Pennsylvania foam beetles

Arriving just after a cold front with all the low water on Penns Creek
at the start of last October one might have been discouraged. But
I've always thought that to be a fisherman is to be optimistic. Well
we did manage to scratch our way to a few decent brown trout, most
coming from three good holes over a 3 day adventure. Did not run into
a single hatch the whole time on Penns. Other than the handful of
respectable fish that were lured out of one particular undercut bank,
the rest of our captured quarry were the result of patient stalking.
Without any hatches we hiked and hiked and waded, waited and waited
for a one-time rise. Then painstakingly maneuvered into position to
try to induce a second rise, this time to our feathered forgeries.
The highlight for my fishing buddy was hooking into the largest trout
he had ever seen - he claims it was over 30" when it panicked into a
quiet shallows just a couple of inches deep, rolled itself around the
leader and then flapped its way like a jumping bean back into the
foamy murk nearby.

We'd have never found our way to Maria Davison's Centre Mills B&B (a
~250 year old stone house in Rebersburg, PA) in the midnight autumn
fog of Centre County without a GPS navigational unit. Some of those
roads were the size of driveways and situated in between houses so as
to appear to be in fact driveways. The mist hung thick, low, all the
way down to ankle height. Street signs were completely cloaked in
opaque vapor. Staying at Maria's place gives you access to privately
restricted Elk Creek. But the 'crick' was about 6 inches deep in
October so most of the trout had retreated out of this Penns tributary
by the time we arrived.

The highlight of the trip for me was the multitude of surprises
tossing beetles at smallish browns on a roadside section of Spring
Creek which was right up against a residential area. We had make
arrangements to hire a guide from the Feathered Hook in Coburn for one
of the days to give us a tour of the waters in the area. Upon
entering the fly shop at a leisurely 9 AM I figured the 20-something
kid in the waders would be our guide. No, it turned out that the
septuagenarian gentleman in blue jeans was Jack. I don't know his
real age but I think I've got the right decade pegged. He looked over
our flyboxes and nodded approvingly. Jack moved at tortoise pace
but was relentless. Whether walking on pavement, climbing out of the
water onto a 5 foot high bank, dodging boulders in rough water, he
seemed to move with a uniform pace. When in motion he was as light as
a phantom. When at rest he relied on his staff to brace himself
against the earth and her gravity in a pose that reminded me of Yoda
even though Jack's lanky frame cast a silhouette that bore no
resemblance to the diminutive Jedi.

When we stepped into that part of Spring Creek, it looked like the
kind of water that I would normally pass by without wetting a line.
No obvious lies, flat water, about two feet deep everywhere. Jack
handed me a #14 black foam beetle that looked like perfect bluegill
bait. The voice in my head said that if there were any trout in this
meager ribbon of water they call a creek, I'd have to toss a #22 CDC
pattern and be able levitate instead of wading. We waded very slowly
in order to get within close casting range. Tight banks and
overhanging tree limbs severely limited the possibility for fully
aerialized backcasts.

"There he his. 18 feet in front of us about 5 feet out from the reed
sticking out from the shore."

I did not see anything. There was no hatch in progress. No bugs to
be seen drifting in the water. I asked what the trout was eating.

"Terrestrials. Stuff falling from these overhanging trees."

Huh? I can't see jack, Jack. There was no rise. How had he spotted
a fish? How could there even be any fish in this featureless water
with a hard river bottom that was inhospitable to aquatic vegetation?

"These are small brown trout. About 6 to 9 inches but already wily.
You won't see a rise. They will come up and suck the bug out of the
surface film while remaining completely underwater. All you will see
is the slightest disturbance in the flatness of the water."

A disturbance in what? The Force? My eyes are only half as old as
his but I didn't see anything.

"Cast delicately without throwing water drops or lining the fish but
make the bug splat when it hits the water. If you must false cast,
keep it off to the side before making your final delivery. When the
beetle hits the water, twitch it once ever so slightly so that only
the fly gives off ripples, not your leader or line."

What the ...? Is he for real? This is a spring creek. In fact it's
named Spring Creek. Slapping a #14 foam beetle 20 feet in front of me
ain't gonna fool no brown trout. Well we were paying the guy so I
wasn't sure if I'd feel more like a fool for following his advice or
ignoring it. I did what he said and started collecting the fly line
with the left hand fingers as the fly came drifting back towards me.
I never saw the fish take.

"He's got it. Set the hook."

The trout took my fly just as Jack said they would be taking the
naturals. No rise. It came up and did not break the water. The fly
just simply appeared to sink for no reason and with an unexpected
though not unnatural velocity.

Well this pattern of events repeated itself several times. I was only
able to spot half the fish he did. I only became convinced he was not
putting me on because I actually did manage to hook fish in those
spots where he said there were fish but I had not seen.

When we got back to the fly shop I relayed the day's events to the guy
behind the counter. What an eye-opening experience. Was this
typical, I asked.

"No. I never fish that way. Most people around here don't either.
That Jack is a real piece of work No matter what the bugs and fish
are doing on any given day on the water he'll keep on throwing that
beetle and keep on catching fish."

Well, on the water, I had thought I had just been shown some keen
insight into the fish of Spring Creek. I may have actually been
exposed to something that is more generally applicable to trout
anywhere. A few months have gone by but but it's still not clear
exactly what is the proper lesson learned from that encounter. Maybe
there is no lesson other than that I had witnessed a bit of
Pennsylvania trout magic.

Mu
San Jose, California

mu wrote:
Arriving just after a cold front with all the low water on Penns Creek
at the start of last October one might have been discouraged. But

Mu
San Jose, California

nice reappearance mu... thanks.

jeff

On Feb 1, 3:11*am, mu wrote:
A few months have gone by but but it's still not clear
exactly what is the proper lesson learned from that encounter. *Maybe
there is no lesson other than that I had witnessed a bit of
Pennsylvania trout magic.

Nice TR Mu. If nothing else, it'll make me look at those long flat
stretches with a bit more optimism. Terrestrials, you say? Hmmm.

Joe F.

"mu" wrote in message
...
Arriving just after a cold front with all the low water on Penns Creek
at the start of last October one might have been discouraged.

Wow, nice return, Mu! And, a great story about Penn's and about Jack, who is
a hell of a guide. He also rescues fly vests that nitwits like me leave in
the woods! It was great to read your tale, and glad you enjoyed your stay in
Central PA!! Had you been 3 weeks or so later, you could have fished Penn's
pretty successfully with 3-inch long streamers, and probably Spring as well.
Elk would have been teeming with spawners, illustrating the variety of
angling one sees up that way over a season. Care to join us for a Clave,
Memorial Day week??
Tom

In my opinion it's harder to catch fish in penns than spring
creek......Sounds like you had a great trip I am guessing you fished
some of my favorite spots from the sounds of your report........

"mu" wrote

Well, on the water, I had thought I had just been shown some keen
insight into the fish of Spring Creek. I may have actually been
exposed to something that is more generally applicable to trout
anywhere. A few months have gone by but but it's still not clear
exactly what is the proper lesson learned from that encounter. Maybe
there is no lesson other than that I had witnessed a bit of
Pennsylvania trout magic.

Mu
San Jose, California


Wonderful story, thanks ... I have to make it to that area, someday

As for "more generally applicable" lessons, much of what you recount would
sound right on if you changed the names to fit some spots I fish each year.
Well educated fish don't give much indication of their presence, walking
right on by them is more common than noticing them. Beetles can work
wonders almost all year long, and grizzled old locals can not only see the
impossible to see, they know where they have seen it many times before.

I was reminded of a brief moment last year. I was deep into the Ranch and
walking out, when I met a Japanese couple walking further in. In
exchanging the usual passing remarks it became obvious they hadn't seen any
fish that day and HE was pretty unhappy. I had watched them coming
towards me and it was clear from the way they moved, where and how, they
looked that they could use some help, so I started to try and provide a bit
of info over the language barrier. I looked at the water searching my
mind for words to describe what to look for (it's not 'rises' ) and saw a
fish working about 40 feet off shore. I pointed to it with my rod and
tried to get him to see it, but he didn't. I convinced him to get in and
move very slowly towards the spot, and called out each time the fish showed
itself. He never saw the disturbances. He said something in Japanese to
his partner and I don't think it reflected belief in what I was saying G.
I had to caution him to slow down and not make waves a couple times, he
clearly wanted to "fish," not hunt. Then, when he got to about 15 feet
from the fish and I called out another 'rise' he saw it and exclaimed in
obvious amazement, in both languages.

I wish the story ended well, but he was far closer to that fish than he was
used to being to a target and probably was 'full line' caster. His first
effort shot well past the fish, which then moved up and over a few feet. I
helped him see it again, but the second effort moved it somewhere far, far,
away.


Um, another evening right at the popular ( easy to get to ) log jam area
there were several anglers sitting on shore looking forlorn as I moved
slowing about and hooked seven fish. When I got out, one that was close
said he was surprised that I had success "fishing the water" and commented
that he always waited for the fish to rise before getting in. He said it
in a very slightly hostile tone, maybe trying to imply that my being 'in'
had been a factor in his "no risers." I simply told him the truth, "I
never made a single cast unless I saw the fish first." His look showed
he thought that a total lie, but it was god's honest fact. One of those
seven, I had to watch rise half a dozen times myself, from only a few feet
away, before I was certain it was a fish and not just an odd wavelet or
weeds moving the surface, and he was close to 18" !!


Next trip to Hot, get down in the canyon early, way before the other guys,
or the hatches, and look, hard, right along the shore, inch or two from the
bank. Once you learn what to see, it will astound you how much there is to
walk right past. G, they move out after the crowds start "fishing" so hunt
early. ( try a beetle ;-) ( or #20 black caddis )

"Larry L" wrote in message
...
Wonderful story, thanks ... I have to make it to that area, someday

May 25-30 might be a good target timeframe.......

Tom

"Larry L" wrote

One of those
seven, I had to watch rise half a dozen times myself, from only a few feet
away, before I was certain it was a fish and not just an odd wavelet or
weeds moving the surface, and he was close to 18" !!



I had a chat about this with Bob, a true, full time, trout bum who fishes
the Ranch nearly every day of the season and has done so for many years.
He catches many times the number of fish I do and bigger ones.

I mentioned having to see some fish 'rise' many times before I was convinced
they were fish. His reply was interesting, more interesting now in
reflection than I found it at that time. Paraphrasing, "If you think it
might be a fish, it is. You've got a lots of hours in here and your EYES
see what you need to see, but your brain may not believe them yet. If
something attracts your attention, it's almost certainly a fish otherwise
that attraction wouldn't occur." I replied, " You may be right." And Bob
can back instantly and very firmly, " I AM right, I may be wrong about some
things, but I AM right about this." Bob has a 'strong personality" and I
wrote off the comment to that, at the time, but in retrospect I think his
forceful certainty was an effort to help me make a leap of faith into
believing what I see and turning off the brain's interference to that sight
....

Zen and the Art of Fly Fishing G

On Feb 1, 3:11*am, mu wrote:
Arriving just after a cold front with all the low water on Penns Creek
at the start of last October one might have been discouraged. *But
I've always thought that to be a fisherman is to be optimistic. *Well
we did manage to scratch our way to a few decent brown trout, most
coming from three good holes over a 3 day adventure. *Did not run into
a single hatch the whole time on Penns. *Other than the handful of
respectable fish that were lured out of one particular undercut bank,
the rest of our captured quarry were the result of patient stalking.
Without any hatches we hiked and hiked and waded, *waited and waited
for a one-time rise. *Then painstakingly maneuvered into position to
try to induce a second rise, this time to our feathered forgeries.
The highlight for my fishing buddy was hooking into the largest trout
he had ever seen - he claims it was over 30" when it panicked into a
quiet shallows just a couple of inches deep, rolled itself around the
leader and then flapped its way like a jumping bean back into the
foamy murk nearby.

We'd have never found our way to Maria Davison's Centre Mills B&B (a
~250 year old stone house in Rebersburg, PA) in the midnight autumn
fog of Centre County without a GPS navigational unit. *Some of those
roads were the size of driveways and situated in between houses so as
to appear to be in fact driveways. *The mist hung thick, low, *all the
way down to ankle height. *Street signs were completely cloaked in
opaque vapor. *Staying at Maria's place gives you access to privately
restricted Elk Creek. *But the 'crick' was about 6 inches deep in
October so most of the trout had retreated out of this Penns tributary
by the time we arrived.

The highlight of the trip for me was the multitude of surprises
tossing beetles at smallish browns on a roadside section of Spring
Creek which was right up against a residential area. *We had make
arrangements to hire a guide from the Feathered Hook in Coburn for one
of the days to give us a tour of the waters in the area. *Upon
entering the fly shop at a leisurely 9 AM I figured the 20-something
kid in the waders would be our guide. *No, it turned out that the
septuagenarian gentleman in blue jeans was Jack. *I don't know his
real age but I think I've got the right decade pegged. *He looked over
our flyboxes and nodded approvingly. * *Jack moved at tortoise pace
but was relentless. *Whether walking on pavement, climbing out of the
water onto a 5 foot high bank, dodging boulders in rough water, he
seemed to move with a uniform pace. *When in motion he was as light as
a phantom. *When at rest he relied on his staff to brace himself
against the earth and her gravity in a pose that reminded me of Yoda
even though Jack's lanky frame cast a silhouette that bore no
resemblance to the diminutive Jedi.

When we stepped into that part of Spring Creek, it looked like the
kind of water that I would normally pass by without wetting a line.
No obvious lies, flat water, about two feet deep everywhere. *Jack
handed me a #14 black foam beetle that looked like perfect bluegill
bait. *The voice in my head said that if there were any trout in this
meager ribbon of water they call a creek, I'd have to toss a #22 CDC
pattern and be able levitate instead of wading. *We waded very slowly
in order to get within close casting range. *Tight banks and
overhanging tree limbs severely limited the possibility for fully
aerialized backcasts.

"There he his. *18 feet in front of us about 5 feet out from the reed
sticking out from the shore."

I did not see anything. *There was no hatch in progress. *No bugs to
be seen drifting in the water. *I asked what the trout was eating.

"Terrestrials. *Stuff falling from these overhanging trees."

Huh? *I can't see jack, Jack. *There was no rise. *How had he spotted
a fish? *How could there even be any fish in this featureless water
with a hard river bottom that was inhospitable to aquatic vegetation?

"These are small brown trout. *About 6 to 9 inches but already wily.
You won't see a rise. *They will come up and suck the bug out of the
surface film while remaining completely underwater. *All you will see
is the slightest disturbance in the flatness of the water."

A disturbance in what? *The Force? *My eyes are only half as old as
his but I didn't see anything.

"Cast delicately without throwing water drops or lining the fish but
make the bug splat when it hits the water. *If you must false cast,
keep it off to the side before making your final delivery. *When the
beetle hits the water, twitch it once ever so slightly so that only
the fly gives off ripples, not your leader or line."

What the ...? Is he for real? This is a spring creek. *In fact it's
named Spring Creek. *Slapping a #14 foam beetle 20 feet in front of me
ain't gonna fool no brown trout. *Well we were paying the guy so I
wasn't sure if I'd feel more like a fool for following his advice or
ignoring it. *I did what he said and started collecting the fly line
with the left hand fingers as the fly came drifting back towards me.
I never saw the fish take.

"He's got it. *Set the hook."

The trout took my fly just as Jack said they would be taking the
naturals. *No rise. *It came up and did not break the water. *The fly
just simply appeared to sink for no reason and with an unexpected
though not unnatural velocity.

Well this pattern of events repeated itself several times. *I was only
able to spot half the fish he did. *I only became convinced he was not
putting me on because I actually did manage to hook fish in those
spots where he said there were fish but I had not seen.

When we got back to the fly shop I relayed the day's events to the guy
behind the counter. *What an eye-opening experience. *Was this
typical, I asked.

"No. *I never fish that way. *Most people around here don't either.
That Jack is a real piece of work *No matter what the bugs and fish
are doing on any given day on the water he'll keep on throwing that
beetle and keep on catching fish."

Well, on the water, I had thought I had just been shown some keen
insight into the fish of Spring Creek. *I may have actually been
exposed to something that is more generally applicable to trout
anywhere. *A few months have gone by but but it's still not clear
exactly what is the proper lesson learned from that encounter. *Maybe
there is no lesson other than that I had witnessed a bit of
Pennsylvania trout magic.

Mu
San Jose, California

Welcome back, Mu, and nice report. FWIW, the technique you described
works very well on the Swift River in MA in summer and fall. Foam and
deer hair beetles, inchworms, and crickets are all productive when
fished in that manner.

On Feb 1, 5:13*am, rb608 wrote:


Nice TR Mu. *If nothing else, it'll make me look at those long flat
stretches with a bit more optimism. *Terrestrials, you say? *Hmmm.

Joe F.

Well I don't know if I'd take it that far. Obviously our guide had
enough history to know that this particular stretch was worth
exploring.

Mu