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May 2013 Penns River PA
2013
Penns Creek May 2013 Outing Report
I have inserted Ken, Art, Lou and Dennis' reports after mine. I will include what I know of Bob Muehlenkamp's experience with mine.
I left Laurel on Tuesday morning, the 14th of May at 11:30. With only 1 stop for a quick out of the cooler lunch, I arrived at Poe Paddy at 4:15. The weather was mild, not hot, and I remember being impressed by the quick drop of the mountains around Lewistown into the Juniata river below. I took Decker Valley Road from 322 to Poe Paddy. Ken had left me a message that he and Art were going to station themselves by the suspension bridge over the river that leads to the railroad tunnel through Paddy Mountain. The tunnel as Bob Dietz has mentioned in a previous post is closed because of falling rocks. I spotted Ken's car parked near the trail to the suspension bridge, and walked down the trail to say hi. When I got to the bridge, Ken was fishing the riffles above he bridge, and Art was below the bridge fishing the pool. I called out to Ken, and then took the stairway down towards Art. Ken eventually walked down to join us, and mentioned catching a few fish nymphing. Art was casting a 10 foot bamboo rod he had purchased in Korea. There were sulfurs coming up in the faster water at the head of the pool, and Art was casting to them with a sulfur dry and a wet fly dropper. The water was running a bit murky and high. With bugs in the air and friendly conversation buzzing I was glad to be at the banks of Penns. Compared with my wife and I's trip in October last year, the water was moving and off color. We continued talking, I made a few casts with Art's rod, and Ken and Art told me they'd stop in at site 147 in the morning after breakfast. They were both staying at the Feathered Hook Bed, Breakfast and Fly Shop in Coburn, about a 30 minute drive on dirt roads to the campground. They continued fishing while I went back to the car to drive to the campsite, to set up, and cook dinner. After heating up some chili, I cleaned up, geared up and walked down to the big pool where Big Poe Creek empties into Penns. The creek at the pool is about 70 feet across, upstream of it is slow fairly deep water, downstream of it the river takes a quick turn to the right moving into shallow rapids. There are usually fish midging in the pool, making big slow rings on the water. On the far side of the pool there is some quick water that continues its current through the pool. When the caddis are hatching fish make quick slashing takes on this water. Sulfurs were coming off this evening, occasional fish rising. One fellow fishing at the lower end of the pool. I slogged into the water, realizing even with the fading light that it was high. Penns is known for its surprisingly uneven bottom in places. This pool has its share of big, oddly shaped rocks that are either invisible in the deeper water, or at best vaguely visible. The bottom is silty as you walk in from the path that leads to a bench and the pool. I did my usual, oh this is getting deep routine, as I felt around with my legs and boots to get over, or around the ledges and sides of rocks. I always like to fish a Griffith's Gnat in this water. I've usually had success fishing gnats in this water, and so its my first choice. I tied on a size 22, cast upstream and let the fly drift down in the slow current. Now it's around 8:15 and the light is beginning to fail, and I can't see the gnat at all. After about a dozen drifts with no takes, failing light, and a light rain beginning to fall I decide on a different tactic. Logic would call for a sulfur wet, an emerger or a dun. But my excitement at having tied some big march duns with hackle tied around a wood duck wing makes me tie on one of these. For me, it's the prospect of seeing the fly, and the desire to see how it floats that guides my action. The fly floats sometimes with its wing up and sometimes on its side, and I can't consistently get it to land with the wing laying neatly in the air. When it does land this way I am happy, and it makes the drift a joy to look at. It continues to rain, a bit more heavily now, the water is just under the lettering on my waders, I turn my light on. The drifting goes on for 20 minutes or so with no strikes, the cloudy sky continues to offer its welcome, and I realize that this is the way my first fishing is going to go. I walk slowly back to the campsite, and head to my sleeping bag.
Wenesday, May 15th
It had rained lightly through the night. There was rain on the tent fly. As is my custom at Poe Paddy, I usually drive over early to Poe Valley, 3 miles down the road to take a shower. It definitely cuts down on my time on the water, but it wakes me up. The showers are hot and the bathroom clean. After coffee, I headed out for the showers, but instead of taking a direct path. I drove around the loop for the sites that sit closest to the river. I wanted to look at the lean-to sites (2 of them) and also at the pavilions (2 of them). The lean to's are all wooden structures that you could put a small card table in and four chairs. Nice for playing poker in with a lantern hung up in the rafters. The pavilions have 4 picnic tables, one has a stone fireplace, one has 2 grills (the other one). A nice place for a family get together. Anyway, the pavilions led me to realize I'd never fished the water directly downstream of the big pool, so I walked the path through the campground and along the river. The river takes a straight course by the campground and below it. A nice series of riffles leads to good run water and then flatter water. Having just arrived, and seeing this new water like the beginning of an adventure, I convinced Art and Ken that they should head down there, after they came to the camp site when I returned from the showers. They went down while I waited for Bob Muehlenkamp to arrive. While I waited I tied some more March Brown duns.
Bob arrived after I tied the duns, and we went down to join Art and Ken. Art was playing a nice 14 inch brown in the run water below the riffles. Bob went to fish the riffle water downstream. I went down to fish the slower water below where I had seen fish rising. Before we broke up to go our separate ways we took a group shot. I continued downstream to where I'd seen fish rising. I had watched big March Browns coming off sporadically with no fish pursuing them. I tied on a large March Brown thorax dun (10) with a trailing March Brown wet (12). I fished a large pool adjacent to the Mohawk Rod and Gun Club from 3-5 p.m. with fish rising occasionally to make big rings. I had 2 or 3 takes with fish on and then come off. Finally, one inhaled the dun near the far bank and I netted a nice 14 inch fish.
The netting of this fish brought cheers from the men at the rod and gun club who had been drinking beer, but stealing glances at me in the big pool. I crossed over to the other side of the pool. The water was high and threatened to go into my waders. Getting myself up on the bank, I walked downstream to water running at a nice clip and bordered by trees on the opposite bank. I made repeated casts to the far bank letting the dry move against bank, and then swinging the wet. This produced another fish that swirled at both flies and was caught in two places by the dun and the wet. Gradually the light was failing so I headed upstream, back to the pool beside the club. The young men were no longer there, but they had been replaced by a smaller group of 3 older men sitting around a picnic table. As I waded across one fellow hailed me up to the picnic table. He insisted that I stay for a drink of Canadian Mist. As the men talked they told me of the history of the club, and the strange fact that they all shared the same birthday, May 15th. I had happened on their birthday celebration. Five drinks later, I excused myself to head back down the road to the campground. I managed to heat up some chili, get my gear off, eat and crawl into bed. It had been a good day.
Thursday, May 16th
The next day I showered, breakfasted, and tied some more flies. This time tying some March Brown duns size 8 based on the bugs I saw coming off. Art, Ken and Bob arrived around 9:30. Art and Ken decided they were going to Spring Creek. Bob decided he would stay and fish with me at the big pool. He had done well the day before fishing nymphs, but he wanted to try dry fly fishing. I told him I was going to tie some more flies and wait for Dennis and Lou to arrive. I gave Bob a March Brown Dun and Wet and told him I'd be down after Ken and Bob arrived. He headed down to the same water he had fished before. Dennis and Lou arrived around 11:30, having gotten a bit lost. I suited up and went down to meet Bob. Bob had just about given up on me, but the two of us walked down to the slow pool by the rod and gun club. Bob wanted me to try the dry/wet rig on his rod and evaluate his rod as a dry fly rod. I told him it was fine, fast for my tastes but a good rod. I started casting to rising fish at the pool while Bob tried crossing the pool. Meanwhile Dennis and Lou came down the path. I encouraged all of them to cross at the big pool though initially none of them were too keen on the prospect. They did fine and the three of them went down to the faster water below. I continued to fish to risers, though the only hook up I had was to a 9 inch smallmouth. I eventually crossed the pool and headed down to the faster water below. Lou and Dennis were down there, though Bob had disappeared further downstream.
Both Dennis and I managed to fall in. Dennis 3 times. Me once. As I dried off I decided to eat my lunch. I got a first hand feel of what it was like for trout to eat as I chewed on my pudding like sandwich. After around 45 minutes of drying off in the sun, I decided I would hike to where the tunnel came out on the other side of the mountain. I really wasn't sure how far that would be. It took me about 3 hours of walking and fishing. I only managed one small 9 inch brown caught along a seam with a traditional Catskill type March Dun dry. Along the way I saw 3 camps. One appropriately titled "Trails End". At Trails End I caught sight of a blue object quite a ways above the river. It turned out to be one of the barrels the Penns Chapter of T.U. puts out for people to throw their trash in. After climbing to the barrel I realized I was at the tunnel entrance on the other side of the mountain from the suspension bridge where I had met Ken and Art on Tuesday afternoon. Now I could take the 15 minute walk to the long pool where I had caught a 16 inch Rainbow last spring. As fate would have it I was going to meet with another fellow before I'd ever get to the "broad pool". Just downstream of the tunnel and stationed along the old railroad grade is a small white camp. Every time I have walked past this camp it is boarded up. This time there was a truck parked on the railroad grade and a man sitting on the porch drinking a beer and reading. Of course I couldn't pass up asking him about the camp. This was one of those encounters that was going to last awhile. He told me of the camps origins in the 1920's, his father-in-laws purchase of the camp in 1966 for $800., all the fishing they had done, and the story behind the new vinyl siding on the camp. He invited me to go inside and have a look. Inside it was dark; I could just make out lanterns hanging from the ceiling, and wading staffs lined up and hanging from pegs on the wall. When I came back out, the man's friend came walking down the trail. He told me his tale about the broad pool. Fish rising, but none to his fly. I made my way down to the pool around 7:30 as the light was getting low. Fish were rising all over the pool. I had one good rise to my #8 March Brown and caught one chub before I headed back with little daylight for the Mohawk Rod and Gun Club. My friend at the little white camp, Bob Runk, instructed me about an old logging path that would take me directly back to the rod and gun club pool. I never found it, but managed to make my way back to the pool, but not before coming to the faster water below the pool. Fish were rising to sulphurs within 3 feet of the bank. A couple passes with my big dry brought a nice 14 inch brown to hand. I crossed the pool with the moon in position, and again walked down the road to the campground satisfied that I had found the "broad pool" though it had taken me a good part of the day.
Friday May 17
Friday was a no fishing day for me. I bought ice at Burkholder's Market in Millheim, visited the Feathered Hook fly shop in Coburn, and took a look at the Green Drake Art Gallery in Millheim, along with a couple other shops. While Lou and Dennis were fishing I was able to make a meal that we could all sit down and eat.
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Saturday May 17
On Saturday, I helped Lou and Dennis pack their stuff. After they left I tied some more March Browns and then decided to head down to the Cherry Run section of Penns Creek. It was 1:37. This is the downstream end of the fly fishing only section. By the time I got there it was 2:38. I left the car all ready to fish at 3:05. The parking lot was packed. I managed to find a spot, but people had parked outside of the parking area along the road. I walked upstream about a quarter mile until I came to a long slow pool. I fished from the bank casting to the just downstream of the big rock in the picture. I had 3 fish on right away, but lost them. Then a surprise; a 12 inch brook trout netted. I got in the pool and headed across it where I saw a bigger fish showing his back in shallow water. I cast to this fish from upstream and when I netted him I found him to be a very fat 13 inch smallmouth. Sulphurs were coming off from time to time. I got out and walked further upstream probably about 1/3 of a mile until I got to some nicely moving flat water that had four or five guys fishing along its length. I found a spot amongst them and quickly found a fish rising close to the opposite bank in a small bit of slack water behind a rock. I shot everything I had at him: the March Brown, a Sulfur Parachute, an Adams Parachute all to no avail. I left him still feeding voraciously behind the rock. By this time March Brown Spinners were flying in the air and occasionally hitting the water. I tied on a large spinner and quickly caught 3 or 4 more bass, one around 14 inches, and then 3 chubs, one about 15 inches. I found it strange that I couldn't connect with any trout, and left the water around 8:15 as the light was failing.
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Sunday May 18
Sunday was a day in the mid 60's and overcast. I went to church west of Millheim, then headed west on 45 bound for Spring Creek. The clouds were hanging low in the sky, and were textured and colored in different shades of grey. Hanging low over the valley, they completely hid the surrounding mountains. I got to the Shiloh Road entrance to Spring Creek at 1:00 p.m. and started fishing at 1:40. As usual there were fish rising to small bugs in the flat water just downstream from the parking lot. This is fairly shallow water that is quite dense with vegetation. Fish were rising to midges and the occasional small caddis. I tied on a size 20 green deer hair caddis on 7x and skittered this along the flat water. This fly brought a couple browns to my hand and hooked a few more and lost them before I abandoned the fly and the water. The rest of the time I fished a couple of unweighted wets, one partridge and yellow and one a small caddis wet. I fished these right below the surface, and many time fish came up to strike them just like a dry fly. The Spring Creek browns were beautifully colored, none much bigger than 11 inches. It was a good day of light tackle fishing. I netted about 10 to a dozen fish in this manner before I left at 8:30 to drive into State College for something to eat.
Monday May 19
Monday, I woke up to a very bright, clear day in the mid 70's. I started by tying 4 Griffiths Gnats, 2 with grizzly hackle, and 2 with black and gold hackle. Then I tied 3 parachute sulphurs and 5 or 6 sulphur wets with dubbed and flossed bodies and partridge hackle around the thorax. I hadn't fished the big pool by the campground much, so I started just upstream of where Big Poe Creek comes into Penns. I fished a brace of wets, first with no weight, then gradually adding weight. My March Brown was my first fly, followed by the sulphur. Just one strong take the whole time I fished them. I noticed the fellow below me net 2 fish while nymphing with an indicator. I walked upstream to some riffle water, and ate my lunch as I contemplated what to do. I decided to put on an indicator with my sulphur wet and a prince nymph trailing. I was going to have to stretch myself and nymph the fast water. I did this over the next hour, thoroughly enjoying making short casts in fast water as the sun glinted off the rocks. It was exhilarating fishing the fast water, looking for fish alongside he rocks. As I fished downstream and angler came up near me from downstream. He introduced himself as Pete Lebengood, a retired firefighter from the Reading area who had relocated to Milford, Delaware. I told him about my nymphing experiment. He promptly gave me 3 nymphs to try; a march brown, a grey fox, and a pheasant tail. I replaced the prince nymph with the march brown and began working my way downstream again. Within 15 minutes I was hooked up with a 9 inch brown. Another 70 feet downstream and was fast onto a 13 inch brown that pulled some drag.
To make things even better I spotted fish delicately rising in the water just upstream of the big campground pool. I tied one of my Griffiths gnats on 7x and fished to the upstream riser. In 2 drifts I was fast to him, but he broke off the 7x tippet. I quickly tied on another Griffiths gnat to 6x tippet and fished to a riser downstream of the first. Two or three drifts later I netted a nice 13 inch fish. I did manage to fish for about an hour in the campground pool that evening. I could get no takers from my march brown duns, or from Griffiths gnats or sulphur duns. There w
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