tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15401154761719063932024-03-13T05:56:31.121-04:00The Slippery Trout: A Fly Fishing BlogMatthew Bruenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08843498894554178276noreply@blogger.comBlogger93125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1540115476171906393.post-81022646656934823782012-04-30T09:59:00.002-04:002012-04-30T09:59:41.364-04:00New Post Coming SoonSorry for the delay. New posts coming soon.Matthew Bruenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08843498894554178276noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1540115476171906393.post-64078902331379078622011-09-15T15:04:00.024-04:002011-09-22T10:30:24.859-04:00The Ethics of Tailwater Streams: Fly Fishing the Upper Delaware RiverThis past July, I traveled to New York's Catskills region, home to many of the East's most highly-regarded trout streams. You've probably heard of places like the Beaverkill, the Neversink, and the Willowemoc; in fact, many important moments in North America's fly fishing history occurred on these streams. Nevertheless, one Catskill river has captured the attention of the global fly fishing community above all others: the Upper Delaware River.<br /><br />Many Americans know the Delaware. Some drive over it near Philadelphia and Wilmington, where it begins to transition into the brackish Delaware Bay. There, the river reaches over a half a mile in length, sluggishly churning toward the Atlantic Ocean. Others may be familiar with the Delaware Water Gap, a special geographical formation hundreds of millions of years old. Native Americans hunted and fished near the Gap hundreds of years before the arrival of Europeans, and countless New Yorkers and New Jerseyeans have driven through it en route to their Pocono tourist destinations. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjruA71mNIR-wbxebS2fNb-xCpTuZncIDSltmtJsEJKEOx90H3k7uieAEzfjfHWWrhyphenhyphenKBTcJvc1sfw4y7B1cKA1X6iqlOQoAdCqGxFaM1rRCdXRSPUgX1CCZJ705PUdQFfmPu3SPuQwx4-w/s1600/800px-Washington_Crossing_the_Delaware_by_Emanuel_Leutze%252C_MMA-NYC%252C_1851.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 115px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjruA71mNIR-wbxebS2fNb-xCpTuZncIDSltmtJsEJKEOx90H3k7uieAEzfjfHWWrhyphenhyphenKBTcJvc1sfw4y7B1cKA1X6iqlOQoAdCqGxFaM1rRCdXRSPUgX1CCZJ705PUdQFfmPu3SPuQwx4-w/s200/800px-Washington_Crossing_the_Delaware_by_Emanuel_Leutze%252C_MMA-NYC%252C_1851.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5652687158477911954" border="0" /></a> Other people may have seen the Delaware at Easton, Phillipsburg, Trenton, Milford, Camden, or Dingman's Ferry. And almost everyone is familiar with George Washington's crossing of the river on December 25th, 1776, an iconic American moment immortalized by the artwork of German-American painter Emanuel Leutze (this image graces the back of the New Jersey state quarter, among other things).<br /><br />But fly fishermen know the Delaware because of its spectacular upper waters. Divided into two branches, the Upper Delaware River receives cold-water releases from the Cannonsville and Pepacton Reservoirs. These releases foster ideal living conditions for populations of wild brown and rainbow trout. The reservoirs, however, weren't constructed in order to bring salmonids to the Delaware's upper branches. Instead, Cannonsville and Pepacton provide drinking water to America's most populated metropolis: New York City.<br /><br />This strange dichotomy has generated tension between sports groups and government officials. On one hand, Upper Delaware River fly fishing is a multi-million dollar industry, and <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgruNk3aNPopCClwAE9rv1hflt8NS32QZncjm27-56WYmye-Aa5pIR_ADHoQVazsNDUcesdbctq0UDF1hKqBtIVcyGbh2dA6-TLVCCEBosgxGm8rfhFGaE6OCrxjEESqUK0QxhhItKGdJdN/s1600/NC%252C+UpDel%252C+VC+062.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgruNk3aNPopCClwAE9rv1hflt8NS32QZncjm27-56WYmye-Aa5pIR_ADHoQVazsNDUcesdbctq0UDF1hKqBtIVcyGbh2dA6-TLVCCEBosgxGm8rfhFGaE6OCrxjEESqUK0QxhhItKGdJdN/s200/NC%252C+UpDel%252C+VC+062.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5652687440224717906" border="0" /></a>many guides, fly-shop owners, and local businesspeople feel hand-cuffed, even held hostage, by the government and its cold-water release plans. If water temperatures rise too high and the reservoirs don't release enough cold water, the Upper Delaware's trout populations - and its fly fishing industry - will perish. Imagine having your livelihood threatened every time a heat wave rolls through town. It can't be easy. On the other hand, government officials have a responsibility to the people of New York City. They need to ensure that New Yorkers have enough water, and they must keep the reservoirs at certain levels in case of emergencies. Imagine being faced with a potential New York City water shortage. That can't be easy either.<br /><br />Both sides agree that there is middle-ground between their respective positions, and the <a href="http://fudr.org/wp-content/uploads/2010/01/July-2011-Heat-Wave-Press-Release.pdf">Delaware River Basin Commission </a>(DRBC) has recently modified its release plan. For now, the Upper Delaware fly fishing community and the DRBC have an uneasy but functional relationship. Which begs the question: how should fly fishers approach this problem? Should we support the <a href="http://fudr.org/?page_id=26">Friends of the Upper Delaware River</a> (FUDR)? Should we attend meetings of the DRBC, offering the commission our support? What should we do? I, of course, cannot speak for you. What I can do, however, is offer my opinion.<br /><br />I hate tailwater streams. There, I said it. I don't like how a tailwater will support trout when the river would otherwise be absent of salmonids. I don't like how the air can be blisteringly hot while the river registers a temperature of 52 degrees Fahrenheit. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6iuSKwA7lZ85nO2he-ZOtwNanNUbwnYaMjLKnYa26qCBse0ZFJV0XSiU3TLBwOLzqYC284JKbDW6ogWGNM_5O6uNYcuMUbGeFQX2z-yjzr9OO8EXaYdGE7BMtRWhAyyvkQL3artJtPMVL/s1600/NC%252C+UpDel%252C+VC+072.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6iuSKwA7lZ85nO2he-ZOtwNanNUbwnYaMjLKnYa26qCBse0ZFJV0XSiU3TLBwOLzqYC284JKbDW6ogWGNM_5O6uNYcuMUbGeFQX2z-yjzr9OO8EXaYdGE7BMtRWhAyyvkQL3artJtPMVL/s200/NC%252C+UpDel%252C+VC+072.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5652687602874899474" border="0" /></a> I don't like how reservoirs alter the basic ecology of their tailwaters. You may respond to these statements by suggesting I'm shooting myself in the proverbial foot. And you'd probably be right: essentially, I'm advocating for LESS trout streams and fewer wild trout populations. I see how many readers of this blog may find that problematic. Hell, <span style="font-style: italic;">I </span>find it problematic. But during my time on the Upper Delaware, I couldn't help shake the notion that the trout shouldn't be there; that we've created an unsustainable situation that pits local environmental imperatives against the humanist concerns of our nation's greatest city; that I, too, was contributing to the problem by being there. But then I landed a number of wild brown trout, and that familiar feeling of excitement, love, and joy filled me. And I realized that the ethics of fly fishing the Upper Delaware River disappear when a strong, beautiful wild trout strikes your fly.<br /><br />Image #1 - Emanuel Leutze's 1851 rendering of Washington's Crossing. It's in the Metropolitan Museum of Art (NYC), if you're interested in seeing it. It's much bigger than you'd expect.<br />Image #2 - The beautiful West Branch of the Delaware River.<br />Image #3 - An Upper Delaware brown trout. It was all about the BWOs that night.Matthew Bruenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08843498894554178276noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1540115476171906393.post-37616076800063714442011-07-08T17:33:00.022-04:002011-07-09T09:12:08.105-04:00The Challenge of Big Water: Fly Fishing Kentucky's Lake Cumberland<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_SGU_blzMMK6heAr6LVS6JFI3IzEKkOIdS4KzfppnhSWSvHexO7HMAX72roWHOS0Sl4QU_ZMKIZ0mx2TUkkQWCDdu61kXDHD8Ee3_ic2HmOTwNH6gsws9H9A0ZugWyXVzoXnblqrJ_9TN/s1600/Lake+Cumberland+018.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_SGU_blzMMK6heAr6LVS6JFI3IzEKkOIdS4KzfppnhSWSvHexO7HMAX72roWHOS0Sl4QU_ZMKIZ0mx2TUkkQWCDdu61kXDHD8Ee3_ic2HmOTwNH6gsws9H9A0ZugWyXVzoXnblqrJ_9TN/s200/Lake+Cumberland+018.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5627126508103485538" border="0" /></a>For the second straight summer, my family spent part of July at Kentucky's<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lake_Cumberland"> Lake Cumberland</a>. One of the largest lakes in the country, Cumberland contains over 1,000 miles of shoreline, beautifully cascading waterfalls, unlimited <a href="http://lakecumberland.com/forum/viewthread.php?tid=4463">geological wonders</a>, and state record catches of walleye, sturgeon, and striped bass (otherwise known as rockfish to my Chesapeake Bay-based readers). The lake's size and diverse fish species create a significant dilemma for fly fishers: how do you fish a body of water that big, with that many different kinds of fish, with the rod-and-fly?<br /><br />As many of you know, I routinely seek out small, often unrecorded, wild trout fisheries. I'm a voracious reader of maps, an undeterred seeker of local knowledge, and a mildly-obsessed internet scavenger. Wherever wild trout live, I trek. Indeed, my love of wild trout extends back to my childhood, when I would ride my bike to a tiny Pennsylvanian trout stream, and fish for small native brookies. But I also cut my fishing teeth on lake water, taking in yellow perch, chain pickerel, largemouth bass, crappie, and bullhead catfish on worms, minnows, Rapalas, Jitterbugs, and plastics. In many ways, then, I'm a lake fisherman by birth (if not necessarily by creed or practice). Nevertheless, I always end up stymied by the immensity of lakes and their surprising (at least to me) diversity.<br /><br />See, when I think about bodies of water, I usually employ an arbitrary - and admittedly false - binary. That is, I think of rivers/streams/creeks as dynamic, always-changing ecosystems, while at the same time consigning reservoirs/lakes/ponds to the realm of static, stagnant fisheries. Embedded in this binary is an inescapable, and unfortunate, bias. I confess, I enjoy rivers more than lakes; I'd rather fish a mountain trout stream than a massive Kentuckian reservoir. Lakes, however, are constantly in a state of flux: weather conditions, temperature, and moon phases wreak havoc on lake fishermen's best-laid plans, and they make lake fishing a fun and unpredictable enterprise. Because I prefer northeastern mountain streams, then, does not mean <span>that these waterways are <span style="font-style: italic;">intrinsically </span>better</span> than big southern lakes; instead, my preferences are underscored by personal, empirical, experiential moments. They are not right, and they are not wrong. They merely <span style="font-style: italic;">are</span>.<br /><br />Leaving my fishing preferences aside, I exhaustively fished Lake Cumberland during the past week. Not all of this fishing included flies. In fact, my two sisters and I turned to nightcrawlers, red worms, and captured minnows for bait. I don't love plunking, but I do love catching big catfish and panfish (true to form, we pan-seared some white perch and bluegill in lime juice, butter, and red-pepper flakes).<br /><br />I did, though, rig up my fly rod. My strategies included locating rises in enclosed, cove-like areas of the reservoir (lake fish eat as many, <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5zmLjfQQ-l8xvUr9L7ZjyYST7IuV-eYQ5ZUbcg9mxdhhJoOpSEbZ7zmAFNYDoQQ3cGWwnmWn_3UeT28MimShH2qG_sINjmsxDHS_cufU-hfTZqVtzOur0EsoxQXg1So0eJWFpwn0tvVd5/s1600/Lake+Cumberland+056.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 110px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5zmLjfQQ-l8xvUr9L7ZjyYST7IuV-eYQ5ZUbcg9mxdhhJoOpSEbZ7zmAFNYDoQQ3cGWwnmWn_3UeT28MimShH2qG_sINjmsxDHS_cufU-hfTZqVtzOur0EsoxQXg1So0eJWFpwn0tvVd5/s200/Lake+Cumberland+056.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5627127304355236242" border="0" /></a>if not more, insects than their river counterparts), slowly-working large popper flies along the shoreline, and floating tandems of nymphs and dries. With the right equipment and knowledge, lake fishing can be a fly fisherman's paradise. I encourage you to head to your local lake, and see what kind of fish you can land on the fly. I promise it'll be worth it.<br /><br />Image #1: A Lake Cumberland waterfall.<br />Image #2: One of my bigger catfish.Matthew Bruenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08843498894554178276noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1540115476171906393.post-86378257313012764462011-07-08T09:50:00.002-04:002011-07-08T09:55:54.203-04:00More to come soonI apologize (once again) for the large gap in between posts. Now that my summer schedule has freed up, I will be returning to (hopefully) a once-a-week posting schedule.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdY6RIMC69ks6O9TaAY6Cg4Nlf5S373zkMlx1A3IbMOfmp-bnUwJpGvjPIKN8hy76zC0Lz7jKSnd_eoytgjXEeOasldblSf-w9r_kni3yZD04C3C7R0T-i7maMvF8mDoDy5A74GAvoVysL/s1600/Sulphur+Dun+at+Marshalls+Creek+2011.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdY6RIMC69ks6O9TaAY6Cg4Nlf5S373zkMlx1A3IbMOfmp-bnUwJpGvjPIKN8hy76zC0Lz7jKSnd_eoytgjXEeOasldblSf-w9r_kni3yZD04C3C7R0T-i7maMvF8mDoDy5A74GAvoVysL/s200/Sulphur+Dun+at+Marshalls+Creek+2011.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5626979786081169458" border="0" /></a>Matthew Bruenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08843498894554178276noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1540115476171906393.post-86096466818371225212011-06-13T11:36:00.023-04:002011-06-13T13:53:56.649-04:00Narrative of a June Day: Frederick Douglass, Slavery, and Fly Fishing Maryland's Eastern Shore<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWh74-lPuuyF7wirDAXR9fLwvdPWB4gfMChMGr7VHqmtuxfgl7ItiiBruHZxuAHpJTBkPOpZNBUO243up2o_Kuf3SOXALA1lzSI347yAQmXx-1OwCmavQE4b6J9gzD3IJCLDcrAqYCoWr1/s1600/June+in+various+places+058.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWh74-lPuuyF7wirDAXR9fLwvdPWB4gfMChMGr7VHqmtuxfgl7ItiiBruHZxuAHpJTBkPOpZNBUO243up2o_Kuf3SOXALA1lzSI347yAQmXx-1OwCmavQE4b6J9gzD3IJCLDcrAqYCoWr1/s200/June+in+various+places+058.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5617744282158742690" border="0" /></a>Seldom do I encounter a moment when my professional interests intersect with my outdoor recreational pursuits in a striking, drop-everything-I'm-doing kind of way. Such a moment occurred this past Saturday, when I spent a few hours roaming around Maryland's Eastern Shore. My wife recently received an internship at a former tobacco plantation, and while she worked at the museum, I explored the area. I ended up along the banks of the Sassafras River. While there, I took in the following scene (image #1).<br /><br />As the image shows, I was gazing at a Chesapeake Bay-area vista. In the distance, a sailboat with a white sail bobbed in the current, moored fast to a marine structure. Rising above the water was an antebellum mansion, undoubtedly built, staffed, and run by slaves. It was easy to image this scene a scant 160 years ago, when chattel slavery drove the Eastern Shore's agricultural economy. In fact, the further you drive off the Eastern Shore beaten path (and by beaten I mean paved) the more you begin to feel like you've been sucked into a time portal. Indeed, miles upon miles of crop-laden fields stretch out in front of you, unbroken except for dirt pathways utilized by tractors and horses; "Big Houses" stand sentinel over the fields, stark reminders that this nation's slavery-legacy is always already visible; small outbuildings that once served as slave-houses still dot the landscape, some of which are now used by Latino immigrants (ah, historical symmetry, thou art heartless); and the recently-arrived Amish fill the roads and fields with buggies, horse-drawn open carriages, and delightfully rustic attire. Yeah, if you take a turn down a dirt road on the Eastern Shore, you end up in the 19th century (I'm deadly serious: if you take out the power lines and the pavement, some parts of the area are literally unchanged).<br /><br />The totality of this experience, of being time-warped, of seeing the Big Houses still standing, made me think of Frederick Douglass, one of my favorite 19th century writers. A self-proclaimed "Eastern Shoreman," Douglass spent his childhood, adolescence, and parts of his adulthood enslaved on a number of Eastern Shore plantations. His homeland, though, was located about fifty miles south of where I was. The spirit of his humanity, his words, and his rememories (h/t T. Morrison), though, haunt the entirety of the Eastern Shore. For example, Douglass wrote the following in his first autobiography, <span style="font-style: italic;">Narrative of the Life of Frederick Douglass </span>(1845):<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">Our house stood within a few rods of the Chesapeake Bay, whose broad bosom was ever white with sails from every quarter of the habitable globe. Those beautiful vessels, robed in purest white, </span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzpoIgktGOj2wUvYUGBbEI5U9irhxryeLUmfscxytF6xUuE9G8IKW-ooqW2p1yzxInJhm1dx12plE9H4D0mD3QuIqWmiZ0-l3xe2t4j2bSs0xcPIeACFEjaPfbbNX2y3-T94mt6NDYFoRK/s1600/523px-Frederick_Douglass_as_a_younger_man.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 174px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzpoIgktGOj2wUvYUGBbEI5U9irhxryeLUmfscxytF6xUuE9G8IKW-ooqW2p1yzxInJhm1dx12plE9H4D0mD3QuIqWmiZ0-l3xe2t4j2bSs0xcPIeACFEjaPfbbNX2y3-T94mt6NDYFoRK/s200/523px-Frederick_Douglass_as_a_younger_man.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5617761912802500082" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">so delightful to the eye of freemen, were to me so many shrouded ghosts, to terrify and torment me with thoughts of my wretched condition. I have often, in the deep stillness of a summer's Sabbath, stood all alone upon the lofty banks of that noble bay, and traced, with saddened heart and tearful eye, the countless number of sails moving off to the mighty ocean. The sight of these always affected me powerfully. My thoughts would compel utterance; and there, with no audience but the Almighty, I would pour out my soul's complaint, in my rude way, with an apostrophe to the moving multitude of ships.</span><br /><br />Douglass's white-clad sailing vessels and his enslavement hit me hard as I stood looking at a sailboat and a Big House in 2011. I thought about the historical people who toiled their lives away; who looked out at passing ships and asked the question "Why am I a slave?"; who, like Douglass, ran away to the north, breathing a momentary sigh of relief when they crossed the Mason-Dixon line (a line that sits only 2 miles south of where I'm writing this post).<br /><br />I also thought about the material conditions of Eastern Shore slavery. Why, you may ask, did I start ruminating on this topic? I confess that it was because of the fly fishing rod that I held in my right hand. See, I wasn't anticipating traveling back in time during my five hours on the Eastern Shore. I wasn't searching for antebellum mansions or former slave quarters or Amish buggies; no, I was looking for a place to fish. But sometimes history and rememories get in the way of outdoor leisure, especially if you are keyed in to them, like academics tend to be.<br /><br />I couldn't help but wonder, then, about the history of slavery and fishing. I knew from my research that slaves augmented their food supply by tending their own gardens and hunting with makeshift weaponry (and with firearms, on occasion). <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7ZYua1vcgxOdw_p5d2OPxXxL20i66isgkWDEXVEvC5K-gxOgR7Kh41y-RovkgIjPuVXNPYLoN2npH6LhjtryOR2nqpJS13VNQlmS81z3o_CBHtI98tL4mMjLorWrrxJXAS_NdY6FkizuS/s1600/June+in+various+places+056.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7ZYua1vcgxOdw_p5d2OPxXxL20i66isgkWDEXVEvC5K-gxOgR7Kh41y-RovkgIjPuVXNPYLoN2npH6LhjtryOR2nqpJS13VNQlmS81z3o_CBHtI98tL4mMjLorWrrxJXAS_NdY6FkizuS/s200/June+in+various+places+056.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5617762233382547394" border="0" /></a>But I seldom read passages about slaves turning to the waterways for food. I searched Douglass's narrative, though, and found the following passage: "Colonel Lloyd's slaves were in the habit of spending a part of their nights and Sundays in fishing for oysters, and in this way made up the deficiency of their scanty allowance." Now, oysters aren't necessary rockfish or bream, but Douglass nevertheless describes the process of using marine life to off-set starvation. Furthermore, a brief search of the 1930s Federal Writer's Project's compilation of slave narratives turns up over 100 mentions of the word "fishing." Clearly, American slaves turned to the water, to the fish, and to the land when their owners failed to provide them with adequate "allowance."<br /><br />I think this helps explains Douglass's deep-seated attachment to Maryland and the Chesapeake Bay. For him, the Bay was a path to freedom (he traveled alongside it during his successful train-based escape), a provider of sustenance, a non-participator in the evil institution of slavery. Maryland, the Eastern Shore, and the Bay would always be his homeland, even as he built a life for himself in New York. It is not surprising, then, that Douglass issued the following statement in 1877: "I am an Eastern Shoreman, with all that name implies. Eastern Shore corn and Eastern Shore pork gave me my muscle. I love Maryland and the Eastern Shore."<br /><br />He could have added Eastern Shore fish to his list, too.Matthew Bruenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08843498894554178276noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1540115476171906393.post-48356825848044486862011-05-17T16:33:00.014-04:002011-05-19T15:05:14.061-04:00A Good Day: Fly Fishing Southeast Pennsylvania's Letort Spring Run<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCE5GvuW38-6dkKmChOlvY1n7bvbYLiXfdrqmgUf60inAME-oWrNEZYXDEsdEhCCCcaRU3aDJj2Hzo-0OGyjmglNPNScoxoBdtVMeh91I9Jdy1kzvQ8hxSFKBssPqnls86ShXlh2Rrhzs6/s1600/Mid-May%252C+Letort%252C+Wedding+019.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCE5GvuW38-6dkKmChOlvY1n7bvbYLiXfdrqmgUf60inAME-oWrNEZYXDEsdEhCCCcaRU3aDJj2Hzo-0OGyjmglNPNScoxoBdtVMeh91I9Jdy1kzvQ8hxSFKBssPqnls86ShXlh2Rrhzs6/s200/Mid-May%252C+Letort%252C+Wedding+019.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5608439029920037970" border="0" /></a>I start this week's post with a simple question: what is a "good day" of fishing? While an answer might seem simple, the process of deciding often requires deliberation and reflection.<br /><br />When I depart a river, my mood is usually dependent on my rate of success. That is, how many fish did I catch? how many did I miss? what did the weather do? did I injure myself somehow? These questions, though, need to be put in the context of specific streams. For example, catching three wild brown trout, losing three of them, getting rained on, and getting sunburned constitutes a GREAT day on central Pennsylvania's Penns Creek; however, catching three wild brown trout, losing three of them, getting rained on, and getting sunburned is a BAD day on northeast Pennsylvania's Marshalls Creek.<br /><br />For me, it's all about perspective, specificity, and relativity. Each river maintains its own set of unique problems and obstacles, so a good day on River X, then, is not necessarily a good day on River Y. I've long held this opinion, but I recently had a fly fishing experience that put the question of the "good day" back into focus.<br /><br />Over the weekend, my wife and I traveled to the Pittsburgh area for a wedding. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmMjXVMkRx-yGISrcb4ShH0MxkV42bcWphTjKTEA8QRCTArZWpEto-cTH9Kgv1rUgk7-0nnfB1BUIhwwpPrTCkT1tI4kc-9YtlR7mpAn4VNx0jNBLFisbHVMk7z2UnKeUE5ijlC6KZEg5F/s1600/Mid-May%252C+Letort%252C+Wedding+054.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmMjXVMkRx-yGISrcb4ShH0MxkV42bcWphTjKTEA8QRCTArZWpEto-cTH9Kgv1rUgk7-0nnfB1BUIhwwpPrTCkT1tI4kc-9YtlR7mpAn4VNx0jNBLFisbHVMk7z2UnKeUE5ijlC6KZEg5F/s200/Mid-May%252C+Letort%252C+Wedding+054.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5608439233284377442" border="0" /></a>On the way back, we stopped in Carlisle, and I fly fished Letort Spring Run, a renowned wild trout fishery. Indeed, the Letort has a storied history. It was the home water of famous fly fisherman Charlie Fox, and many other fly fishing greats have fished it over the years. A flat, swampy, crystal-clear limestoner, Letort challenges anglers in every way. It is, in my opinion, the most difficult - and most rewarding - wild trout stream in Pennsylvania (and perhaps in the East).<br /><br />My wife had never been to the Letort, and she was struck by its singularity. In fact, the river maintains a peculiar and enticing aesthetic: the water is crystalline, and it reflects an incredible array of surrounding greenery - willows, watercress, poplars, reeds, grasses -, while sinewy micro-currents twist across the stream's surface, and wild mint, dame's rocket, and a multitude of flowering trees perfume the air. Nothing looks (or even smells) quite like the Letort, but my wife mentioned its similarity to streams she's seen in the United Kingdom.<br /><br />I struggled for nearly two hours on the Letort, before a driving rainstorm forced me back into the car. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDa6ytmdyfKaXG3jAXNNBFJp3j5eAsHx6PtlM58jygsnb-Yz9IdxVEr-O4IS8Gg4Z81Alrj4C0Gp1iVddyKtE7OYdzpEobCrMlsQm7u3A6PfbfFfChzSgUqpkWwO2haDUyrFzN8pcNUndW/s1600/Mid-May%252C+Letort%252C+Wedding+023.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDa6ytmdyfKaXG3jAXNNBFJp3j5eAsHx6PtlM58jygsnb-Yz9IdxVEr-O4IS8Gg4Z81Alrj4C0Gp1iVddyKtE7OYdzpEobCrMlsQm7u3A6PfbfFfChzSgUqpkWwO2haDUyrFzN8pcNUndW/s200/Mid-May%252C+Letort%252C+Wedding+023.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5608446646301475026" border="0" /></a>During that time, I hooked into two wild brown trout, losing both of them. I was frustrated and angry; my wife hadn't seen me exert that much fly fishing-related frustration since our college days in central Pennsylvania. There I was, at the famous Letort, a fly fishing destination for the best in the world, testing my skill at the highest level. And I overcame the challenges to fool two fish...that I proceeded to lose due to poor fight-technique. I was mad.<br /><br />As I warmed up in the car after the rain, though, I began to feel my frustration fade; in its stead came satisfaction. I realized that the Letort, while challenging, is still conquerable. My two lost fish were a testament to that fact, and I therefore decided that my day on Letort Spring Run was certainly a good one.<br /><br />Image #1 - Letort Spring Run<br />Image #2 - Sneaking up on those skittish Letort brown trout<br />Image #3 - A typical Letort settingMatthew Bruenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08843498894554178276noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1540115476171906393.post-79672711899904801482011-05-09T18:47:00.019-04:002011-05-09T19:50:16.934-04:00The Problem of High Water: Fly Fishing Pocono Wild Trout Streams in May<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSBlcXuAP7xzfd4a0QBPlwy1xiDn4bgG6J-uU7SKWqHP7-bMwVD7SHR9f8MemWJxCXN6NPbd3a75_LK4ikwSaiFfh0wgCpp-Y-8gDigPxzETijzw9yqqLEKBB1I18SQv8axLsa1BsIQ8od/s1600/maryland+and+madison+007.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSBlcXuAP7xzfd4a0QBPlwy1xiDn4bgG6J-uU7SKWqHP7-bMwVD7SHR9f8MemWJxCXN6NPbd3a75_LK4ikwSaiFfh0wgCpp-Y-8gDigPxzETijzw9yqqLEKBB1I18SQv8axLsa1BsIQ8od/s200/maryland+and+madison+007.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5604866445174906434" border="0" /></a>It's early on a Saturday, and you've loaded up your car with your fly rods, your vest, your waders, and some newly-tied flies. You've worked all week, tended to your family, and dreamed of casting your fly-line in a trout stream; you stayed up late on Friday, tying flies while your wife slept, knowing the alarm clock will awake you in four hours; you're excited, you're amped up, you're ready to go. You drive your car to a far-away stream, opening the windows to let in the warm May morning air. Two hours later, you pull into a parking area, rig up your rod, and finally (finally!) walk down a well-known path. You're keenly aware that it's there waiting for you: that is, the river, the current, the hatch, and, most importantly, the trout, all located beyond the next bend, and over the next hill. And then you see it, and you yell in frustration: the stream is impossibly high, and overflowing its banks.<br /><br />Every fly fishermen has been in this position. We all lead busy lives, and not all of us can spend 100+ days on the water. We carefully arrange our schedules, creating small pockets of fly-fishing only blocks of time. We prepare, we await, we execute....and then we stew in disappointment when river conditions threaten our special, sacred time on the water.<br /><br />I was stuck with this situation last weekend when I traveled to the Poconos to attend my niece's first tee-ball game. I intentionally woke up early, drove the requisite three hours while it was still dark, and arrived at the Brodhead Creek before the sun made its way over the dissected plateau that masquerades as the Pocono Mountain range. When I glanced at the raging river, however, I knew I was in trouble.<br /><br />Living south of the Poconos (but still in the unparalleled Keystone State), I didn't know how much rain my home region had received in the late weeks of April. Adequate research would have revealed this problem, but I was overwhelmed <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_7MbOdZPHQKe7xJA93E5hN3Y9nk-r0TLHkeswuomvgKcG1Y48UVCxyKgeRkyVqbIFaSwy2-9eOCOzfJ5uRDkRfHqw7QgN3FjelslYXnAGPxX8MMLxT_ovXemHJBQolRU1oyPk7nRExo7U/s1600/maryland+and+madison+075.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_7MbOdZPHQKe7xJA93E5hN3Y9nk-r0TLHkeswuomvgKcG1Y48UVCxyKgeRkyVqbIFaSwy2-9eOCOzfJ5uRDkRfHqw7QgN3FjelslYXnAGPxX8MMLxT_ovXemHJBQolRU1oyPk7nRExo7U/s200/maryland+and+madison+075.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5604866692857890738" border="0" /></a>with dissertation revisions, approaching pedagogical duties, and family holiday obligations. You should have known better, I told myself. You should have checked the USGS's website for water levels of the Brodhead and Bushkill Creeks, I thought, as I angrily berated myself for my lack of foresight. Eventually, my self-anger died down and I began to plan. If you are ever find yourself in this situation, I recommend the following pieces of advice.<br /><br />First, give the river a try anyway. High water isn't necessarily a bad thing, and I've landed trout on the fly in genuine flood situations. When the water rages, work a big, flashy, colorful streamer along the riverbank, and drag it through any obvious trout lies. Fish are creatures of opportunity, and they will eat even in flood-stage conditions. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvON32LUGEUYCCjAQ5nN1O0owCC2yFpFofhgAzSR1RVFgGEzTmsDfQdqcWNNPuL91CRp07gQKyXrF5fBiq16wgejHa2d_Q4JfSCwfoIitcC6beI9Lsdrjlkk_rts0F035pdTC7b6E8aCG3/s1600/Behind+the+townhouse+017.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvON32LUGEUYCCjAQ5nN1O0owCC2yFpFofhgAzSR1RVFgGEzTmsDfQdqcWNNPuL91CRp07gQKyXrF5fBiq16wgejHa2d_Q4JfSCwfoIitcC6beI9Lsdrjlkk_rts0F035pdTC7b6E8aCG3/s200/Behind+the+townhouse+017.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5604867083648291570" border="0" /></a>If they see your presentation, and it's right near them, odds are high they will strike your fly. Heavy, large, bead-head nymphs also produce in high water. Two years ago, I caught a 15 inch stocked brown trout out of the Brodhead Creek during a significant high water episode. It took a size 8 bead-head stonefly nymph. The ensuing battle was one of the most memorable fights I've ever had: a decent trout, hooked in flooding water, battling me near a precariously-positioned rapids section. It worked out, and I'll always cherish that memory. If I would have walked back to the car without trying the rapidly-rising river, I would have missed out on a great moment.<br /><br />Second, go to another river, preferably a smaller one. Smaller streams clear out faster than large ones; this occurs because they are less integral parts of the dominant watershed system, and they drain less overall acreage. This past weekend, I left the Brodhead and headed to a number of smaller wild trout streams. These creeks were high, but they were more fishable than their parent streams. I ended up landing a few wild trout, hardly something to complain about, even though my initial plans were dashed.<br /><br />Always remember that time on the water is what you make of it. You cannot control horrendous conditions, and blown-out rivers are sometimes impossible to fly fish. But if you adhere to the two key strategies I've outlined in this post, you may catch a few trout anyway.<br /><br />Image #1 - The Susquehanna River in flood stage.<br />Image #2 - Wild ginger in bloom.<br />Image #3 - A creek chub I caught in high water conditions.Matthew Bruenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08843498894554178276noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1540115476171906393.post-88409616374079375332011-05-03T16:56:00.026-04:002011-05-04T10:11:59.113-04:00The Irony of the "Home River": Fly Fishing Northeast Pennsylvania's Brodhead Creek<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4E740u4J_PhjU_-L3qIcbSSfsB1n_UuWJfw58-6pC2TodlLR_Ka3XaCV_j4J4DASYcHHAZvNfAENCNFqubkT37XEUEE_j3kG6aQg6NOMuDVJUW3HTHV45tZONAWPZh50GnW79T5AqcWDl/s1600/Brodhead+Creek+in+June+001.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4E740u4J_PhjU_-L3qIcbSSfsB1n_UuWJfw58-6pC2TodlLR_Ka3XaCV_j4J4DASYcHHAZvNfAENCNFqubkT37XEUEE_j3kG6aQg6NOMuDVJUW3HTHV45tZONAWPZh50GnW79T5AqcWDl/s200/Brodhead+Creek+in+June+001.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5602615274343954402" border="0" /></a>Most fly fishermen have a "home river." That is, a place they know inside out, a waterway where they learned to fly fish, a stream they recognize as readily as a family member. Home rivers are locales that trigger special memories (a first fish, a unique moment, a missed opportunity), and they are often the metrics by which anglers measure every other river they fish. I consider three creeks my home rivers: Marshalls Creek, Bushkill Creek, and Brodhead Creek. All three are wonderful Pocono trout fisheries, and I could write countless words about each of them. The Brodhead Creek, though, possesses certain peculiarities that problematize my characterization of it as a "home river."<br /><br />Over the weekend, I traveled to the Poconos to see family - human and river alike. Early Sunday, I decided to say hello to the Brodhead, a sinewy, watery friend I first fished as a child. This particular Pocono river has a storied history. Indeed, it was one of the first fly fishing destinations in the United States, and presidents, writers, and fly fishing legends have all cast their lines in its swift current.<br /><br />In addition, and perhaps more importantly, the river caused the most severe disaster devastation the Pocono region has ever seen. In August of 1955, two hurricanes roared through northeast Pennsylvania (Connie and Diane), dropping over 20 inches of rain in a week's time. The Brodhead swelled, and it swept away a number of children from an Analomink-based Baptist camp. As the deluge reached East Stroudsburg, homes were obliterated in the low-lying downtown area, and tens of people drowned. Recalling images of the deadly Johnstown Flood, the 1955 disaster claimed over 100 Pocono lives. As a result of the flood, the local, state, and federal governments looked for ways to avoid similar disasters. One of the solutions was an elaborate levee system that shielded the downtowns of Stroudsburg and East Stroudsburg from any further flood damage.<br /><br />Today, my home river is channeled and leveed throughout much of its lower section; coincidentally, this comprises much of the Brodhead's publicly accessible water. Because of these two factors, I grew up with an ever-changing, constantly-fluid home waterway. The channeling and levee-ing create a violent and unpredictable flood environment, and the private land forces anglers like me into this ever-changing area. And what I've learned is this: <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMjzjPF5RiZgyW0cnKkD2jSkcQW1vwLCiWnuFSlInB4Oed85lxB5bjJ6jbbRkgm2Tl3k5XyHyBuCeT1dIMMwwRAARf0s0xeTfiDV5SJr1XDPCiBCkG6OyHxuHJcmrqwPBVE_Y1fCyHEiip/s1600/maryland+and+madison+085.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMjzjPF5RiZgyW0cnKkD2jSkcQW1vwLCiWnuFSlInB4Oed85lxB5bjJ6jbbRkgm2Tl3k5XyHyBuCeT1dIMMwwRAARf0s0xeTfiDV5SJr1XDPCiBCkG6OyHxuHJcmrqwPBVE_Y1fCyHEiip/s200/maryland+and+madison+085.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5602616328865951186" border="0" /></a>when a river can't flood, it cuts instead. Every year, the Brodhead makes new paths, new beds, and new fishing conditions. It treats its leveed-in banks as pliable clay, wrenching them and contorting them, forever altering the scarred landscape. The Brodhead of 2011, then, is not the Brodhead of 2010, or the Brodhead of 1994. It is a new river. Every year.<br /><br />Kind of ironic for a home water, right? Each year I must learn a new river, one that's completely changed from the version of the previous year. I have to seek out new trout lies, and think of new strategies of attack. It is quite the undertaking, one that is coterminously frustrating and confusing. It's nothing like my experiences at the Bushkill or Marshalls.<br /><br />But each time I return to this home water, I'm faced with a delightful set of questions. I ask myself, what has the Brodhead done this year? <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNTwxvfj4aZTJgKKQzJK4b5Jx-A4Sl8VWlfhTQmoSrGKLpEy8qk1AE2soxz8zVKHVD7eLJxLRo-C5mUZ2DDi91fYE21SN_lZ2C-JOrhGoC0t282fMwxhNMgFNHRZDvk_NnXQ_qeCIveJ5n/s1600/maryland+and+madison+087.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNTwxvfj4aZTJgKKQzJK4b5Jx-A4Sl8VWlfhTQmoSrGKLpEy8qk1AE2soxz8zVKHVD7eLJxLRo-C5mUZ2DDi91fYE21SN_lZ2C-JOrhGoC0t282fMwxhNMgFNHRZDvk_NnXQ_qeCIveJ5n/s200/maryland+and+madison+087.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5602619342613951666" border="0" /></a>how has it changed? what will it look like now? how do I address its intrinsic volatility? These questions are exciting, and they engender the outpouring of enthusiasm I have whenever I approach a new river. So I get both familiarity and difference; the comfort of the recognized concatenating with the thrill of the foreign.<br /><br />So if you head out to the Brodhead sometime this spring, remember this: it may not look anything like the river you've come to know and love, but it will always retain that distinctive Brodhead-ness that separates it from every other American river.<br /><br />Image #1: Catching a Brodhead trout in 2009.<br />Image #2: Round-loped hepatica growing along the Brodhead Creek.<br />Image #3: Canadian mayflower getting ready to bloom along the Brodhead.Matthew Bruenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08843498894554178276noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1540115476171906393.post-40451559071996026082011-04-25T16:46:00.011-04:002011-04-25T17:38:25.295-04:00Trout in the Old Dominion: Fly Fishing Northern Virginia's Accotink Creek<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDYVrxkJa8aNhNYmXrS8Mb29eQ7UIst9WpFY8S6qRh4EaJglZ4obXhvEfBCasKZggCTFusRJYzNj0ugWPrzybNN5IjQ-B9z7Eufmew8-gl-fa-4yTd73gVjFRChZEbR-LoXdl9LhQ1jbQv/s1600/Late+April+Fish+and+Flowers+083.JPG"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDYVrxkJa8aNhNYmXrS8Mb29eQ7UIst9WpFY8S6qRh4EaJglZ4obXhvEfBCasKZggCTFusRJYzNj0ugWPrzybNN5IjQ-B9z7Eufmew8-gl-fa-4yTd73gVjFRChZEbR-LoXdl9LhQ1jbQv/s200/Late+April+Fish+and+Flowers+083.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5599636881444140658" border="0" /></a>Over the weekend, my wife and I traveled to northern Virginia to celebrate the Easter holiday with her family. Being who I am, I decided to look into that region's fly fishing options. A quick web-search revealed that a section of the Accotink Creek, from Little River Turnpike to Braddock Road, is a specially-regulated, artificials-only area. The state supports this stretch of water with spring and fall trout stocking, and enterprising fly fishers can land pretty rainbow trout right near the infamous Capital Beltway.<br /><br />Before heading down to the river alone, however, I went on a walk with my wife and her parents. This perambulating trip took us along the celadine-covered banks of the Accotink. Along the way we spotted a red fox, some deer, a great blue heron, two snakes, and a host of wildflowers, including lesser celandine, Virginia bluebells (in Virginia, too!), mayapple, wild blue phlox, chickweed, and dwarf ginseng. I, of course, kept an eye on the water, and what I noticed helped me when I returned to the river, rod-in-hand, after the conclusion of our walk.<br /><br />The Accotink is a typical east coast, piedmontian waterway. That is, its long, flat, and shallow pools are punctuated by gently cascading sections of rapids. It maintains a healthy riparian environment, replete with ground covering plants, towering sycamores, <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4g18gzQ3ZEEySLeBr85XOgd7PelHdFXaRlqWqWlgnL_exquD6qPj2zQ5KLqKBjyQVEBmiFbm3e2CpXTFCwI7ZairyWfVNBwLC9h7x7k-14yc3tGDMQ7ni_m5BhLuCvCNKi6OJvu_b_LwK/s1600/An+Accotink+Creek+Rainbow%252C+Taken+on+a+Wooly+Bugger+fly.JPG"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4g18gzQ3ZEEySLeBr85XOgd7PelHdFXaRlqWqWlgnL_exquD6qPj2zQ5KLqKBjyQVEBmiFbm3e2CpXTFCwI7ZairyWfVNBwLC9h7x7k-14yc3tGDMQ7ni_m5BhLuCvCNKi6OJvu_b_LwK/s200/An+Accotink+Creek+Rainbow%252C+Taken+on+a+Wooly+Bugger+fly.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5599637158337638594" border="0" /></a>and hardy ironwoods. Mud predominates in many streamside parts of the river, but the riverbed features a mixture of silt and small rocks. The water temperature, as many readers probably guessed, becomes too warm for trout by June, and any holdover activity is extremely unlikely. At some point in the past, long before the time when parking lots, deforestation, highways, and strip malls came to dominate NoVa's landscape, the Accotink likely held wild trout. Those days are long gone, but the thrill of catching a salmonoid a few miles from Washington DC is still alive and well.<br /><br />Using the scouting knowledge I had attained during the walk, I quickly zoned in on some spots I thought would hold fish. One such area was the top of a long pool, where the rapids began to diminish, and a large sycamore extended its roots into the water. I tied on a small wooly bugger streamer, and softly dead-drifted it to the root system. I then stopped the drift, and flicked the streamer in the current, quickly moving it across the thalweg and into an area of slack water. This technique worked like a charm, and I landed a number of Old Dominion rainbows.<br /><br />My quick success was due, in part,<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3WjCJ_4ShHlHYuOhGsAtnFHaIIqKC16inM-r7TKKQooPjb0mndNbvfK3SU5EHNC8o0Kxa8YE_dJgY50f4UYdJJUa05N3YrZYmkROS38D94zqaj7PJx4sP5K47nsV8sXaZN98qhvXbwfbe/s1600/Late+April+Fish+and+Flowers+066.JPG"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3WjCJ_4ShHlHYuOhGsAtnFHaIIqKC16inM-r7TKKQooPjb0mndNbvfK3SU5EHNC8o0Kxa8YE_dJgY50f4UYdJJUa05N3YrZYmkROS38D94zqaj7PJx4sP5K47nsV8sXaZN98qhvXbwfbe/s200/Late+April+Fish+and+Flowers+066.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5599637373264688562" border="0" /></a> to the streamside walk I had taken with the family. I was able to look for insect activity (there wasn't much), identify potential trout holds, and become familiar with the terrain, all before ever offering a cast. This kind of foreknowledge is useful, especially when the river is completely unknown to you. Without the temptation of the fly rod in your hand, you notice things that you might have otherwise overlooked.<br /><br />The next time you head to a new river, consider spending an hour along its banks, sans fly rod. Take in the stream, observe it, learn something about it. Because a little bit of knowledge might be the difference between a great day on the water, and a frustrating, no-trout experience.<br /><br />Image #1 - The Accotink Creek<br />Image #2 - An Accotink rainbow<br />Image #3 - Our friend, the northern watersnake.<br /><br />(As always, thanks for reading, and be sure to check out my new guiding website at <a href="http://home.poconoflyfisher.com/">www.poconoflyfisher.com</a>)Matthew Bruenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08843498894554178276noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1540115476171906393.post-41072621109132019922011-04-15T10:59:00.016-04:002011-05-03T23:17:38.124-04:00Knowing a New River: Fly Fishing Southeast Pennsylvania's White Clay Creek<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXQ18-L3kxIgBUw6DfdWZGu86L_ASw89h0KqYxQbqKwJNPFa8x8ydJs-jJaNXKVz60ickB-Dylk__FWMWDJhJvvx8cMYyyLJVOclqYlOkioeUh-aClFX21bbgHafx0VrhSru6VsDc1KTmJ/s1600/MidApril+Flowers+and+Fish+001.JPG"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXQ18-L3kxIgBUw6DfdWZGu86L_ASw89h0KqYxQbqKwJNPFa8x8ydJs-jJaNXKVz60ickB-Dylk__FWMWDJhJvvx8cMYyyLJVOclqYlOkioeUh-aClFX21bbgHafx0VrhSru6VsDc1KTmJ/s200/MidApril+Flowers+and+Fish+001.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5595833592706889378" border="0" /></a>What does it mean to "know a trout stream"? Although this vague and strange grammatical construction is well known and often muttered, it nevertheless raises a set of epistemological problems: how can you really "know" anything?, can you even "know" a thing like a river? if you can, how long does it take? one trip, four trips, years? does it mean having success catching fish? does it mean you are no longer taken by surprise at any given moment on the water? do you have to know the entire layout of the waterway?<br /><br />I don't have the answers to these questions. In fact, it seems that each person would define "knowing" a river in a different way. For me, it's about comfort: can I go to a river, with no planning, at any time of year, and still catch trout on the fly? <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuuzZHq_r3Gz8gFw6wDtyyXwACkV-hbLaQZ23Etk9ZXuP2wEdcREdAfg1v8q5zopoVsfPRwJkC6UnbZ8A9rSIQNEdcrCMS-SHJdUfXl1KRIOSNS78Zs-SsbCFfxM1WOe25cF2Qlk-0CwvX/s1600/MidApril+Flowers+and+Fish+041.JPG"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuuzZHq_r3Gz8gFw6wDtyyXwACkV-hbLaQZ23Etk9ZXuP2wEdcREdAfg1v8q5zopoVsfPRwJkC6UnbZ8A9rSIQNEdcrCMS-SHJdUfXl1KRIOSNS78Zs-SsbCFfxM1WOe25cF2Qlk-0CwvX/s200/MidApril+Flowers+and+Fish+041.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5595834355729885698" border="0" /></a>If the answer to this question is yes, I probably "know" that river. It takes me quite a bit of time, though, to arrive at this state. I need to see the stream in low water, in flood stage; I need to see it on 90 degree days when the sun pounds down on the water; I need to see it when it snows, and when ice blocks out different sections; I need to be there when it rains and when it sleets; I need to have success and failure even out, creating the expectation of trout on the fly; and, finally, I need to write about it.<br /><br />That being said, I'm "getting to know" southeast Pennsylvania's White Clay Creek. Three branches of this Delaware Bay watershed flow near my house, and over 10 miles of the stream are stocked by Pennsylvania and Delaware. Driving distance isn't a factor; indeed, a short half-mile walk brings me to the stream's un-stocked West Branch. And in the last few weeks, I've visited various stretches of the White Clay over 10 times.<br /><br />On one of my trips, it was cold, wet, and dreary. Five minutes after I got there, it started to rain. I could literally watch the water getting muddier by the minute. So I got out my fly box, picked out a cone-head muddler minnow, and tied it on. The fly's gold wire, wrapped tightly around its mid-section, cut through the murky water, and trout after trout smacked it. It was a wonderful time (I've always loved fly fishing for trout in the rain). <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgw7JRL-OjKQ4cNvxIxPPFTKhCIX7C3CQGIFwVgeyWj3Y9pO-iP9ZEwl662UR4ShwUFaCBQfucJ3sbOzDMOlHJhD0McwwLB5c5hwChG1YWdGjjw6Rickh7pD8WRnRi-hl1UtfVk6kVliCll/s1600/MidApril+Flowers+and+Fish+052.JPG"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgw7JRL-OjKQ4cNvxIxPPFTKhCIX7C3CQGIFwVgeyWj3Y9pO-iP9ZEwl662UR4ShwUFaCBQfucJ3sbOzDMOlHJhD0McwwLB5c5hwChG1YWdGjjw6Rickh7pD8WRnRi-hl1UtfVk6kVliCll/s200/MidApril+Flowers+and+Fish+052.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5595834551966906434" border="0" /></a>On another trip, however, the sun was bright and the temperature was nearing 70 degrees. A perfect day to head to the river, right? The trout, though, were not quite active, and they were skittish of any shadow I cast on the water. After nymphing for awhile, I ultimately tied on a light colored dry fly, and blindly drifted it down the current. I tend to fly fish underwater, so I was thrilled when a smallish brown trout rose from the bottom to strike the dun imitation. Immediately after catching that trout, I left the White Clay, content and satisfied.<br /><br />Other trips to the White Clay featured Delawarian fly fishing, enticing trout with small wooly bugger streamers, and a few bald eagle sightings. Now, as I contemplate driving to the special regulation, delayed-harvest area near Landenberg, PA, the process of "knowing" the White Clay Creek is coming to an end. I've experienced the river in different conditions, gained familiarity with all of its various branches, and learned its hatch patterns for the summer, fall, winter, and, finally, spring. I think I can say, I know the White Clay Creek...at least a little bit.<br /><br />Image #1: Catching a trout in Delaware<br />Image #2: Stonefly nymph!<br />Image #3: White Clay brown trout<br /><br />(Remember to check out my new guiding website at <a href="http://www.poconoflyfisher.com/">www.poconoflyfisher.com</a> and follow me on Twitter by clicking the following button: <a href="http://www.twitter.com/Slippery_Trout"><img src="http://twitter-badges.s3.amazonaws.com/twitter-c.png" alt="Follow Slippery_Trout on Twitter" /></a> )Matthew Bruenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08843498894554178276noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1540115476171906393.post-19397453996352772322011-04-14T20:29:00.008-04:002011-04-15T10:59:14.177-04:00Now Officially Guiding Fly Fishing Trips in the Poconos and Northwest New JerseyFor those of you who have loyally followed this blog, my decision to formally create a fly fishing guiding website likely comes as no surprise. It's something I've been doing for a number of years now, and I've decided to consolidate that part of my fly fishing life in a professional way. So please visit <a href="http://www.poconoflyfisher.com/">www.poconoflyfisher.com</a> to learn more about my "new" guiding services.<br /><br />This new website will in no way impede the nature writing that I do on this blog. Guiding and fly fishing blogging are two distinct aspects of one wonderful sport.<br /><br />In addition, this blog now has a Twitter account. You can access it by clicking on the following button:<br /><a href="http://www.twitter.com/Slippery_Trout"><img src="http://twitter-badges.s3.amazonaws.com/twitter-c.png" alt="Follow Slippery_Trout on Twitter" /></a>Matthew Bruenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08843498894554178276noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1540115476171906393.post-13058948114802578452011-04-11T11:49:00.017-04:002011-05-03T23:19:42.658-04:00Trout in Unexpected Places: Fly Fishing Northern Delaware<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJzOVbNXUaoflNgvHVYfSXW84dcxzwriTnxNn7MiiNdQlTHm5u5N7kDPQKXoj39b2o19A8aTzc2xG8Me6P5WifsPaMxoGpg9bN76MwJUmp9NBWEzs77Dm-Pc82m8_OVhww-DJ4d1W_RXe8/s1600/Late+March+Early+April+Flowers+and+Fish+038.JPG"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJzOVbNXUaoflNgvHVYfSXW84dcxzwriTnxNn7MiiNdQlTHm5u5N7kDPQKXoj39b2o19A8aTzc2xG8Me6P5WifsPaMxoGpg9bN76MwJUmp9NBWEzs77Dm-Pc82m8_OVhww-DJ4d1W_RXe8/s200/Late+March+Early+April+Flowers+and+Fish+038.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5594368106286035458" border="0" /></a>Northern Delaware is a diverse and pretty region. Indeed, it boasts some of the finest museums in the country, beautiful parkland, stately colonial homes, and the DuPont industrial complex. It is known for many other reasons, too, and people have been enjoying its wild scenes since the native Algonquians hunted along the Delaware Bay and the Dutch, Swedish, and English colonists settled the area in the early 17th century. And, somewhat surprisingly, it contains miles of trout-stocked waterways.<br /><br />The cool waters and clay-bound shorelines of the White Clay Creek, Wilson Run, Pike Creek, Mill Creek, Christiana Creek, and Beaver Run receive annual stocking regimens, and the season takes off in the month of April. Because these streams become quite warm in the summertime, the state only provides trout in the early spring, and <span style="font-weight: bold;">it actively encourages participants to keep their catch</span>. In addition, the state is not shy about stocking big fish, and many large rainbow, brown, and golden rainbow trout patrol the deep pockets of the aforementioned rivers.<br /><br />Over the last few weeks, I've been driving south down Pennsylvania's New London Road (PA Route 896), turning left onto Chambers Rock Road, and parking along the banks of the pretty White Clay. The Pennsylvania-Delaware borderline is not far upstream from this spot, and it cuts somewhat perpendicularly across the creek. This geographical quirk is known as the Twelve-Mile Circle, a demarcation that takes New Castle as its center and extends outward 12 miles in all directions. Because of the difficulty of surveying this type of border, <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFm_s-a5M6VfI55r2_VdaAG09Lj5n0xxmxMgbrvP2EOUd3SKoPpapoZUSi-F76PZK3QCh-hdnWgvJ1sSS6z9VbRaTXe1lyU1fWtCRmQTdLeHCZ4jvtfNv3zpMOLCn47IR60ldxgb4ZuGdZ/s1600/Late+March+Early+April+Flowers+and+Fish+058.JPG"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFm_s-a5M6VfI55r2_VdaAG09Lj5n0xxmxMgbrvP2EOUd3SKoPpapoZUSi-F76PZK3QCh-hdnWgvJ1sSS6z9VbRaTXe1lyU1fWtCRmQTdLeHCZ4jvtfNv3zpMOLCn47IR60ldxgb4ZuGdZ/s200/Late+March+Early+April+Flowers+and+Fish+058.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5594368262869693826" border="0" /></a>Delaware has had disputes with a number of states throughout history, including Pennsylvania (over an area known as the Wedge, where the Twelve-Mile Circle and Mason-Dixon Line overlap), New Jersey (a small part of the New Jerseyean peninsula is technically Delawarian land, and the two states have argued in court over this issue as recently as the late 2000s), and Maryland (where the Arc Line and North Line of the Mason-Dixon Line are not congruent). Because of these strange delimitations, the state border on the White Clay Creek is not confined to the shoreline, nor is it drawn down the middle of the stream. Instead it arcs, ever so slightly, across the river. Enterprising anglers can thus cast their fly lines over a state border (if you are a history/geography obsessed person like myself, you'll appreciate the novelty of this undertaking).<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtcs_D66ErqQsIG9LZY6VhXLcgqwh3dgv2wdqrC3MqpxUqyBUuxhbyWC1yI04jLdNyeIY33rjys_5kkeY9p66ratVUBVFq9HmwQ7DYjfI3STwv6jgL1sVbkfYOs9bkJmSj0F5Vqi4bdBot/s1600/Late+March+Early+April+Flowers+and+Fish+059.JPG"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtcs_D66ErqQsIG9LZY6VhXLcgqwh3dgv2wdqrC3MqpxUqyBUuxhbyWC1yI04jLdNyeIY33rjys_5kkeY9p66ratVUBVFq9HmwQ7DYjfI3STwv6jgL1sVbkfYOs9bkJmSj0F5Vqi4bdBot/s200/Late+March+Early+April+Flowers+and+Fish+059.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5594368732695528130" border="0" /></a>During my fly fishing expeditions, I've found that muddler minnow streamers and stonefly nymphs produce in many of these Delaware streams. For fishermen that prefer lures and spinning tackle, I'd suggest Rapalas fished deep down in the current. Always remember to fish underneath any clay cliffs and sycamore root systems you might see.<br /><br />Although Delaware is not necessarily synonymous with excellent trout fly fishing (shad and saltwater options are other stories for other days), it nevertheless offers some pleasurable and eye-catching trout opportunities. If you live in Newark, Wilmington, or any other spot near New Castle County, I strongly encourage you to give the nearby rivers a try.<br /><br />Image #1: The White Clay Creek near the Delaware-Pennsylvania border.<br />Image #2: The White Clay Creek south of Chambers Rock Rd.<br />Image #3: A field of lesser celandine in bloom at the White Clay Creek in Delaware.Matthew Bruenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08843498894554178276noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1540115476171906393.post-63610830096624447832011-03-25T14:56:00.007-04:002011-03-25T15:05:55.115-04:00Fishing Book Excerpt: Fly Fishing for Lake Erie SteelheadHere's another excerpt from a long-form project I'm currently working on. 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mso-para-margin-left:0in; line-height:115%; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-fareast; mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;} </style> <![endif]--> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal;"><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" >I’m always s<span style="font-size:100%;">truck by Pennsylvania’s fishing diversity.</span><span style="font-size:100%;"> </span><span style="font-size:100%;">In the southeast, the state offers access to the Delaware Bay,</span> where enterprising anglers can fish for massive striped bass.<span style=""> </span>To the </span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWl5CtTN2eAvk51qEBrRiuaY7VebcGXfDkA8yFT8FlVwj-1-IZyEJFU2U3mx_bri-gztGqVy8RaMW51iXPDVeeJMda7UNEmA0BahBPNibILtCjIP6ERC8MAOZ166jHqdlxikl9HVlNWhBc/s1600/Lake+Erie+Steelhead+%25285%2529.JPG"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWl5CtTN2eAvk51qEBrRiuaY7VebcGXfDkA8yFT8FlVwj-1-IZyEJFU2U3mx_bri-gztGqVy8RaMW51iXPDVeeJMda7UNEmA0BahBPNibILtCjIP6ERC8MAOZ166jHqdlxikl9HVlNWhBc/s200/Lake+Erie+Steelhead+%25285%2529.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5588094672081551522" border="0" /></a><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" >northeast, the Pocono Mountains provide excellent wild and stocked trout opportunities.<span style=""> </span>Central Pennsylvania contains some of the best limestone, wild brown trout streams in the entire country.<span style=""> </span>Slicing the state in half is the Susquehanna River, a large, relatively flat, body of water that possesses a renowned smallmouth bass fishery.<span style=""> </span>Located nearby, Raystown Reservoir, the biggest lake circumscribed within the state, owns state records for striped bass and Atlantic salmon.<span style=""> </span>And, finally, the far northwestern section of the Keystone State has over 40 miles of Lake Erie shoreline.<span style=""> </span>The lake and its tributaries have combined for eight state records, including rock bass, yellow perch, Chinook salmon, coho salmon, pink salmon, brown trout, lake trout, and, of course, steelhead rainbow trout.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal;"><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" ><span style="">I</span>t was the steelhead that drew me to Erie County in March of 2010.<span style=""> </span>This particular type of rainbow trout cast its spell on me about five years ago, when I visited my best friend during my college’s fall break.<span style=""> </span></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjK8t9vH_E0StLx41bu3QTqHGB0z5nRROiGYp57s_ido3uEfgzNkJ8xXR6WDlTVzuBFcTPuQ6YdtdCdtMiMT2DHi98a9ZoeD4ZoZ9Y3oB37_GdFUyeSC4v7dZvMfNGNZGDBTLcmjGDFo1cO/s1600/Lake+Erie+Steelhead+%25288%2529.JPG"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjK8t9vH_E0StLx41bu3QTqHGB0z5nRROiGYp57s_ido3uEfgzNkJ8xXR6WDlTVzuBFcTPuQ6YdtdCdtMiMT2DHi98a9ZoeD4ZoZ9Y3oB37_GdFUyeSC4v7dZvMfNGNZGDBTLcmjGDFo1cO/s200/Lake+Erie+Steelhead+%25288%2529.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5588094870750215282" border="0" /></a><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" >He went to Edinboro University, a school located about 20 miles from the Great Lake.<span style=""> </span>I was anxious to see Lake Erie for the first time, so we decided to take a drive up to the lake the first day I arrived.<span style=""> </span>On our ride along Pennsylvania’s gorgeous Route 5, I noticed cars lined up along every river that emptied into Erie.<span style=""> </span>This piqued my interest, and subsequent research revealed that October is one of the hottest months for steelhead fishing.<span style=""> </span>Having never heard of a steelhead, I did more investigating.<span style=""> </span>What I learned changed my fly fishing life forever.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal;"><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" >Steelhead are remarkable creatures, alien rainbow trout that dominate the natural Lake Erie setting.<span style=""> </span>They are imports from the American West, anadromous visitors that tantalize anglers with their size, their determination, and their numbers.<span style=""> </span></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnJRiqDBU3ntz1F-I5l0Wc0V3bJJFJ2_HufW4e-eO2cswLZrxcjBhglMPF6MwVs5Jkfag78qnCUbD2XVH3hCRjlkXy_BglvucZVGDeCOwx8d-WYUBn1k5kGkpdYnQ0t8o1ruuNyuKM2VbK/s1600/Lake+Erie+Steelhead+%25287%2529.JPG"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnJRiqDBU3ntz1F-I5l0Wc0V3bJJFJ2_HufW4e-eO2cswLZrxcjBhglMPF6MwVs5Jkfag78qnCUbD2XVH3hCRjlkXy_BglvucZVGDeCOwx8d-WYUBn1k5kGkpdYnQ0t8o1ruuNyuKM2VbK/s200/Lake+Erie+Steelhead+%25287%2529.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5588095193532799634" border="0" /></a><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" >Born in the many tributaries of the big lake, steelhead venture into Erie after their smolt stage (around one year), where they live until they reach sexual maturity.<span style=""> </span>They then return to the rivers of their birth in order to spawn; it is during this period that anglers most regularly target them.<span style=""> </span>Once they leave the lake behind, and re-enter the tributary streams, they carry with them a tell-tale marker of their journey: a grayish, sometimes light green sheen, often compared to the color of steel, on the top of their skulls.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal;"><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" >Because rainbow trout can live for many years, and do not die when they reproduce, Lake Erie steelhead can reach immense physical proportions.<span style=""> </span>Six pound fish are common, and 10+ lbs fish are often catchable.<span style=""> </span>They tend to travel in groups, sometimes with as many as 100 other fish.<span style=""> </span>These packs are mesmerizing: on occasion, they are so populous that a person could walk across a stream on a “steelhead” bridge.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal;"><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" ><span style=""></span>In addition, the sheer physical presence of steelhead produces a maniacal effect on anglers.<span style=""> </span></span></p>Matthew Bruenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08843498894554178276noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1540115476171906393.post-35317759966788029382011-03-24T13:22:00.008-04:002011-03-24T14:06:30.115-04:00The First Wildflower of Spring: Skunk Cabbage and the Advent of Fly Fishing SeasonJust a brief note:<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEig7IaawxGd8BO4jPI2H55kJpWRzkYySKhAWgiJvfxpK3N0W7eAdLXH8MvyCyubF_YmngtklOF1_l6IBOpq46ejQj4HJ4DL_VTX54WWsaHyNTw6LLGBhtq6z-4BE-Ug4cUTWC1rOT_XCeFA/s1600/Skunk+Cabbage+Near+White+Clay+Creek%252C+PA.JPG"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEig7IaawxGd8BO4jPI2H55kJpWRzkYySKhAWgiJvfxpK3N0W7eAdLXH8MvyCyubF_YmngtklOF1_l6IBOpq46ejQj4HJ4DL_VTX54WWsaHyNTw6LLGBhtq6z-4BE-Ug4cUTWC1rOT_XCeFA/s200/Skunk+Cabbage+Near+White+Clay+Creek%252C+PA.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5587699745398744722" border="0" /></a>As a fly fisherman, I have the opportunity to see hundreds of different wildflowers each year. The blooming periods for specific flowers also mirror the hatching patterns of different water insects. For example, when trout lily blooms at Penns Creek in Centre County, Pennsylvania, it often means the grannom caddis hatch is underway.<br /><br />In March, the bloom of skunk cabbage suggests that blue-winged olives are hatching. It also means that trout fishing is about to pick up in earnest.<br /><br />Above is an image of the first skunk cabbage of the year. Northeast fly fishermen should be tying those <span style="font-style: italic;">baetis </span>imitations!Matthew Bruenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08843498894554178276noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1540115476171906393.post-58644185925453124962011-03-21T11:43:00.026-04:002011-03-21T12:15:14.665-04:00Ice Fishing 2011 in PicturesHello everyone. I apologize yet again for the big gap between posts. I've been busy writing my dissertation, and I haven't been able to devote much time to nature writing. As the wildflowers begin to bloom and the first mayflies start to hatch, I thought I'd wrap-up this year's ice fishing season through a pictorial montage. It was a great year on the ice, and I already miss standing on frozen lakes, pulling tip-ups out of the cold water, and catching fish in the most difficult of conditions.<br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOkC6zx3cnhETdlfSvYJsPEXL3jW7BLIl1R0oTK0wJUnaG0tpCwFyfTUbxnYpZEMq2pTlQoxgj7TrFETD3Dxo4PezqsuLJYBczRR4YdK6gfBHawQF0qwyZr-SyjKu-XHuU63kIdCVicd_H/s1600/DSC00259.JPG"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOkC6zx3cnhETdlfSvYJsPEXL3jW7BLIl1R0oTK0wJUnaG0tpCwFyfTUbxnYpZEMq2pTlQoxgj7TrFETD3Dxo4PezqsuLJYBczRR4YdK6gfBHawQF0qwyZr-SyjKu-XHuU63kIdCVicd_H/s200/DSC00259.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5586560436067133938" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiv-u_597YWvzUZi2DEi84gxU39VLgYhGt7JOMQT48lRR_xmiSt41g3_ui9Yhfp33QXV8hTPw7K9NFOhfAP9ghuGd-2Esjtr3Mq9N5Rz78UXyUkGEw464IQ9Y_Fx1nyMREmJ2-MiFWY6Sxm/s1600/DSC00258.JPG"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiv-u_597YWvzUZi2DEi84gxU39VLgYhGt7JOMQT48lRR_xmiSt41g3_ui9Yhfp33QXV8hTPw7K9NFOhfAP9ghuGd-2Esjtr3Mq9N5Rz78UXyUkGEw464IQ9Y_Fx1nyMREmJ2-MiFWY6Sxm/s200/DSC00258.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5586560560140793794" border="0" /></a><span style="text-decoration: underline;"><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGfvudYykqaavp8A37ePjMpoVRf4aN5hPtB4z9Z13leAvXnMd9BJqm9Bh7VunU0OuFpaQfxZIMFzhX2MxZ1zy7MMeGyY11IbSbI5zcqzrirI1uMWYMdNkv-ux7LgflbBUhDsFlrbquuHXn/s1600/DSC00253.JPG"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGfvudYykqaavp8A37ePjMpoVRf4aN5hPtB4z9Z13leAvXnMd9BJqm9Bh7VunU0OuFpaQfxZIMFzhX2MxZ1zy7MMeGyY11IbSbI5zcqzrirI1uMWYMdNkv-ux7LgflbBUhDsFlrbquuHXn/s200/DSC00253.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5586560670662471714" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlLx-pMd-BVD5oRhqGk5YfVES4UvTYlSZsL65V-VaAyO3SLnNFGlNa5JmLLclbrNk_IZZy08zZ3h0CN_leXWD06vrTNCeA5I8X2xsCJPGcJ9WS6wnaHdz-Hr1IKiokvbOgdaCdeaiSk-4C/s1600/DSC00262.JPG"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlLx-pMd-BVD5oRhqGk5YfVES4UvTYlSZsL65V-VaAyO3SLnNFGlNa5JmLLclbrNk_IZZy08zZ3h0CN_leXWD06vrTNCeA5I8X2xsCJPGcJ9WS6wnaHdz-Hr1IKiokvbOgdaCdeaiSk-4C/s200/DSC00262.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5586560798372848066" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0Y9pQn1f0RDpCj401KFa37lJ5FagErRC8vsviN77N54nt-QkSwSIBMvelgorA73kLrWxpioOeV0kMnzKyDMxRBPfpW2ydSSyQw-EhDEce0BOg10FGWdj2H8frgQ8N56aHuG9WaBz9DeXp/s1600/DSC00263.JPG"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0Y9pQn1f0RDpCj401KFa37lJ5FagErRC8vsviN77N54nt-QkSwSIBMvelgorA73kLrWxpioOeV0kMnzKyDMxRBPfpW2ydSSyQw-EhDEce0BOg10FGWdj2H8frgQ8N56aHuG9WaBz9DeXp/s200/DSC00263.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5586560925805771906" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioW9iQmWN7y7ouVC8QsaAP8EXqCGiH51gV1B9bcKJMsVXrUWWcxNWJVwbo59GL7WdaXLapEUdhrLEWth0shz-9YWEqWCCTOCS9mKLwVcQVB3dl_aVGBe-fNsdGY2fXChp3uygjWnbBAsw4/s1600/DSC00282.JPG"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioW9iQmWN7y7ouVC8QsaAP8EXqCGiH51gV1B9bcKJMsVXrUWWcxNWJVwbo59GL7WdaXLapEUdhrLEWth0shz-9YWEqWCCTOCS9mKLwVcQVB3dl_aVGBe-fNsdGY2fXChp3uygjWnbBAsw4/s200/DSC00282.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5586561079381651586" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg95SblzY72D9GdRvbSTB8SBK7wjWEh5uqSPttm7XkYG5EyFupeN08Q0iq7stLT3tVXdGwEd1hNW6aW4X_lcenIOnkzllsqNfy1dDHe-CgRg3VrLy8y-BQ2lD4cv12Upx7jjigYpzjKBarx/s1600/DSC00289.JPG"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg95SblzY72D9GdRvbSTB8SBK7wjWEh5uqSPttm7XkYG5EyFupeN08Q0iq7stLT3tVXdGwEd1hNW6aW4X_lcenIOnkzllsqNfy1dDHe-CgRg3VrLy8y-BQ2lD4cv12Upx7jjigYpzjKBarx/s200/DSC00289.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5586561176076605730" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzWQXoTmhaVdBfkFhrqMcBwHjGjCaQhyNZ3CB8Sq7etp1pc-TRnGtc6m3YZ9FIqu29RQ80imO9QN-5BDNxgGrYmJ7XVQ5ysSc1cn3wpS-M9e4ZaysWumXjSkNBSUv6xNUjC1kMv4i6LhN1/s1600/DSC00409.JPG"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzWQXoTmhaVdBfkFhrqMcBwHjGjCaQhyNZ3CB8Sq7etp1pc-TRnGtc6m3YZ9FIqu29RQ80imO9QN-5BDNxgGrYmJ7XVQ5ysSc1cn3wpS-M9e4ZaysWumXjSkNBSUv6xNUjC1kMv4i6LhN1/s200/DSC00409.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5586561576120959762" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMIM0b15IghWxW-3MNdz-DX6ZsxrdNgVOz-ATJfVE0JpiAzcs5b2cTAzbBbA0iTylOhy78NqVrGru2bMS4J_cPKN0SrEJHBIWjzwYihKUlPowTIgnm9sKTYvBhQ7ZpS0Zu96VpWRBp1P7W/s1600/DSC00406.JPG"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMIM0b15IghWxW-3MNdz-DX6ZsxrdNgVOz-ATJfVE0JpiAzcs5b2cTAzbBbA0iTylOhy78NqVrGru2bMS4J_cPKN0SrEJHBIWjzwYihKUlPowTIgnm9sKTYvBhQ7ZpS0Zu96VpWRBp1P7W/s200/DSC00406.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5586561340684000898" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy0IfZEd3e2Q1AJUNOOmibFGJCo9Qh-esAasjkv1mLn9Se8Hi9TteANOjPrF0mYbXVQEgf_j1ruXynmc-NlRdBUwrHXxWGHm4Zppt8YXX0ngQahATy1M4wOfwQCUa9nbOa0QlgdQ0MC9bj/s1600/DSC00407.JPG"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy0IfZEd3e2Q1AJUNOOmibFGJCo9Qh-esAasjkv1mLn9Se8Hi9TteANOjPrF0mYbXVQEgf_j1ruXynmc-NlRdBUwrHXxWGHm4Zppt8YXX0ngQahATy1M4wOfwQCUa9nbOa0QlgdQ0MC9bj/s200/DSC00407.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5586561450604010418" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFZDbrHmjS34vQpcAEco_1Mb0tHc17VTAZ5pDYgJGXvvISnWu4n-E-JnYg-uy98UcaQNbDbhFF_7fPBN2MluwKRuj0nkFiWBTqClLiol3J9wmQkU37ouGHKLMQr4okjttQlcscyGkzcU4t/s1600/DSC00423.JPG"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFZDbrHmjS34vQpcAEco_1Mb0tHc17VTAZ5pDYgJGXvvISnWu4n-E-JnYg-uy98UcaQNbDbhFF_7fPBN2MluwKRuj0nkFiWBTqClLiol3J9wmQkU37ouGHKLMQr4okjttQlcscyGkzcU4t/s200/DSC00423.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5586561704077107970" border="0" 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0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1jH5_8NiWSRH_BRhL3-Ht4Wp-AR8dq66fYOjOGVmN-f9pSoHfifJnbv-S9Zn-ekOxwve5WMQ5vYPckXvb6pCDj9EMHK7fJ3eTmYPdQC8p09NokGmO0WsFli4buQiAnLbOUxiygITFgLba/s200/DSC00425.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5586561832867133442" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO1GC07Ve3BsABjmP1BNW8fwn6o0g876IMwaSAdV1bh_VR-ssV3606NkICEggIT4gV_R2x0ncjo-65BWjhHd2zacnEhm2SNjjFqrPUxDqoUcD5_LdPP76zN_H8IuHYEfMZIKMXIIbOPhsN/s1600/DSC00426.JPG"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO1GC07Ve3BsABjmP1BNW8fwn6o0g876IMwaSAdV1bh_VR-ssV3606NkICEggIT4gV_R2x0ncjo-65BWjhHd2zacnEhm2SNjjFqrPUxDqoUcD5_LdPP76zN_H8IuHYEfMZIKMXIIbOPhsN/s200/DSC00426.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5586561933738853922" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo_IAoqq44PMrv3Akh4EB6gQU15hrjnoTo3JlO1qIYGw83__eZtYeb7ZQcAVZzu_VrBh9DFGNm4tDLLGNinqpRUu1-_0L4V5XZnNHzxLpiEyUseCszuvEgfRjas3y_nQgghBHO-2hYwzye/s1600/DSC00435.JPG"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo_IAoqq44PMrv3Akh4EB6gQU15hrjnoTo3JlO1qIYGw83__eZtYeb7ZQcAVZzu_VrBh9DFGNm4tDLLGNinqpRUu1-_0L4V5XZnNHzxLpiEyUseCszuvEgfRjas3y_nQgghBHO-2hYwzye/s200/DSC00435.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5586562139631023826" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQ8zXG6UE2ICo3gm-GbNUAxXgBhtnJDwaAcF0Hjh3CeNL3Fb-qtYop1AtuIcTpAe3JM2idjAupZlvbrn3wfMgV67eOqyAaQkQqP0Yyt4LwTYfH-4clNk93tjtR8xsC27NmSRSrB_3aaeAi/s1600/DSC00453.JPG"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQ8zXG6UE2ICo3gm-GbNUAxXgBhtnJDwaAcF0Hjh3CeNL3Fb-qtYop1AtuIcTpAe3JM2idjAupZlvbrn3wfMgV67eOqyAaQkQqP0Yyt4LwTYfH-4clNk93tjtR8xsC27NmSRSrB_3aaeAi/s200/DSC00453.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5586562253398180306" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7LKc8f8nj0htt1vgkrPgXyDk7NaNFEde6nmi7xPU7SfmRimiIs4JU3WtCwOwrNtqFKf8guRrglU7X0zijQfykiBBp8ao86Dvbxt5WIEZWpLijvo-fOnb6y74LHdUuRwrDN63NokA847AZ/s1600/036.JPG"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7LKc8f8nj0htt1vgkrPgXyDk7NaNFEde6nmi7xPU7SfmRimiIs4JU3WtCwOwrNtqFKf8guRrglU7X0zijQfykiBBp8ao86Dvbxt5WIEZWpLijvo-fOnb6y74LHdUuRwrDN63NokA847AZ/s200/036.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5586563396702657282" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidMoxMJCXVvH1rKzsk83eLs_sURocPIesven2j0KeVgBeskRPWaMmYg4mD4_7Xh316sZxK815lo9F4HN5BO0YdYiZYyUyGto5TEhaCPMeKDc5_h3WA638Bj-LTCP4UNX9SPlj2zoJldKQn/s1600/038.JPG"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidMoxMJCXVvH1rKzsk83eLs_sURocPIesven2j0KeVgBeskRPWaMmYg4mD4_7Xh316sZxK815lo9F4HN5BO0YdYiZYyUyGto5TEhaCPMeKDc5_h3WA638Bj-LTCP4UNX9SPlj2zoJldKQn/s200/038.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5586563573361174914" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSURrxmnC40yMJaLM-182y7KbT8Fknb6-QEZF8S48VG25RlhHGTUxoJGuqgmMs8yUy7_n8NVKjnebMqRP1v1sj5QiuDcrV9zA1T-47HxNRYnYzwvvWqH6Nj3OO0GEdZ0mPoLf8XeyCuVSt/s1600/Unnamed.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSURrxmnC40yMJaLM-182y7KbT8Fknb6-QEZF8S48VG25RlhHGTUxoJGuqgmMs8yUy7_n8NVKjnebMqRP1v1sj5QiuDcrV9zA1T-47HxNRYnYzwvvWqH6Nj3OO0GEdZ0mPoLf8XeyCuVSt/s200/Unnamed.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5586565518338185618" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Image #1: Early season fishing on Blue Mountain Lake<br />Image #2: A nice largemouth bass from Blue Mountain<br />Image #3: Blue Mountain Lake<br />Image #4: A yellow perch, one of my only catches during my first trip to Budd Lake<br />Image #5: Budd Lake<br />Image #6: Hemlock Pond<br />Image #7: A yellow perch, the only fish I caught at Hemlock Pond<br />Image #8: Mauch Chunk Lake<br />Image #9: A small chain pickerel from Mauch Chunk<br />Image #10: A largemouth bass from Mauch Chunk<br />Image #11: Sunset at Mauch Chunk<br />Image #12: Budd Lake on the second trip<br />Image #13: The first northern pike of the year<br />Image #14: Close-up of the pike<br />Image #15: The biggest pike<br />Image #16: My wife on Budd Lake<br />Image #17: A bass from Monroe Lake<br />Image #18: A fat chain pickerel from Monroe Lake<br />Image #19: Probably this ice fishing season's fish of the year, a 4-5 lbs largemouth bass from Monroe LakeMatthew Bruenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08843498894554178276noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1540115476171906393.post-64864841032827922082011-01-18T13:10:00.004-05:002011-01-18T17:45:09.223-05:00Ice Fishing New Jersey's Hemlock Pond<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo-44TtiMhxdq25FJxkL8eoYjcDyCTrdmm74_ILvt6o_KfPgBVmhHKwFhxckctXMbI1X_y1e3p8cGf1N-lv1ZDP80okJ7QCwiJs9MPL99-goKexDTprVkmQXGySVOCPPMUAyG8vkxzVLu7/s1600/DSC00278.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo-44TtiMhxdq25FJxkL8eoYjcDyCTrdmm74_ILvt6o_KfPgBVmhHKwFhxckctXMbI1X_y1e3p8cGf1N-lv1ZDP80okJ7QCwiJs9MPL99-goKexDTprVkmQXGySVOCPPMUAyG8vkxzVLu7/s200/DSC00278.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5563591254177578034" border="0" /></a><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" >A few days later, I returned to the Water Gap.<span> </span>This time, I had my mind set on a loftier goal: Hemlock Pond.<span> </span>Hemlock is located two miles north of Blue Mountain Lake, and is accessible via hiking/cross-country skiing trails.<span> </span>After thinking about my options, I decided to hike the two miles, carrying all of my equipment either on my back or in my hands.<span> </span>This is what I did to ease the burden: I emptied out my ski-boots bag, and filled it with my tip-ups, ice strainer, water, food, and extra clothing; I then loaded my bait bucket with bait and placed it in an empty, larger bucket that usually contains the bulk of my equipment; and, finally, I broke down my ice-cutting bar into a smaller 2-foot size piece.<span> </span>I placed the bag on my back, carried the bait in my left hand, and the bar in my right.</span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /><br /></span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" >The only problem, though, was the 10 inches of snow that had fallen the night before.<span> </span>A two mile hike is simple enough, but when you combine ankle-deep snow with undulating elevation, it becomes slippery, difficult, back-breaking terrain.<span> </span>And yet, I remained undeterred.<span> </span>What awaited me at the end of the journey was the promise of a 13 acre pond, at 1200 feet, all to myself.</span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNBnsEdcKwpeomzNM-wym0Pt12AumLMqoQe7HpdkwvRtXH_Hmam5BqqFQxQpepUhJx_3MQ6UIV82mky25iDgpJTMTzh1Jg9SDDh_b6VW25BsrKGLCNhKS77EfIIuqu-BFfoltFAnYwngKJ/s1600/DSC00281.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNBnsEdcKwpeomzNM-wym0Pt12AumLMqoQe7HpdkwvRtXH_Hmam5BqqFQxQpepUhJx_3MQ6UIV82mky25iDgpJTMTzh1Jg9SDDh_b6VW25BsrKGLCNhKS77EfIIuqu-BFfoltFAnYwngKJ/s200/DSC00281.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5563591844495308082" border="0" /></a><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" >As I started my climb, I noticed how alive the woods seemed after the freshly-fallen snow.<span> </span>I saw the woodpeckers I heard the week before, their shiny red heads standing out like tiny beacons amid the white background; I noticed bright red holly berries glowing through the undergrowth; I heard the chirping of nuthatches, juncos, and cardinals; and I saw the yellow-green mountain laurel leaves desperately clinging to the mother-plant, attempting in vain to withstand the 15-mph wind gusts that lashed the top of the ridge-line.<span> </span>When I reached the apex of the ridge, I could see out into Pennsylvania, with the rolling hills of the Delaware Valley giving way to the strange flatness of the Pocono Plateau.<span> </span>In the distance, I noticed a few stray water towers and the lights from a nearby ski area.<span> </span></span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /><br /></span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" >Besides those interlopers, the landscape seemed devoid of human touch, covered under whiteness.<span> </span>At moments like this, it’s easy to think about things like peace, purity, virginity, and calm.<span> </span>It’s easy to come up with hollow lines about beauty, about place.<span> </span>It’s even easier to note a feeling of smallness in a massive universe.<span> </span>This is what whiteness does to us; it’s what hundreds of years of cultural symbolism have embedded into our collective consciousnesses. <span> </span>Our brides are bathed in white, our babies swaddled in its protective sheen.<span> </span>It is associated with privilege, and with progress. <span> </span>It is all encompassing, and it completely surrounded me as I stood alone, gazing upon the Keystone State from the top of a mountain.</span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /><br /></span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" >It was then that I remembered the lessons of <i>Moby-Dick</i>, a foundational text in my graduate education.<span> </span>A victim and a victimizer, Herman Melville knew that whiteness had another side, a meaner side, even a <i>darker</i> side, that few of us ever notice.<span> </span>As he wrote over 150 years ago, “Or is it, that as in essence whiteness is not so much a color as the visible absence of color; and at the same time the concrete of all colors; is it for these reasons that there is such a dumb blankness, full of meaning, in a wide landscape of snows- a colorless, all-color of atheism from which we shrink?”<span> </span></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPDWuyTDXfOi9k7GaOuC9cxOyjmvJP4YphYkkAV-3dPod65Pjf5AHaCbFAyW_-dp5eZ7D1CBUmzk8FsGWUgrYUR5DoOJkY_wejTaWgJZyfozbwOsc6IcqvaGy2MIK_anBDalTtRiwL54FF/s1600/DSC00284.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPDWuyTDXfOi9k7GaOuC9cxOyjmvJP4YphYkkAV-3dPod65Pjf5AHaCbFAyW_-dp5eZ7D1CBUmzk8FsGWUgrYUR5DoOJkY_wejTaWgJZyfozbwOsc6IcqvaGy2MIK_anBDalTtRiwL54FF/s200/DSC00284.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5563591572622308594" border="0" /></a><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" >At the top of a Kittattiny ridge, I thought of this passage, one I had memorized in college.<span> </span>The all-encompassing whiteness around me suddenly seemed terrifying: what if I broke my leg and I was stranded in the blinding cold, with nothing but the stark white snow to stare at? what does the white snow do to the birds that ostensibly seem so happy? does it cover their food supply up, so that their chirps are nothing more than hunger-shrieks? is it fair that the whiteness can transform an abusive home into a paintable winter landscape so beautiful it brings tears to your eyes? <span> </span>In the end, I thought, does whiteness like this make us all like Melville’s harlot, who paints her face to hide the “charnel-house within”?<span> </span>I wasn’t sure then, and I’m not sure now; but I did become frightened, as the trail extended forever onward, and I could never seem to reach the end of it.</span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /><br /></span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" >But like all of our strange quests, mine eventually did end.<span> </span>Hemlock Pond was right where the maps said it would be, and I spent the next five hours ice fishing.<span> </span>I didn’t break my leg, get lost, or fall through the ice.<span> </span>I even caught a fish: a solitary yellow perch, about eight inches in length.<span> </span>I emerged from my journey with a sore back, sore feet, and a pound or two lighter.<span> </span>It was a pleasant day, replete with exercise, and I drove back home content with my first attempt at “extreme” ice fishing.</span><br /><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:trackmoves/> <w:trackformatting/> <w:punctuationkerning/> <w:validateagainstschemas/> <w:saveifxmlinvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:ignoremixedcontent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> 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mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-priority:99; mso-style-qformat:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin-top:0in; mso-para-margin-right:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:10.0pt; mso-para-margin-left:0in; line-height:115%; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-fareast; mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;} </style> <![endif]--> <span style=";font-family:";font-size:12;" ><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span></span><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: normal;"><span style=";font-family:";font-size:12;" ><span style=""></span><o:p></o:p></span></p>Matthew Bruenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08843498894554178276noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1540115476171906393.post-3449173426755008232011-01-06T14:37:00.010-05:002011-01-06T15:48:18.900-05:00Ice Fishing New Jersey's Lower Blue Mountain Lake<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU2a7hCRxi9wUXgp46SvOnmgrlcnNJLsB8nrX9TmD3eRhyclM04Y5qwrpe7lAcXjlSbNB5pTAj9gOJDoc-8e7v9sdoYhyphenhyphenmT2tmbm91q3in6uwdJrN8l3Rw5Ln4Wko1ModCFLhRnMHLskEN/s1600/DSC00260.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU2a7hCRxi9wUXgp46SvOnmgrlcnNJLsB8nrX9TmD3eRhyclM04Y5qwrpe7lAcXjlSbNB5pTAj9gOJDoc-8e7v9sdoYhyphenhyphenmT2tmbm91q3in6uwdJrN8l3Rw5Ln4Wko1ModCFLhRnMHLskEN/s200/DSC00260.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5559167848782395890" border="0" /></a>Yesterday, I traveled 150 miles to the Delaware Water Gap National Recreation Area, where I ice fished New Jersey's Lower Blue Mountain Lake. I had been dreaming of hard-water fishing ever since the cold spells of late November, but a recent warming trend in the northeast delayed my first trip until the beginning of January. I chose Lower Blue Mountain Lake because it sits above 1000 feet, and the extra elevation helps create a little more ice underfoot. Lower Blue Mountain, though, is an isolated public lake that requires deft navigation and a bit of hiking. To my surprise, I had the lake to myself. Think about that for a second: in the middle of ice fishing season, I was alone on a body of water in the nation's most densely-populated state.<br /><br />While I sat on an island-based rock ledge overlooking my equipment, I attempted to come up with encomiums worthy of this place. And I kept failing. I tried to write in my head, which inevitably led me to start thinking about writing itself (such are the pitfalls of my profession). In particular, I thought about the act of writing about nature - perhaps the most basic of any type of writing. Words and concepts like inspiration, hermeneutics, beauty, alienation, and sublime floated through my head, <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjx9_aVHW6iKEDG2zKL98mPRcOZ9zekhP4Lha_vXJKlNvcEWAgTS8_TJliHLdUnlGi0dQmP9tsNKjqXWVNUUKABu2bvE5aQHIQ9qhcRkkXuNrrgOzhO6OkZ-UVT8s9Kl9ZvROYl9qme_-Pl/s1600/DSC00253.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjx9_aVHW6iKEDG2zKL98mPRcOZ9zekhP4Lha_vXJKlNvcEWAgTS8_TJliHLdUnlGi0dQmP9tsNKjqXWVNUUKABu2bvE5aQHIQ9qhcRkkXuNrrgOzhO6OkZ-UVT8s9Kl9ZvROYl9qme_-Pl/s200/DSC00253.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5559168034920832978" border="0" /></a>while the birds sang above, and the fish swam below. I concluded that it is remarkably easy to write about the outside world, with its overwhelming combinations (a brightly-colored blue jay in a barren shagbark hickory tree), and otherworldly constructions (wind-swept wisps of snow blowing on the frozen lake like ghost-snakes). Just look at this blog and others like it: I write about nature and my participation within it, and people I've never met read the post, comment on my writing, and email me. In a sense, the moment I put these words on the page, I become united with readers who encounter or seek the same experiences. And no paragraph or sentence, no poem or novel, no blog-post or article, can convey the way I felt yesterday at Blue Mountain Lake. I'm simply not that good of a writer.<br /><br />At one point, I focused on the silence surrounding me. I knew I was the only human within miles; I had no cell phone reception, and I didn't bring any other media with me. But then, an airplane would fly over-head, and I would hear its powerful engines echoing off the ridges. Or, I would hear the distant rumble of <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijyBudZ-uXcOGLl2kzMvQWV3NfNwVUOFB65JGsKXESI1qoYSLDTjFOjioEgfjUTA0fDNtmYhN41BT80hTnSkBeXe_wV-ao01nrIeMN1il-8yGlzYtX4yRy96UwgPXlUWtc4WrqOD9Kp4Ih/s1600/DSC00258.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijyBudZ-uXcOGLl2kzMvQWV3NfNwVUOFB65JGsKXESI1qoYSLDTjFOjioEgfjUTA0fDNtmYhN41BT80hTnSkBeXe_wV-ao01nrIeMN1il-8yGlzYtX4yRy96UwgPXlUWtc4WrqOD9Kp4Ih/s200/DSC00258.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5559168255885121522" border="0" /></a>an ATV or the crack of a rifle, as hunters pursued their quarries. Man-made sounds like these pierced the quiet, and these eruptions showed me that the lake <span style="font-style: italic;">wasn't </span>silent at all. In fact, it was a cacophony: roaring wind, singing jays/cardinals/juncos/flickers, hammering woodpeckers searching for food within the bark of wintered trees, and the thickening, expanding, and separating of the ice. And there I was, all alone at the top of the mountain. I may have caught six fish (three yellow perch, two largemouth bass, and one chain pickerel), but I still would have been endlessly happy if I had caught none.Matthew Bruenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08843498894554178276noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1540115476171906393.post-51041328022726614852010-12-03T17:13:00.007-05:002010-12-07T22:28:42.295-05:00Long-form Project Excerpt #2Here's another excerpt from the long-form project I've been doing:<br /><br />Salmon are majestic fish with a long, storied history. Considered one of the prize catches of early modern English anglers, salmon have been praised, threatened, protected, and fetishized for hundreds of years. According to Isaak Walton’s iconic 17th-century treatise on fishing, The Compleat Angler, salmon were overfished as early as the 1200s:<br /><br />"They be principally three, namely, March, April, and May: for these be the usual months that Salmon come out of the sea to spawn in most fresh rivers. And their fry would, about a certain time, return back to the salt water, <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWR7HpdL-R7ocsU6Zom95aGhdzYvQpeWvWCNmrOGIH40Hix_6R3TpawT8CQsICObd8kTuhZKmTTLu7tsbMB4XwPf0hWA1f7XyYXXnZRJnNK9ux5aRzIKOIbe_WQ-xD_JzOdOy6D8ZKnYOL/s1600/P6110012.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWR7HpdL-R7ocsU6Zom95aGhdzYvQpeWvWCNmrOGIH40Hix_6R3TpawT8CQsICObd8kTuhZKmTTLu7tsbMB4XwPf0hWA1f7XyYXXnZRJnNK9ux5aRzIKOIbe_WQ-xD_JzOdOy6D8ZKnYOL/s200/P6110012.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5546583387319203618" border="0" /></a>if they were not hindered by weirs and unlawful gins, which the greedy fishermen set, and so destroy them by thousands; as they would, being so taught by nature, change the freshfor salt water. He that shall view the wise Statutes made in the 13th of Edward the First, and the like in Richard the Second, may see several provisions made against the destruction of fish: and though I profess no knowledge of the law, yet I am sure the regulation of these defects might be easily mended."<br /><br />In my opinion, any fish that drew the protection of two English kings is worthy of any and all encomiums. It was also worthy of a little research.Matthew Bruenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08843498894554178276noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1540115476171906393.post-18782097208720917582010-12-01T14:31:00.006-05:002010-12-01T14:42:50.224-05:00Long-form Project Excerpt<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWr0RjQR4iDo4amsTSdqHp0MlRcxdsBfAF__04XZSngSEmwjUMYLo0qPyQH-rrxAzgB4wcimr1iCnjer59eb9yzyVHbPyRB_RheyU5gWskmx_AP9lMd2lfxYCLz98LLbwreTDLMVcQKaz0/s1600/004.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWr0RjQR4iDo4amsTSdqHp0MlRcxdsBfAF__04XZSngSEmwjUMYLo0qPyQH-rrxAzgB4wcimr1iCnjer59eb9yzyVHbPyRB_RheyU5gWskmx_AP9lMd2lfxYCLz98LLbwreTDLMVcQKaz0/s200/004.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5545800103436773106" border="0" /></a><span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:100%;" >Hello everyone. During the colder winter months, I plan on writing a longer form piece on my 2010 fishing experiences. I will likely provide excerpts on the blog, so check back often to see some new writing about the year. Without further ado, here's a few words I wrote about my memories fishing Pennsylvania's Monroe Lake:<br /><br /><br /></span>Sometimes, though, fishing is about the memories you create during the experience (to be completely honest, this is usually something fishermen say when they fail). And on that January day, family and friends had a chance to catch up, little kids got to run around on the frozen lake, and first-time ice fishermen took up a new challenge.<br /><br />At one point during the festivities, my best friend and I talked about our favorite memories of the lake. We reminisced about rowing out in the middle of a hot summer day, with him stuck in a full blown leg cast. What would we have done if he had fallen in? We talked about how we once witnessed a real lake monster: a three-foot long snapping turtle swimming with an upside-down catfish in its mouth. From afar it looked like something out of a horror movie, but that didn’t stop us from rowing out and investigating it. We laughed about the time my fishing pole was literally ripped off of the dock, shooting out into the lake like a cannonball. I thought my rod was gone forever, the victim of a largemouth bass’s ferocity. Thirty minutes later, though, we saw the bobber pop up about one hundred yards away. We hopped in a row boat, paddled over to the bobber, and I grabbed the line. Out came a plump 4 pound, 20-inch bass. I tossed it in the boat and began carefully pulling the line with my hands, eventually retrieving my once-lost rod from the depths of the lake. We retold the story of my play-attack on a friend who refused to net a giant catfish for me. My mother heard us yelling from across the lake and thought we were hurt. Finally, I recited the best story of all: the legend of the phantom bass. The phantom was a monstrosity that mysteriously appeared on the end of a stringer hanging off the edge of a dock. A full 8 pounds in weight (enormous by our northern standards), the bass had eaten a 15 inch yellow perch I had placed on the stringer earlier in the day. It got a nasty surprise when it ended up “catching” itself. To this day, the phantom bass is still the biggest bass I’ve ever “caught.” And all I had to do was lift the stringer out of the water!<br /><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: normal;font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:12;"><span style="font-size:100%;"></span><o:p></o:p></span></p><span style="font-family:arial;"> </span>Matthew Bruenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08843498894554178276noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1540115476171906393.post-77163839303124527252010-09-30T12:46:00.014-04:002010-09-30T13:24:44.390-04:00Fly Fishing Vermont's Northeast Kingdom<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBe2gWscEk1T8UAvgrZmYUGrlKsxd4hF83BBQcSsw-n3B0p-Iib83zYB2LKsUWzsfyBOkihRqfXMysj-wAIuTCVrBtCoM1-vS9OLsY4PIXwTMOoJUMaS8pOT1xcBQeJYlmYwtGMWKusCxO/s1600/P6110006.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBe2gWscEk1T8UAvgrZmYUGrlKsxd4hF83BBQcSsw-n3B0p-Iib83zYB2LKsUWzsfyBOkihRqfXMysj-wAIuTCVrBtCoM1-vS9OLsY4PIXwTMOoJUMaS8pOT1xcBQeJYlmYwtGMWKusCxO/s200/P6110006.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5522757147274903202" border="0" /></a>First of all, I'd like to apologize for the long break between posts. That will be coming to an end. For those of you that have checked back with frequency hoping for something new, I am sincerely sorry. Now, on to the trout!<br /><br />My wife and I vacationed in Vermont's Northeast Kingdom for our honeymoon. The region had everything we wanted: beautiful scenery, quiet towns, and, of course, <a href="http://www.cabotcheese.coop/pages/visit_us/visitor_center.php">Cabot Cheese</a>. So we rented a house along the Black River (her idea, not mine), and spent the next week exploring rural Vermont. While my focus was ostensibly on my new bride, I somehow ended up catching over 40 trout. I'm not really sure how that happened....I suppose since she had been a devoted companion on numerous fly fishing excursions, spending her honeymoon along the banks of various rivers was somewhat apropos.<br /><br />In all honesty, however, I did a majority of the fishing when my wife was still asleep, or wrapped up with a book. Having the house along the river made this type of fishing quite easy. I remember one night getting drunk on champagne, then heading out into the twilight to fish the Black while Jackie read.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieaK3bbI5G8YON5GbSDgxOh1YX7WQy0SdZp7pQqDVO43TsHluP4-U2BkG3HHhMsaeze9YHuscM6gBrhZK34Bjh9qt7G_ys4RsMcpBKdzQ3ov8rXz5KDGVUbvhEEXUPp_jMNRr5o4UA7tDA/s1600/P6110011.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieaK3bbI5G8YON5GbSDgxOh1YX7WQy0SdZp7pQqDVO43TsHluP4-U2BkG3HHhMsaeze9YHuscM6gBrhZK34Bjh9qt7G_ys4RsMcpBKdzQ3ov8rXz5KDGVUbvhEEXUPp_jMNRr5o4UA7tDA/s200/P6110011.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5522757504482787570" border="0" /></a> It was raining slightly, and the temperature was a cool 50. I thought to myself that this was as good as it was going to get, casting in the rain on a beautiful stream with my wife able to see me from the warmth of indoors. She always worries about me, even though the rivers I fish are, on average, less than three feet deep. But up there in Vermont, she could easily call me when she wanted to start dinner, or join me on the grassy bank as I attempted to land the river's beautiful rainbow trout.<br /><br />I fished more rivers than the Black, though. Our rented house was a short drive from Newport, a town located on the immense Lake Memphremagog. The big lake shares territory with both the United States and Canada, and is the area's dominant watershed. I fished the three main US tributaries: the Black River, the Barton River, and the Clyde River. Interestingly, Vermont's fish and game folks have stocked the Clyde with land-locked Atlantic salmon. Having never caught one, these salmon were my primary target. Because of the time of the year, however, I was only able to catch small smolt that had not yet ventured into the deep Memphremagogian waters. But they were still salmon, and I was able to add another type of salmonoid to my personal list.<br /><br />We also took a ride into the northern Green Mountains, stopping at Jay Peak. Jay is regarded by many (including myself) as one of the East's best ski locales. Leading the east in snowfall, Jay's melt ends up in a tributary stream entitled Jay Creek/Jay Branch.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIrjnW1TGRoQHKdeU8s8fQPBpp3eT2W0ekUAqIUeAYcaFTvANedfg_iEJ-KyeiF6GkR-tCVZnvhdBR_ib7Lg1eWG_ueLYhuzgzZ44S1vM7hFhabY1ckQ-SXwkIRbyhcOhNGHRGxpghxI6Q/s1600/P6140053.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIrjnW1TGRoQHKdeU8s8fQPBpp3eT2W0ekUAqIUeAYcaFTvANedfg_iEJ-KyeiF6GkR-tCVZnvhdBR_ib7Lg1eWG_ueLYhuzgzZ44S1vM7hFhabY1ckQ-SXwkIRbyhcOhNGHRGxpghxI6Q/s200/P6140053.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5522758049472292434" border="0" /></a> After taking the infamous tram to the summit (over 4,000 feet) and having a drink at the newly-renovated lodge, Jackie and I stopped at a pull-off along the smallish stream. I was able to catch 22 wild brook trout on small streamer flies in about 90 minutes. It was as if they had never seen anything like those small wooly buggers. And it's possible they haven't: we did not see another fly fisherman during our entire stay.<br /><br />One of the last mini-trips we took was across the Canadian-US border into Quebec. I had seen a river on the map labeled the Riviere Tomifobia, and I was determined to catch an international trout. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnricU2W6QlSLF76djicyVSrhcQnZyNd0IYQQFG6qrTIQaTA_MBhmvPsZrqSbb0YoqWWgxb1zr-9MKuFBpI62YGusKF8-s8litZD4giusa0m9n4abJSo7OZRygsQC8hnlHXkMeBchJ0o1N/s1600/P6140055.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnricU2W6QlSLF76djicyVSrhcQnZyNd0IYQQFG6qrTIQaTA_MBhmvPsZrqSbb0YoqWWgxb1zr-9MKuFBpI62YGusKF8-s8litZD4giusa0m9n4abJSo7OZRygsQC8hnlHXkMeBchJ0o1N/s200/P6140055.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5522757802294893362" border="0" /></a>Despite not being able to read the posted signs (I believe they were just delineating regulations, my French isn't what it used to be), I parked along the river and began fishing. Not soon after, I landed a wild brook trout. It was the first trout I caught in a country other than the United States, and I was thrilled. But not knowing the precise rules of where I was fishing, Jackie and I hightailed it back to the US immediately following the catch.<br /><br />It was a wonderful honeymoon: my first salmon, my first international trout, my first Vermont trout, and my first few days with the newly-minted wife.<br /><br />Image #1 - Clyde River<br />Image #2 - The first Atlantic salmon, check out that tail!<br />Image #3 - Wild brook caught on a streamer at Jay Creek<br />Image #4 - Riviere TomifobiaMatthew Bruenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08843498894554178276noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1540115476171906393.post-13788129123348629472010-07-07T18:08:00.003-04:002010-07-07T18:10:51.098-04:00More to come shortly<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqATLzdRdZjf8xIlhK7ovqaO0S4JYyH8Q7kcGjmpgH0RYv2GRh0UNESCNeskIsO6pmzHy16yZS5Ne6LdjaLDgk9Mbk4C_uQG4eIR1XMN0PMEu7FrEBsZUngAvbZWq4zlkDBuywnhx_reIV/s1600/P6140056.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqATLzdRdZjf8xIlhK7ovqaO0S4JYyH8Q7kcGjmpgH0RYv2GRh0UNESCNeskIsO6pmzHy16yZS5Ne6LdjaLDgk9Mbk4C_uQG4eIR1XMN0PMEu7FrEBsZUngAvbZWq4zlkDBuywnhx_reIV/s200/P6140056.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5491289935464365330" border="0" /></a>Hello everyone. I recently got married and have embarked on the beginning stages of dissertation work. I've managed to do quite a bit of fishing, however, so I will begin to write up some of my recent experiences in the coming weeks. Check back soon!<br /><br />Photo: Riviere Tomifobia near Stanstead, Quebec.Matthew Bruenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08843498894554178276noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1540115476171906393.post-24363388182186338452010-05-22T09:37:00.020-04:002010-05-22T10:11:27.735-04:00Fly Fishing for Wild Brook Trout in the Poconos<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKlufzRb_H3US_62JXZdtyx3y7mOZW8RTCFMBTiuQbNMZvgx4sVnS8-C0VaDupeNnl_0xMfzfozJpZoD0JM2Uh_WVImV3YKtLsibIM5IINwaRfKIfpEMwh4L_-KT0ir0xxgBICEwuSRUIV/s1600/Pocono+Wild+Trout+Streams,+April+2010+026.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKlufzRb_H3US_62JXZdtyx3y7mOZW8RTCFMBTiuQbNMZvgx4sVnS8-C0VaDupeNnl_0xMfzfozJpZoD0JM2Uh_WVImV3YKtLsibIM5IINwaRfKIfpEMwh4L_-KT0ir0xxgBICEwuSRUIV/s200/Pocono+Wild+Trout+Streams,+April+2010+026.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5474094031579418866" border="0" /></a>I drove to the Poconos on the last day of April, ready to catch some wild brook trout. There are a number of wild brook trout streams in the Poconos; a quick glance at the PA Fish and Boat Commission website will reveal a list of them, by county, if you're interested. Because I grew up there, I know of a few that are not marked by the state (the joys of local knowledge). When I fish the Poconos for wild trout, I typically employ a 15-mile loop that covers six streams (Marshalls Creek, Mud Run, Poplar Run, Mill Creek, Rattlesnake Creek, and Devils Hole Creek). On the aforementioned late April day, I hit up the middle four of that list.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mud Run</span><br />Mud Run is the "tailwater" of Snow Hill Dam. If you hike down from the Dam, the stream will start to cascade down big sandstone outcroppings.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGO7OAc8TP9nNcfU06Uoa1WnBjvsOw5uUAIR_b9U5FWlMcR-q9rg1jl1F2kEH7CffnSBq0Oyp0gQ-EgUW7REtV_qkfp6dn3_-qw_HiaUlp8y3AMwkJZ4q8TwBMyr1kmKpa5M9fQtv7od9h/s1600/Pocono+Wild+Trout+Streams,+April+2010+017.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGO7OAc8TP9nNcfU06Uoa1WnBjvsOw5uUAIR_b9U5FWlMcR-q9rg1jl1F2kEH7CffnSBq0Oyp0gQ-EgUW7REtV_qkfp6dn3_-qw_HiaUlp8y3AMwkJZ4q8TwBMyr1kmKpa5M9fQtv7od9h/s200/Pocono+Wild+Trout+Streams,+April+2010+017.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5474094177007140706" border="0" /></a> At this point, wild brookies begin to populate the water. It's not really a technical run, and there isn't much riparian vegetation in the way. That being said, I caught three wild brook trout on a small wooly bugger streamer. I also found starflower, fringed polygala, miterwort, marsh marigold, and some late hepatica.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Poplar Run</span><br />One of my favorite Pennsylvania wild trout streams, Poplar Run is located a few miles away from Mud Run, and contains a mix of wild brown and wild brook trout. During my time there, however, I caught all brooks (six of them, to be exact). I'm not sure where the browns were hiding; wild trout streams are unpredictable like that. Anyone who ventures to Poplar should consider wearing formidable protective gear. Brambles cover the banks, and hiking the Run is quite difficult.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mill Creek</span><br />Mill Creek meanders through the village of Mountainhome, and also maintains a mixed brown/brook population. In fact, the only wild tiger<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyA65c18vGb3RXvg7MHUd_FlvBgrCAjjEKS8Detz-RQH6FmSy0uDnF1UPTuw1tpw4zBUioX-lghTzuA9qXJBE2P1_QhwA9VxIxUcRwvpTUOskCvg6Z6pflx0S4NGiG3cIWi7Pt9qVWutbH/s1600/Pocono+Wild+Trout+Streams,+April+2010+051.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyA65c18vGb3RXvg7MHUd_FlvBgrCAjjEKS8Detz-RQH6FmSy0uDnF1UPTuw1tpw4zBUioX-lghTzuA9qXJBE2P1_QhwA9VxIxUcRwvpTUOskCvg6Z6pflx0S4NGiG3cIWi7Pt9qVWutbH/s200/Pocono+Wild+Trout+Streams,+April+2010+051.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5474094309337821122" border="0" /></a> trout (brown-brook hybrid) I've ever caught came out of the Mill. I was running short on time and the clouds were beginning to look ominous, so I left after nabbing a wild brown near the State Gameland border. Even though these streams are so close together, I always seem to run out of time!<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Rattlesnake Creek</span><br />This small wild creek is a short three mile drive from Mill Creek, and is surrounded by Gamelands. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggwR74Nc521Lo715pnIixtiZHLUGZSYBjtDVihNco4sWaqFj8QDy7eeDoYCtoXZsnFtI13GtR32MlPzsXJx1GXY4SKnfjVv_89uU72ghWbiGUGqY1bvPaolqHzmiwyY2sBI8JR1eUDvWOu/s1600/Pocono+Wild+Trout+Streams,+April+2010+053.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggwR74Nc521Lo715pnIixtiZHLUGZSYBjtDVihNco4sWaqFj8QDy7eeDoYCtoXZsnFtI13GtR32MlPzsXJx1GXY4SKnfjVv_89uU72ghWbiGUGqY1bvPaolqHzmiwyY2sBI8JR1eUDvWOu/s200/Pocono+Wild+Trout+Streams,+April+2010+053.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5474094440552519106" border="0" /></a>For safety reasons, wear an orange hat, at least, and be aware of the various hunting seasons. As the rain started to fall, I caught a gorgeous wild brook trout on a wooly bugger (I mean, look at the picture; it's perfect), tossed it back in the creek, and ran back to the car.<br /><br />In the end, I landed 11 wild trout. Not exactly a great fishing day, but I managed to add four rivers to my list.<br /><br />Image #1 - Mud Run waterfall<br />Image #2 - Mud Run wild brook trout<br />Image #3 - Mill Creek wild brown trout<br />Image #4 - Rattlesnake Creek wild brook trout<br />Video Link - <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sH2bu_CsQUY">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sH2bu_CsQUY</a><br /><br />Overall Total: 59<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">River Breakdown:</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">McMichaels Creek</span> - 10 (5 Stocked Brook, 5 Stocked Rainbow)<br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Paulinskill River</span> - 7 (7 Stocked Brook)<br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Poplar Run</span> - 6 (6 Wild Brook)<br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Rockaway Creek</span> - 6 (5 Wild Brown, 1 Wild Brook)<br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Teetertown Brook</span> - 5 (5 Wild Brook)<br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Penns Creek</span> - 4 (4 Wild Brown)<br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Sevenmile Creek</span> - 4 (3 Wild Rainbow, 1 Steelhead)<br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Mud Run</span> - 3 (3 Wild Brook)<br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Brodhead Creek</span> - 2 (2 Stocked Rainbow)<br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Bushkill Creek</span> (Pike County) - 2 (2 Stocked Brown)<br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Musconetcong River</span> - 2 (2 Stocked Brook)<br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Raritan River, South Branch</span> - 2 (2 Stocked Brown)<br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Bushkill Creek</span> (Northampton County) - 1 (1 Stocked Rainbow)<br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Little Brook</span> -1 (1 Wild Brook)<br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Marshalls Creek</span> - 1 (1 Wild Brook)<br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Mill Creek</span> - 1 (1 Wild Brown)<br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Rattlesnake Creek</span> - 1 (1 Wild Brook)<br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Twentymile Creek</span> - 1 (1 Steelhead)<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Species Breakdown:</span><br />Brook Trout - 32<br />Wild - 18<br />Stocked - 14<br /><br />Brown Trout - 14<br />Wild - 10<br />Stocked - 4<br /><br />Rainbow Trout - 13<br />Stocked - 8<br />Wild - 3<br />Steelhead - 2<br /><br />Wild Trout - 31<br />Stocked Trout - 26<br />Lake Erie Trout - 2<br /><br />Trout 15+ inches - 3<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Fly Breakdown:</span><br />Bead-head Black Wooly Bugger, size 14 - 11 (11 Wild Brook)<br />Bead-head Olive Wooly Bugger, size 14 - 8 (5 Wild Brown, 3 Wild Brook)<br />Bead-head Black Wooly Bugger, size 10 - 7 (4 Stocked Rainbow, 2 Stocked Brook, 1 Stocked Brown)<br />Bead-head Pheasant Tail Nymph, size 14 - 5 (3 Wild Rainbow, 2 Steelhead, 1 Stocked Brown)<br />Bead-head Red Wooly Bugger, size 14 - 3 (3 Wild Brook)<br />Bead-head Black Wooly Bugger, size 8 - 2 (2 Stocked Brook)<br />Bead-head Golden Stonefly Nymph, size 10 - 1 (1 Steelhead)<br />Bead-head Green Wooly Bugger, size 10 - 1 (1 Stocked Brown)<br />Black Caddis, size 16 - 1 (1 Wild Brown)<br />Tan Caddis, size 16 - 1 (1 Stocked Brown)<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Angling Breakdown:</span><br />Fly Fishing Rod - 40 (17 Wild Brook, 6 Wild Brown, 4 Stocked Brook, 4 Stocked Brown, 4 Stocked Rainbow, 3 Wild Rainbow, 2 Steelhead Rainbow)<br />Spinning Rod - 19 (10 Stocked Brook, 4 Stocked Rainbow, 4 Wild Brown, 1 Wild Brook)<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">State Breakdown:</span><br />Pennsylvania - 36<br />New Jersey - 23Matthew Bruenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08843498894554178276noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1540115476171906393.post-68172974044123577242010-05-12T10:27:00.010-04:002010-05-12T22:20:14.222-04:00Fly Fishing for Wild Trout in New Jersey<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvbabwGOA4X6gxK04dyfU5WzDVhObD0BQtHGP5OBPnxXirlGWuPWQCvMhitp68KMrXhVpaOBkX7nORHGPsJbD1kqGlSFiMC4Ymt68w4O68UT4vee0wj7_AxxKxxgrQhgMKqNQeMCu1T1MF/s1600/Rockaway+Creek,+Teetertown+Creek,+April+2010+002.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvbabwGOA4X6gxK04dyfU5WzDVhObD0BQtHGP5OBPnxXirlGWuPWQCvMhitp68KMrXhVpaOBkX7nORHGPsJbD1kqGlSFiMC4Ymt68w4O68UT4vee0wj7_AxxKxxgrQhgMKqNQeMCu1T1MF/s200/Rockaway+Creek,+Teetertown+Creek,+April+2010+002.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5470395932671626386" border="0" /></a>For those of you unfamiliar with the Garden State, you should know that it maintains incredible geological diversity. In the south, the acidic Pine Barrens are home to rare species of fish, flowers, animals, and <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jersey_Devil">Devils</a>. The east coast of the state forms part of the Atlantic seaboard, and boasts beautiful beaches, wonderful bird migrations (especially at Cape May), and <a href="http://cdn.thefrisky.com/images/uploads/snookiepouf_M.jpg">Snooki's hair</a>. The western part of the state, however, is part of the Delaware River/Delaware Bay watershed, and features plenty of bald eagles, osprey, and peregrine falcon. But the part of the state I most like to fly fish is located north of Interstate 78 and west of Interstate 287. This section of New Jersey is situated in the foothills and mountains of the Appalachians, and contains enough elevation and cooler temperatures to keep wild trout alive year-round.<br /><br />A few weeks ago, I fished a number of these wild trout streams, as well as the special regulation area of the Musconetcong at Point Mountain. I first went to Rockaway Creek, one of the few wild brown trout streams in NJ. It was a beautiful April day,<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyE9oOyFezOnujOCDfC6Yz7YNv0Tl7U_-2uhGfPe1yfbxWuHR0H4O9RO5veGx5W6aGUu30EWMHxHvb3WItan5tWBA3CGOoj9FX-oZ1sejEF006q21MwQeYL6HGneEypx0UcBuLxKi6hrPk/s1600/Rockaway+Creek,+Teetertown+Creek,+April+2010+028.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyE9oOyFezOnujOCDfC6Yz7YNv0Tl7U_-2uhGfPe1yfbxWuHR0H4O9RO5veGx5W6aGUu30EWMHxHvb3WItan5tWBA3CGOoj9FX-oZ1sejEF006q21MwQeYL6HGneEypx0UcBuLxKi6hrPk/s200/Rockaway+Creek,+Teetertown+Creek,+April+2010+028.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5470396037484040082" border="0" /></a> I caught 6 wild trout on a small wooly bugger streamer, and Jackie found some jack-in-the-pulpit flowers. We next moved on to Teetertown Brook, a wild brook trout stream located a few miles away. It began to rain, so Jackie stayed in the car while I landed 5 more wild fish. At the end of the ride, I stopped briefly at Hickory Run and Little Brook, catching one wild brook out of the latter stream. A few days later, we drove to the Musconetcong. I caught two stocked brook trout in about 45 minutes before it started down-pouring.<br /><br />It was nice to catch some wild trout on the fly so early in the season. <br /><br />Image #1 - Jack-in-the-pulpit<br />Image #2 - Wild brown from Rockaway Creek<br /><br />Overall Total: 48<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">River Breakdown:</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">McMichaels Creek</span> - 10 (5 Stocked Brook, 5 Stocked Rainbow)<br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Paulinskill River</span> - 7 (7 Stocked Brook)<br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Rockaway Creek</span> - 6 (5 Wild Brown, 1 Wild Brook)<br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Teetertown Brook</span> - (5 Wild Brook)<br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Penns Creek</span> - 4 (4 Wild Brown)<br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Sevenmile Creek</span> -4 (3 Wild Rainbow, 1 Steelhead)<br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Brodhead Creek</span> - 2 (2 Stocked Rainbow)<br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Bushkill Creek</span> (Pike County) - 2 (2 Stocked Brown)<br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Musconetcong River</span> - 2 (2 Stocked Brook)<br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Raritan River, South Branch</span> - 2 (2 Stocked Brown)<br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Bushkill Creek</span> (Northampton County) - 1 (1 Stocked Rainbow)<br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Little Brook</span> -1 (1 Wild Brook)<br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Marshalls Creek</span> - 1 (1 Wild Brook)<br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Twentymile Creek</span> - 1 (1 Steelhead)<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Species Breakdown:</span><br />Brook Trout - 22<br />Stocked - 14<br />Wild - 8<br /><br />Rainbow Trout - 13<br />Stocked - 8<br />Wild - 3<br />Steelhead - 2<br /><br />Brown Trout - 13<br />Wild - 9<br />Stocked - 4<br /><br />Stocked Trout - 26<br />Wild Trout - 20<br />Lake Erie Trout - 2<br /><br />Trout 15+ inches - 3<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Fly Breakdown:</span><br />Bead-head Black Wooly Bugger, size 10 - 7 (4 Stocked Rainbow, 2 Stocked Brook, 1 Stocked Brown)<br />Bead-head Olive Wooly Bugger, size 14 - 7 (5 Wild Brown, 2 Wild Brook)<br />Bead-head Pheasant Tail Nymph, size 14 - 5 (3 Wild Rainbow, 2 Steelhead, 1 Stocked Brown)<br />Bead-head Black Wooly Bugger, size 14 - 3 (3 Wild Brook)<br />Bead-head Red Wooly Bugger, size 14 - 3 (3 Wild Brook)<br />Bead-head Black Wooly Bugger, size 8 - 2 (2 Stocked Brook)<br />Bead-head Golden Stonefly Nymph, size 10 - 1 (1 Steelhead)<br />Bead-head Green Wooly Bugger, size 10 - 1 (1 Stocked Brown)<br />Black Caddis, size 16 - 1 (1 Wild Brown)<br />Tan Caddis, size 16 - 1 (1 Stocked Brown)<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Angling Breakdown:</span><br />Fly Fishing Rod - 31 (8 Wild Brook, 6 Wild Brown, 4 Stocked Brook, 4 Stocked Brown, 4 Stocked Rainbow, 3 Wild Rainbow, 2 Steelhead Rainbow)<br />Spinning Rod - 17 (10 Stocked Brook, 4 Stocked Rainbow, 3 Wild Brown)<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">State Breakdown:</span><br />Pennsylvania - 25<br />New Jersey - 23Matthew Bruenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08843498894554178276noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1540115476171906393.post-71587598238759211072010-05-08T10:26:00.011-04:002010-05-08T10:55:44.368-04:00Fly Fishing the Poconos on Pennsylvania's Opening Day<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh66BWODVui5ngLGIMaZRXLkHVuhuRCwDPkOyiBbQaZZ1LGsTgrz6zfZVRsz1ad5RgQeu_OuNCk8PukKL55eYaSc9TNEiXrqCJL-JHwu5QMRcL5wQrhfBB28N348SvwbzMVVx07gXB6sW-8/s1600/Penns+Creek,+Brodhead+Creek,+Bushkill+Creek,+McMichaels+Creek+027.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh66BWODVui5ngLGIMaZRXLkHVuhuRCwDPkOyiBbQaZZ1LGsTgrz6zfZVRsz1ad5RgQeu_OuNCk8PukKL55eYaSc9TNEiXrqCJL-JHwu5QMRcL5wQrhfBB28N348SvwbzMVVx07gXB6sW-8/s200/Penns+Creek,+Brodhead+Creek,+Bushkill+Creek,+McMichaels+Creek+027.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5468909683325861890" border="0" /></a>Despite the annoyances that accompany it, I couldn't resist joining the masses for the official beginning of Pennsylvania's stocked trout season. Like I mentioned in my post about New Jersey's Opening Day, there's something to the festivity, to the aggravation, and to the spectacle that surrounds the annual nascence of trout "season." Most fly fishermen know why I placed quotation marks around "season" - trout, especially wild trout, can be caught by enterprising anglers year round. But there's only one Opening Day, and I was going to be there.<br /><br />Appropriately enough, I started on one of my home streams, the Brodhead Creek. Stroud Township's Brodhead Greenway Project has made <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsXatdRs4T92oTGyIt1U_b58hSNW4sJpVIilIn1-2tZizBR0cLGhiipelhHy8CycxtsSFGYQ40DUnqsFtStWEqo1YfPN8sGB5WRA26bxG4xlNnchm26oTV2H1hBpW8l1DtH1EJBMZ30BA-/s1600/Penns+Creek,+Brodhead+Creek,+Bushkill+Creek,+McMichaels+Creek+085.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsXatdRs4T92oTGyIt1U_b58hSNW4sJpVIilIn1-2tZizBR0cLGhiipelhHy8CycxtsSFGYQ40DUnqsFtStWEqo1YfPN8sGB5WRA26bxG4xlNnchm26oTV2H1hBpW8l1DtH1EJBMZ30BA-/s200/Penns+Creek,+Brodhead+Creek,+Bushkill+Creek,+McMichaels+Creek+085.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5468910094120178546" border="0" /></a>great strides toward opening up most of the Brodhead's public waters, and I began around 8 AM at one of the town's parks. It had rained a lot the night before (the tornado-like winds I faced at Penns Creek whipped over the entire state) and the water was running high. A lot of the fishermen and fisherwomen I saw were struggling to deal with the rising current. I threw on a big bead-head wooly bugger streamer and cast it directly into a raging rapids section. By swinging the fly back and forth through the fast water, I eventually convinced a solid rainbow trout to strike. A solid battle ensued, and I was "on the board" early in the day. I caught one more fish at the Brodhead, and I changed rivers.<br /><br />I drove into the town of Stroudsburg, and parked along Lower Main Street. I walked back over the levee and fished the<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVYOCNzQb3kwEYnA2vtgP1_S2Ph1O7hOa_hWoRqkpPsV_AiEQ8mRoBZD8w6m7MrFLB_ZcjHnNt9ZA-8yhSanrJDv1cVa7V4vI4WF-4xCzckr0jAhJMoTMhlLJAx5JSo6dEP1DMVmFZsox-/s1600/Penns+Creek,+Brodhead+Creek,+Bushkill+Creek,+McMichaels+Creek+032.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVYOCNzQb3kwEYnA2vtgP1_S2Ph1O7hOa_hWoRqkpPsV_AiEQ8mRoBZD8w6m7MrFLB_ZcjHnNt9ZA-8yhSanrJDv1cVa7V4vI4WF-4xCzckr0jAhJMoTMhlLJAx5JSo6dEP1DMVmFZsox-/s200/Penns+Creek,+Brodhead+Creek,+Bushkill+Creek,+McMichaels+Creek+032.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5468909819333875730" border="0" /></a> McMichaels Creek. The spot was loaded with people, as the adjacent image makes clear, but I found some room and took in 10 trout. It was wonderfully fun, even if it was like taking candy from a baby. It had been a few years since I caught a fish out of the McMichaels, so I was glad to have spent a few minutes there. Had I stayed longer, I have no doubt I would have caught over two dozen fish.<br /><br />The Bushkill Creek was my next stop. The Resica Falls Boy Scout Reservation is fly fishing only, catch-and-release. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiL3t5rORSeHJjSEqR-e3Zh-RNGeXxX2HL9NcrSm_ha09hE2o8QqYyfR6REZXF9ht1UWTikEfoQJ0Pok3CIpyQTftaFKHd-mkXsxYHTynNCcliljLJfeOQ6BRRgyT58KjAEAczd3haIJqhH/s1600/Penns+Creek,+Brodhead+Creek,+Bushkill+Creek,+McMichaels+Creek+068.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiL3t5rORSeHJjSEqR-e3Zh-RNGeXxX2HL9NcrSm_ha09hE2o8QqYyfR6REZXF9ht1UWTikEfoQJ0Pok3CIpyQTftaFKHd-mkXsxYHTynNCcliljLJfeOQ6BRRgyT58KjAEAczd3haIJqhH/s200/Penns+Creek,+Brodhead+Creek,+Bushkill+Creek,+McMichaels+Creek+068.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5468909942390656034" border="0" /></a>This means the river is open all year, but I decided to hit it up on Opening Day anyway. It's truly a beautiful place: towering hemlocks, a random waterfall, fast rapids, long pools, a bald eagle, and late flowering skunk cabbage were some of the highlights. I only caught two fish, both stocked browns, but I also found sessile-leaved bellwort and some other interesting flowers. And, because of the rain, a small tributary turned into a spectacular waterfall.<br /><br />On my way back to South Jersey, I stopped briefly in Stockertown and fished the "other" Bushkill Creek. I was exhausted, but I managed to pull out one little stocked rainbow that had survived the day's onslaught. That brought the total for the day up to 15, in 4 rivers. I made it back to Blackwood late, but I was quite content. I had survived another Opening Day marathon.<br /><br />Image #1 - Stocked rainbow from the Brodhead Creek<br />Image #2 - Flowering skunk cabbage, such a strange plant<br />Image #3 - Twelve guys fishing one hole...ahh Opening Day madness<br />Image #4 - Only a trickle in the summertime, this tributary turned into a beautiful waterfall<br /><br /><p class="MsoNormal"><strong><span>Overall Total: 34</span></strong><b><br /></b><br /><strong><span>River Breakdown:</span></strong></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal;"><strong><span>McMichaels Creek </span></strong><strong><span style="font-weight: normal;">– 10 (5 Stocked Brook, 5 Stocked Rainbow)</span></strong><b><br /><strong><span>Paulinskill River </span></strong></b>- 7 (7 Stocked Brook)<b><br />Penns Creek </b>- 4 (4 Wild Brown)<b><br />Sevenmile Creek </b>- 4 (3 Wild Rainbow, 1 Steelhead)<b><br /></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal;"><b>Brodhead Creek</b> – 2 (2 Stocked Rainbow)<b><br /></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal;"><b>Bushkill Creek</b> (Pike County) – 2 (2 Stocked Brown)<b><br />Raritan River, South Branch</b> - 2 (2 Stocked Browns)</p> <b>Bushkill Creek</b> (Northampton County) – 1 (1 Stocked Rainbow)<br /><b>Marshalls Creek </b>- 1 (1 Wild Brook)<b><br />Twentymile Creek</b><i> </i>- 1 (1 Steelhead)<b><br /></b><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal;"><br /><strong><span>Species Breakdown:</span></strong><b><br /></b>Brook Trout -<b> 13</b><br />Stocked - 12<br />Wild – 1</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal;"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal;">Rainbow Trout – <b>13</b></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal;">Stocked - 8<br />Wild - 3<br />Steelhead - 2<br /><br />Brown Trout – <b>8</b></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal;">Stocked – 4<br />Wild - 4<br /><br /><br />Stocked Trout - <b>24</b><br />Wild Trout - <b>8<br /></b>Lake Erie Trout - <b>2</b><br /><br />Trout 15+ Inches: <b>3</b><br /><br /><br /><b>Fly Breakdown:</b></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal;">Bead-head Black Wooly Bugger, size 10 – 7 (4 Stocked Rainbow, 2 Stocked Brook, 1 Stocked Brown)<br />Bead-head Pheasant Tail Nymph, size 14 - 5 (3 Wild Rainbow, 2 Steelhead, 1 Stocked Brown)<br />Bead-head Golden Stonefly Nymph, size 10 - 1 (1 Steelhead)</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal;">Bead-head Green Wooly Bugger, size 10 – 1 (1 Stocked Brown)<br />Bead-head Olive Wooly Bugger, size 14 - 1 (1 Wild Brook)<br />Black Caddis, size 16 - 1 (1 Wild Brown)<br />Tan Caddis, size 16 - 1 (1 Stocked Brown)</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal;"><br /><br /><strong><span>Angling Breakdown:</span></strong><br />Spinning Rod - 17 (10 Stocked Brook, 4 Stocked Rainbow,<span> </span>3 Wild Brown)<span> </span><br />Fly Fishing Rod - 17 (4 Stocked Brown, 4 Stocked Rainbow, 3 Wild Rainbow, 2 Steelhead Rainbow, 2 Stocked Brook, 1 Wild Brook, 1 Wild Brown)<span> </span><br /><br /><br /><b>State Breakdown:<br /></b>Pennsylvania – 25<br />New Jersey – 9</p>Matthew Bruenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08843498894554178276noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1540115476171906393.post-86064364512854916062010-04-29T20:29:00.015-04:002010-04-29T22:40:49.314-04:00Fly Fishing Penns Creek in April<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkgamGEBIEKRODUKX5L7XfoXZpywgAQUi-G_2AzywY00PZAlMR1wsIg2j3K2gATybEkEgE8qtmAS3DeLFswsreex0jL1EygT-lKlTGPMskzpwcBGwT0AmCty621X4ggyrNSZefWrkXyJWx/s1600/Penns+Creek,+Brodhead+Creek,+Bushkill+Creek,+McMichaels+Creek+002.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkgamGEBIEKRODUKX5L7XfoXZpywgAQUi-G_2AzywY00PZAlMR1wsIg2j3K2gATybEkEgE8qtmAS3DeLFswsreex0jL1EygT-lKlTGPMskzpwcBGwT0AmCty621X4ggyrNSZefWrkXyJWx/s200/Penns+Creek,+Brodhead+Creek,+Bushkill+Creek,+McMichaels+Creek+002.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5465741120275803202" border="0" /></a>Almost two weeks ago (I'm so behind on the blog-writing), I drove to Penns Creek for some mid-April fly fishing. It took almost 3 hours and 15 minutes to get to my favorite river from south Jersey. It was a nice ride, though, once the interstate gave way to winding central Pennsylvania roads. I had all day to fish, so I decided to walk two miles upstream and then fish back down to the car. It had been years since I went up that far (May of 2007, actually), so I was excited to see that part of the creek again. On the hike, I stopped and photographed a showy purple flower called fringed polygana, or gaywings. It was a remarkable looking plant, and signaled an auspicious start to the day.<br /><br />My chosen starting spot was a braided section of the stream. Divided into three main threads, this part of Penns Creek is easier to fish. I missed a few trout on streamers and nymphs, including one 15+ inch wild brown. I quickly grew frustrated with my non-success, and had been at the river for over three hours before I caught my first trout. And the first fish didn't even take a fly; instead, it hit a barbless spinner on my spin-casting rod.<br /><br />Despite my lack of fly fishing success, a robust grannom caddis hatch was ongoing. I <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5imFo-oUqrp6DrP3_BRNft3DWd7XzGM8DO1M9C-Un2kSgpNK-gB2WU6LWbXudhCFUDs_Ci_U8GD-z400Os2ebFXyf5UYcyvaQFgp1xE0k0puQ4NzDYprWzdCOlEGp4azXxF7x7piXwUp-/s1600/Penns+Creek,+Brodhead+Creek,+Bushkill+Creek,+McMichaels+Creek+025.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5imFo-oUqrp6DrP3_BRNft3DWd7XzGM8DO1M9C-Un2kSgpNK-gB2WU6LWbXudhCFUDs_Ci_U8GD-z400Os2ebFXyf5UYcyvaQFgp1xE0k0puQ4NzDYprWzdCOlEGp4azXxF7x7piXwUp-/s200/Penns+Creek,+Brodhead+Creek,+Bushkill+Creek,+McMichaels+Creek+025.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5465741213564056482" border="0" /></a>figured that the fish would start rising to the grannoms after the sun went down over the ridges, and I was proven correct. I landed a 17.5 inch wild brown on a size 16 dry black caddis. It was probably the biggest Penns Creek fish I've caught on the fly rod. And although it came almost 6 hours after I arrived, it was worth every minute of it.<br /><br />Other trout were rising so I thought I'd be able to catch a few more. Strangely, though, the fish stopped coming to the surface. The caddis were still coming off the water in droves, so I was a bit confused. A few minutes later, however, a fast moving thunderstorm rolled into the gorge. Facing a 1.5 mile hike back to the car, I decided to take shelter in a rhododendron grove. The evergreen shrub provided significant cover as the rain came pounding down. While I was cowering in the grove, I heard a building roar approaching. I kept telling myself, you're in Pennsylvania, there's no tornado coming, but <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4DK5rDOra3XR8ptt0gQ2f5h_PLPL_kO28gzdkD5KuPTWAtW7pt9LSUYM-OjL7jO-PtFg5lL9B_SBELru-5ItygTgLz7S5YfzFr8e5EalU_t5qYt5Mtc3ZGieWmuhnfoTTWFPE_8ivHliC/s1600/Penns+Creek,+Brodhead+Creek,+Bushkill+Creek,+McMichaels+Creek+021.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4DK5rDOra3XR8ptt0gQ2f5h_PLPL_kO28gzdkD5KuPTWAtW7pt9LSUYM-OjL7jO-PtFg5lL9B_SBELru-5ItygTgLz7S5YfzFr8e5EalU_t5qYt5Mtc3ZGieWmuhnfoTTWFPE_8ivHliC/s200/Penns+Creek,+Brodhead+Creek,+Bushkill+Creek,+McMichaels+Creek+021.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5465741281699334482" border="0" /></a>the deafening roar seemed to suggest otherwise. The high ridges had formed a wind tunnel, and the rushing air blasted through the gorge, taking down tree limbs and dead plants. A huge limb fell about twenty feet away from me, and I decided I'd take my chances in the river, even with the lightening. Luckily, the storm died down, but not before I was soaked and somewhat rattled by the fallen tree branch.<br /><br />Always remember that remote, beautiful places like Penns Creek can present danger at any time. Rely on your instincts and knowledge, and you'll more than likely end up fine.<br /><br />Image #1 - Fringed polygana<br />Image #2 - Wild brown trout<br />Image #3 - Grannom Caddis<br />Youtube Caddis Link: <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G_qu6nlp3P4">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G_qu6nlp3P4</a><br /><br /><strong>Overall Total: 19<br /></strong><br /><strong>River Breakdown:<br />Paulinskill River </strong>- 7 (7 Stocked Brook)<span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />Penns Creek </span>- 4 (4 Wild Brown)<span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold;">Sevemile Creek </span>- 4 (3 Wild Rainbow, 1 Steelhead)<span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />Raritan River, South Branch</span> - 2 (2 Stocked Browns)<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Marshalls Creek </span>- 1 (1 Wild Brook)<span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold;">Twentymile Creek</span><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"> </span></span></span>- 1 (1 Steelhead)<span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /></span><br /><br /><strong>Species Breakdown:<br /></strong>Brook Trout -<span style="font-weight: bold;"> 8</span><br />Stocked - 7<br />Wild - 1<br /><br />Brown Trout - <span style="font-weight: bold;">6</span><br />Wild - 4<br />Stocked - 2<br /><br />Rainbow Trout - <span style="font-weight: bold;">5</span><br />Wild - 3<br />Steelhead - 2<strong></strong><br />Stocked - 0<br /><strong></strong><br />Stocked Trout - <span style="font-weight: bold;">9</span><br />Wild Trout - <span style="font-weight: bold;">8<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span></span>Lake Erie Trout - <span style="font-weight: bold;">2</span><br /><br />Trout 15+ Inches: <span style="font-weight: bold;">3</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Fly Breakdown:</span><br />Bead-head Pheasant Tail Nymph, size 14 - 5 (3 Wild Rainbow, 1 Steelhead, 1 Stocked Brown)<br />Bead-head Golden Stonefly Nymph, size 10 - 1 (1 Steelhead)<br />Bead-head Olive Wooly Bugger Streamer, size 14 - 1 (1 Wild Brook)<br />Black Caddis, size 16 - 1 (1 Wild Brown)<br />Tan Caddis, size 16 - 1 (1 Stocked Brown)<br /><br /><br /><strong>Angling Breakdown:</strong><br />Spinning Rod - 10 (7 Stocked Brook, 3 Wild Brown)<br />Fly Fishing Rod - 9 (3 Wild Rainbow, 2 Steelhead, 2 Stocked Brown, 1 Wild Brook, 1 Wild Brown)<br /><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">State Breakdown:<br /></span>Pennsylvania - 10<br />New Jersey - 9Matthew Bruenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08843498894554178276noreply@blogger.com0