Streamside on Line

In this issue:

        Fall Fish (Beth Wilson)
        Notes From The Tying Bench (Bob Molzahn)
        The Dropper Makes The Difference (Joe King)
        Utah Sojourn (John Burgos)
        Holiday Gifting (Mel Walters)
        Website Update Announcing DJL E-Mail
        New Members
      

Articles, news and fly tying tips are gratefully accepted. Please e-mail them to us using the Feedback section shown on the left.

My son and I go to the stream on a warm afternoon in October, one of those wonderful afternoons where the temperature reaches into the upper seventies even though the first frost has fallen. It is a warm, lingering kiss goodbye from summer, full of the promise that it will return again, a day that one holds in the memory when the snow drifts against the door and February’s icy voice whispers to the heart that summer has abandoned the earth forever.

The trees along the bank glow with color, warm and fiery, so different from the cool, shady green they were just a few weeks ago. Although this change happens every year, I am always stunned by how magnificent this transformation is, and by the glow of the reds, yellows and oranges. I know that, using any medium, I could never capture those colors—they seem to be a property of the light shining through them, and makes the sight all the more precious for its fleeting, untranslatable quality.

A sudden breeze blows up, and scatters leaves over the surface of the creek, turning the moving water into a huge, slow-winding snake, whose multicolored scales gleam in the sun and move sinuously along, revealing and restating the movement of the current beneath. In a few places, fish move in the water and ripple the surface, striking at the newly fallen leaves. Silver rings vibrate the face of the dark water where the fish have been.

We are bait fishing today. I like to fly fish, but I’m not a fly fishing snob who believes that the only honorable way to approach the water is with fly rod in hand. I like my spinning rod, and there is no substitute for bait fishing when you feel like just sitting and taking in the day. My son and I hook up the worms and take off in opposite directions, fishing together and alone at the same time. We are close enough together to share the bait and the pleasure of each other’s catches when they occur, but we are also lost to everything but the solitude of fishing when we are between fish. I wonder what my boy really thinks of a mother who calmly reaches into the styrofoam cup of dirt and nightcrawlers, and who threads a worm onto a hook without batting an eyelash as it squirms madly. Am I a source of pride or embarrassment to him? Does he think I’m wonderful, or a loopy dame who needs to have her eccentricities indulged? Not that it matters—it’s been a long time since I have been anything but myself for the purpose of pleasing a man, and he is no exception. No matter what he thinks, I am who I am, and this is one of my favorite ways to be myself.

I get a few lackadaisical nibbles on my nightcrawler, and a few hard but distinctively sunfish-like strikes. As the sun begins to sink, I am able to see under the surface in some places where there was only sun-glare a few minutes ago. A shadow falls on the water, and I can see movement among the submerged roots of the tree next to which I am sitting, so I plop my worm into the water close to the bank. I watch as a sunfish darts out

from between tree’s dangling toes. His back is very dark, his color changed with both the season and his hiding place, and he has a black spot over his ear. He lunges at the worm, grabs it up in his mouth, and darts back into the sheltering cave. I pull on the rod and find that he has embedded the hook in the tree, so that he can eat the worm at his leisure and foul my line in the process. The stunt is so clever for such a small creature that I cannot become upset. I cut the line and retie another hook, smiling at the way the little ones in nature use their wits to compensate for their tiny portion of strength.

During this drama, my son has stopped fishing and has gone exploring. He comes back, carrying something.

"Mom! Look what I found!"

It’s a box turtle. When I was his age, box turtles were plentiful in this area, but now the find is rare. This is an old turtle, too: his shell is about nine or ten inches from his head to his tail, and his legs barely fit into the sides of the shell, they are so broad and thick. I admire his burliness and his obvious longevity, and as I examine him, I notice that he is carrying some blackish-green things on his shell. At first I think that they are pieces of fallen leaf that have turned moldy in the water. Then I take a closer look.

"Son, that turtle is covered with leeches!"

I look at the boy, and I can tell from his expression that his bravery reserve is strained, but he continues to hold the turtle: he does not drop it in panic at the mention of the nasty, slimy, bloodsucking things that are living on the turtle’s shell. I feel a slight queasiness, but I know a secret about leeches, and I tell it to the boy. He looks at me in shock.

"You’re actually going to put one of those things on your hook?"

"Fish love them. Even better, we get them off that poor turtle and give them something useful to do."

He scrapes the leeches off the turtle’s shell with a twig, puts them on a curled brown leaf that has fallen from an oak tree and sets the leaf down next to me. The leeches are still reacting to being unseated from their resting place: they wave a sucker in the air, searching for a place to attach. I pick one off the leaf, avoiding that waving tentacle, and hook the thing to my line.

I cast the line once, twice, three times, and I feel a sudden and strong tug. There is absolutely no question that whatever is down there wanted that leech. The fish swerves and runs through the water, attempting escape, and I let it run and tire a bit, then reel it in. A smallmouth bass rises from the water, about nine inches long and scrappy, green with a slightly pinkish tinge to his pale yellow belly. He is hooked just the way I like fish to be, just in the corner of his mouth, so that the release is quick and easy. I catch him looking at me as I remove the hook, his golden green eye rolling so that he can keep his focus on the large animal that is me and who looks at him with equal interest. I become aware that this is definitely a meeting of two very different lives, and his unwavering stare, the intensity with which he studies me, convinces me that he is thinking about how I look as much as I am thinking about how he looks. Surprisingly and delightfully, there is no fear or pain in his expression—just fascination.

The sun is sinking fast, so I call to my son, who has found a school of rock bass and is hauling them out and putting them back as quickly as he can cast....he says he stopped counting at thirteen. We break down the rods and head out, feeling that we have been given a gift from the gods. They have allowed us to have a summer day of fishing in the middle of a glowing fall afternoon. As the dark closes in and the air chills, I think about how this will all be over for the season very soon... in fact, this may have been the last time. Again, I think about how there are things in the world that are made marvelous just because they are so perishable, and that there is probably nothing more fragile, and therefore more wonderful, than a good fishing day in October.

It is hard to believe this is the twentieth issue of STREAMSIDE. I wasn’t sure if this issue would ever happen as my old Gateway PC finally crashed and I was forced to buy a new PC. My computer whiz neighbor helped me tear the hard drives out of my dead Gateway and jury rig them to copy the files to the new hard drive. Needless to say, months of work were on those old hard drives including our mailing list, all the graphic and newsletter files. Of course I had to also upgrade the software to the latest version of Microsoft Publisher causing me further trepidation. As of this writing it is finally coming back together. Whew!

Speaking of technology, our webmaster, Gil Padovani, continues to make improvements and additions to our webpage. We added a Trout Fisher’s Journal page. The thought behind this was to allow our members to email us with recent fishing reports and other on-stream happenings. Check it out and let’s hear from you.

In our last issue of this newsletter, I mentioned that the Green Valleys Association bought the old meat packing plant at Hollow and Pughtown Roads. They are just now organizing a fund raising campaign to pay for demolishing it, which should be this summer if all goes well. We will be updating you in January about this important project and telling you how you can help.

Camp Sleepy Hollow, located just above the top wire of the DHFFO area on French Creek, was purchased by the French and Pickering Conservation Trust. The property will be preserved in its natural state, minus the dilapidated buildings, which will eventually be torn down. The camp is the site of the old Sowbelly Railroad which ran along French Creek.

Streamflows in French Creek are back to normal levels after falling to record low levels this summer. Hurricane Floyd helped a lot in this regard. Unfortunately, the storm also deposited tons and tons of sand in much of the streambed. Surely this will negatively effect aquatic insect populations and hatches in the coming years. These populations have never fully recovered from the bad winter of 1995. Frankly, I have never seen anything quite like this. With all the development planned for our area, the outlook for French Creek and the other nearby streams such as the Pickering and Valley Creeks is bleak. Nevertheless, there are things we can do including attending our township supervisor’s meetings and making sure they are doing their job in enforcing the sedimentation and erosion control requirements for new developments.

Our annual membership meeting and election of our Officers and Board Members is coming up in January. Our Big Fall Raffle for the Old Towne Kayak, Custom-Made Fly Rod and Fly Tying Kit will also be held. If you haven’t purchased tickets yet you should. The net proceeds from the raffle fund our Stream Improvement Projects.

I am pleased to report that we have added a new sponsor, the New Red Rooster Deli. We will be raffling off a few free lunches at this establishment at our monthly meetings. Try them out. They are only a minute from the DHFFO area on French Creek, have great food, and are very friendly.

Lastly, if you haven’t renewed your membership in the League you should. Why? Because it is the only way you are going to get a 10% discount on all fishing and boating related items at French Creek Outfitters. FCO will be moving to Valley Forge Mall on Rt. 23 in Phoenixville next May. They are planning to expand their fly fishing department and offer more boating items.

Have a great holiday season!

My story starts in New York on the Ausable River. League members Bob Molzahn, Shel Toombs, Scott Haeberlein and I met to enjoy some late May fly fishing. The caddis hatches were all-day events with rising trout taking elk hair caddis and sparkle caddis. Evenings were even better with spinner falls of March Brown mayflies. We stayed at The Hungry Trout in Wilmington, New York for four days, a top-notch fisherman’s retreat at a bargain price. We all caught a lot of trout, both stocked and wild. But that is not what this story is about.

We then moved on to Spruce Creek where we fished with a guide in private water. This little stream is jam-packed with large browns and rainbows. Our guide, Bill, spent the afternoon going among the three of us landing fish and taking pictures. After a great dinner in the lodge, it was back to work. Bill promised there would be a sulphur spinner fall. Spruce Creek has some of the strongest rainbows I've ever encountered. We all landed great fish that day. I hooked an 18-inch rainbow that took off downstream, and if not for Bob's help, would still be going! Bob landed the catch-of-the-day, a 24-inch brown trout, on a dry fly.

The next morning we were able to fish unguided on a private, one-mile stretch of the Little Juniata River better known as the "Little J". My pheasant-tail nymph was a close match for the sulphur mayflies. Fishing two nymphs in the knee-deep riffles was most productive. Bill showed us how to set up two nymphs. The dropper fly on a 12-inch 5X tippet is tied to the hook eye. This gives the nymph more movement (I was tying it to the bend of the hook.). When you cast, you must mend the line in mid-air so that the nymphs land on the water side by side and not one behind the other. This shows both nymphs to the trout.

And that brings me to the topic of this story -- the 13.5 miles of open water on the Little J. We stayed at the Huntington Motor Inn. It’s close to the Little J and cheap! On Friday of the Memorial Day weekend, the weather and water were perfect. In the early afternoon we parked at the bridge at Barree. Bob went upstream while Sheldon and I started right at the bridge. Moving in a straight line across the stream with my leader set up with beadhead sulphur and pheasant-tail nymphs, I started catching and releasing trout.

When I got to the other side, I would retrace my steps and move upstream about 50 feet. Sheldon was 200 yards above me and had not touched a fish in an hour. When I got within shouting distance, he asked what I was using. We were all using the same fly, but he did not have his dropper set up like mine. I showed him how to tie his dropper to the eye of the hook. That made all the difference in the world! Sheldon started to catch trout right away. In the meantime, Bob was upstream catching and releasing trout like the pro that he is! We fished the Little J on Friday and Saturday with good sulphur action in the evenings. On Saturday evening, with duns on the water, I fished nymphs right through the hatch.

What a great river the Little J is! The Little J is big water for Pennsylvania, so I would caution fellow anglers to use felt sole boots and a wading staff. In Charles L. (Charlie) Meck's new book, TROUT STREAMS AND HATCHES OF PENNSYLVANIA, there is a good description of the Little J.

However, I suppose Scott and Bev Haeberlein -- made the biggest catch of all: a little future fly fisher, Charles Francis Haeberlein! High rod, Scotty! Congratulations!

Recently, I had the good fortune of taking a business trip to Salt Lake City (SLC), Utah. To fly fishers from the East, SLC will probably not make a Top 5 list of trout fishing's western destinations. It boasts no "Blue Ribbon" names like the Madison or Roaring Fork. But I am here to tell you differently. The SLC area I speak of actually ranges from Provo (to the South) to Ogden in the North. It is situated at the western end of the beautiful Wasatch Mountains. These mountains are more famous for their legendary 500 inch annual snowfall and such famous Ski Areas as Snowbird, Park City and Robert Redford's Sundance. But through every canyon into the mountains flows a trout filled river.

Provo River, to the south of SLC boasts trout as large as those in the famous Green River. The Weber and the Ogden Rivers flow to the north of SLC. Asking the locals I heard stories of astonishingly large fish being taken from all mentioned fisheries. Did I mention that each of these rivers is about one hour from downtown SLC. These rivers are no secret to the locals. SLC has an avid population of fly fishers and I am told the trout are quite knowledgeable.

It seems that every river in the SLC area winds its way through a gorgeous canyon on its journey towards the Great Salt Lake. If one of your requirements is scenic backdrops these rivers will not disappoint you.

As fate would have it my hotel was right next to a local tackle shop. Like an unavoidable magnetic attraction I found myself in that shop after my first full day at work. As I am one to forego crowds in search of solitude I inquired about a stream of less size and slightly more out of the way. My local expert directed me to the Logan River, through the beautiful Logan Canyon.

When Friday approached I had successfully maneuvered my workload to free me up by noon. I also had a friend from the East arriving at noon and we expected to be wading deep by two. My first drive through the Utah mountains was as impressive as the curving road through the canyon. Where we finally fished was a beautiful, clear, rock-strewn creek no wider than French Creek with a flow consistent with normal spring flows. This creek was loaded with native cutthroats. The first I have ever caught! I do not profess any expertise in this sport nor do I ever really understand the hatches and correct fly selections. However, I was quite persistent and thus I had some success. I caught no monsters but was told that an 18-inch fish would not be out of sight. In about four hours I was able to catch and release about 15 cutthroat trout. In my eyes it was a very fine afternoon.

The following day, following the suggestion of my new favorite tackle shop, we ventured into southwestern Wyoming to catch "some really big fish" at Ham's Fork in Kemmerer (home of the very first J.C. Penney's). Ever hear of it? Me neither. How many of these places are there? This stream was a meandering meadow stream with a silty bottom, deep undercuts and incredibly large holes at every serpentine turn. We had to fight gale like wind this particular day but nothing would dampen our elusive quest for that lunker trout. I waited all day for any hatch to occur but had to settle for dredging trout up with that old reliable prince nymph (western version of the hare's ear). As usual the really big ones must have seen me coming. But I did manage a handful of fish over 16 inches, both rainbows and browns and many more small tykes. Unfortunately (and slightly awestruck), I witnessed and measured a nice local man and son's brown trout of 25 inches (yes that is right) on his stringer, subdued by a Mepps spinner! That was the largest native trout this author’s eyes have ever seen. On Sunday we decided to venture a little deeper into the mountains and ended up on Smith's Fork near Cokeville, Wyoming. If you haven't figured it out by now, I try to go to locations nobody has ever heard of. This river is actually on the other side of the mountain from Ham's Fork but of entirely different character. It is accessible for 18 miles of the main road with the last six suitable only for mountain goats or rental cars. It was much more a mountain stream with lots of casting room, crystal clear water and a stony bottom. Not unlike the streams in the now famous "Fishing the Bob" slide show. Although I expected more from this stream I guess the conditions were not quite right. Several hatches tried to start and few fish rose to the. Although I caught my largest cutthroat (about 14 inches), my friend caught a 17 inch rainbow. This stream yielded few trout that day. It was, however, whitefish heaven. Somehow something always find away of making your day memorable.

As this article is truly about Salt Lake City let me point out that all these locations are, at most, slightly more that two hours drive, mostly on interstate. Even closer to Salt Lake is the High Uintah Wilderness area. This wilderness area boasts many peaks over 13,000 ft and more lakes than you could fish in a lifetime. For those geology nuts, it is also the only range of mountains in North America that runs East-West. In addition to these locations, the Snake River and tributaries are about the same distance by heading North into Idaho. The southern reach of the Wind River range is in reach in a little more than three hours. For the really adventurous, the Flaming Gorge and Green River is about four hours away.

In closing, I cannot say enough of the overall experience that I had fishing this area of our country. Although I discovered this area as a result of a job-related trip, I will return for totally unrelated and unfinished business.

The holiday season is upon us. And people (‘gifters’) often fish around for gift ideas or suggestions. This can provide a great opportunity, to give or receive. Consider these ideas.

FIRST: RAFFLE TICKETS! A 6-pack of our club raffle tickets (for only $5) makes a great stocking-stuffer, for self or others. "Kewl. Look what Santa gave me – a kayak!" And better odds than lottery tix!

SECOND: GIFT CERTIFICATES! If you are one of those folks that others find difficult ‘to gift’, just drop subtle hints that a gift certificate from (select one of the club’s fine sponsors) would be very welcome. With gift certificates from the vendor of your choice, you get: (a) what you want; instead of (b) what someone else happens to select. At the same time, you are thanking one of the club’s sponsors for their year-round support! You avoid a gift that duplicates something (you already have one, and don’t really it need anyway). With multiple gift certificates from a single selected vendor, you can pool the value for that new pair of waders you need, or at least the down payment on that expensive rod you really need.

As ‘giftee’, you have a responsibility to stand up for your rights! If you get your choice, you don’t have to ask for the receipt so you can return to the seller for an exchange (‘a’ versus ‘b’ above). And you also don’t receive the incidental stuff that people give when they know your totem is fish and fishing. I already have enough ‘theme’ items such as: fishing Xmas-tree ornaments; 3" decorative wicker creels; "witty" plaques; beginners fishing books (101 Tips for…); or tiny fishing hats decorated with bizarre fly patterns. And if finally you do receive items you don’t want or need, donate them to the club for a raffle prize. Happy holidays!

Are you tired of sharing your email account with your spouse and kids? Are you concerned that your company’s sysop may read your email? Don’t look any further because "DJL-EMAIL" is a totally free email service now available on our web site. It is safe, easy to access, and easy to use. Everyone, club members and non-club members alike, can take advantage of this feature. You can avail yourself of DJL-EMAIL either as your only email system, if you presently don’t have one, or as an additional email system to complement the one you are already using.

DJL-EMAIL is a web based email system. Unlike standalone email systems such as AOL or MSN, it must be accessed through our web site. The most significant advantage of web based email is its portability: You can be at a friend’s house anywhere in the world and send or receive messages regardless of which service provider (i.e AOL, MSN, etc.) your friend is connected to and, at no cost to him or her.

Another great feature of DJL-EMAIL is its POP option. Let’s say your present email provider is AOL and you are at a friend’s house on the other side of the continent. Your friend does not use AOL. All you need to do is log on to our website, bring up your DJL- EMAIL account and, from it, access your AOL email using the POP option.

Club members can also take pride in the fact that their email address is distinctive of our club’s name. What’s the catch? NONE! This is a situation where everyone wins. You get free email, the email service provider gets to show a few banner ads and our club benefits from increased web site exposure.

Don’t wait! Go to our web site (www.djlflyfishers.org), sign up now and ask your friends and family members to do the same.

By the way, if you are not on the DJL email list you should be. Send a note to frenchcreek@email.djlflyfishers.org now! No spam, we promise.

We extend a warm welcome to our new members: Frank Bason, Bob Gormon, Rich Heckler, Rich Valitski, Tom Zacoi and Maggie and Sara Locke.
We look forward to seeing them at upcoming meetings and club events.