TR:Brodhead, native brookies, Lackawaxen

In a romantic mood, so Monday I headed up to the legendary Brodhead, well
aware that the best water was posted. Parked in Stroudsburg near the sewage
treatment plant, and found a path into the gorge right away. Hadn't gone
too far when I stumbled into a hobo camp, their tarps being pitched directly
in the middle of the path. Idiots. Underwear hanging on branches, bear
empties strewn about, sheash.

The stream was cold. It felt good. (sorry) Anyway, the structure in this
section is excellent - rocks and boulders strewn about, deep holes
everywhere, stream has cut deep hol;es around every boulders, cuts along
banks, I could go on and on. It's dificult to wade. But I'd have to sum up
the stream here with one word - siltation. Just covered with silt. No sign
of any aquatic vegetation whatsoever. No sign of insects. Waded downstream
for 2 hours, spooked no fish that I saw, saw forage fish along the shore in
only one spot. Did see a mink. A few rises here and there. Caught a
fallfish, a 3" minnow, a rock bass. This section is stocked, but I imagine
most of the fish would scram, upstream to the pretty water or into the
Delaware. Shame really, if the siltation problem were corrected, and the
stream seeded with vegetation & insects, this could be sold as an angling
mecca, based on it's history and beauty.

Went back to the truck and headed upstream. Roads follow the Broadhead
north, sometimes really close, you can look right into the stream from your
vehicle. All this land is posted. Found a section further north that
wasn't posted, and had some parking, but the stream runs right next to the
road here, between some cheesy shops on one side, and a Poconos ski
attraction on the other, and there was a lot of trash in the stream.

Did explore one of the little feeder streams. Followed it up as it tumbled
over mossy boulders, shaded by close hanging hemlock branches. Lots of 5-6"
brookies in the little pools. Found some bigger pools with 10" brookies.
Beautiful, pristine, nobody comes here, nobody fishes here. Did any of the
Henryville regulars ever explore up this little stream? Could very well be.
Brookie fishing was over in the main stream by the end of the 19th century,
and brown trout became the main quarry. Maybe some of the fellows crept
through the underbrush and cast into these shaded pools for brook trout for
a taste of times past, just as I was.

Taveling a little farther north to Mr Grey's home stream, the Lackawaxen.
It is easy to find a spot to pull over in sections where the landowners
allow fishing. The Lackawaxen is wide and easy to wade, with holes and
riffles and runs that are easy to cast to. Met a nice fellow who said he'd
had a nice day a week ago, and even caught a four pound brown, but that the
fish weren't biting now. We discussed flies and rods and lines and such,
fished together for a while, he caught a chub and I caught 3 rock bass, when
a 3rd fellow happened along and took the temperature of the stream in three
places, with the same result: 84 feckin degrees.

Dear PPL:

Kiss my rosy red ass.

Love,

Timothy

Obviously, as a flyfisher, I think the state ought to manage these hallowed
waters as living national treasures, but in fairness, I have to say most
people don't give a dang what the temperature of the Lackawaxen is, and
while there are always a few people fishing the Lackawaxen, Lake
Waullenpaupak was bustin with folks having a blast with boats and fishing
and swimming and jet skis and picnicing. And in the evening the folks will
go home and blast the ac and turn all the lights on and water their lawns;
so really, the state and ppl are providing the citizens with what they want
and like, and a few old men in disreputable hats with shelves of dusty books
and old-fashioned fishing rods, as they shake their heads with a saddened
look in their eyes and turn to walk away, may be just relics of an era
passed, dreamers of bygone days, standing alone in a stream, waving a magic
wand; a romantic image seen for a moment from the window of a passing car,
then passed and quickly forgotten.


Timothy Juvenal