First Cold Spell. Neshannock Creek 11/28

Headed up to Neshannock Creek with Logan. Cold morning temps brought out the fleece liner pants for the first time this year. Landed a few here and there, even raised some on the surface.

Fished the main stretch in Volant then tried over at Cool Spring for the last hour. Logan landed one there and missed a few. Would be a nice spot to try again in the spring.

Foothills Fun in Fall

Guest blogger Josh Berezansky has taken the reigns for this installment of the blog's most recent fishing adventure.

November 22, 2009

Has the fumes of the opposite sex and adolescence sincerely taken over the vice of passionate portrayal? Due to the typical collegiate outlook, it’s been over a month since my last blog, and sadly, I’ve forever lost quite a few memories shared with new lifetime friends all sharing the same passion as myself. Women… bars… also known as ‘teenage wasteland’ has left me closing my eyes in unfamiliar places. and taken up the lay time I usually, though now seldom, devoted to my concentration on fly fishing. Razz, a friend I met through the fisherie.com forums, has been at me for weeks about getting to the water together. I finally had enough after countless threads that were posted with laurel highland fish that make even the novice angler’s heart race just a little faster at the tug of a swing or slurp of a dry. I twisted and turned the night before, rising just after 5 am and began the journey into the upper reaches of the Appalachian mountain range. After a brief introduction with Razz, we loaded the rods onto the straps that reside on the hood of his car, and were soon ginking our dries while quietly approaching the wild rainbows I had put my research in over the past year to locate. Our groggy eyes were quickly opened just a bit more as we saw a scurry of wild fins race upstream, forcefully reminding us that stealth, not fly selection, was the key to our success today. After missed opportunities, the splash of a small wild brought out the second nature of a fly fisherman, the hook set, and Razz and I were photographing the first catch of the day, all smiles, and a sense of optimism now touched the ground with each tread upstream.A few wild bows photographed, a few missed strikes that were accompanied with laughs, and the sun now high in the sky, we ventured to another wild stream that I had heard nothing but positive reports about, but surprisingly never ventured to. Easy public parking and a community center bordered the stream’s access, instantly bringing on that pessimistic outlook on wild fish being in the vicinity, however, was quickly diminished after wild brook trout was swimming out of my hands after the second drift into a hole that cut and eroded the bank, showing the roots of healthy, thick maple. With little time to fish, and the desire to swing some buggers to the fall stocking of fish in a local dhalo, we focused on the best stretches of stream, and moved rather fast. In the distance, I could see the mecca of the freestoner; a run that ran 40+ yards with a plunge pool at the head. As Razz slowly worked the tail, I could see an abnormally large fish sitting at the bottom of an emerging rock. Razz quickly id’d the fish and threw a size 12 stimulator a few feet to the left, and behold, a 16 wild brown turned to it’s side, slowly making it’s way in perfect harmony to the fly. A gentle sip and the firm set of Razz’s bamboo set the fish into fight and flight, ripping and tearing through the stretch desperately trying to break his tippet, but to no avail. Not a soul was seen on the waters we walked, adding to the story book experience. It’s days like this, when we, as anglers, set off into serene places, absorbing the tranquility of nature at it’s finest, that we are reminded the simplest things in life are actually the most complicated, yet most treasured things to acquire.

Happy Thanksgiving

Highlands Romp

With minimal coaxing I was able to convince Tim to come out to Pittsburgh from Harrisburg. He wanted some "Arns and a Primanti Sammich". Logan came up from Washpa and we hit the South Side. The two of them got moderately to severely intoxicated while I DD'd them from Dormont to South Side and back. Home and to bed around 2:30am, up with the alarm clock at 5am. Logan still "woozy" from too many Irish Carbombs. Loaded gear and humans into the Red Troutmobile and headed for the Highlands under the cloak of darkness. My two passengers unable to keep their eyes open for much of the ride...

Started off at Meadow run to try for some of the stockies who have gotten smarter over the last few weeks. Add low clear water and it would be tough going. Tim got one in faster water. To the mouth we headed.

Nothing going at the mouth. Worked back up Meadow, chased this Palimino around.

Worked some water above the Natural Slides, Tim landed another.

Went over to Cucumber falls, the trickle was 99% devoid of the spawning trouts we saw the past few weeks.

Worked the Yough river pretty well, saw a few bruisers, swung some massive streamers, no takers. Left Ohiopyle area to head to a native stream. Stopped for some much needed refreshments.

Worked behind Tim and Logan who missed out on this little fella
Met back up with them a ways up, Tim had got into a few native brookies on his new bamboo rod to break it in a little.
Headed for home, my fellow Trout Bums helped me stay awake along the way...

Back to the highlands

Dad had steelbows on his mind. But not me, Erie is a zoo. Low water, spooky, well decorated fish, tons of goofballs. After the recent successes in the highlands I convinced him to take a Troutbum trip with us. Was out in South Side with friends for a birthday, got home around 1:30am, slept for a few hours, Dad arrived at 5, picked up Logan in Washpa and off to the mountains. Met up with Uncle Tom in the parking lot. Fished the main spots with no success, made our way down to the river.

Picked up this girlie on a white bugger

Then this little wild fella on an egg pattern
Wild Boyz

Made it down to the main river, Dad went for a swim, Uncle Tom wandered, Logan drank a beer, I fished.

Saw a piggie Palimino hanging out at the mouth, wanted him bad, but hooked this nice river brown in the process.

Logan hooked a nice rainbow, but it eluded the net.

Hiked back upstream, found a few more wild girls.

They sure like the orange/peach blood dot egg...

Refreshed at the parking lot with some lovely turkey sandwiches prepared by Miss Andrea. We were going to head over to C. Falls, so I decided to string up the little bamboo to play with the little wild trouts.

Landed one little feller right away, but there definately weren't as many spawners in the creek as there were the previous week. Didn't help that gawkers and hikers had a few dogs thrashing in the water.

Logan got this pretty male.

Made our way to the mouth where it enters the big river, it looked fishey... Armed with my tiny bamboo rod I started searching for fall back spawners. Drifting my egg just outside the mouth of the run my light went slack, saw a big flash, but didnt get a good hook set. I knew she hadnt moved from that spot. Drifted for another 4 minutes, then my line bumped, knew it wasn't a rock, then the line went slack again, I cranked the the little rod to the sky nearly splintering it in the process. The battle was on with this taimen of a spawned out lady. I had to keep her out of the fast river rapids, Logan nearly went for a swim netting it, but she was landed before the rod completly bent in half.

20" and perfectly healthy river rainbow

Fished the mouth a bit more, landed another rainbow on a bugger, Dad landed two, but wasn't available for pictures...

We hiked back out, and complained about sore knees the whole way home.