Fat Old Sun

The tide is slowly turning. Technically speaking, if one goes by the laws of Newtonian physics it's still winter out there, but in my heart, where it counts, it's most definitely springtime here in Pennsylvania. And there's no place on this green planet I'd rather be at this time of the year then the Ralph W. Abel Memorial Glen along Penns Creek in the now appropriately named Bald Eagle State Forest.

Yes, I know the Baetis mayflies are hatching on Spring Creek and the Lehigh Valley limestoners thus providing the first quality dry fly fishing of the year. Trouble is, so do 3/4 of all the other fish hunters in Pennsylvania. Call me an individualist, an iconoclast or simply an idiot, I opted out of that dance to pitch some woven perla stonefly nymphs in the near perfect flows of Penns Creek. Instead of seeing an asshole every 50 yards apart I only saw 2 other anglers in 2 days of fishing over 4 miles of delectable pocket water.

Flows were dropping from 550 to 450 CFS over those 2 days, water temperatures were in the low to mid 40's and clarity was limestone green in the deeper pools and runs and crystal clear in the riffles. Saturday was chilly,  a fleece jacket,  fingerless wool gloves and and stocking cap kind of day. Sunday was just the opposite and I was geeking around in the sunshine without a jacket or sweater for the first time this year.

After spying a small flock of turkeys, one pileated woodpecker and several robins I no longer cared  what the calendar or Newtonian physics said. It was just good to be out in the woods again. The hatching insects I noted were a few early black stoneflies and a bunch of stupid midges, all of which went unnoticed by the Penns Creek fish, as they should at these moderate flows.

How was the fishing? Slow, as it almost always is on bright sunny days on Penns Creek but it was not without it's rewards. I only caught 4 fish all weekend but every one was 15 inches or better and in fine fat shape after a year of virtually unmolested feeding. I'm in pretty fat shape myself after a year of feeding on Spatola's pizza.

You'll reap the harvest you have sown.

 Yes I know it's a pretty sucky shot but I was kind of excited and it was the best I could do under the circumstances. So go ahead and sue me, I dare you.

When you come right down to it, I guess I have the same problems as any other 55 year old man. Wading these turbulent springtime flows and climbing over large rocks that are slicker than deer guts on a doorknob sure can take a lot out of me by the end of the day. This bench must have been placed here by the river gods just for my afternoon lunch break.

 Shelter from the unwashed masses. You may have noticed by now that there's not another angler in sight in any of these shots, except for myself. I took a shower last Saturday night.

 Trapped in a net of life and time. Not unlike the rest of us.

Near perfect streamflows, empty parking lots, bright sunny bluebird skies and a few nice brown trout all conspired to make for an intoxicating weekend in the Abel's Glen. If these current stream flows continue it could set the table for some fine dry fly fishing come grannom and hendrickson time.

 All fish fell for a heavily weighted size 10 Clayton Peters woven perla stonefly nymph. A classic Pennsylvania fly pattern if there ever was one. And yes, I know what everyone is already thinking; why didn't I try one of Glen Gutgold's never-fail Furry Foam Stonefly Nymphs® ? Well not only am I too fat but I'm forgetting stuff now too.

So how green was my valley? Not very just yet. But the tide is turning...