Mike Makela wrote:

Had to skip it due to a tour of duty set-up with a Swede, some Rebels, and a
Fed (or well at least that who pays the salary) which actually turned our
pretty fine in itself. Got to watch Waldo lose a beautiful fish on the
Island side of Caddis Riffle, wouldn't be a clave without seeing some NC boy
lose a nice fish (this year I got to witness this type of event several
times...), but I have to say I don't remember seeing Indian Joe lose any
fish he had hooked (got any pointers Joe?).

mike, ya gotta watch joe like a hawk. that 'ole injun is a crafty
one.... ij, if you like, i'll gladly make some time to fish
with ya next time yer up this way.

yep, that was a nice fish lost on the caddis riffle... good to
know what that stretch is called. four years ago when jeff and i
first fished it our first day on penns, all the way up to the top
of the island and up to a run that was later, aptly named (i
won't go there quite yet), we were learning and experimenting
this new water, water that is quite alien to us rebels here in nc.

a water that haunts me even today. "haunt" may not be the proper
word, perhaps "taunt." anyways, as jeff and i worked our way
slowly up the caddis riffle in that limestone green tinted water,
my awe slowly turned to one of deep appreciation, an
understanding of the moment that this indeed was one of the
finest trout streams on the planet, and we were blessed to be in
it. four years later i still feel the same way and it will be a
painful wait 'till next year.


Did you happen to get any names or phone numbers? I think Frank got a
number last year, but damn if anything came out of it (or was it me that
lost the number??) Regardless, put me down for one of the Cherry Run
bedrooms next year if the NCer's don't have them all taken, and it's
available.

although the cabin is in disrepair, it does provide ample room
for many, has *TWO* refrigerators ;-), and is wonderfully located
on my personal favorite stretch of penns.



17. the run on penns just upstream from the carolina cabin, formerly
known as makela's run (2003) or wally's run (2001), is again named
"jeffie's run". Under the 2004 rules, the run is won by the fisherman
hooking a brown trout of at least 14" on a green drake dry fly, on the
last friday of clave week, in the dark, with said hooked brown trout
leaping at least 4 feet out of the water to spit the hook whilst staring
at the defender/pretender to the run (i.e., makela).

Hmmm...I didn't see a thing.....although that first Sunday I do remember a
solid 16 incher, landed, with Frank as my Witness.....How about The Run???


pretenders, gawdang pretenders. this year it was my pleasure to
watch monty catch his first penns creek brown at the top of the
run. for me, that made this years short trip memorable.... that
and this small persisting memory, the snake fish.

the snake fish.... well, truth be told, the snake fish was by far
the largest wild brown i have ever brought to hand on penns,
which makes it the largest wild brown i've ever brought to hand.
i've caught some nice 16 to 18 inchers on penns and a few in the
20 inch range.... those fish would be a snack for this brute.

the tale starts innocently enough as i shout and wave my goodbyes
across the stream at the top of the island to the swede as he
meanders upstream to meet up with the finn. i'm prepared to exit
the stream on the cabin side run of penns creek and hike back to
the cabin to pack and leave for home. as i ready myself to
clamber upon the bank to join the trail, i espied a serpent
coiled at eye level not more than two feet from my ascending
hands. i lurched back in primitive fright from the nightmare. as
i stood there, i identified him as a harmless brown water snake,
not the copperhead i thought he was. regardless, i decided then
and there to fish just a wee bit more, a slow downstream swing of
the black leech streamer back to the cabin should fit the bill.

as i leisurely wade downstream i fish the islandside deep holes
along the bank, swinging the fly back to the middle of the stream
where i pick up and repeat the presentation. about fifty or so
yards downstream from the top of the island, my fly has left a
hole and is swinging across a stone riffle. the riffle has maybe
a foot of water rushing over it and as i prepare to lift and cast
again, a big rock moves a foot forward and engulfs my fly.

holy ****, this is a big 'un. i make the decision not to horse
this denizen as i had some earlier fish.... fish that i had lost.
as he runs, shakes, sulks, and runs some more downstream, i just
follow him and let the constant pressure of the rod do its thing.
in one hole he retreated to the bottom and just sat there,
brooding, sulking. i lightly twanged the fly line a few times and
that seemed to angst him enough to start moving downstream again.

through a few more pools and riffles we continued our slow
romantic dance. him leading at times, myself taking the lead at
times.

we finally arrived at the bend pool, the pool that is below the
adjacent cabin to the carolina cabin. after 20 or so minutes of
battle, this brown is tuckered out, so am i. i slowly reel him in
to the sand bank i'm standing on and procure the leader in my
hand. i teethed the rod and reached down and grabbed the fly with
one hand and firmly grasped his tail with the other.

i think about the camera up in the cabin and consider tying the
fish off to a tree branch while i run up the hill to retrieve the
camera. the fish is plainly exhausted and i decide that my glory
photo-op would probably kill him.

i just laid him for a second or two on the sand next to my rod to
get a mental picture, replaced him in the water, did a bit of
revival stuff, released him, and watched him gingerly descend to
the bottom of the pool.

i crossed a riffle to the cabin-side bank, made sure there wasn't
any serpents about, lit a smoke and sat down for a few
minutes.... my thoughts are simple.... what a trout stream, what
a piece of water.



18. despite all its flaws, this place has enriched my life, and i am
forever thankful to all of you who have shared your time and good spirit
with me.

Can't say it any better, many timeless memories, now etched into the banks
of Penn's Creek.

here, here.... same for me.

wally.... who proposes... "roffian's run"