Central PA Wild Rainbows and Joe's 90th (Pt. 2)

Late Friday evening we made our way to The State Theatre right in town to watch a screening of "Live The Stream", and visit with Joe Humphreys and his family. This was the reason we had come to State College this time... the fishing was secondary.

The documentary was spectacular. The producers, Meigan and Lucas Bell, managed to capture an awful lot of what makes Joe such an exceptional person and put it together in a beautiful way that tells the story well. I was hooked in from the first moments. A scene shows Joe crawling through think brush to get into position on a tiny brook trout stream, them performing what can only be described as a miraculous cast. This hit home for me in a big way because it was watching a video of Joe fishing a small brookie stream that planted the seed that grew into my obsession for seeking out these types of waters and the incredible little animals that swim in them. Joe Humphreys is honestly probably the best small stream caster alive today, and quite possibly in history. The firsts minutes of the film set the standard high for me, and the rest did not disappoint. If you fly fish, you should make an effort to see this movie. Screenings can be found on the website, www.livethestreamfilm.com, and hopefully it will be coming out in DVD form in the near future. It is worth getting on the mailing list.

The theater was packed. We exchanged pleasantries with Joe and his daughters and Mike and I got a photo with him, but it was tough to carry a conversation with so many others looking to meet him and chat with him. One of these times, hopefully, I will get to actually sit and chat with the man. He turned 90 the very next day. Still tough as nails.

The next morning, we planned to fish right up until the snow started then run out ahead of it and get back to CT before the storm got there. We went to the stretch of spring creek we had started at the day before. This time Mike went up and I went down. I did not go far before bringing quite sizable, though beat up, wild rainbow to the dropper nymph. Then a much cleaner smaller one on the tail fly.

I had gotten into the rhythm quickly, which was ideal, then went through a lot of water without a touch which wasn't, but I know why and it didn't have to do with how I was fishing that water... the fish had moved a little bit. I figured out the type of water I should be fishing and was into fish again. Eventually I stuck one that I though was going to by a nice brown. It turned out to be a fat, egg laden rainbow of hatchery origin. Not ideal, but a hard fighter that made me work for it. 

I continued downstream, steadily picking off small rainbows, all from the same sort of water. I was expecting at some point to hit something pretty big, and eventually I thought I had. I picked up on tiny rainbow from this seem and on the very next cast set into something heavy and very authoritative. I couldn't stop this fish. It stuck to the seem for a few moments before running out into the middle of the pool in the fast water, where it freaked out for a second, then just slowly started moving up. I put a lot of pressure on the fish trying to turn it. I hadn't even seen it yet. It turned fast and just tore off downstream. I gave chase. At that point, it came to the surface. It was a rainbow, maybe 16 inches... hooked in the tail. I stumbled, lost tension, and the hook popped out. I was very disappointed, not to have lost a 16 inch bow but because that fish hadn't turned out to be the behemoth brown I thought it was before I saw it. Weirdly though after that point I stopped catching rainbows altogether and got only browns.

I should add at this point that I had been wading like a complete madman the entire time. Going way too deep, crossing in crazy spots, bouncing my way to rocks that I could cast from... right before I turned back upstream I almost got myself in a bit of a predicament. I had my eyes on water downstream and just sort of bounced down through a stretch of moderate speed wast-belly button deep water with a steep bank on either side. Eventually it became clear that I wasn't getting to the water I wanted to, it just kept getting deeper. The bank I was next to was just peoples yard and I honestly wasn't sure I could make it back to the other side. I turned to see if going back up was an option. Nope, too deep and too swift. I briefly considered just climbing the bank and crossing somebody's back lawn. But I looked at the curve of the river and thought I could possibly just be on the deep side. That did turn out to be the case, I barely got across without fully soaking the bottom half of my jacket. My pocket hand warmers did get soaked through. Rivers can be deceptive. Be careful, especially in the dark and in the winter. This is a good demonstration of the kind of thing that can really screw you while night fishing, and it's the reason I don't night fish stretches of river I haven't thoroughly explored during the day.

As we pulled out of Milesburg and got on the highway it was snowing pretty well, but we were just chasing the leading edge. As we got close to an area where we had found a quite exceptional small stream, Mike suggested we stop just to get some photos: fresh snow on the hemlocks and laurels, dark winter water, it would definitely be beautiful and worth the stop. Naturally we ended up rigging rods and trying to find a few brook trout. Yeah, it was beautiful... but it's hard to pass up even a brief opportunity to catch something special. 

In the back of my mind was this one pool we had stopped at when we came here last August. I decided I was going to fish that pool. I remembered what it looked like and where the fish had been sitting at the pool and planned my approach out in my head before I even got there. I had to cross the creek twice to get up there which was fun. I made one crossing on a log and the other on partly submerged rocks (keep in mind I didn't have waders on). Then I had to shove myself though briers and rhododendron to get to where the pool was. I was going to approach it from the opposite side we had before this time. It was a difficult approach, most of that bank was steep and undercut, excepting just one spit of rocks which was my objective. I basically Tarzaned my way to that casting spot. From there, my battle had just begun. The deep bucket of the pool was upstream from me right under a big hemlock bough. Downstream, more limbs were there to catch a typical back cast. I was at an advantage here using my 5wt. I would have the muscle to power a cast through the gap I was presented with.  But I would have to compensate for the very overkill 9ft length of the rod (only stick I brought). I made an initial bow and arrow cast just to get the fly out there. Then I used the water to load the rod and made the lowest back cast I could, then hauled hard and shot my Ausable Ugly 20 feet upstream underneath and past that bough. I let the fly sink, stripping line to maintain contact, then saw my fly line jump. I set the hook and quickly had a stunning brook trout at hand. 

For me, that was the fish of the trip.  

Mike and I made it to CT before the storm got there. It has been very cold since and the only fishing I've done in the intervening time has been on the ice. The rain yesterday ruined that and has blown out all the rivers. Hopefully this weekend will provide some opportunities. 

But there is a lot more Florida content to come, so stay tuned.