saw the caddis within my showing they took it. When I couldn’t sell anymore I tried to sell them something else. I presented them with a bead head Hare’s ear and below that, I knotted on an old green rock worm that I tied years ago. You never know when someone sees an old piece they may want it. Well, I had a buyer for the old green rock worm. Not a big spender but I had to get a picture.

A trout rose not too far from me out in the middle of the creek. I switched to the caddis and tossed it to it. It took a couple of showings to persuade him to get him interested. I’m not sure he was expecting anything out of the ordinary but when he rose I surprised him. He turned deep and took off like thief. The reel clicked as fast as heated popcorn kernels exploding. Line shot through the eyes, of the arcing 8’8” rod, and line cut the surface water like a Ginsu knife through a tomato. I put a little more tension on the line and he turned down creek. I held the rod high enough to keep as much line out of the water as possible. He tussled with me, kicking and stammering like an ornery mule, wanting me to let the rope go. I kept the pressure on as he swam up creek still out a distance. I turned the rod putting side pressure on him. He turned towards me and started to swim down creek again. I let him have some line before I tightened my fingers on the fly line. He swam closer to my side of the creek and started really tugging and pulling. I moved the rod upstream and he followed reluctantly with head-shaking. We tussled a little more and he was losing the battle. I got him within net range and when he flattened his body on the surface water I nabbed him in the net red handed with the caddis still attached. What a nice catch!

I caught one more on a caddis before it seemed like the top water show was over.

After that I didn’t see any risers so I knotted the Hare’s ear and green rock worm again. I fished them under an indicator being the current was flowing away from me. This way the indicator flowed with the direction of the current then without one. I sold two more Hare’s ears to anxious pickers.

Later on I nabbed one, I think a rainbow, on a wet fly. I nearly had him in the net before he shook the hook out.

It was getting hot as the weathermen were calling for 80+ degrees. I believe it had to be at least above 80 by now. The trout no longer were interested in any of my stuff. I waded out and headed up the path to my truck.

It was another good day in ‘God’s Country’. Good thing I brought along a variety and showed them off instead of being stubborn and only showing a couple offerings.

~doubletaper

Better’n Yesterday

2026-05-21T06:38:15.964-04:00

Better’n Yesterday

5/14/26

On Wednesday, the guy the next campsite over, who doesn’t fish, asked me how I did fishing? I told him about the conditions were kind of tough. On Thursday He asked me how I did? I told him better’n yesterday.

I’ve been going up to Potter County, to trout fish, for about the past 30 years. I go up to dry fly fish Kettle Creek in mid May when most of the mayfly hatches appear. If I just wanted to catch trout I’d stay at home. Mid May there are usually many mayfly hatches that I keep well entertained with dry fly fishing. This year so far it wasn’t to be so, yet!

Tuesday I set up my camper at Ole’ Bull campground. Wednesday I went to Kettle Creek to fish. The water was high, but wadeable, but the current was fast. Once I got thigh high deep it was kind of scary so I stayed knee deep. It was a chilly overcast day so there wasn’t any hatch to speak of or any fish rising. I did catch a few on Woolly Buggers and a Pink Sucker Spawn but for the 5-6 hours I spent fishing wasn’t an impressive day to tell a story about.

Wednesday evening it stormed and even hailed. I knew Kettle wasn’t going to be any better off then the day before so my plan was to fish a smaller mountain creek instead. One thing about mountain streams is they seldom get too muddy to fish. They may rise but they really don’t get muddy.

I put my 7’6” 4 weight Powel fly rod together and snapped on a Woolly Bugger at my campsite and headed south to the mountain stream. After I parked along the roadside, I got my gear on and headed to my first stop on the creek.

The air was much cooler along the mountain water. Green forest trees and grass lined the banks as far as the eye could see. Birds chirped in the background to the main resonance of the riffling water downstream. It was a picture worth mounting!

Upstream, I was wading slow and easy as the water was flowing mirror clear. Reflection from the rising sun, when the clouds gave way, was throwing bank-side shadows on the surface water. I was making cross creek casts from a distance and trying to keep my silhouette not to be detected. I didn’t wade down creek very far when I stopped along the bank in ankle deep water. The creek was wide, within casting distance, and looked deep enough for trout to hold anywhere. The riffles and waves distorted my vision seeing through the water and I would imagine the trout had a hard time determining anything standing motionless. I’m sure they would capture movement and be wary so I stayed pretty much stationary and made slow movements.

I made a cast across creek and let the bugger swing down creek towards the deeper water just before the current flowed over rocks and boulders causing shallow wavier water. Almost at the end of the swing I felt a bump but it wasn’t very hard. I let the bugger dangle a bit, when it got to the end of the swing, but nothing grabbed it. I made another cast in the same manner at the same distance. This time, at the end of the swing, I felt a nudge and my fly line stopped arcing. It wasn’t like a hard hit but as if the trout saw the bugger coming and opened its mouth to let it in. I reared back the rod and the rod bowed but I didn’t think it was anything uncommon being the under current might have been strong enough to make it feel like a heavy fish. Bringing the trout towards me wasn’t easy but he didn’t put up a major battle. At the beginning it was if he had just awoken from a dream and wasn’t in full awareness of what was happening after his first breakfast meal. He had strength enough to keep his distance but wasn’t the head-shaking, rough and tumble fight I would have expected. Once across from me I could see he was a colorful rainbow and a nice size trout for this small mountain creek. He took off towards the far side as my 4 weight arced with the swimming trout. I didn’t force him but let him use up his energy fighting the current and my arcing rod. I got him near me and scooped him up. What a nice rainbow.

Well, that was definitely worth a cigar.

I checked the bugger for any defects and didn’t see anything wrong with it. I made another cast across creek and near the end of the swing, wham, another strike. This nudge was a little harder than the last. I was bringing the fish towards me but he was putting up a pretty good fight, like the piercing of the hook hit a nerve. The battle was short lived though. When I got him closer I couldn’t believe my eyes. It was another nice size colorful rainbow. When I got him in the net I shook my head and thought “this couldn’t be the same trout I just caught?” No, this one looked a little chubbier. I mean, what’s the odds of the same trout striking a second time after he got caught and netted in a matter of 10 minutes?

That was the big excitement for the day. I fished a couple of different areas along the catch and release section and caught mostly rainbow trout on buggers. Some of the rainbows were nice size and all the trout gave good lasting battles against the 4 weight.

I tried a couple of dry caddis but that wasn’t on the trouts menu. It got a little warmer and started to drizzle. After that I called it a day and headed back up to the campground along the dirt road and then to the main highway.

~doubletaper

Bows and Browns and a Crock

2026-05-20T07:46:26.267-04:00

Bows and Browns and a Crock

5/16/26

I go up to Potter County to fish Kettle creek and surrounding water to mostly dry fly fish.

I set up my camper in Ole Bull Tuesday evening. Wednesday was an overcast day and the lower part of Kettle was flowing on the high side and the current was fast. When I tried to wade out thigh high deep the current was pushing my body hard as if my companions were nudging me, in this predicament, “you go first!” I was uncomfortable so I stayed in the water around knee deep. I caught trout on Wooly Buggers but really wanted to dry fly fish but the conditions were harsh.

The water was cold, the current was fast and the cloud cover over took the sky like a faded blanket. There wasn’t anything rising and the only activity above water was a few small caddis. To even try to drift a dry the trout would have to be Superman quick to snatch the dry before it passed by. I didn’t waste much time and packed up and drove up creek where the water was narrower and not so fast in the project area.

The water was still higher than normal but still kind of fast. Not seeing any surface activity, under the gray sky, I casted Wooly Buggers for a spell and smoked another cigar.

Wednesday evening and night it stormed and poured down rain. I knew the Kettle was going to be high and currently fast. So, Thursday morning I packed my gear and went to Young Womans Creek to fish.

Friday I fished Kettle not so far down creek. I caught some trout under the surface but I was still itching to dry fly fish. With no rain the past couple of days, Saturday looked like my best choice. The sun was suppose to shine and after noon the temps were supposed to to reach in the 80’s.

I woke up early, had breakfast and drove down creek to my destination. I was first parked aside the dirt road. It was if I was there for the early bird special waiting for the breakfast bar to open. I took my time getting my gear together. I assembled my G2 Scott Fly rod with weight forward fly line. There was supposed to be little wind and this medium action rod is the best for presenting dry flies with easy smooth casts. I made sure I had plenty of caddis flies, March Browns and Sulfurs beside my usual stash. I grabbed a few cigars and looked up to the sky. There wasn’t any sign of rain and any clouds above were just streaks that moved below the blue sky like the spent fuel that trail behind a jetliner. The sun was already rising behind me. I felt like I had a front row seat wherever I decided to choose to stay for the morning session.

As I waded out I was casting Woolly Buggers watching for any rises. I spent, maybe a half hour, before another fisherman showed up. He fished down creek from me. I wanted to get into the middle of the creek to fish the far bank. I caught a few rainbows on a bugger before I got to within casting distance of the far bank.

I saw a few risers but the only thing I saw flying around was small caddis.I knotted on a deer hair caddis and was casting to the risers and about. I’d catch a trout now and then but it wasn’t till near noon when the bigger trout were hungry.

There was a rise across creek within my range. I made a cast that dropped the caddis up from the rise and watched it drift into the zone. He didn’t seem to care. Maybe I had the wrong color? I tried another caddis shade but couldn’t get a strike anywhere. I saw a small sulfur and then a March Brown come off the water. Trout started to dot the surface but not big surface splashes. I decided to knot on a March Brown parachute. It was on a #10 2x long hook. That may sound odd but I’ve done well with trout rising to it on wavy surface current. “Give them something they can see” is my theory.

My first cast to the riser cross creek came up and grabbed it with a hardy rise. I reared back the long length of line and had him tight lined. He put up a good battling fight all the way to the net. He was a nice size brown trout.

I continued to cast out a March Brown #10 para. and the trout accepted it like a birthday gift. I missed a few, especially casting up creek, but I was hooking up more than I missed. The ones I was hooking up to were nice size browns and rainbows. They all put up good fighting battles. Some made it to the net while others came loose nearer me.

I surprised one across and down from me in the faster wavy current. He was feeding pretty regularly. I couldn’t get a good drift to him so I waded a bit downstream but keeping my distance. I made a cast and watched my March Brown drift within his eye sight. The March Brown drifted on the rolls of the waves and dips. The size of my MB he couldn’t miss as it drifted near. He rose with a big surface splash as if a coconut fell from the tree above. I reared back the line and the fly rod bowed towards the splash. I could feel the power in the taker as line peeled off the spool. I held on tight when all of a sudden he broke the water surface with a powerful leap in the air. His full body was exposed as if he was wanting to see who was on the other end. He came down with a splash and I could still feel him on the line. Within seconds he surfaced and rose again. This time twisting his body and shaking his head. The line went limp as he splashed down. He spit the hook the second time up like it was his first bite into a lima bean! I’m sure he’s not going to bite into another similar looking March Brown.

I continued casting MB’s and caddis and hooking up but there were long dry spells in between.

The temperature was rising and when the sun cleared the spotty cloud cover it shown down its hot rays like an over heating sauna room. Nothing was rising anyway and I wasn’t getting any responses from any trout that hadn’t been hooked.

I waded out and headed to Cross Fork for lunch. After lunch I went back to the camper for a short nap.

It was around 4:00 when I arose from my nap. The temperature cooled down some so for the heck of it I decided to fish down creek from the campground. The spot I wanted was taken by a nymph fisherman. I moved down from him getting his OK that I was out of his range. He was doing well catching trout, underneath and an indicator, on whatever he was using. I on the other hand, having good noon time hook ups with dry flies, decided to stick with it.

I knotted on a Deer Hair caddis and made cross creek casts to the slower current on the far side of the main wavy current. The trout only had a few seconds to take my dry before the current would sweep it down creek. They must have been pretty hungry cause it didn’t take too many seconds to tick by before they grabbed my Caddis.

When I got back to the truck it was 7:00. I was hungry and played out. The nap might of gotten me a second wind but the last hour and a half took the wind out of me. I was tired, sore, and I was hungry.

I had heated venison stew in the crockpot in the morning and had a half bottle of white wine to finish off!

~doubletaper

Dry Flying

2026-05-09T06:55:00.000-04:00

Dry Flying

5/05/26

Tuesday I decided to go bottomless. I kept my bugger box and sucker spawn box in my fly vest and carried my caddis boxes ready at all times. I drove up creek where I had caught many a trout in recent years on caddis dries. I parked, assembled my Scott Session 4 weight fly rod and lengthened the 4x tapered leader with 5x tippet the full length being about 8’6” the same length of the rod. I put my vest on and of course grabbed a few cigars.

It was a cloudy overcast morning with a slight breeze and an occasional gust of wind. The sun was rising over the hillside that reflected its rays off the clouds above and down upon the forest and water. The weather people were calling for occasional showers with temps reaching into the 70’s. For now it was in the 60’s but I was hoping, once the sun was up above, bringing warmth, that a caddis hatch would appear.

The first section I fished I couldn’t get a take on my caddis dries. I was almost going to throw a bugger but promised myself to dry fly only. I waded out of the water and walked through the forest to the section of water I wanted to spend time dry fly fishing. When I got there, there was an older gentleman, with a fly rod, fishing from the opposite side of the creek. There was plenty of room between us to fish the wide section of water. My dedicated dry fly fishing went like this;

There wasn’t anything happening on top of the water for awhile. I was casting a big #12 deer hair caddis in the faster wavy current and would cast a #14 caddis in the slower current. I figured that the bigger caddis, for the trout, would be easier to see on the wavy current. In time there was a few rises as small caddis were coming to the surface and fluttering off the water. Unless I saw a rise I was blind casting in different areas and making trout rise.

Most of the trout I caught on the dry were brown trout with a few rainbows mixed in. The brown trout were extra aggressive after being hooked. I caught some nice size brown trout that tore the caddis dry up pretty much unusable.

I was tying fresh caddis dries often replacing the beat up or drenched caddis from floating. Each new caddis I knotted on I would dap the body with dry fly gel before casting it out. When I caught a trout or the caddis wasn’t floating, my process is to dry off the caddis with my cotton handkerchief and then shake it in the bottle of silicone powder. Before casting it back out I would bend the deer hair or elk hair wing straight up for a better profile. When a trout rose to it I usually caught it though I did miss a few.

The fly guy across stream was fishing beneath the surface but I never saw him catch a trout. He wasn’t an amateur as he roll casted well and held the fly rod like he knew what he was doing he just wasn’t catching any trout beneath the surface. At times he’d sit on a rock and watch me casting my dry flies out and hooking up to rising trout.

When he sat on the rock and watched, most times, I would make long casts to his side of the creek. I asked him if he minded and he nodded his head no. I caught a couple on his side of the creek.

I was biding my afternoon smoking cigars and casting dry flies under the occasional sunshine.

I was making easy casts when the wind died down and forced a cast across the gust of wind when I had to. (On windy days I use a fast action rod that cuts the wind a lot better than a medium to slow action fly rod.) My overhand arm motion was as uniform and consistent like the second hand on a grandfathers clock and as smooth as a well oiled grocery conveyer belt. When no wind was involved I had open loops leaving the caddis on the water with enough slack for a drag free drift being upstream, across creek, or downstream. When a cross-wind was involved I made quick and justifiable sharp closed loop casts to my target area.

I’m sure the other guy noticed I was dry fly fishing. He did mention that there wasn’t a hatch or nothing on the surface he could see for the fish to rise to. I told him “I make’m rise.” My theory is the reason trout aren’t rising is because there isn’t anything for them to rise to. On a day where caddis or mayflies aren’t about I still give the trout something to rise to. Sometimes all I have to do is see one riser which tells me the trout are looking up, as some would say. Fly fishermen won’t cast a dry because there isn’t a hatch going on or they don’t see any trout rising. Time and again I’ve watched guys walk down to the bank of a creek or river and look it over as if looking for rising trout or a hatch. If they don’t see any surface activity they walk away. No problem as far as I’m concerned. As my dad always commented “that’s more for me!”

Near the far side of the creek, near the older gent sitting on the rock watching me, I saw a splash to the surface near the tail out of the faster wavy run. I made a sharp cast upstream from the splash, with my caddis, and watched for a rise. First and second cast didn’t happen. I waded upstream, along the bank, to get a better angle to get my caddis to reach the zone, dry fly first before the tippet. I made a looping cast and the dry caddis fell to the water upstream from my target zone. The bullet-head deer hair caddis wing was standing up like I wanted. As my offering drifted and bobbed on the riffling water a trout splashed to the surface. I quickly yanked the rod back and the line tightened and I swear 7 plus feet of the rod bowed towards the take. I called out “gotcha.” I could tell I had a heavy trout as we battled for supremacy. The whole time I hooked and battled with the trout the older gent watched me play him to the net. The rainbow was the biggest of the day. After releasing the hook from the side of its mouth I raised the rainbow for the guy across the creek to see. He nodded his head in approval. Being I fish mostly alone it’s nice to get an approval from an unknown fellow angler.

It wasn’t very long after that the older gent got up and walked up to his truck. I waded out and up the bank to dry land. I carefully walked through the forest upstream to where my truck was parked. I did make a few casts with the dry caddis where I started without a rise. No matter, I was happy with the results for the day.

~doubletaper

Surplus

2026-05-08T22:52:00.008-04:00

Surplus

(Birthday trout of 2026)

5/04/26

Surplus; An amount of something left over when the requirements have been met.

I consider the in-season stocking of trout as surplus trout that the Fish Commission had left over in their raising facilities. Well, Friday they stocked about 8-9 buckets of these surplus trout in the creek out from my camper. The 2 buckets I did see guys throw in, as if feeding alligators at a zoo, were rainbow trout. This was around noon. I was told this was the first stop and was to continue upstream stocking the rest of the surplus trout in the creek.

After the stocking, Friday, fishermen came and gone trying their luck. It was a cold and rainy day, and the fishermen didn’t stay more than an hour. Not that I was watching them continuously, but I didn’t see anyone catch anything and I figured if they were catching trout they would of stayed longer. By 3:00 I couldn’t stand it any longer, knowing that there were all those trout in the creek just out from my camper, I had to give it a try. I assembled my old SAS Scott 8’ 6” 5 weight fly rod and got my gear on. To get a better drift, and away from the bank fishermen, I crossed the creek upstream and fished from the opposite bank. I caught a few in the couple of hours, but it surely was slow going. The bank fishermen weren’t doing all that better either. I figured the trout weren’t accustomed to the colder temperature of the creek water as the water in the truck tank they came in. Maybe like being a newcomer at the factory picnic and too shy to participate in the activities.

Saturday the trout weren’t all that active either. Again, fishermen and women came and gone throughout the morning and afternoon. I wasn’t sure how many were caught but what I could tell that not many as they didn’t hang around too long either. By the evening, I was fishing, from across creek, and another fisherman was fishing off the bank. We caught a share of trout but again the trout participation wasn’t all gung-ho.

Sunday was a whole different story. I was out early, though it was in the high 30’s. The creek was in great condition with a greenish color and dropped some from not raining much the day before. There were actually flurries in the morning that came down drifting in the slight breeze like pollen while we were fishing. I was casting Woolly Buggers, from the opposite bank, as another fisherman was throwing bait from the camper side of the creek. He was catching trout one after another with just about every cast when he started. He commented that the trout were really hungry. If he told his friends he was catching trout, one after another, they might not believe him but I witnessed the event. As time went on I caught some on the Woolly Buggers but was no match to as many as he was catching.

He said he was using shrimp scented salmon eggs. From where I stood the salmon eggs looked reddish.

One thing a fly fisherman can’t imitate and that is flavor of our offerings. I figured that the trout that fisherman was missing, the salmon egg would have of either been eaten by the missed trout or drifted downstream and sure enough another trout had a free meal. I knotted on a pink-blood dot sucker spawn under a beaded Oregon Cheese sucker spawn. I started to fish down creek from him and my hook up rate increased.

After an hour or so later he commented that he emptied a bottle and a half of those salmon eggs. He said he could hardly feel his finger, from the coldness of air and water, and called it quits. He said he caught 30 trout. I actually believed him and he might have miscounted on the lower side!

Monday, after turkey hunting, I decided to take a drive upstream. I was kind of tired fishing the same water, in front of the camper, catching the surplus trout. As I drove up the dirt road I was surprised at the number of parked vehicles along the side of the road in good fishing spots for a Monday. Anyhow, I continued to drive up creek until I got to a section where only one truck was parked up the road a bit. I assembled my new Scott Session 8’6” fly rod, made sure I had enough supplies, and headed down the path to the creek. I was ready for a long adventure.

I started off swinging a Woolly Bugger in the wavy riffling current as I was crossing and heading downstream. After a few casts a trout grabbed the bugger hard like a husky guy surprising an agitator, with a choke hold, trying to fool around with his trophy girlfriend! It was the hardest take of my Woolly Bugger since fishing the creek since setting up camp. My 4-weight bowed and pointed to the struggling trout as the trout scurried and tugged in the oncoming current. Bringing him up in the oncoming current was a task. He pulled and tugged until I got him in the slower current near me. There he stayed low and maybe tried to take a breather from his hard energetic fought battle. I wasn’t going to let him take a breather. I lifted the rod and he rose flipping his tail in anger, but I was able to scoop him up in the net.

This was only the second brown trout I had caught while camping along the creek. It was a dandy brown at that. I’m not sure he was just transplanted as surplus, but I would bet he’s been in here since the original stocking in March or a holdover.

Wading down creek, I wasn’t getting any nudges for a while. I was switching from different color Woolly Buggers to different shades of triple threats. I felt like a peddler at a bus stop trying to sell tofu hot dogs and no one wanted one. They didn't even want a free sample. I’d cast towards the far bank and let the streamer swing down creek. I was surprised I didn’t get a strike before I got to a deeper section of creek.

Now, when I say deeper section of this upper section of the creek, I’m not implying that it’s over my head. Maybe waist deep at the most. The sun was nearly above but the forest leafy trees cast shadows on the deeper hole down creek from where I stood. I have caught many of trout in recent years, in this section, so I was expecting some action. Kind of like going into a well-known nightclub with loud music and aggressive girls that want to dance!

I was casting a Woolly Bugger down and across creek letting it swing in the slower current in the deeper section. I would lengthen the line after each cast, so the bugger swung down further. I waded a couple of steps down towards the hole but kept my distance. Another cast the bugger dropped near the far bank and I was watching the arc in the floating line when WHAM! A fish grabbed the bugger like a cop grabbing an unsuspecting suspect by the wrist. I reared back the rod for a tight hook set, but I do believe the way the fish grabbed the bugger he set the hook into his jaw himself.

The Scott rod bowed deep and wavered as the trout tugged ferociously on the other end like the suspect trying to shake the handcuffs loose from the cop's grasp. He turned and headed for an underbrush down creek and the Hardy featherweight reel clicked like the last 10 seconds of a time bomb. I held the line tight and moved the rod down creek and towards my side of the bank to keep him from going under the underbrush cross creek. Hoping my 5x tippet and knots hold tight, I coaxed him into the center of the stream. He followed with yanking tugs. Once out of danger I swung the rod level with the surface water across from me trying to force him to swim upstream. He tugged and tried pulling away but the torque of the arced rod was too much, and he swam up creek defiantly. Once, almost across from me, I saw a bright ribbon of red along his side like a crimson ribbon in a lighted museum display. I swung the rod downstream again trying to bring him down from me, but he held tight in the oncoming current. I lifted the rod some putting side pressure on him. My forearm tightened and my grip on the cork was tight despite my arthritic fingers. He finally succumbed to the pressure, turned, and swam down creek from me. Trying to bring him into shallower water wasn’t his idea of a better escape and swam back into the deeper pool of water. Again, I forced him up creek and when he got close enough to seeing me, I suppose, he didn’t like the circumstance he was in and darted away. Not wanting a bunch of line laying on the water I was reeling in line when he let me.

Knowing he didn’t like the shallower water near the bank I knew I had to net him in the knee-deep water around me. After a few more headshakes I had him down creek from me and was bring him upstream. He followed my lead till he swam up creek from me. I took my net out with my left hand and held it in the water with the line pinched against the cork grip with my right hand. Slowly I backed him up to the net as I raised the rod. He turned but it was too late for him to escape. He turned right into the net headfirst!

Now, I’ve netted some whopper birthday trout in my time. Though he wasn’t quite the whopper, I don’t remember one being as pretty. Under the sunshine his crimson sash seemed to glow. It was if he won the red sash in a beauty contest among his trout peers! Though it’s been a few weeks since my birthday I christened him as my birthday trout. He was just a late surprise present! I unhooked the bugger from his jaw and set him free.

I lit a Surplus stogie for a just reward.

I fished down creek some and caught one more rainbow on a Woolly Bugger.

I returned to where I caught the prize fish and caught two rainbows on a dry caddis.

I returned to my truck and headed down creek to a different area. I caught a few more trout on a Woolly Bugger.

With my back and arthritic fingers aching I called it a day and returned to the camper. It was a fine day on the water.

Friday morning, I opened the door of my camper to go outside. Across the creek, in a tree, a bald eagle was sitting on a branch. I think he was looking for one of those surplus trout!

~doubletaper

North Carolina Trout Fishing

2026-04-25T22:26:00.000-04:00

North Carolina Trout Fishing

4/20/26

Visiting my Two youngest son’s in North Carolina we came together and went fishing. They took me to the Catawba River Sunday morning. The water looked in beautiful condition but the few places we fished we had very few strikes and didn’t catch any trout. In the afternoon we went to a smaller creek that was stocked a week or so ago. It was a much smaller, narrow stream with shallow riffles but quite a few deeper holes about.

We spread out along the creek as we headed upstream from where we started. We all found fish but they were pretty spooky. The sun shown through the trees upon the water so it was easy to see the groups of trout in deeper holes which mostly didn’t even look as deep as thigh high. Casting a streamer towards them was like tossing a tear-gas bomb at a bunch of protesters. They scattered momentarily but eventually returned as a group. Some of the trout would look at other offerings but refused to play our game. My son Giddeon was the only one that convinced a trout to bite. He was fishing above them from a bank. Maybe they couldn’t see him but anyhow he caught one. After that he and my son, Jesse Pete, went walking upstream to explore the creek before we headed home

On the way back they told me up creek, from where we were, there was a string of trout looking like a group of steelhead ready to make a run upstream. They convinced me to fish the creek on Monday and get there early. Monday morning I was up early and ready to go.

After assembling my Hardy Demon 3 weight fly rod and getting my gear together in the parking area I headed for the creek. The water was just as white tequila clear than the day before so I knew I had to try and be concealed. I found the area they informed me about. Sure enough there were plenty of trout in the stretch of a pool strung out much like a row of a bunch of people in line waiting for the doors to open at an arena event. I tried fishing for them from behind them, across from them and finally upstream from them. I sat on the stony bank like a kid pondering what to do?

I had boxes of offerings in my fly vest. I tried many varieties of flies from dries, wet flies and a few nymphs. Nymph fishing wasn’t feasible because of the stony, rocky bottom and slow moving current. The ones I did catch went like this;

There were a few trout rising in different areas in the wide pool. My first catch was with a #16 elk hair caddis. I missed the first rise to it but was able to hook the second one.

He wasn’t a big trout so I didn’t take a picture.

My second catch was with a #18 Blue Wing Olive para-dun with a CDC post. The trout came up and slurped it in and I quickly wrist the rod for the hook set. As calm as the trout looked, just holding stationary, once hooked they took off and fought wildly in the wide pool. I got him to the net safely. The small dry was neatly hooked into the crook of his mouth.

I tried a couple of wet flies but couldn’t get a bite. On one occasion I knotted on a soft hackle wet fly and tossed it across creek from my sitting position. The dry fly didn’t have time to sink before a trout rose to it and grabbed it. I jerked the 3 weight up and back and the trout took off like a wild cat. It took some time, on my 6x tippet, but I was able to net him also.

After that they didn’t appear to want anything. By now the sun was pretty much above the far hillside. The water was as clear as a gin and tonic. The trout that I was able to see looked like they were still, relaxing under the sunshine.

The trout have been stocked a week or so ago here in NC. I figured, when they were hungry, they were used to the natural nymphs and hatches in the creek. They wouldn’t take any more of my caddis or small mayfly imitations. I tried wet flies and, except for the one on top, they appeared not to go for them. I was till determined to catch another.

A guy I have tied flies for, for steelhead, asked me to tie a glo-bug called a Dead Egg. When he showed me one it looked like a food pellet that the hatcheries feed the trout they raise. I had a couple in my steelhead fly box with sucker spawn and a variety of glo-bug patterns. I picked out one of the Dead eggs and knotted it on the 6x tippet. Standing up now I tossed the Dead egg across creek. I couldn’t see it, as the far side was shaded from the sun. It didn’t appear to drift very far when the line pulled. I just wasn’t prepared and missed the hook up. This did give me a good feeling that maybe the other trout might be interested.

A couple of casts later I watched as the Dead eggs drifted into a line of trout. A trout swam up and examined it like he was deciding what flavor it was. Kind of trying to pick out a jellybean, sniffing it, not knowing what it’s going to taste like. I watched as the Dead eggs was still drifting as the trout back swum deciding what or when to make a move. I saw the trout dart at the egg and when I saw the white of his mouth open, I waited a split second, and raised and rod to set the hook. I felt the rod bend and line tightened and watched the trout turn and take off down creek into deeper water. There wasn’t much space for him to go as the pool of water spilled over a narrow channel of riffling water. He tugged and pulled on the line as he circled the pool of water. I got nearer to the water and knelt down and netted the frisky rainbow.

I played around and caught two more small rainbows before getting tired of teasing the pooled up trout and decided to head down creek. I lit a cigar and carefully crossed the tail end of the pool and walked the bank looking for trout.

Slowly walking the bank, trying to be inconspicuous, I spotted a few trout holding mid-creek. I was pretty sure they saw me upstream from them but I decided to try for them. I crouched down along the bank, on dry land, and made a cast up creek from them letting the Dead egg drift into their sight. A couple of trout swam up and inspected it. One must have noticed something odd and swam away. The other looked skeptical as it kept its distance as if smelling for a satisfying scent from the egg pattern. Not fully satisfied it turned a swam off. I gave a couple more drifts towards the half dozen of trout holding in the deeper water but they appeared wary of my offering.

I stood up briefly and noticed there were a few trout downstream on my side of the creek. I wasn’t sure they had saw me so I knelt down again. Sidearm backcasting up creek I tossed the egg down, mid-stream across creek. I watched as the egg pattern started to drift towards the trout holding in the back end of the deeper water. Suddenly a trout darted for the egg pattern and I waited till I saw the white of its mouth. He sucked in the egg without any hesitation but before he felt it was a trap it was too late. I reared back on the rod, as I stood up, and set the hook before the trout could spit it out. He took off across creek and some line slipped through my tensioning finger. As the rod arced the trout turned and swam down creek without me letting him have any more line. He tugged with head shakes and swam mid creek. In the meantime the other trout were swimming around as if clearing room for the frantic swimming hooked trout. After a short he settled some and I was able to get him nearer to me. He splashed the surface as I knelt down to net him.

I caught one more on the Dead egg of the few trout down creek before calling it a day.

~doubletaper

9 to 5

2026-04-25T07:51:00.001-04:00

9 To 5

4/08/26

I got to the small creek around 9:00. It was another chilly morning in the ANF. I don’t think it was 40 degrees yet but I was going trout fish’n. By the time I got my waders and boots on, my 7’6” 4 weight Powel rod together and ready it might of been near 9:30. I wasn’t late by any means! There was no clock to punch in, no employees to contend with or boss to cope with. It’s great being retried!

I stepped into the creek and the mountain water surrounded my ankles and shins. The chilly outside temps might have shivered my senses but the cold chilled water was an eye opener. I knew the best position, to get a good drift in the current, was to cross the creek. I took careful time crossing the stony millstones that moved beneath my boots. Once on the other side I walked the bank, not wanting to disturbed the water before stepping in. Checking my surroundings I’d be mostly roll casting. The laurel and thin branches, that overhung some of the bank behind me, was definitely something I wanted to avoid.

I started to roll cast a Woolly Bugger across and let it swing down creek. After a few casts I finally got a bump. I kept at it and finally got a hook up. My first trout took a Woolly Bugger.

Not getting another strike for some time I considered my options. I was prepared for a long day on the water so I had plenty of offering options in my pockets. I selected a Triple Threat streamer and hooked it to my Fas-Snap. Looking up in the overhanging tree I saw a bunch of fishing line hanging down from the branches besides an indicator and some brand of spinning lure. I figure the line was cast from the other side of the creek or the water was too high to retrieve it from my side. Anyhow, if fishermen were using minnows my Triple Threat might entice more strikes. I always figure bait fishermen, using minnows, don’t always hook up with a trout when a fish grabs it. In turn the loose minnow drifts down the creek and eventually another fish will grab it. I mean, when did you ever see a dead minnow laying on the bottom of a creek in clear water?

I hooked into 2 out of three of the next trout on the Triple Threat. They evidently were more interested in the minnow looking streamer than the bugger. I took my time slowly wading down creek some with casting the Triple Threat.

I had a couple of taps but nothing hard enough to hook one. I waded back up stream and stood ankle deep looking around me.

Behind me the forest trees stood tall with their bare branchy limbs almost begging for warmer weather. It may sound silly but sometimes I think trees have feelings also. After a freezing brutal winter I’m sure there is a sign that they want to sprout and leave old man winter behind. Up creek the water branches out on both sides of the small grassy island that I crossed over. Across creek a narrow mountain stream run off gushes down the bank, from under a culvert, and brings colder water into the main stem of the creek. The far bank-side is steep but there is enough room for a fisherman to stand along the dry bank, or on the big boulders, and cast into the water. Downstream the creek widens into shallower tumbling riffles as far as the eye can see. I’m sure there’s pocket water that trout could be holding in. After my observation I pull out a dark brown cigar from my pocket and lite it.

I switched to a Woolly Bugger and decided to cast up creek and let it drift down creek as if I’m nymph fishing. To my surprise the line shoots upstream and I quickly raise the rod down creek and quickly strip back the slack line. I see a flash, below the surface, of a fish turning down creek. I raise the rod directly over my head trying to bring in as much line as possible. The line moves down creek and it isn’t till I feel the resistance on the other end that the trout is still hooked. I play him towards me and net him.

I continue fishing the bugger casting up creek again and across creek. I catch one more up creek and a couple more down from where I stood before deciding to make my way down creek to another section I’ve caught many trout in years past.

On the way wading down creek, fishing riffles, I hook up with a couple of smaller trout on the bugger. Getting to where I want to make a stand and fish I look the water over.

Water tumbles over heavy boulders and rock ledges just about clear across stream. The waves settle down and is split by a half submerged boulder just out from me. The water continues on in maybe thigh high water in spots but has good rolling surface current. On the far side, out from the far bank, the water waves up against a big boulder that rims the bank. The water looks deeper there but trying to cast across that far, with hazard branches behind me and cross currents, once my fly line hits the water just is a waste of time trying. Down further from the big boulder there in a better chance of getting an offering to that side of the creek. I focus on what is in front of me and down creek within easier casting distance.

Casting the Woolly Bugger across creek I let it swing across current and down creek. First swing and a trout grabbed it before it ever swung down creek very far. If was if he wasn’t going to give any other trout an opportunity. After the hook set he shook it’s head a couple of times, tugging as if he couldn’t believe he was hooked. He took off down and across creek continuing tugging. Down a ways he swam mid-stream and I let him calm down, letting him tug a bit, before starting to bring him in. I had the rod extended out towards the middle of the creek and he slowly followed upstream as I brought in line. Once across from me he gave a hard tug and swung around heading back downstream. The top section bowed towards the trout but I only gave him little line which made him turn up creek again. We had a short battle just in front of me before I got him splashing to the net. H was a nice healthy energetic rainbow!

I caught one brown trout on the bugger before the trout shut down. It was if my caught trout made such a ruckus, disturbing the water, that they were wary of any kind of streamer passing by. Since I caught a brown trout I decided to cast a wet fly above a small black stone nymph. Three quarters across creek is where I was aiming. There was a good stream of water and I was aiming along the inside crease. I made a cast and my offerings landed pretty much across creek where I wanted. I mended line a little upstream with little slack so my offerings would drop before entering slower water down creek. Wham, a trout grabbed one of my offerings like it was one of my buggers getting away. I reared back and had a trout on the line. It ended up to be a brown trout as I anticipated. I caught one more and missed two before I gave up on that combination.

I played around with them for another hour or so offering them an assortment of dries, nymphs and streamers like a peddler on a street corner.

There was a riser clear across the creek. Occasionally he’d come up around the same area. Trying to get a dry fly to settle down long enough for a take, because of the converging cross currents, I decided to cast a Woolly Bugger. I had to wade up to my thighs, which I know I probably scared some trout, but I needed to get enough back casting room for a long forward cast. As I was false casting I was stripping line out of the spool. I felt the rod load behind me and forward cast the weighted bugger upstream from the riser. I was a little short but let the bugger swing down creek not to disturb the water. I reared back the rod and the bugger surfaced and took to the air. I stripped in line and forward a single haul cast and pointed the tip towards the opposite bank. The bugger followed and dropped, with a plop, near the far bank up from the riser. I straitened the rod a little down creek and anticipated a take anytime during the swing. Wham! He grabbed as if he was waiting for a full meal instead of small snacks. He wasn’t letting any other trout steal HIS meal. I reared back line and raised the rod high getting all line off the water. The line tightened and the rod bowed good into the mid section. The fish gave a hard tug and headed down creek. The spool spit out tensioned line and the top section bounced with each hard tug. Down creek was shallower and I saw the swirls the trout was making fighting the line. He still stayed near the far side so I swung the rod down creek, horizontal with the surface water, to put side pressure on him. He tugged a bit but followed the pull toward the middle of the creek and just about stopped holding in deeper knee deep water. I couldn’t see him yet but I suspected the trout being a brown because he stayed low and didn’t rise to the top.

I swung the rod up creek trying to force him upstream. He followed until he got across from me. Feeling the side pressure again he decided to swim down creek again. I didn’t give him much line and let the rod do the resistance more than the reel drag. He turned quickly. We had a short battle of wits after that and I finally got him coming my way. Nearer me he tried for a quick escape like a handcuffed shoplifter but I had a good hold on him and was able to scoop him up in the net. A fine brown trout laid eagerly in the net wanting to get turned loose.

Back upstream, where I started, I was trying wet flies and nymphs seeing if any trout were interested. I cast up creek and high sticked the nymph and wet fly and caught a couple of trout. They actually took the nymphs up creek before my offerings even got across from me.

Making a cast, into the colder water emptying into the main branch, with a Woolly Bugger, I picked up a frisky rainbow.

Waiting for my cigar to burn down, to give me a reason to leave, I was just trying different offerings like an old time carpetbagger offering different kinds of elixirs to a group of town folks. They weren’t interested. I waded down from the faster water and casting a bugger near the far boulders. I let slack line out so the bugger would drop deeper before swinging down creek. I caught another rainbow but he wasn’t worth a picture.

I took the last couple of puffs from my burned down stogie and called it quits for the day. When I got back to the truck it was nearing 5:00. I undressed out of my waders and headed back to my camper without having to punch a clock.

~doubletaper

Birthday Fish’n

2026-04-22T16:47:00.000-04:00

Birthday Fish’n

4/21/26

I decided to fish the delayed harvest area on Wilson Creek in the Pisgah Nation Forest in North Carolina for my birthday. Down at the creek I lit up a cigar and prepared to relax and have fun fishing. The sun was still rising above the mountain side but threw shadows of anything standing on the other side of the creek. Birds were chirping and the sound of the water tumbling and waves over rocks and boulders made a soothing and quaint sound for an enjoyable adventure.

The water was gin clear and mostly shallow in between the deeper holes which were more like big pond water. How deep I couldn’t tell you but at spots the deep pools were maybe encompassing 20 yard to 30 yards. At the tail end they would spill water down creek into wide shallow waves and riffles, which most of the time, weren’t any more than knee to shin deep. With the sun shining down on the gin clear creek the depth below the riffles were deceiving.

The morning was slow going without a strike as I casted streamers. The first location I stopped at yielded nothing. Though there were small bugs flying around I didn’t see anything rising. I was surprised that I didn’t even get a strike around the many brush and downed branches along the waters edge.

My second stop I added weight to the tippet and was casting out into a deep pool as far as I could. I finally got a strike and pulled in a speckled trout.

Later on I hooked into a rainbow that took the bugger and I missed a take. By then quite a few hours had passed by. I was getting a lot of exercise wading and walking the stony creek banks as I fished and walking back to the truck.

When I got back to the truck it was nearing 1:00. The sun was up above shining bright. I decided to drive up creek and see if there was any other place that looked good to fish wanting good riffling water emptying into a deeper section.

My last stop was up from a bridge. There was a small family taking in the sun, on a blanket, on the sandy bank. Across the big pool of water a man was fishing off the big boulders and, I assume, his daughter was playing around on the rocks. I was almost ready to call it a day but decided to walk down to the creek, from my truck, and see what was above the bridge.

There was a nice narrow channel of wavy water streaming down from a big pool above. The water looked to be maybe knee deep in spots but mostly looked shallow. I took a stand, away from the water, and started to cast a Woolly Bugger towards the far bank where it was shaded. I only casted a couple of times without a strike when I noticed a rise just downstream in the shallow water near my side of the creek. Well, though it may of been a small minnow or fish, I decided to knot on a dry fly.

I looked into my fly box and picked out a #14 Elk hair caddis. I knotted it on to my 4x tippet and doped it up with dry fly dressing. I really didn’t know what to expect. I made a cast and dropped my caddis on the wavy current three quarters of the way across. I was still trying to locate my fly on the glare of the wavy water when I saw a quick rise to the top of the waves. I wasn’t sure where my caddis was but instinctually I raised and reared back the rod and pulled in slack line. The tip section bowed, the line tightened and pointed towards the water with a frisky fighting fish on the other end. I walked to the waters edge and played the trout to the net. You talk about a happy guy on his birthday. This was it! Catching a nice frisky trout on a dry fly and getting it to the net.

Grandpa always said that where there’s one there’s two. Casting out the caddis would sink earlier then I wanted. I decided to nip off some of the 4x tippet and knot on a section of 5x. The caddis I was using was pretty much drenched and tore up. I took another #14 caddis from my caddis fly box and knotted it on. I made a cast nearer the shaded far bank and watched as the caddis drifted towards an overhanging branchy bank-side brush. A trout rose, splashing the surface, immediately and I was Jerry on the spot. I raised the rod and another trout was fighting at the end of the line. He scurried about tugging and pulling till I got him to the net. It was a fine looking rainbow.

I missed one more quick rise on the #14 caddis. In time I tried a couple of different caddis in the narrow channel without another take. I finished casting streamers in the deeper water upstream from the bridge without a strike.

Though it was a long day, without many strikes, the two I caught on dry caddis was the topping of the day!!

Happy Birthday to me.

~doubletaper

Casual Monday

2026-04-16T08:15:00.000-04:00

Casual Monday

4/13/26

Having trout fished everyday since Easter Sunday, except the 7th because of a hard rain and wind, I decided to just casually trout fish on Monday, no hurry. Each day I’ve fished I was usually in waders for 5 to 7 hours each day. Well, Easter I fished for maybe an hour or so because Tionesta Creek was high and muddy. Each day I fished was against the wind. Sometimes the gusts were pretty much unbearable like it got to be today. Except for two days on smaller creeks. I used my 5 weight fast action rod fishing Tionesta Creek to try to cut through the wind. Most of the time it was against a cross wind gust so I had to use extra energy to cast a weighted streamer throughout the day. Each one of those days I came back to the camper tired and fatigued. Monday I decided to just casually take my time and try not to use as much energy. So, I thought!

It was sprinkling in the morning when I was ready to go. They were calling for high wind gusts throughout the day and a possible storm in the evening. I dressed for the rainy conditions and maybe a little warmer than I needed to, being it was going to get into the high 60’s. The overcast morning looked worse than it turned out though the wind gusts were pretty bad at times that I had to wait for the gusts to die down before trying to cast.

The section of the Tionesta Creek I planned on fishing I’ve fished many times every year. I drove up and parked at an empty campsite. I assembled the 5 weight 9’ fast action Icon rod, got my gear on and grabbed my water bottle and three cigars. I walked up the road and walked down to the creek where I wanted to start and fish my way back to the truck.

Starting off the wind wasn’t very strong at all so I easily casted my streamers across creek short to longer casts towards the far bank which, because of the deeper water, couldn’t really get as near to the far side that I would of liked. It took some time before I got my first strike. He grabbed the bugger like he was late for breakfast. I pulled the rod up and back quickly and set the hook. He was pretty frisky as I brought him to the net. This gave me a good reason to lite up my first cigar.

Till I got back to my truck I caught quite a few trout in the long stretch of water I fished. ( I wasn’t in a hurry at all.) Just relaxing, trout fishing and smoking another cigar!

It took sometime and the closer I got to my truck the gusts of wind picked up more often. By now it was about 2:30. I was deciding to brave the windy conditions but since it didn’t look like rain or any storm clouds I decided to fish downstream. I took a good gulp of water and relaxed a bit before continuing on.

Back down at the creek I started casting a Woolly Bugger as far as I could across creek. The cross wind was pretty much constant now but I was able to get the bugger cross creek with a lot of casting energy. At times the gusts were so bad I had to wait it to calm down. I wasn’t too far down creek from the truck when I was getting strikes. If I missed the first light strike I would let the bugger continue to swing and twitch it now and then. Most of the time the trout would follow it, I presume, and I teased it enough that it would grab it hard enough and I would catch it. It had me laughing to myself each time I caught a trout this way teasing it. Most were rainbows and some were pretty frisky jumping into the air trying to shake the hook loose. Some hooked fish never made it to the net. Catching a brown trout was a treat as I caught very few.

I made a far cross creek cast and watched the bugger splash down on the surface. I was holding the rod close to the water at an angle down creek. As the bugger continued to swing I watched the arc in the floating line. I watched the floating line shoot outward and felt the take. I yanked the rod up and back. I felt the top section bow towards the take and felt a strong fish pulling the line. It felt heavy but I was playing it against the undercurrent so it was pretty much hard to tell how big it was. I was bringing the trout in pretty handedly as I was bringing it up creek mid-stream. He kept his distance but wasn’t frisky or didn’t appear to be in a hurry to try to get away. As I was bringing in line and the fish towards me I saw the golden trout come into view. I was surprised he didn’t fight too hard as I was getting him closer and closer to me. I guess when he felt he was too close is when he decided to battle it out. He took off across creek tugging the line and bending the top section into the mid section. We battled it out for a time. I had a tight grip on the cork handle and fighting a heavy fish like this I actually rest the back end of the handle against the inside of my wrist for leverage. This gives me more control of the rod. With the golden trout closer he wasn’t going to cooperate very easily. He splashed the surface and then dove deep trying to take line. I let him have a little line and then tighten my grip on the line after he swam a ways. The rod sections bowed and I forced the golden closer to me. Bringing the rod up the golden surfaced and I was able to scoop him in the net. He flopped around a bit and then settled down. What a surprise! I had no idea he was out there and didn’t celebrate, to myself, until I netted him. After all the commotion he looked happy to see me after all!

I fished a little longer but not much longer. The constant wind got stronger and the gusts were too fierce to compete against. I did catch two more trout and missed a couple of strike before calling it quits.

The bank was too steep to climb and I had to wade the water against the current to exit to my truck. As my grandfather would say after a long day hunting, “I’m tuckered out.”

I guess my Casual easy going Monday wasn’t as casual as I intended.

~doubletaper

Easter Monday

2026-04-11T11:04:00.002-04:00

Easter Monday

4/06/26

I don’t usually fish for tout in snowflakes, but it’s better than sitting in the camper.

I was camping along Tionesta Creek for the first 2 weeks of opening of trout season in PA. The creek itself was high, discolored and blown out. Though a few people gave it a go Saturday and Sunday I only saw 3 trout taken in the many hours the few people had fished. Of course, I had to get out there with the fly rod and try Sunday, but it felt more like a practice session than really thinking I could catch a fish. (Since I’m retired, I don’t get too anxious to get mixed in with the opening weekend crowds.)

Saturday, I drove up along Blue Jay Road and people dotted the landscape along the small creek. I swear there were more fishermen than trees that stood leaned along the forest stream. The camps were filled with vehicles and even a group had a small camper and campfire in a clearing along the creek.

Sunday, I took a drive up to the spring sometime after noon. There were less fishermen along the creek. Camps were cleaning up and packing their vehicles for their drive home. I thought about fishing Sunday evening but being, Monday wasn’t calling for rain and less fishermen, I stayed in my camper ate, drank and tied flies. I made myself a pasta dinner with a fine dry wine and just waited till Easter Monday.

Monday I was up bright and early drinking coffee and having breakfast waiting for the temperature to rise above 40 degrees. The weather people were calling for snow flurries without any accumulation. They said the temperature will stay in the mid 40’s. Tuesday was to be in the 30’s so I decided to get out Monday, cold wintry or not!

I dressed warm, had my 4 weight Scott rod assembled and waders on before I ever left the campsite. Where I wanted to start fishing Blue Jay, the camper was gone and I was able to pull down the lane to the creek. It was cold so I didn’t expect any other fishermen to be out this early. I was right!

The first couple of strikes I missed the hook up but that kept me excited enough that there were trout that escaped the crowds of fishermen the past weekend. I slowly waded my way down creek casting. Most of the fishermen I encountered for years always hurry to the deepest holes skipping the shallower riffles. Here’s where I pick up trout that has avoided other fishermen. I’ll cast across stream near either bank and letting the Woolly Bugger or Triple Threat streamer swing down creek. Most of the strikes were down creek after the swing. I’d let it sit there and maybe twitch it before slowly stripping it in. This usually caused a strike if there’s an unsuspicious trout. If there’s downed logs, snags or undercut banks I’ll roll cast as close as possible to them and let my offering swing down creek from there. I believe those trout hiding in the snags will come out of hiding and follow my streamer down creek. In the shallowest water I’d hold the rod tip up so my weighted streamers won’t snag up. Sometimes it amazes me the nice 11” to 13” trout I catch in water not deeper than ankle deep.

For a couple hours of slowly wading and fishing down creek amounted to a dozen or so trout I got to the basket. There were long pauses between strikes. The trout were scattered and It was like try to find eggs in an Easter egg hunt. I didn’t catch more than 1 trout in any single pocket. I missed quite a few and a few never made it to the basket, but I was content, smoking a dark chocolate outer wrap cigar and enjoying the peacefulness of it all.

Early on it started to snow like the weather people predicted. It wasn’t actually like small flakes but like tiny balls of snow. Kind of like the tiny Styrofoam balls you find in a soft plush stuffed animal bunny. They fell from the gray sky softly to earth. Not enough for any accumulation but just enough as if to make the weather people right in their prediction. Looking out into the forest I could hardly tell it was snowing anywhere else but around me.

Down at the deeper hole I couldn’t get a strike on my streamers. I knotted on a couple of colored egg patterns and let them drift from the wavy water into the slower pool area. I got a strike and set the hook. Upon playing him towards me the rainbow came to the surface and spit it out like a distasteful jellybean. I wasn’t sure if he took the yellow egg pattern or the Oregon Cheese.

A couple of fishermen made it down creek near where I was fishing. They didn’t bother me though. They baited their poles and started fishing the deep hole. I continued on down creek from them and only hooked one nice trout in the long stretch of water.

By the time I returned they were gone. I headed to the truck and decided to fish up creek from the truck. I caught a few more trout up creek some. Two of the trout grabbed the streamer on the swing like they weren’t teased the past couple of days. Maybe no one ventured up creek?

Fishing back to the truck I called it a day. The sky was a bit bluer than the gray sky I started with. The temperature didn’t seem to get any warmer though. I put my gear and rod away and drove back to camp still in my waders. Outside the camp I undressed my wading pants and boots. Inside I heated up some water in the tea pot while dressing in street clothes. I sat at the table and took out my iPad. I started to write this story while it was still fresh in my mind while I sipped on a cup of Earl Grey Tea.

~doubletaper

Scott Session Fly Rod Review

2026-03-30T16:38:00.000-04:00

Scott Session 8’6” Fly Rod Review

It’s not that I needed another fly rod but if I was to choose one it would be a fast action, 8’6” 4 weight. Fast action rods cut through the wind better with faster line speed. I still feel the best length of fly rod in Pennsylvania is 8’6”. It’s easier to maneuver through the forest and brush than a longer length and still able to be very useful on small to medium size creeks and rivers for trout fishing. A 5 weight is ideal and I have a few, so I wasn’t interested in another. When you get into the more expensive rods, they are usually lighter and the hardware they use is premium.

I could have ordered one online and hoped it fit my style but what better than is to get one in hand and try it out? This is what I was able to do at a fly shop that sold Scott fly rods. I got to test cast a 9’ 4 weight Session rod and it performed great. I had the salesperson add an 8’6” Session to his spring order and waited for them to call me to pick it up.

The Scott fly rods are made from inside to out in Montrose Colorado, from blank to on the shelf ready to cast. Without going into the more technical engineering, it’s the basic rod that I see and can feel.

Starting with the butt section the reel seat has double locking nuts which is a plus. Two main things I always love having in a fly rod is a wooded insert and a cork grip. The Session has a box elder insert and, what they call a new cork grip design. Casting the rod the cork grip felt comfortable in my palm. In their words “They also feature Silicon Nitride stripping guides and low glare light wire snake guides for a premium component package that’s a perfect match to the high- performance blanks.” The Scott Rod Company doesn’t paint their blanks for glamour or eye-catching pop. The natural finish is translucent when you get up eye close. They also come with a hook keeper and alignment dots. The thread wraps are dark contributing to the non-glare blanks.

Now for performance.

The rod itself is very light in hand and compared to my 5 weights and 9 footers I’m sure I can fish this all day without fatigue. Casting weighted Woolly Buggers was no problem putting the bugger where I wanted it to go. I know I read somewhere the Session rod, besides fast action and fast recovery speed, it has a soft tip. I can only compare this to the ‘Winston Feel’ when casting. The Session rod top section isn’t as soft as a Winston, which roll casting a weighted bugger in short proximity was almost impossible to achieve. With the Session rod I had no problem in doing so without much energy. As far as casting dry flies was easy putting the dry fly where I wanted without much finesse. With the faster line speed my dry cut through the wind without a backlash or steering the fly far from where I wanted to place it. Even from the first cast I had no problems adjusting to the action quickly.

I fished the Session rod on the day I picked it up for around 5 hours. At times, through the wind and calm weather. By the end of the session, I felt no fatigue in my casting arm. As far as playing the fish I caught, I felt I wasn’t straining the rod playing the trout against the current. Still the most noticeable feature was how light it feels and how easy casting it. I caught a few trout on streamers and 3 trout on a small #18 dry fly during the 5-hour session. I’m well satisfied with my purchase.

My first trout caught on the Scott Session on a Triple Threat Streamer.

~doubletaper

A Session on Neshannock Creek

2026-03-28T08:27:00.004-04:00

A Session on Neshannock Creek

3/26/26

After picking up my new Scott 8’ 6” 4 weight Session, from the Neshannock Creek Fly Shop, I was anxious to try it out on the Neshannock Creek. After false casting it, on the lawn out front, I placed the rod in the rod rack outside the shop and drove up to the big parking area to get my gear on. A friend of mine followed me and we got dressed for a trout session on the creek.

The water was in great condition. Not crystal clear but just enough color for fish finding offerings. It was already in the upper 50° range with a slight breeze. The sun wasn’t up above the far tree line yet which shaded the creek water. I attached a Woolly Bugger to the tippet and stepped into the water upstream from the shop. I was expecting to feel a rush of cold water around my hip waders but now, thinking about it, I was either anxious to start fishing the new rod or the water just wasn’t that cold to notice.

The rod itself felt light in hand. I bought the rod, being it was considered a fast action with a soft tip. When I cast it, it came natural to me. The soft tip they mentioned was pretty close to my Winston Boron rod with the Winston feel. The rod wasn’t as forgiving and therefore roll casting was more improved compared to the Winston which wasn’t worth 2 cents when trying to roll cast a weighted streamer within a short distance. Don’t get me wrong, my 6 weight Winston overhand casts foam poppers and weighted Buggers with ease out quite a distance but trying to roll cast weighted offerings up close wasn’t meant for this rod. The Scott rod on the other hand roll casts fine with the weight forward floating line and a weighted bugger attached.

Overhand casting the weighted bugger mid-creek to far side was easy and not much finesse needed. After about 10 minutes or so, without only one bump and no hook up, I knotted on one of my Triple Threat streamers. The rod pitched the unweighted, cone head Triple Threat with ease. My third cast was nearer to the far bank and I let it swing freely down creek. I felt a grab just before the line straightened and reared back the rod for the hook set. The floating line came off the water as the line tightened and my first trout, with the new rod, was tugging fiercely against the oncoming current. I could feel the upper section of the rod flexing as I brought the tugging trout to the net. “No problem here,” I thought. I took out my camera for a picture of my first trout on the new Scott rod.

We fished for about another hour without a hook up. Not that we didn’t have any bumps but not strong enough to get a hook set. By 11:30 or so the sun was up over the creek and bringing warmth upon us like walking into a sauna with unbearable heat. Being we couldn’t turn the heat down we went up to our vehicles and took some of our heavier clothes off. Back at the creek we found room to fish between the other fishermen.

Small stoneflies started to hatch and skirt across the water. I knotted on a dry stonefly I tie and casted out trying to get a hook up but the trout weren’t interested. Most of the rises were very sporadic and most looked like they were taking emergers and not sipping the surface. Without a dry strike I tried nymph fishing without any hits. Back to streamer fishing I worked my way down creek. Down creek I caught one more trout on a Woolly Bugger but I still had dry fly fishing on my mind. There were a couple of risers down creek, during the stonefly hatch, but not as many as were up creek. Though I tried for the few risers they wouldn’t take either of my dry stoneflies. I hooked the dry to the hook keeper and went back up creek.

By now there were less fishermen, and I waded within distance of most of the fish I saw rising earlier. Every once in a while, a gust of wind would blow up creek. Casting the dry across the wind wasn’t a problem. The fast action rod performed great as I expected it to for this was the reason I bought the faster action rod. I was only able to raise one trout on my dry stonefly but didn’t get him hooked. The trout came up right in front of me within my vision of seeing him rise. Maybe I was so excited I pulled the line and dry off the water before he even got it to his mouth. Whatever the reason, I never felt the slightest pinch upon missing him. It was like knowing full well you can hit a lazy stink bug flying around by swatting at it but not even grazing it with your hand. That trout wasn’t going to be fooled again, nor did I have any other sporadic trout interested.

Sometimes I would see a trout surface for a fly on the water, but I couldn’t see anything else on the water except a stonefly now and then but not as often as earlier. Maybe there was something out there I couldn’t see or the fish were grabbing small emergers? I decided to knot on a #18 BWO. There was one trout that came up pretty regularly out towards the far side of the creek. I started making long casts towards the area and I knew I was getting my dry within his zone. I knew I had to just wait him out and eventually I felt he would come up.

My overhand cast cut through the slight breeze and, with a tight loop, fell upon the water up from the area the trout was rising within. I watched as the BWO CDC wing drift upon the water in the distance. A trout rose quickly and gulped at it. I swung the rod up creek and pulled in line with my left hand. The long length of line sprung from the water and I felt the resistance on the other end. The trout felt like he was pretty furious as he battled against the current and the tight line. He wasn’t too graceful once I netted him and was as if begging to be released. Oh well, he got his picture anyway before I released him.

Now that was pretty cool. Got my first trout on a dry fly for 2026. Now it was time to try and fool another. Within a couple more casts I felt something was wrong with the casting. Bringing in the line and tippet my dry BWO was gone. The end of the 5x tippet was curled. Evidently the knot gave out. Good thing it didn’t give out upon bringing in the trout!

I found another BWO and knotted it on. I caught one more trout that occasionally was rising within a small run made by a boulder just below the surface. He came up as if he was going for an emerger before it took flight. I was ready when he reached the surface and yanked back the rod and line. He was already hooked when his momentum caused his body to break the surface displaying half his body. I noticed right off it was another rainbow trout before he disappeared beneath. We had a good go around before I got him swung around in slower current in the net.

Well, that was 2 on a dry fly! Now to see if I could fool another.

It took some time with many casts trying to get a fish to rise. I was mostly blind casting out there as there weren’t any risers during the time. It was like throwing rocks in a cut down corn field trying to stir a ringneck to flush.

I glanced up creek at another fisherman and by chance a fish rose almost within 20’ of me upstream and away. Now, I miss more trout dry fly fishing up creek from them than fishing across or down creek. I’m not sure why? Well, I wasn’t going to move and disturb the water for a better angle and a downstream cast. With the wind blowing up creek, against my back, I made a sharp high back cast and pointed the rod tip upstream on my forward cast. The wind carried my dry a little further than what I thought of would have liked but it fell upon the surface safely. It looked like it was going to drift into the fishes zone as I brought in line trying to keep it taunt. The trout rose right up creek from me, and I swear it was within 10 feet. There was quite of bit of line slack on the water as I thought my dry was already passed his eyesight. I quickly raised the rod as high as I could and stripped the slack line off the water as quickly as I could. I saw the trout head turn towards me as the hook set. Maybe I pulled a little harder than I needed to, but my knots held as the trout went under and scurried around. I took control after he scurried down creek and was able to scoop him up in the net. The hook was in the roof of his mouth. He settled down enough that I was able to dislodge it, with my hemostats, without any harm. A quick picture and he was on his way safely out of the net.

After that Kevin and I fished for another hour or so. I couldn’t get another strike on either a dry or a streamer. Downstream I saw Kevin bringing in a trout. His rod was well bowed and it looked like he had a good fish on the other end. When I saw him headed to the bank with the trout in the net I figured he had a lunker. I was too far, in the water, up creek from him to try to get to him for a picture. After releasing the trout he looked my way with his hands apart imitating how long the trout was.

When we were ready to go he told me that was the biggest trout he ever caught in the Neshannock Creek. We headed to our vehicles and called it a day.

My new Scott Session rod is an exceptional rod by my terms. It handled well with the wind, casting streamers and dry flies and bringing in frisky trout. It’s definitely a keeper and I know I’ll be using it often.

~doubletaper

Maurer's Ant

2026-03-24T11:50:00.000-04:00

Maurer's Ant

I had a person ask me to tie up some wet ants that can be casted with a fly rod but also from conventional rods under a bobber for pond bluegill. For weight I decided on a black nickel brass bead for the abdomen and a smaller black glass bead for the head. The black nickel will give weight to get it down and also a little attracting glare.

Hook; #10 Mustad S82AP/3906B

Bead; 7/64 Black glass bead for head

Bead; 1/8 Black nickel brass bead for abdomen

Thread; W 3/0 22d Uni-Thread

Thorax; Black thread.

Legs; Black hackle

Zap-A-Gap

1. Place the beads on the hook with the glass bead first followed by the black nickel bead.

2. Starting with the black thread about half the shanks length, thread back to bend. From about the start of the hook bend taper a large oval thread wrap. You want to make sure that when you push the nickel bead towards the bend the bead stops securely against the oval thread wraps. Tie off thread in front of bead.

3. I brush the thread wraps with Zap-A-Gap

4. Next, push the nickel bead up against the oval thread wraps. The Zap-A-Gap should hold it in place.

5. Start another thread wrap, near halfway towards the front, and wind back to the nickel bead. Taper the thread just in front of the nickel bead and thread towards the middle between beads. This forms the back end of the thorax.

6. Tie on the black hackle to make the legs. I try to make the back end of the thorax longer than the front portion. Usually 2 or 3 turns with the hackle, one in front of the other, makes plenty of legs.

7. Trim the hackle and secure. Thread wrap the rest of the thorax to behind the front glass bead adding a few extra wraps just behind the bead so the bead doesn't slide back.

8. I brush on Zap-A-Gap on threads behind front bead and on thread between back bead and hackle.

9. Go fish it.

~doubletaper