East Coast Pride.

Bent Rod Media's latest and greatest: 

Down on the Farm.

http://bentrodmedia.wordpress.com/

East Coast Pride.

Bent Rod Media's latest and greatest: 

Down on the Farm.

http://bentrodmedia.wordpress.com/

One of These Days...

My cell phone alarm awakened me early Sunday morning urging me to get the hell out of bed and go fishing. After the initial shock, I opened my tired eyes and in the gloom of the backlit screen I saw my two Labradors looking at me in the dark. They shifted their gaze and looked at each other before collapsing sideways into me. Their combined weight nearly pushed me off the bed. They must have thought I was crazy to be waking up at such an hour to leave the warm confines of my bed and head out into the heart of one of the season's first noreasters. I got their message and stopped the alarm.

Fall on the Pohopoco.

The Fish Congregate Under the Rhododendron. 

I awoke several hours later and this time both dogs were off of my bed, eagerly gazing up at me. This time, they wanted me to get up. I obliged, and took them out for some early morning exercise. Tired and panting relentlessly, Riley and Sophie came back inside. They saw me head for my fishing gear and realized I was about to leave them. Normally, any movement towards a jacket or shoes results in several jumps or excited moans and groans. It's wierd when the dogs know when they are and are not welcomed. I always feel bad taking one and leaving the other, so they both get left behind. One day, when they are both mature enough to handle fishing and have some sort of stream etiquette, they will never be turned away.

A Shallow Poho Run.

The View From Below.

I arrived at the Pohopoco Creek tailwater emptying out of the Beltzville Dam around 9 a.m. The place was empty and I headed down to the stream. Looking downstream, a small layer of fog hovered precariously above the water. I rigged up my outfit and fumbled tying on my 7x on the dropper. For mid October, the weather felt more like late November. The cold air caused the joints in my hands to ache and the strongs winds traveled down any opening in my outer armor. The first cast produced a stocked rainbow who fell victim to a small, soft hackled flashback pheasant tail. I slowly made my way downstream and then back up. Heading upstream, I was casting directly into a strong wind that often caused my dry dropper combo to collapse in a heap of ruin. Every so often I got my long leader to unroll upstream and produce.

The First Bow = Mangled Mouth.

Ahh, Much Prettier.

Soft Hackle PT Slays.

& Claims Another.

Soft Hackle Hares Ear Does The Job Too.

Underwater Release.

Taking time off from fishing, I played around with the river bottom, lifting and turning over large rocks accompanied by thick vegetation. The stream was alive with insect life. Olive and yellow caddis, black and golden stones, and a strong population of sow and cressbugs. I took my time trying to take some micro shots. I took even more time trying to find a large black stone. I only produced a small one around a size 12. I tied on one of the blackstones I tied for the Salmon River. It was a size 6 with a tungsten bead and rubber legs galore. I heaved it upstream behind a fallen log. In the 12 inch water, the tungsten hit bottom in less than a second. In around 2 seconds, I saw a flash and set the hook. A small wild brown could not resist the large meal and he came to my cold eager hands.

Large Caddis Dwarfing A Small Stone.

One of the Small Stones.

Cress Bug.

Green Caddis Larva.

Small Black Stone.

My Large Black Imitation.

Score.

The next time I head out, one or both of those labs are coming with me. They need more training and I guess the only way to find out if they can handle it, is to throw them into the fire. If they spook all the fish or runaway, so be it. I'll probably have as big a smile on my face as they will on theirs.

One of These Days...

My cell phone alarm awakened me early Sunday morning urging me to get the hell out of bed and go fishing. After the initial shock, I opened my tired eyes and in the gloom of the backlit screen I saw my two Labradors looking at me in the dark. They shifted their gaze and looked at each other before collapsing sideways into me. Their combined weight nearly pushed me off the bed. They must have thought I was crazy to be waking up at such an hour to leave the warm confines of my bed and head out into the heart of one of the season's first noreasters. I got their message and stopped the alarm.

Fall on the Pohopoco.

The Fish Congregate Under the Rhododendron. 

I awoke several hours later and this time both dogs were off of my bed, eagerly gazing up at me. This time, they wanted me to get up. I obliged, and took them out for some early morning exercise. Tired and panting relentlessly, Riley and Sophie came back inside. They saw me head for my fishing gear and realized I was about to leave them. Normally, any movement towards a jacket or shoes results in several jumps or excited moans and groans. It's wierd when the dogs know when they are and are not welcomed. I always feel bad taking one and leaving the other, so they both get left behind. One day, when they are both mature enough to handle fishing and have some sort of stream etiquette, they will never be turned away.

A Shallow Poho Run.

The View From Below.

I arrived at the Pohopoco Creek tailwater emptying out of the Beltzville Dam around 9 a.m. The place was empty and I headed down to the stream. Looking downstream, a small layer of fog hovered precariously above the water. I rigged up my outfit and fumbled tying on my 7x on the dropper. For mid October, the weather felt more like late November. The cold air caused the joints in my hands to ache and the strongs winds traveled down any opening in my outer armor. The first cast produced a stocked rainbow who fell victim to a small, soft hackled flashback pheasant tail. I slowly made my way downstream and then back up. Heading upstream, I was casting directly into a strong wind that often caused my dry dropper combo to collapse in a heap of ruin. Every so often I got my long leader to unroll upstream and produce.

The First Bow = Mangled Mouth.

Ahh, Much Prettier.

Soft Hackle PT Slays.

& Claims Another.

Soft Hackle Hares Ear Does The Job Too.

Underwater Release.

Taking time off from fishing, I played around with the river bottom, lifting and turning over large rocks accompanied by thick vegetation. The stream was alive with insect life. Olive and yellow caddis, black and golden stones, and a strong population of sow and cressbugs. I took my time trying to take some micro shots. I took even more time trying to find a large black stone. I only produced a small one around a size 12. I tied on one of the blackstones I tied for the Salmon River. It was a size 6 with a tungsten bead and rubber legs galore. I heaved it upstream behind a fallen log. In the 12 inch water, the tungsten hit bottom in less than a second. In around 2 seconds, I saw a flash and set the hook. A small wild brown could not resist the large meal and he came to my cold eager hands.

Large Caddis Dwarfing A Small Stone.

One of the Small Stones.

Cress Bug.

Green Caddis Larva.

Small Black Stone.

My Large Black Imitation.

Score.

The next time I head out, one or both of those labs are coming with me. They need more training and I guess the only way to find out if they can handle it, is to throw them into the fire. If they spook all the fish or runaway, so be it. I'll probably have as big a smile on my face as they will on theirs.

Little Lehigh.

My planned weekend trip back up to the Salmon River to duel with large migratory salmonids was put on hold for a variety of reasons. Nonetheless, I still managed to get out and fish albeit for 12 inch trout instead of 12 pound trout. Saturday, I began my mini-adventure with an urge for carp on the new switch rod. I made the trip and fished for around an hour. I saw zero carp in the stained water of Lago x and decided that I was wasting my time blind casting for golden ghosts. Reluctantly, I decided to head to the Little Lehigh.

Be Prepared To Combat Fish on the Little Lehigh.

The Little Lehigh is a limestone stream flowing through the heart of Allentown, the third most populated area of Pennsylvania. It has one of the largest populations of wild brown trout in Pennsylvania despite the constant threat from runoff and development. These threats have increased greatly over the years and the results are easily noticed. The amount of sediment found in the stream has increased substantially and in my opinion, the fishing has suffered the consequences. Despite this, it still holds large numbers of trout, especially large numbers of stocked trout & hatchery escapees. The fishing on the Little Lehigh, for a beginner, can be extremely challenging. For someone who fishes the Little Lehigh regularly, it can be somewhat of a joke at times. Once you figure out the flies that work and the techniques needed, it can be like hitting the broad side of a barn. I hadn't fished the Little Lehigh for nearly a year, so I was interested to see how she was doing. 

Sight Fishing To Large Trout Rocks.

Arriving on the stream, I noticed how uncrowded it was. The cold weather, high winds, and rain made a lot of regulars stay home on this Saturday. I got out my 9ft 5, and headed to the glory hole. Packed along was a spool of tippet, a small fly box, clippers, and forceps. The hole was manned by several fly fisherman indicator nymphing under large pink thingamabobbers. I positioned myself high on some slippery rocks along the rapids feeding into the hole and eyed my quarry. My favorite method of fishing on the Little Lehigh is sight fishing. Nothing is better than picking out a large trout, presenting the flies to him, seeing the take, and setting the hook. I chose my fish carefully, presented the flies, and preceded to hook up regularly drawing the ire of the other fisherman. The high point came after hooking a very colorful rainbow that was pushing 18 inches. I kindly asked the nearby fisherman to take my picture and then showed him my flies to help out. I caught several more in the 12-18 inch range before packing it in. The majority of the fish were stocked save for a few nice browns. 

Colorful Little Lehigh Rainbow.

The Little Lehigh is great place to take friends and family who are new to the sport and introduce them to fly fishing. Along the way and with the right help, they have the chance of hooking a fish that would be a trophy on any other waterway.

Little Lehigh.

My planned weekend trip back up to the Salmon River to duel with large migratory salmonids was put on hold for a variety of reasons. Nonetheless, I still managed to get out and fish albeit for 12 inch trout instead of 12 pound trout. Saturday, I began my mini-adventure with an urge for carp on the new switch rod. I made the trip and fished for around an hour. I saw zero carp in the stained water of Lago x and decided that I was wasting my time blind casting for golden ghosts. Reluctantly, I decided to head to the Little Lehigh.

Be Prepared To Combat Fish on the Little Lehigh.

The Little Lehigh is a limestone stream flowing through the heart of Allentown, the third most populated area of Pennsylvania. It has one of the largest populations of wild brown trout in Pennsylvania despite the constant threat from runoff and development. These threats have increased greatly over the years and the results are easily noticed. The amount of sediment found in the stream has increased substantially and in my opinion, the fishing has suffered the consequences. Despite this, it still holds large numbers of trout, especially large numbers of stocked trout & hatchery escapees. The fishing on the Little Lehigh, for a beginner, can be extremely challenging. For someone who fishes the Little Lehigh regularly, it can be somewhat of a joke at times. Once you figure out the flies that work and the techniques needed, it can be like hitting the broad side of a barn. I hadn't fished the Little Lehigh for nearly a year, so I was interested to see how she was doing. 

Sight Fishing To Large Trout Rocks.

Arriving on the stream, I noticed how uncrowded it was. The cold weather, high winds, and rain made a lot of regulars stay home on this Saturday. I got out my 9ft 5, and headed to the glory hole. Packed along was a spool of tippet, a small fly box, clippers, and forceps. The hole was manned by several fly fisherman indicator nymphing under large pink thingamabobbers. I positioned myself high on some slippery rocks along the rapids feeding into the hole and eyed my quarry. My favorite method of fishing on the Little Lehigh is sight fishing. Nothing is better than picking out a large trout, presenting the flies to him, seeing the take, and setting the hook. I chose my fish carefully, presented the flies, and preceded to hook up regularly drawing the ire of the other fisherman. The high point came after hooking a very colorful rainbow that was pushing 18 inches. I kindly asked the nearby fisherman to take my picture and then showed him my flies to help out. I caught several more in the 12-18 inch range before packing it in. The majority of the fish were stocked save for a few nice browns. 

Colorful Little Lehigh Rainbow.

The Little Lehigh is great place to take friends and family who are new to the sport and introduce them to fly fishing. Along the way and with the right help, they have the chance of hooking a fish that would be a trophy on any other waterway.

Gunpowder Day One.

After another long week teaching, I spent my Friday night tying flies, drinking beer, and semi-watching A River Runs Through It in the background. I was gearing up for the Gunpowder River in Maryland and was pumped to get on the water for two days. The next morning, I made the hour and a half long trip north of Baltimore to do battle with some of the smallest & smartest trout I have ever fished for. 

Fall on the Gunpowder.

Typical Gunpowder Scenario.

They Were Stuck...

He Was Mad.

Typical Gunpowder Brown.

Butch Caddis Scores.

I arrived around 1:30 and the place was quite crowded. I made my way down to the stream and sight fished to several 7-8 inch browns in the low gin clear water. I was using a size 22 BWO dry fly on 7x that was probably too large to match the bugs on the water. Despite the size, I missed several fish. I was rusty because I didn't fish tiny dries on tiny tippet to trout all summer. Carp will do that to you. After awhile, I finally found a groove and landed some of the beautiful fish. I later transitioned to a butch caddis and a tiny midge dropper and continued to catch fish all along a nice run. I ran into about a dozen fisherman on my way upstream. Surprisingly, no one got mad at one another, which is a very good thing. 

Beadhead Soft Hackle Pheasant Tail.

Kamloops Rainbow Trout.

Thank You Kelly Galloup For Your Butch Caddis.

Descending Brown.

As the sun fell, I caught several more on tiny dries. It was rather hard to make out their subtle takes in the dark conditions. Around 8 o'clock, I realized I was by myself in the middle of the woods and had a long hike out. I attached the headlamp and scrambled  my way over boulders & logs before finding the path. I ascended the ravine and made the long hike back to my truck without incident. It was a good time. 

 In The Dark & On The Dry.