Hiking Up the Narrows

The Narrows section of Fishing Creek -- better known as Big Fishing Creek -- has the charm and feel of an old water color painting featuring a rustic cabin set back from the river bank, smoke curling out of the chimney, a lone angler standing in a pool fishing to rising trout.

If you hike to a stretch a few hundred yards from Narrows Road (which winds alongside much of the river in this section) the only sound one hears is the rush of water, the wings of a kingfisher and drumming of a distant grouse. If lucky, one can also hear the slurps of rising trout. Yellow, pink and purple wildflowers line foot paths along the bank. Deep runs push up against steep banks and giant boulders make the deep blue waters of the narrow creek perilous to waders.

In short, the Narrows is what a trout stream is supposed to be. It is a haven in a world bent on rushing past faster than the water rushing over the rocks in this Central Pennsylvania stream. The other anglers are few, far between and either silent or politely interested in your luck. One can walk for miles, fish for hours and not say a word or see another soul. A thick canopy of pines and hardwoods keep much of the river in shade. The small cabins that line the bank often show signs of wear, hinting at a more prosperous past and teasing me that perhaps I could find a way to own a piece in the future. Property owners are generous, allowing anglers to access their property as long as the cabins are unoccupied -- although fishing is prohibited on the Lord's day. If I can't own the cabin, I can still enjoy sitting in its shadow and daydreaming.

I fished it on Saturday morning and managed a few smaller browns aggressively feeding on the tail end of what reports had said was a robust grannom hatch. While the fishing wasn't great, the scenery gave me plenty of memories to cherish. My only regret is that I only have one day to spend in the Narrows.

In the Narrows

The narrows section of Fishing Creek, aka Big Fishing Creek, is an appropriately named stretch of a beautiful stream that flows through one of the many valleys around State College. The narrows is paralleled by a road so access is relatively easy and property owners generously welcome anglers, except on Sundays.

On this Saturday afternoon I fished a section that had been very productive for me the year before. It starts with a fast, narrow riffle that spills into a long flat pool, before turning again through a riffle and run that rushes past one of the more beautiful cabins on this stretch. I came up empty in the fast water, which didn't bode well for a productive afternoon. There were a few sporadic rises in the slow moving pool and I tied on a parachute ant since there was no hatch.

On the first cast a small trout rose to the ant, but the fish eluded the hook. Or more likely, I eluded the fish. I struggled to cast over my left shoulder, as pine trees lined the bank over my right. I managed to get a good cast out to where a trout had risen a few times. As the fly drifted back toward me a trout rose from the bottom to interrupt its journey. I hooked this fish true and enjoyed feeling life pulse through the St. Croix 5-weight rod. The trout pulled hard down into the deep part of the pool before rushing back toward the surface, breaking out of the water and into the 80 degree air. He did a cartwheel or two before tiring and coming to hand. The golden fish with colored spots and red gills quickly swam back into the pool once released, leaving me with a reminder of why the narrows is such a special place.

What the Guide Said -- Drown the Ants

After a challenging hour of nymphing for brown trout on Spring Creek Sunday morning, I thought of what the guide had said the night before at the end of an even more challenging day/evening/night of fishing on Penns Creek.

“We should have tried the sunken ant again in the evening on those sporadic risers,” Eric Stroup suggested. From the tone of his voice I knew he wasn’t all that sure about the idea – after all the fish were pretty tough to come by all day long in the clear water of Penns. Yes, a few had moved to the ant about mid-day and a more skilled angler would have landed some of the big ones. But as it was we didn’t see a single fish caught by any other anglers – and there were more fishermen on the stream than I see most days steelheading on the Rocky River. And the few fish I caught all came on different flies. But one thing about trout fishing, there’s always another fly to try – even if it is in hindsight.

I sat on a flat-topped bolder along the bank of Spring and watched the water rush over one of the handful of limestone shelves that broke up the half-mile stretch of straight stream. Thunder rumbled overhead, a reminder that at any moment the promised thunderstorms could bring a premature end to the trip. I pondered which fly to try next and decided to turn Eric’s hindsight into foresight. He was dead on.

After switching up my leader so it could handle a dry fly as an indicator, I tied a size 14 black wet ant as a trailer behind a Royal Humpy. I wanted a real good indicator fly that would float well and I could see easily. I considered a parachute ant on top, but decided the Humpy would hold up better and I didn’t want to spend a lot of time greasing flies or swapping them out when they lost their float. I’d only seen a few fish rise that morning, and there weren’t many bugs on the water – unlike Penns. So I figured if I got any action it would be down below. Spring Creek is one of Central Pennsylvania’s most bountiful trout streams. The trout are plentiful and aren’t nearly as particular as those in Penns or Big Fishing Creek. In many ways, Spring is an ideal trout stream. Easy to wade, a nice path along on its bank. Its beauty was only enhanced by its relative solitude on this Sunday morning. I had seen two anglers fishing a stretch near the parking lot, but as I walked down the old dirt admiring the green canopy and hillsides there were no other anglers in sight. Indeed, I would fish about five hours that morning and only share the stream with three deer, a muskrat and a few ducks.

I had fished spring on Friday evening and Saturday morning, before joining Eric for the trek into Penns. (How Penns could be crowded and Spring empty remains a mystery, since Spring is close enough to State College to be considered urban fishing in these parts.) By mid morning Sunday I had caught enough fish on the trip to consider it a success by my low standards. But I knew there were more fish to be had, if only I could hit upon the right fly.

I had seen a brown trout flash in a narrow corner slot up against the far bank where water flowed over a limestone shelf and took a slight right hand turn and flowed in my direction back across the stream. The slot was smaller than a coffee table. The water was moving fast enough that I thought the fish would be a little less particular about my presentation. Penns Creek made my limitations as both a caster and a mender quite evident and I wanted to try to put the odds back in my favor.

While my casting form causes guides to cringe, I can get the fly to land pretty close to where I want, and at 15 yards I was able to land the Royal Humpy at the head of the slot and watched it shoot back down toward me. But I couldn’t watch it for long. On the first good drift the fly was pulled under and I set the hook on a brown trout that turned out to be about 10 inches long. Remarkably I took six browns out of that slot – a few in the 14 inch range. All of them hit the ant hard and fast and put a nice bend in my five-weight rod. The same held true as I explored other pockets of fast moving water as I hiked the creek. If a brown failed to take the ant in the first few casts I could move on because 15 minutes of working a spot wouldn’t turn up a fish. More often than not, I hooked a fish in the best looking spots.

Below one limestone shelf, branches from a tree along the bank extended right into the water providing an ideal overhang for the trout. It was nearly time to head back to the car for the four-hour drive back to suburbia, but this run just looked too appealing to pass up. I landed the Humpy at the edge of the shelf and the fly quickly got engulfed in the fast water that shot under the branches. As the fly headed under the leaves I decided to cast again, but as I lifted the fly rod I felt a heavy trout on the other end and a large brown surprised me by leaping out of the water right at me. He jumped a few more times with the acrobatic skills of a rainbow. The hefty brown brought a close to a trout filled morning and a weekend of many memories.

Thanks Eric for reminding me to drown the ants.

Lucky Seven with Eric Stroup?

In my 30 plus years of fly fishing I've had the pleasure of fishing with six different guides in California, Utah, Montana, Colorado, Pennsylvania, and New York. Every experience has been good, but I've yet to have a great guide experience. I'm hoping that will change Saturday when I get to spend the day with Eric Stroup of the Spruce Creek Fly Co. Eric's new book, Common-Sense Fly Fishing, has paid for itself many times over and I review his tips nearly every evening -- if I cannot be fishing, I might as well pretend. The book is a godsend for anglers like me that don't get enough fishing time in to hone our limited skills. Following Eric's tips and strategies has allowed me to spend more time this spring catching fish and less time pondering what the heck is going on in the stream.

And that's what a good guide does; he strips away all of the distractions and helps the "sport" focus on what it takes to hook a fish. The first guide I fished with said he could help me hook a fish, but landing them was pretty much up to me. And after fishing with multiple guides, I've decided that's pretty much captures things. There are a ton of factors that are beyond a guide's control -- weather, flows, hatches etc. and the "sport" needs to accept that reality. But the good guides know where the trout hang out and the techniques required to get at least a few to strike. And the best guides share enough information to enlighten and entertain the "sport."

After listening to Eric speak earlier this year in Cleveland and after reading his book, I'm pretty sure I'll be enlightened and entertained. And I'm pretty sure he'll be able to show me where the trout hang out on the Little J and surrounding streams. But whether it turns into a great guided trip is really going to be up to me and all those factors outside our control. And right now the "weather" factor doesn't look promising with scattered thunderstorms forecasted for Friday/Saturday. And the flows are looking pretty low. Yep, I'm trying to prepare myself for things not living up to expectations. But I will stay optimistic tha the fish gods will smile on guided trip number 7.

State College Lessons

I spent the weekend in State College, Pennsylvania, home of Penn State University. The intent was to get schooled by some brown trout. I did. But, mostly I learned that even spring creeks get muddy when the monsoons hit.

I should have taken some pictures of Penns Creek, flowing brown and full to its banks, but I didn't want to take the time to stop the car... Even little Elk Creek was raging fast, although up by its head it was still fishable Saturday afternoon. Dreams of fishing Spruce Creek on Sunday before heading back home were dashed by high and muddy water. A few cars were in the public access parking area run by Penn State, but I cannot imagine what the anglers were thinking they'd catch. I guess they believe, as do I, better to wear waders than anything at all. But I just kept driving and headed home.

The above picture shows the water on Big Fishing Creek Saturday about noon. A few hours later it was unfishable. The next few blog posts will include some other lessons learned fishing Central Pennslyvania's most beautiful streams.