TR: Penns Creek - Sorta (part one)

Thursday night after work, I blasted through Bal'more, enroute to
beautiful downtown Coburn. Pulled into Hemlock Acres at about quarter
to ten and was greeted by a roaring fire in the fire pit, tended by
Handyman Mike, Clavemeister Tom and Bruce Fisher.
The discussion around the fire was about Ivan the Terrible,his effects
on the creek and the house Bruce is buying on Penns. Telephone poles
laid out in yards and water four feet over the bridge at Three Streamer
Stan's house. The plan for the morning was to head to the trestle
bridge and see what we could see.
Bright and early (yeah, right), we role out of bed. No coffee. Oh, the
Humanity! Road trip across the street Bruce's trailer. Roust him out
of bed and raid his dark roast.
We pack up and head down to the trestle. On the way, we stop and look
at the devastation wrought by Ivan. At Stan's Pool, the water washed
away the approach to his bridge. All of the vegetation lining the bank
is stripped bare or gone. Water went through the tunnel to the trestle.
There are parts of a trailer wrapped around the trunks of trees just
upstream from Stan's bridge. The trailer started out above Hemlock Acres.
At the trestle, more trees stacked up against the bridge. The high
water mark is to the right of the road. We look at the water, its still
high, as Hurricane Jeanne had gone through on Tuesday, adding insult to
injury. Bruce looks at the house he's buying. High and dry. Its the
second house down from the trestle. Very nice place, big, stream is 80
feet away and a jacuzzi too. (He's looking to rent it out during the
clave).
We decide to head to Big Fishing Creek. We stop in a the Feathered
Hook. Jonas tells of a freezer in his back yard that was destined for
the dump. It circled in an eddy for 5 to 6 hours. Stacked railroad
ties that were planned for some terracing floated away. If you had
parked in front of his store, water would have been up to your axles.
6'6" of water in his 6'10" basement.
Tom, Mike and I head to Big Fishing and "Uncle Tom's Cabin." Bruce
stays around to talk to the morgage folks.
At Big Fishing, there's a phone pole laying across the yard. The line
of debris is as much as 75 feet from the water. Bugs are coming off the
water. Tan caddis, BWO's and the fabled Orange or October Caddis. This
is a rust orange caddis up to two inches long. Bugs all over, but 90
percent of the weed bed has been stripped away. No fish. I get a rise
on an olive flash-a-bugger and have another spit out a golden stone fly
nymph. Tom and Mike get a couple of splashy rises on emergers and elk
hair caddis. No fish brought to hand.
We head back to town, hit the butchers (sirloin steaks for 3.61 a
pound), drop the stuff off at the trailer, then head back to the trestle
to hook up with Bruce at 6.
Bruce walks around the house with the new owner and Handyman Mike (Mike
plays building inspector). Tom and I head back to start dinner.
At 8, Mike roars back up to the trailer with a shout of "Where's Tom!?
I'm gonna kill him!!" I decide to go find a gentle bear to bunk down
with. Don't want brains splashed on my waders. Seems that Tom, or
someone (its still not been determined who), locked Mike's keys in his
van at the river. Coat hanger came to the rescue. We placate him with
a 1 1/2 lb sirloin and red beans and rice.
(Next issue: PA trout grand slam)
--
Frank Reid
Reverse Email to reply

Saturday dawned on our intrepid fouro with fog. It had been a bit
warmer overnight than Friday. Geese are gathering in small v's, marking
the onset of Fall and great migrations. The forests are starting to
turn, with yellows, golds and bronze outlining the trees, a muted sketch
of the coming Autumn masterpiece. The air has that distinct hint of
cinnamon and clove, rewarding you with the apple pie smells of the
October woods. Leaves litter the ground in the start of the race
towards Winter's slumber. The world holds its breath, knowing the next
will be tinged with the first frost.
Jonas at the Feathered Hook mentioned that the hatchery at Brenner, near
State College, had been flooded out by Ivan. We decide to take a look.
Oops, full combat fishing as cars line the road. We move to Spring
Creek. There, again we see signs of Ivan's wrath. The little walk
bridge at Spring has 6 feet of logs piled up in front. 30 feet of the
stone wall near the parking area has been washed away. Twohundred pound
cap stones litter the area like dropped wooden blocks. We talk to one
gent that had fished Brenner on Friday. He caught tons of fish,
including a brown, rainbow, brookie, cutthroat, palamino and a tiger.
PA hatchery grand slam.
The stream has been swept of silt, bends straightened, tall grasses on
the bank are laid flat, looking like a green and bronze striped kitchen
floor.
Today, there are no bugs. There are however, fish. We all catch many
fish, but most are small and parr marked. Tom and I watch as a 20 inch
palamino trout leaps clear of the water. Just messing with our minds.
The fly of the day is a two fly train of size 14 tan soft hackles. I
land a 12 to 13 inch fish, then later, his older brother nails the
dropper. He fights me for all its worth, roaming in and out of the
riffle, straining the limits of the 5X tippet on the 7'6" two weight. I
whoop and hollar and chase him up and down the pool then back into the
current. I need a net, but get no response from the crew fishing 150
yards upstream. I finally bring him to hand, a bruiser of about 16 to
17 inches. We both rest for a minute and catch our breaths. He flips
his tail, getting the last shot in as he sprays my face.
At about 4, thunder rumbles, telling us that its time to leave. We head
back to the trailer for burgers and home fries.
On Sunday, there's more of a chill edge in the air. We pack the cars
for leaving and head to the Axelrod Run. We might as well fish Penns at
least once during the weekend.
Tom lands a 13" brown on his first cast. Hmm, might be fun. He
procedes to pull a big boy from under the hemlocks, 18 to 19 inches.
The water is still up, so the fish are holding in the calm water near
the bank.
I pull in a couple of nice fish, 13 to 14 inches, but its time to head
back to uncivilization. We say our goodbys and fly to the four winds.
This will probably be my last trip of the year, as family issues will
keep me closer to home. Mike, Tom and Bruce, as always, are wonderful
hosts. Thanks guys for sharing your hospitality. See you in the Spring.
--
Frank Reid
Reverse Email to reply

[good TR snipped]

I'm always amazed at how the fish rebound from these sorts of
disasters. Imagine what the conditions must be like for them. Their
normally clear water is now the consistency of chocolate milk, there's
all sorts of debris being washed down at them, the bottom is getting
scoured, the current is way up in strength and volume, the water temps
must be all over the map. They must look for a big boulder or deep
hole and just hunker down. The coming of more normal conditions must
just set off a feeding frenzy for the survivors.

However, I can't overlook the stories that came out of the Grand the
last time it was blown as you described. A road intersection was
under water and, according to the storyteller, there were rising trout
in the middle of it!

Peter

[good TR snipped]

I'm always amazed at how the fish rebound from these sorts of
disasters. Imagine what the conditions must be like for them. Their
normally clear water is now the consistency of chocolate milk, there's
all sorts of debris being washed down at them, the bottom is getting
scoured, the current is way up in strength and volume, the water temps
must be all over the map. They must look for a big boulder or deep
hole and just hunker down. The coming of more normal conditions must
just set off a feeding frenzy for the survivors.

However, I can't overlook the stories that came out of the Grand the
last time it was blown as you described. A road intersection was
under water and, according to the storyteller, there were rising trout
in the middle of it!

Peter

the bottom is getting scoured,

Thats one aspect of the flood we were discussing. The green drake nymph
lives in silt. The silt has been flushed from many of the areas on
Penns. I saw pitted limestone in areas that used to have a silt bottom,
including the Axelrod Stretch. It will be interesting to see what
happens next year.
One local did say that the fish were hitting bigtime on sculpins on
Spring Creek. This may be an adaptation, as this area was well scoured.

--
Frank Reid
Reverse Email to reply

Peter Charles wrote:

[good TR snipped]

I'm always amazed at how the fish rebound from these sorts of
disasters. Imagine what the conditions must be like for them. Their
normally clear water is now the consistency of chocolate milk, there's
all sorts of debris being washed down at them, the bottom is getting
scoured, the current is way up in strength and volume, the water temps
must be all over the map. They must look for a big boulder or deep
hole and just hunker down. The coming of more normal conditions must
just set off a feeding frenzy for the survivors.

However, I can't overlook the stories that came out of the Grand the
last time it was blown as you described. A road intersection was
under water and, according to the storyteller, there were rising trout
in the middle of it!


I caught fish in very high water conditions one time. The trout were using
the backwater eddy behind a concrete picnic table as a feeding station.
It was on a tailwater so the water was pretty clear. Pretty strange!

Like you said, trout deal with these types of situations reasonably
well. The species evolved with these types of conditions happening on a
periodic basis. There is some mortality when conditions are VERY bad,
but if they couldn't rebound from them, they would be extinct.

I think that the same thing applies to the insect populations. Scouring
floods might change the insect population and have some short term
negative effects. However, these "scours" will have beneficial results
for some species of insects, short term, and negative ones for others.
Floods have been going on as long as these insects have been evolving.

Willi

Peter Charles wrote:

[good TR snipped]

I'm always amazed at how the fish rebound from these sorts of
disasters. Imagine what the conditions must be like for them. Their
normally clear water is now the consistency of chocolate milk, there's
all sorts of debris being washed down at them, the bottom is getting
scoured, the current is way up in strength and volume, the water temps
must be all over the map. They must look for a big boulder or deep
hole and just hunker down. The coming of more normal conditions must
just set off a feeding frenzy for the survivors.

However, I can't overlook the stories that came out of the Grand the
last time it was blown as you described. A road intersection was
under water and, according to the storyteller, there were rising trout
in the middle of it!


I caught fish in very high water conditions one time. The trout were using
the backwater eddy behind a concrete picnic table as a feeding station.
It was on a tailwater so the water was pretty clear. Pretty strange!

Like you said, trout deal with these types of situations reasonably
well. The species evolved with these types of conditions happening on a
periodic basis. There is some mortality when conditions are VERY bad,
but if they couldn't rebound from them, they would be extinct.

I think that the same thing applies to the insect populations. Scouring
floods might change the insect population and have some short term
negative effects. However, these "scours" will have beneficial results
for some species of insects, short term, and negative ones for others.
Floods have been going on as long as these insects have been evolving.

Willi

Frank Reid wrote in message ...
Saturday dawned on our intrepid fouro with fog. It had been a bit
warmer overnight than Friday. Geese are gathering in small v's, marking
the onset of Fall and great migrations. The forests are starting to
turn, with yellows, golds and bronze outlining the trees, a muted sketch
of the coming Autumn masterpiece. The air has that distinct hint of
cinnamon and clove, rewarding you with the apple pie smells of the
October woods. Leaves litter the ground in the start of the race
towards Winter's slumber. The world holds its breath, knowing the next
will be tinged with the first frost.
Jonas at the Feathered Hook mentioned that the hatchery at Brenner, near
State College, had been flooded out by Ivan. We decide to take a look.
Oops, full combat fishing as cars line the road. We move to Spring
Creek. There, again we see signs of Ivan's wrath. The little walk
bridge at Spring has 6 feet of logs piled up in front. 30 feet of the
stone wall near the parking area has been washed away. Twohundred pound
cap stones litter the area like dropped wooden blocks. We talk to one
gent that had fished Brenner on Friday. He caught tons of fish,
including a brown, rainbow, brookie, cutthroat, palamino and a tiger.
PA hatchery grand slam.
The stream has been swept of silt, bends straightened, tall grasses on
the bank are laid flat, looking like a green and bronze striped kitchen
floor.
Today, there are no bugs. There are however, fish. We all catch many
fish, but most are small and parr marked. Tom and I watch as a 20 inch
palamino trout leaps clear of the water. Just messing with our minds.
The fly of the day is a two fly train of size 14 tan soft hackles. I
land a 12 to 13 inch fish, then later, his older brother nails the
dropper. He fights me for all its worth, roaming in and out of the
riffle, straining the limits of the 5X tippet on the 7'6" two weight. I
whoop and hollar and chase him up and down the pool then back into the
current. I need a net, but get no response from the crew fishing 150
yards upstream. I finally bring him to hand, a bruiser of about 16 to
17 inches. We both rest for a minute and catch our breaths. He flips
his tail, getting the last shot in as he sprays my face.
At about 4, thunder rumbles, telling us that its time to leave. We head
back to the trailer for burgers and home fries.
On Sunday, there's more of a chill edge in the air. We pack the cars
for leaving and head to the Axelrod Run. We might as well fish Penns at
least once during the weekend.
Tom lands a 13" brown on his first cast. Hmm, might be fun. He
procedes to pull a big boy from under the hemlocks, 18 to 19 inches.
The water is still up, so the fish are holding in the calm water near
the bank.
I pull in a couple of nice fish, 13 to 14 inches, but its time to head
back to uncivilization. We say our goodbys and fly to the four winds.
This will probably be my last trip of the year, as family issues will
keep me closer to home. Mike, Tom and Bruce, as always, are wonderful
hosts. Thanks guys for sharing your hospitality. See you in the Spring.

Frank it was a good trip to Penn's and it was good to get a chance to
know you better. I sent you a few Pic's that I took Saturday morning
after the flood. I spent the night in the camper because I was in the
area that afternoon. I was shocked to see how high the water was in
the morning because it didnt seem like it rained all that much. But
the pictures show the bridge to hemlock acres was totally flooded and
I couldn't cross the bridge until late saturday night. I'd been
wondering how the trout survived for the past two weeks but Thursday
night confirmed there are many trout still in their favorite places.
About half were marked with the spawning colors and the other half
will start to color up soon. I have my last 4 day weekend coming up to
fish the creek and take the last pictures of the year. I am still
holding out hope that I'll see the huge October caddis that are
present in the watershed. I learned so much by sitting on the bank and
walking the creek with the camera this year. I pulled rocks from the
river and photographed the pupa and nymphs. During the evening hatches
I photographed the Dunn's and spinners and the pictures are amazing. I
met some new friends and renewed old friendships. I've cut down my
time in the salt and I didnt know how much I missed Penns Creek until
I came back this year after a long absence. Penns Creek is a wonderful
and amazing place to fish I'll send you some more Pics when I get the
chance, see you next spring...
Bruce

Well I arrived around 2:30 Thursday figured Penns was blown out so went
directly to Big Fishing Creek....Fish were rising but not consistently water
was high and off color....Caddis were coming off the brush didn't see any in
the water....Midges were on the water as were some other white insect don't
know what it was about a size 16....Don't matter didn't catch anything
anyway....Went to Burkholters bought grub headed down to Three Streamer Stans
fish were rising but i didn't suit up Stan & Shirley came on out and we chatted
for awhile they also lost 30-40 feet of the driveway 4 feet deep come spring
they are going to concrete the approach apron and from the bridge to there
wellhouse....Friday back to BFC no luck....Did get to look at a nice house that
Bruce is trying to buy needs some work but when it's done he should be able to
double his money....Saturday proved to be better, fish were caught more small
than big....Sunday fish the Axelrad stretch got a couple bites on tan soft
hackles and of course Tom caught all the fish ran right to the place i was
going to fish.......Just kidding......Packed up said goodbyes headed home to
Nascar on the radio GO JUNIOR.........Was a pleasure to fish with Tom Frank and
Bruce one more trip this year for fishing and close down the
camper....................................



Handyman Mike
Standing in a river waving a stick

hope you'll post the pics for the rest of us who enjoy fishing penns...

jeff

Softhackle wrote:

Frank Reid wrote in message ...

Saturday dawned on our intrepid fouro with fog. It had been a bit
warmer overnight than Friday. Geese are gathering in small v's, marking
the onset of Fall and great migrations. The forests are starting to
turn, with yellows, golds and bronze outlining the trees, a muted sketch
of the coming Autumn masterpiece. The air has that distinct hint of
cinnamon and clove, rewarding you with the apple pie smells of the
October woods. Leaves litter the ground in the start of the race
towards Winter's slumber. The world holds its breath, knowing the next
will be tinged with the first frost.
Jonas at the Feathered Hook mentioned that the hatchery at Brenner, near
State College, had been flooded out by Ivan. We decide to take a look.
Oops, full combat fishing as cars line the road. We move to Spring
Creek. There, again we see signs of Ivan's wrath. The little walk
bridge at Spring has 6 feet of logs piled up in front. 30 feet of the
stone wall near the parking area has been washed away. Twohundred pound
cap stones litter the area like dropped wooden blocks. We talk to one
gent that had fished Brenner on Friday. He caught tons of fish,
including a brown, rainbow, brookie, cutthroat, palamino and a tiger.
PA hatchery grand slam.
The stream has been swept of silt, bends straightened, tall grasses on
the bank are laid flat, looking like a green and bronze striped kitchen
floor.
Today, there are no bugs. There are however, fish. We all catch many
fish, but most are small and parr marked. Tom and I watch as a 20 inch
palamino trout leaps clear of the water. Just messing with our minds.
The fly of the day is a two fly train of size 14 tan soft hackles. I
land a 12 to 13 inch fish, then later, his older brother nails the
dropper. He fights me for all its worth, roaming in and out of the
riffle, straining the limits of the 5X tippet on the 7'6" two weight. I
whoop and hollar and chase him up and down the pool then back into the
current. I need a net, but get no response from the crew fishing 150
yards upstream. I finally bring him to hand, a bruiser of about 16 to
17 inches. We both rest for a minute and catch our breaths. He flips
his tail, getting the last shot in as he sprays my face.
At about 4, thunder rumbles, telling us that its time to leave. We head
back to the trailer for burgers and home fries.
On Sunday, there's more of a chill edge in the air. We pack the cars
for leaving and head to the Axelrod Run. We might as well fish Penns at
least once during the weekend.
Tom lands a 13" brown on his first cast. Hmm, might be fun. He
procedes to pull a big boy from under the hemlocks, 18 to 19 inches.
The water is still up, so the fish are holding in the calm water near
the bank.
I pull in a couple of nice fish, 13 to 14 inches, but its time to head
back to uncivilization. We say our goodbys and fly to the four winds.
This will probably be my last trip of the year, as family issues will
keep me closer to home. Mike, Tom and Bruce, as always, are wonderful
hosts. Thanks guys for sharing your hospitality. See you in the Spring.


Frank it was a good trip to Penn's and it was good to get a chance to
know you better. I sent you a few Pic's that I took Saturday morning
after the flood. I spent the night in the camper because I was in the
area that afternoon. I was shocked to see how high the water was in
the morning because it didnt seem like it rained all that much. But
the pictures show the bridge to hemlock acres was totally flooded and
I couldn't cross the bridge until late saturday night. I'd been
wondering how the trout survived for the past two weeks but Thursday
night confirmed there are many trout still in their favorite places.
About half were marked with the spawning colors and the other half
will start to color up soon. I have my last 4 day weekend coming up to
fish the creek and take the last pictures of the year. I am still
holding out hope that I'll see the huge October caddis that are
present in the watershed. I learned so much by sitting on the bank and
walking the creek with the camera this year. I pulled rocks from the
river and photographed the pupa and nymphs. During the evening hatches
I photographed the Dunn's and spinners and the pictures are amazing. I
met some new friends and renewed old friendships. I've cut down my
time in the salt and I didnt know how much I missed Penns Creek until
I came back this year after a long absence. Penns Creek is a wonderful
and amazing place to fish I'll send you some more Pics when I get the
chance, see you next spring...
Bruce