sarce
Well-known member
- Joined
- Feb 16, 2013
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Very long post warning. Also, very big trout warning :-D
*MODS: not sure how to get the text to separate from the images and go below them? Can anyone help me out here?*
I had been looking forward to this past weekend for a long time. After months of research and anticipation, myself and two friends were about to hit the Cumberland Valley hard in search of extremely large trout. We keyed in on rumors (well, the fish are a fact, just hard to find) of migratory browns in bigger waterways and had the whole weekend planned out. We were also excited to fish some of PA’s most historic trout waters. Initially, we wanted to do the trip in December, but our schedules didn’t sync up until the second weekend of the new year. After seeing those snow squalls the other night and feeling the arctic air the past few days, we probably pulled the trip off just in time.
It was a roughly two hour drive for all of us to reach the water on Saturday morning, which meant waking up and leaving early – not my strong suit. I did manage to get to the first destination and met the others shortly after 9 a.m. The one guy has a habit of landing some really big wild fish and after seeing him in action this weekend, I dubbed him T.W. (Trout Whisperer). T.W. brought a coworker who spin fishes, and I felt confident that if one of us caught a fish it would be one of them. The third guy actually posts here once every few years under the name wcflyfish, I’ll call him WC. WC reached out to me thru this site when I moved to the DC area and we’ve been friends ever since.
The weather wasn’t exactly comfortable for fishing, upper 30’s and a third consecutive day of heavy clouds and drizzle. On water this size with so few fish, the odds were stacked against us, but the cloud cover gave us hope for seeing some big fish. After clumsily getting into my brand new chest waders, I finally got my butt down to the water a good 20 minutes after everyone else had started fishing. T.W. had already hooked and lost a trout. The Conochoguiwingo was running low and clear with a tiny bit of ice on the banks, and the new waders weren’t leaking and had pretty good traction. It seemed like we were in for a good day.
I won’t bore you with the details of the 4 fishless hours we spent on that river. The most excitement occurred when I dropped a glove in the water along the bank and hung it on a branch to dry. I tried to communicate to WC who was across the river to remind me to retrieve it on our way back, and he translated that into something like I dropped a glove in the creek but then a tree came along in the water and swept it away. I did remember to get the glove, which had not dried at all while sitting out in the mist.
WC and I hit the McDonalds Drive Thru for lunch so we didn’t have to take off our waders, then drove to a spot on the lower Yellow Breeches, still hoping for big browns. Unfortunately, we got blocked by/didn’t want to infringe on a guy who was already fishing in the key spot. He was having a good day chumming the water and whacking a few stockies for the dinner table. We turned around and headed back to the car, where TW and his spin fishing buddy had started fishing and had each gotten into some stocked trout.
WC wanted to show me some of his favorite water on the C & R section, so that was our next stop. We did alright on the Breeches at Allenberry and at the Run, catching a few typical stocked trout and feeling much better after getting rid of the skunk. Just for kicks, I tied on a green drake nymph while fishing The Run just before dark, thinking the stocked fish would be attracted to the bright yellow body. I laughed when a rainbow finally took it – my third and final fish of the day. Other fish were caught on a sculpin and a black woolly bugger. WC definitely landed a few more than I did – whenever stocked trout are involved I never win any friendly competitions.
Nightfall brought the promise of heavy rain, and although we hadn’t yet encountered any large browns, we were excited to see what the next day would bring. Our plan was to fish Letort Spring Run in high water and see how it went. To farther increase our odds, we all went out in Harrisburg for a round of Lumberjack Shots at Brick Haus. Then hit a few more bars for beer. ..we were definitely not getting an early start the next day.
Sunday morning it was myself, WC, and TW remaining. TW was the first one to get his act together and get back out to the water. I was last, as usual, arriving at the upper Letort around 10:30 a.m. The water had a great color after about an inch of rain had fallen overnight. Additionally, the air temp had soared to the mid 50s. Things seemed to be lining up! They sort of did for TW, who caught 3 decent browns. Any Letort brown is a good fish, but we were there for big fish and were not satisfied with the fishing in the upper Letort. I did however SEE my first Letort trout. I did not catch it. I made enemies with some ducks and wanted to go back to sleep but instead we moved farther downstream.
Here the water was muddy and spilling over the bank all the way to the streamside willow trees. I had not seen any of this water before, so it proved pointless for me to try to fish the weed edges. I couldn’t see more than a foot into the water, and most drifts ended up in a weed bed. My large sculpin pattern went totally untouched. I could feel the wheels starting to come off the trophy trout train. WC and TW couldn’t get anything going on this stretch either. To make matters worse, WC stepped into one of the notorious meadow holes and soaked his left side up to his armpit. He decided to go find easy fish on The Run before continuing home. Around 12:30 TW and I decided to grab lunch and then head west to another famous limestoner. This trip was not over yet!!!
***Swapping stories later that night, we got to hear the sorry tale of what happened to WC during his brief stop at The Run. Apparently, he and a blue heron were stalking the same large stocked brook trout. WC captured it first, which did not make the big bird very happy! The heron came over to try to bum the fish off of WC. WC saw a golden opportunity to take a heron selfie…and dropped his phone in the water! First falling in a hole and then dropping the phone? Rough day…fortunately the phone survived, and that brookie was a pretty nice fish too.***
I stopped in town at Sheetz for some lunch food, and tried to eat it on my way to Big Spring. I only got about half of it down before my stomach told me to stop. I was definitely still feeling the effects of the night before. Committing to Big Spring for the rest of the day meant giving up on our goal of a big brown trout, but maybe the famous large wild brookies would prove more cooperative. I pulled into the lot at BS, talked to TW for a bit, and decided I wasn’t feeling ready to keep fishing. Although the wind was kicking up, the sun was warm, so I laid my car seat back and took a power nap while TW kept fishing. I knew that time was running out, but I was already satisfied at that point just from getting to learn new water on some very historic streams.
Sometime after 2:00 I woke up, feeling much better and walked down the bank to find TW. Before I reached him, he hooked into a fish- a gorgeous small wild rainbow, with some unusual red on the belly that if you use your imagination could possibly indicate a brookie-rainbow hybrid. During my nap, TW had Tenkara-ed up a few of these little bows, but the big fish really weren’t showing themselves.
I returned to my car to rig up some nymphs on my 4 wt (the 6 wt still had the big sculpin tied on from Letort). Around this time the sun disappeared behind a single large cloud and it started to rain lightly. I tossed the nymphs near some boulders and got the attention of a few tiny trout, which did not take the fly. I kept poking around with the nymphs for about ten minutes, during which time the rain had picked up in intensity. The single large cloud had morphed into a rapidly approaching line of very dark storm clouds.
TW and I both headed back to our cars to switch back to our streamer setups. At this moment, all hell broke loose! The wind started roaring like I have never seen in January and the rain came down in buckets. I thought trees were going to come down. My size 4 heavily weighted sculpin flapped in the breeze behind me, making a 20-foot cast a Herculean effort. My phone, even in my coat pocket, would have gotten soaked, so I opted to leave it in the car. I had my Gopro in the car ready to go as well, but thought our fortunes might reverse if I left it there.
For about 10 minutes, this storm continued to unleash on TW and I. I thought if we were going to get a huge fish this weekend, this storm was giving us our chance! I decided to start working upstream, and finally spotted a nice 16” rainbow in the middle of a shallow run. It didn’t take my streamer, but it was a sign that fish were getting active. Sadly, the storm passed by a few minutes later and the sun returned. Big Spring’s water level is almost completely unaffected by direct runoff, so at this point we were back to sunny weather and gin clear water. I thought we had blown our chance.
Not far upstream, I came to a promising spot with a lot of overhead cover on my side of the stream. I dropped my sculpin vertically in front of the cover, dancing it slowly through the end of a weed bed. As I lifted it from the water, a 9-10” rainbow darted out to take a look. Seeing as I was still fishless on the day, I gave the exact same spot another try. This time a much larger fish swirled near the fly, partially showing itself underneath the cover. I saw white-edged fins and suddenly my heart was racing. If I could only get this fish to commit, the whole trip would be worth the time and money!
I dropped the fly back down and the fish swirled again. One more try, and another swirl. On the next two drops…nothing. On the next drop, I slowed everything down. I danced that sculpin over every individual weed and then let it come to rest on the bottom. Still nothing but I knew that brookie was watching. A few seconds go by, and I lift the fly about 6 inches…and that did the trick! FISH ON!!!
As I pull the monstrously fat fish away from its cover, I remember that even if I land it I do not have my phone on me. TW was fishing 100 yards upstream. As the fish tired, I started SCREAMING into the wind at the top of my lungs. Somehow he heard me and came running with the net. Finally I had my hands on this fish that is no less than a unicorn.
The coloration on this fish might not be that great, so before this turns into a wild vs. stocked debate, let’s remember what stream this is. Enormous wild brook trout have been here for years, and I was in the heart of their population stronghold. I believe this fish is wild, with a little fin damage on the edges due to recently spawning. It has the classic kinked white stripe on the anal and pelvic fins that most large, Big Spring wild brookies have (from pics I have seen). This one measured very close to 17 inches…I think I am going to have to go to Canada to top this one.
TW snapped a few pics with his phone and we turned the beast loose once again. My knees were shaking as I watched it swim away. I was still standing there in stunned silence when I hear TW say, “Oh my god, look at that rainbow!” I turned to look and saw a gigantic rainbow just sitting right there in the middle of the creek. TW casts his streamer in its direction, and to my amazement, it didn’t spook and run for cover. In my head I was thinking “holy sh!t, it’s still there, he’s going to catch this thing!” And five casts later, he did. I was watching that fish and I didn’t even see it flinch when it ate the fly. Later, TW said he got the fly right in its face and it just calmly opened its mouth.
I haven’t seen many freshwater fish that can match the pure speed of a wild rainbow. TW’s fish immediately turned and ran downstream, launching several feet in the air directly at me within what seemed like a split second of being hooked. It returned to the middle of the hole and made several short runs in different directions, but a longer run anywhere would have led to trouble with sunken logs. TW charged in after the fish with his net, which absolutely terrified the fish. The rainbow bolted 30 ft downstream, under a log, and made another epic jump on the other side of the log. TW was right on its tail, but I thought that jump surely had won the fish its freedom. By some miracle, the fish not only stayed hooked, but turned and came back upstream under the log, where it tangled in TW’s net rope! He flicked the net under it and less than 5 minutes after I had caught a wild brookie of a lifetime, we were staring in disbelief at a 22 inch wild rainbow in the net!
There are some things that just can’t be easily explained. Some people say these waters only give up their secrets to those who are worthy and respect the stream. I don’t know what we did to deserve that sequence of events. I certainly didn’t respect the stream or put in a whole lot of effort. Showing up hung over, taking a nap in the parking lot, and dunking my fly 10 feet in front of me – somehow the fishing gods thought that was worth rewarding. TW earned his, but to catch it right after releasing that huge brookie? All I know is the fishing gods smiled on us for 5 minutes on Sunday. The only thing I can think of is that it was a reward for putting up with that wicked rainstorm, and for overcoming my obsession to video document as many fish as possible and making a conscious decision to leave the gopro camera in the car. In the end, what matters is that in the span of 5 minutes, the story of the entire weekend was completely rewritten.
There was nothing left to do at that point. We went back to our cars, put the rods away, and drove up to the Ditch just to look at fish. Here we saw a young angler fishing off the wall with his dad. The kid hooked into a really nice rainbow, his dad passed the net down to TW and he helped the kid net his 16” trophy. In proportion to the person holding the rod, that kid’s fish was as big as the beast TW had just released. The dad was super friendly and I talked with him as TW walked the Ditch, observing a few spawning brookies along the way. A few fish started to rise, but our rods stayed in the car. I hope that kid caught a few more after we left. It was a perfect ending to the day. We’ll be back to the Cumberland Valley, I’m sure, but this weekend will live in our memories forever…or at least 5 minutes of it.
:-D
*MODS: not sure how to get the text to separate from the images and go below them? Can anyone help me out here?*
I had been looking forward to this past weekend for a long time. After months of research and anticipation, myself and two friends were about to hit the Cumberland Valley hard in search of extremely large trout. We keyed in on rumors (well, the fish are a fact, just hard to find) of migratory browns in bigger waterways and had the whole weekend planned out. We were also excited to fish some of PA’s most historic trout waters. Initially, we wanted to do the trip in December, but our schedules didn’t sync up until the second weekend of the new year. After seeing those snow squalls the other night and feeling the arctic air the past few days, we probably pulled the trip off just in time.
It was a roughly two hour drive for all of us to reach the water on Saturday morning, which meant waking up and leaving early – not my strong suit. I did manage to get to the first destination and met the others shortly after 9 a.m. The one guy has a habit of landing some really big wild fish and after seeing him in action this weekend, I dubbed him T.W. (Trout Whisperer). T.W. brought a coworker who spin fishes, and I felt confident that if one of us caught a fish it would be one of them. The third guy actually posts here once every few years under the name wcflyfish, I’ll call him WC. WC reached out to me thru this site when I moved to the DC area and we’ve been friends ever since.
The weather wasn’t exactly comfortable for fishing, upper 30’s and a third consecutive day of heavy clouds and drizzle. On water this size with so few fish, the odds were stacked against us, but the cloud cover gave us hope for seeing some big fish. After clumsily getting into my brand new chest waders, I finally got my butt down to the water a good 20 minutes after everyone else had started fishing. T.W. had already hooked and lost a trout. The Conochoguiwingo was running low and clear with a tiny bit of ice on the banks, and the new waders weren’t leaking and had pretty good traction. It seemed like we were in for a good day.
I won’t bore you with the details of the 4 fishless hours we spent on that river. The most excitement occurred when I dropped a glove in the water along the bank and hung it on a branch to dry. I tried to communicate to WC who was across the river to remind me to retrieve it on our way back, and he translated that into something like I dropped a glove in the creek but then a tree came along in the water and swept it away. I did remember to get the glove, which had not dried at all while sitting out in the mist.
WC and I hit the McDonalds Drive Thru for lunch so we didn’t have to take off our waders, then drove to a spot on the lower Yellow Breeches, still hoping for big browns. Unfortunately, we got blocked by/didn’t want to infringe on a guy who was already fishing in the key spot. He was having a good day chumming the water and whacking a few stockies for the dinner table. We turned around and headed back to the car, where TW and his spin fishing buddy had started fishing and had each gotten into some stocked trout.
WC wanted to show me some of his favorite water on the C & R section, so that was our next stop. We did alright on the Breeches at Allenberry and at the Run, catching a few typical stocked trout and feeling much better after getting rid of the skunk. Just for kicks, I tied on a green drake nymph while fishing The Run just before dark, thinking the stocked fish would be attracted to the bright yellow body. I laughed when a rainbow finally took it – my third and final fish of the day. Other fish were caught on a sculpin and a black woolly bugger. WC definitely landed a few more than I did – whenever stocked trout are involved I never win any friendly competitions.
Nightfall brought the promise of heavy rain, and although we hadn’t yet encountered any large browns, we were excited to see what the next day would bring. Our plan was to fish Letort Spring Run in high water and see how it went. To farther increase our odds, we all went out in Harrisburg for a round of Lumberjack Shots at Brick Haus. Then hit a few more bars for beer. ..we were definitely not getting an early start the next day.
Sunday morning it was myself, WC, and TW remaining. TW was the first one to get his act together and get back out to the water. I was last, as usual, arriving at the upper Letort around 10:30 a.m. The water had a great color after about an inch of rain had fallen overnight. Additionally, the air temp had soared to the mid 50s. Things seemed to be lining up! They sort of did for TW, who caught 3 decent browns. Any Letort brown is a good fish, but we were there for big fish and were not satisfied with the fishing in the upper Letort. I did however SEE my first Letort trout. I did not catch it. I made enemies with some ducks and wanted to go back to sleep but instead we moved farther downstream.
Here the water was muddy and spilling over the bank all the way to the streamside willow trees. I had not seen any of this water before, so it proved pointless for me to try to fish the weed edges. I couldn’t see more than a foot into the water, and most drifts ended up in a weed bed. My large sculpin pattern went totally untouched. I could feel the wheels starting to come off the trophy trout train. WC and TW couldn’t get anything going on this stretch either. To make matters worse, WC stepped into one of the notorious meadow holes and soaked his left side up to his armpit. He decided to go find easy fish on The Run before continuing home. Around 12:30 TW and I decided to grab lunch and then head west to another famous limestoner. This trip was not over yet!!!
***Swapping stories later that night, we got to hear the sorry tale of what happened to WC during his brief stop at The Run. Apparently, he and a blue heron were stalking the same large stocked brook trout. WC captured it first, which did not make the big bird very happy! The heron came over to try to bum the fish off of WC. WC saw a golden opportunity to take a heron selfie…and dropped his phone in the water! First falling in a hole and then dropping the phone? Rough day…fortunately the phone survived, and that brookie was a pretty nice fish too.***
I stopped in town at Sheetz for some lunch food, and tried to eat it on my way to Big Spring. I only got about half of it down before my stomach told me to stop. I was definitely still feeling the effects of the night before. Committing to Big Spring for the rest of the day meant giving up on our goal of a big brown trout, but maybe the famous large wild brookies would prove more cooperative. I pulled into the lot at BS, talked to TW for a bit, and decided I wasn’t feeling ready to keep fishing. Although the wind was kicking up, the sun was warm, so I laid my car seat back and took a power nap while TW kept fishing. I knew that time was running out, but I was already satisfied at that point just from getting to learn new water on some very historic streams.
Sometime after 2:00 I woke up, feeling much better and walked down the bank to find TW. Before I reached him, he hooked into a fish- a gorgeous small wild rainbow, with some unusual red on the belly that if you use your imagination could possibly indicate a brookie-rainbow hybrid. During my nap, TW had Tenkara-ed up a few of these little bows, but the big fish really weren’t showing themselves.
I returned to my car to rig up some nymphs on my 4 wt (the 6 wt still had the big sculpin tied on from Letort). Around this time the sun disappeared behind a single large cloud and it started to rain lightly. I tossed the nymphs near some boulders and got the attention of a few tiny trout, which did not take the fly. I kept poking around with the nymphs for about ten minutes, during which time the rain had picked up in intensity. The single large cloud had morphed into a rapidly approaching line of very dark storm clouds.
TW and I both headed back to our cars to switch back to our streamer setups. At this moment, all hell broke loose! The wind started roaring like I have never seen in January and the rain came down in buckets. I thought trees were going to come down. My size 4 heavily weighted sculpin flapped in the breeze behind me, making a 20-foot cast a Herculean effort. My phone, even in my coat pocket, would have gotten soaked, so I opted to leave it in the car. I had my Gopro in the car ready to go as well, but thought our fortunes might reverse if I left it there.
For about 10 minutes, this storm continued to unleash on TW and I. I thought if we were going to get a huge fish this weekend, this storm was giving us our chance! I decided to start working upstream, and finally spotted a nice 16” rainbow in the middle of a shallow run. It didn’t take my streamer, but it was a sign that fish were getting active. Sadly, the storm passed by a few minutes later and the sun returned. Big Spring’s water level is almost completely unaffected by direct runoff, so at this point we were back to sunny weather and gin clear water. I thought we had blown our chance.
Not far upstream, I came to a promising spot with a lot of overhead cover on my side of the stream. I dropped my sculpin vertically in front of the cover, dancing it slowly through the end of a weed bed. As I lifted it from the water, a 9-10” rainbow darted out to take a look. Seeing as I was still fishless on the day, I gave the exact same spot another try. This time a much larger fish swirled near the fly, partially showing itself underneath the cover. I saw white-edged fins and suddenly my heart was racing. If I could only get this fish to commit, the whole trip would be worth the time and money!
I dropped the fly back down and the fish swirled again. One more try, and another swirl. On the next two drops…nothing. On the next drop, I slowed everything down. I danced that sculpin over every individual weed and then let it come to rest on the bottom. Still nothing but I knew that brookie was watching. A few seconds go by, and I lift the fly about 6 inches…and that did the trick! FISH ON!!!
As I pull the monstrously fat fish away from its cover, I remember that even if I land it I do not have my phone on me. TW was fishing 100 yards upstream. As the fish tired, I started SCREAMING into the wind at the top of my lungs. Somehow he heard me and came running with the net. Finally I had my hands on this fish that is no less than a unicorn.
The coloration on this fish might not be that great, so before this turns into a wild vs. stocked debate, let’s remember what stream this is. Enormous wild brook trout have been here for years, and I was in the heart of their population stronghold. I believe this fish is wild, with a little fin damage on the edges due to recently spawning. It has the classic kinked white stripe on the anal and pelvic fins that most large, Big Spring wild brookies have (from pics I have seen). This one measured very close to 17 inches…I think I am going to have to go to Canada to top this one.
TW snapped a few pics with his phone and we turned the beast loose once again. My knees were shaking as I watched it swim away. I was still standing there in stunned silence when I hear TW say, “Oh my god, look at that rainbow!” I turned to look and saw a gigantic rainbow just sitting right there in the middle of the creek. TW casts his streamer in its direction, and to my amazement, it didn’t spook and run for cover. In my head I was thinking “holy sh!t, it’s still there, he’s going to catch this thing!” And five casts later, he did. I was watching that fish and I didn’t even see it flinch when it ate the fly. Later, TW said he got the fly right in its face and it just calmly opened its mouth.
I haven’t seen many freshwater fish that can match the pure speed of a wild rainbow. TW’s fish immediately turned and ran downstream, launching several feet in the air directly at me within what seemed like a split second of being hooked. It returned to the middle of the hole and made several short runs in different directions, but a longer run anywhere would have led to trouble with sunken logs. TW charged in after the fish with his net, which absolutely terrified the fish. The rainbow bolted 30 ft downstream, under a log, and made another epic jump on the other side of the log. TW was right on its tail, but I thought that jump surely had won the fish its freedom. By some miracle, the fish not only stayed hooked, but turned and came back upstream under the log, where it tangled in TW’s net rope! He flicked the net under it and less than 5 minutes after I had caught a wild brookie of a lifetime, we were staring in disbelief at a 22 inch wild rainbow in the net!
There are some things that just can’t be easily explained. Some people say these waters only give up their secrets to those who are worthy and respect the stream. I don’t know what we did to deserve that sequence of events. I certainly didn’t respect the stream or put in a whole lot of effort. Showing up hung over, taking a nap in the parking lot, and dunking my fly 10 feet in front of me – somehow the fishing gods thought that was worth rewarding. TW earned his, but to catch it right after releasing that huge brookie? All I know is the fishing gods smiled on us for 5 minutes on Sunday. The only thing I can think of is that it was a reward for putting up with that wicked rainstorm, and for overcoming my obsession to video document as many fish as possible and making a conscious decision to leave the gopro camera in the car. In the end, what matters is that in the span of 5 minutes, the story of the entire weekend was completely rewritten.
There was nothing left to do at that point. We went back to our cars, put the rods away, and drove up to the Ditch just to look at fish. Here we saw a young angler fishing off the wall with his dad. The kid hooked into a really nice rainbow, his dad passed the net down to TW and he helped the kid net his 16” trophy. In proportion to the person holding the rod, that kid’s fish was as big as the beast TW had just released. The dad was super friendly and I talked with him as TW walked the Ditch, observing a few spawning brookies along the way. A few fish started to rise, but our rods stayed in the car. I hope that kid caught a few more after we left. It was a perfect ending to the day. We’ll be back to the Cumberland Valley, I’m sure, but this weekend will live in our memories forever…or at least 5 minutes of it.
:-D
