Ghost Crick

It was not hard to spot. The belly of the dead trout stood out like a neon sign on the bottom. The watercress and moss which normally covered the rocks were absent. The water was crystal clear, not being cluttered with bits of water plants and the critters living amongst their greenery floating down stream. So, the carcass of the large trout caught my eye from 30 yards up stream. It was heart breaking.

Dead Brown Trout.

I was in Pennsylvania to visit my daughter for Thanksgiving. Fishing was not my principle goal but she does live 30 minutes from some great water. I didn’t pack waders, just a rod and some flies. If time permitted I hoped to fish Letort Spring Run. I had spent the previous spring learning her secrets and was anxious to see if the runs wild browns missed me.

Family plans and weather aligned to allow me a morning on the steam. I arrived and immediately noticed that the mats of watercress I’d learned to appreciate were gone. I knew that a contractor installing a temporary sewer line had caused a fish kill in July by spilling chemicals. I didn’t think it had killed the plants too. If not the spill, something else had defoliated this little brook.

I still had hope. I rigged up and fished a number of holes that always produced. My hope wained with each drift. There was not a sign of life. No bugs hatching. No fish darting for cover. No ducks or muskrats. Then I saw the brown belly up on the bottom. It was two feet long with a big heavy head. Likely she came up to spawn but I have seen wild fish like her in other seasons, lurking in the deepest holes. It didn’t really matter where she came from. What matters is that she died where she should have thrived. What should be a fish factory teeming with life was a graveyard. It was heartbreaking.

Large brown trout found dead in the Letort.

I packed up my gear. Any desire to fish was snuffed out by the sight of that dead fish. One dead fish would normally not hit me so hard but this stream is special. The devistation of the whole eco system is what killed the joy that morning. A spring creek once filled with wild trout is now barren.

As with any heartbreak, this will heal. There is a strong advocacy from the Cumberland Valley Trout Unlimited Chapter and the Letort Stream Keepers. The upper reaches of the Letort have been preserved and efforts are ongoing for the rest of the run. The stretch I visited runs through Carlisle Barracks, a small Army post. Between the upper run and the base the stream flows through the town of Carlisle. The runoff from streets and lawns ends up in the cold spring water. Bottles, cans, shopping carts, trash bags and the like all end up in the stream.

Despite this abuse, the Letort produces wild brown trout. The aquatic plants are home to scuds while mayfly and caddis nymphs live amongst the rocks. Sucker fingerlings hide in cracks and crevices. All provide the protein diet trout need. The plants will come back as will the bugs and baitfish. Then the trout will return.

In town, just along the base fence I saw five trout. A big hen with three males and a smaller hen. She was about the same size or perhaps a tad larger than the dead fish. They where doing what brown trout everywhere do when the days shorten and leaves change: spawning. At first it did my heart good to see them starting life where it had been removed. Then I realized that those eggs would likely not survive whatever poison was in the water or if they did the fry would find nothing to eat. Still, they were demonstrating the resolve if wild things to adapt an overcome.

A hen and three males.

Above town, in the unaffected waters, trout were also spawning in the redds, laying eggs that may become the very trout that will again lay in the runs I love to fish. Perhaps I will find my way back and make new memories that will dim the scars on my heart caused by my visit to the Ghost Crick.

A wild Letort Brown from better times.

The Total Package

I am very fortunate to have ended up in an assignment that has a trout stream right outside of my quarters. My back porch over looks Letort Spring Run as it cuts through Carlisle Barracks. It is not the marshy spring creek that flows on either side of the base. Here, it is a disciplined and regimented waterway, hemmed into a man-made channel of stone and mortar. No undercut banks, no tree roots, nor any other structure to provide fish with security. It runs for about a half mile further from my house before it exits the base and joins the other branch after flowing under Post Road. In the stretch below my home there is a bit of cover, in the form of some deeper pools formed at bends in the flume. These are the places I have seen a few small trout, though one source assures me that in the fall there are bigger fish in there. Personally, I’ve not seen a fish over six inches long in this stretch. I’ve seen big fish above and below the base but not here. Still it is lovely water and nice to know that I can look out my window at a famous trout stream.

I have attempted to fish it several times, to no avail. I’ve stalked it’s banks looking for fish but have only seen just a few small fish. I have fished nymphs, streamers, and terrestrials and been rewarded with one strike. That strike came from swinging a streamer on a moonlit night. With so many other options within 30 minutes, I gave up on the Letort. Until recently.

I was returning from research at the library and walked along the creek to go home. I don’t normally take this route, but just felt like doing it on this chilly February afternoon. It was a bit above freezing but the wind was not blowing so despite the overcast it was not miserable. It was nice to be outside and listening to the babbling of the crick. I wasn’t really looking but I heard a splash and saw a ring. Trout, I wondered? In reply another rose further down the same run. I then knelt and looked closely at the water. There was a mayfly dun. About size 18. Blue winged olive to be more specific. As I looked, two more trout rose. I knew I did not have any BWOs in my fly box. I hadn’t really been tying anything but nymphs on a as needed basis. Now I needed dry flies, and fast. I had a research paper that was due the next day, but it was practically done. I just had to insert some foot notes and proof read it. I could certainly tie a couple flies and see if I could fool a fish…yeah, that sounds like a good plan.

I went home and into my basement lair. My bench was neither organized nor prepared for tying, but I found some hair, dubbing, yarn, and hackle. I have been using Firehole Stiks for my trout flies and I really like them. I also like that they are from a Montana company that is family owned. I used a Firehole 413 competition hook in size 18 to tie on a tail of 4 white moose hairs, a body of fine synthetic olive dubbing, counter wrapped with a loop of thread, a wing of grey poly yarn, and a Whiting dun neck hackle. I prefer a parachute style fly most of the time and that is what I turned out. I also tied a soft-hackle, spinner, and cripple with that same materials while I had them out.

I really only fish about five dry flies: a dubbed body mayfly, Adams style, in grey, olive, tan, brown, purple, and rainbow; a elk hair caddis in tan, brown, rust, white, and black; a foam Krazy Jimmy Hopper; a Humpy in red, yellow, and green; and a black ant with a white wing. Sure there are times I fish other flies, but 90% of the trout I catch are on one of these five flies. Now add in the colors and sizes and I still carry a lot of flies, but I believe presentation is more important than a perfect match. Flies are impressionistic. If fish were that picky, why do they ignore the hook that bends out of the flies body? I think color and basic shape are all you need, just present it well.

I put my freshly tied flies in a box, collected my lanyard and TFO Finesse 7’9″ 3wt with a BVK I reel, and headed out the door. It is not even a five minute walk from my quarters to the stretch where the trout were rising. I got there and they were still feeding. Some of the takes were subtle but most were sloppy and loud, indicating the fish were taking duns. I tied on a new leader, tied up by my buddy Chris Fave. Chris makes the best hand-tied leaders you can buy and he’d made me some spring creek specials that I was excited to try. My hands were shaking a bit as I tied on the fly. I picked the BWO parachute based on the aggressive feeding.

I decided to make a down stream drift, as the narrow channel would force me to keep part of my leader on the bank and reduce the distance I could drift a fly drag free. The water was crystal clear and I knew the fish were spooky, so I stayed well up stream and limbered up a cast. I laid it out, pulling up short to cause the line to puddle and give me the drift I wanted. It worked, but the fish missed the fly. I presented the same cast and this time the hook found purchase. It was a wild brown trout of maybe 5 inches. Not a trophy in size for some, but certainly in all respects a prize for me. I’d been looking at this creek for months and and fished it without success a dozen times. Now, on a dreary winter afternoon, I held my quarry. The barbless hook slipped out with ease and the fish darted off for cover. I no longer felt the chill in the air – that little fish had warmed me right up.

I continued to work my way down stream, casting and letting my fly drift over likely spots. Another small trout smashed my fly just as it started to drag at the end of a drift. He made a couple of jumps and spit the hook. Soon after that another sipped my offering and darted into the watercress. I worked him out and brought him to hand before giving him back to the water. One more small fish grabbed my fly and made two leaps before tossing the hook. Man this is fun, I thought!

I spotted a sloppy take in the corner of a deep hole. It required a long cast that would have to quarter across the current. The current had a number of seems so I used an “S” cast to place multiple mends in hopes of a good drift. The fly settled into the surface and swirled around in a small eddy. Just as it exited the swirl it disappeared with a splash. I set the hook and felt a fish a bit heavier than the other fish I’d hooked. It surged up against the pressure of my line and gave me a great acrobatic display in a shower of spray. Another leap showcased golden hues with black spots. Soon the gorgeous wild brown was in my hand. Not a huge fish but 11 inches is twice the size of the others I caught. More over it was the culmination of all that is fly fishing.

I’d seen activity, identified a food source, tied a representative imitation, presented it, and landed a fish. It was a most satisfying moment. All my skills developed over more than four decades allowed me to fool a creature with a brain the size of a pea. Still, I felt accomplished.

Christopher Fave Fly Fishing

Double Day Score

I have not had a chance to get on the water in a while. That is an itch that just has to be scratched, so when I saw a break in my routine, I seized the opportunity to wet a line.

I headed to Shelter Island and launched my pontoon off the beach just past the boat ramp. I hit the water near the top of a rising tide just as the sun peered over Mount Miguel and lit up the San Diego skyline. A good start, fish or no fish.

I had a two fly rig on my TFO 8wt with a small bucktail streamer about a foot above a Crazydad (thank you Richard!). This is my standard bay rig because it is a proven formula. I fish it on a sink tip line with the fastest sink rate I can get. I use a full sink line if the water is over 20 feet deep but prefer the sink tip for ease of line handling. I mix up the retrieve until I find what the fish like. Usually slow and twitchy, sometimes a bit more bouncy, and ocassionally a fast strip.

I let the tide take me down the line of moored boats in about 16 feet of water. It only took 10 minutes for the first tug on a quick retrieve. It was a small but scrappy spotted bay bass.

I’m often asked why I use an 8wt for fish that rarely exceed a couple of pounds. First, the heavy rod is for the weighted double fly rig and sinking line. A 7wt could do it and I have fished a 6wt, but the 8wt turns over the heavy rig much better. Secondly spotties are not the only thing to catch in the bay and any cast may find you tied into a big halibut, bonito, corvina, or even bonefish. So, I go heavy, prepared for anything.

I kept drifting, and again got a hit on a fast strip. I could tell this was a better fish than the first. Soon a nice sized spotty was puffing up for me as I removed the hook. Spotties clamp down their jaw and flair their gill plates and fins when threatened. I know halibut like to eat them but maybe this technique works to avoid being dinner as they get bigger.

It didn’t take long until another grab jolted my line. I strip set and felt the fish head deeper, but it was small and I changed its course with the backbone of my TFO custom shop 8wt. Then, the fish seemed to grow on the line and head to the bottom with twice the resolve. I increased pressure, putting a pretty hood bend in the rod. As I hoisted the fish up from 18 feet, I saw color – times 2. Spotties hang out in gangs; it is not unusual to hook one and have another jump in on the action. I’ve also had other species grab my second fly like mackerel or smelt. This time it was two spotties.

I kept drifting with the tide until I reached a flat that is 10-12 feet of water right in front of the Bali Hai restaurant. I dropped the hook here to wait for the tide to turn and take me back to my launch point. I could cast to the edge of the shelf into 20+ feet of water or just work the grass on the shore side of the flat. Its been a good spot for me in the past. Today it was great.

Second cast into the channel was a hard hit on a jerky retrieve. I felt the fish in the grass and thought it was snagged. A bit of tug-o-war made me realize it was all fish. Again, two flashes winked at me as they came up. Both were nice fish.

The bite was on and I wasted no time in getting my flies back in the zone. Two strips in and I had another hard strike. This fish however came up alone.

I kept working the drop off and caught 3 more small spotties and one calico bass, all on the Crazydad. I shifted my cast to the shallower water and had just counted to 6 on the sink when I got bit. Again that tug was multiplied a second later. Soon my third double of the day was in front of me. The bigger fish has the smaller fish wrapped around his tail, but I quickly got them both back in the bay.

I kept working the flat and caught 3 more small spotties. Then I cast back to the channel and let my flies sink deep before bringing them up the slope. A couple strips in something slammed my fly hard. It was fiesty and then it too got company with a take I felt with a fish already on. They gave me a good scrap and a surprise when I got them in. I had a spotty on the streamer but a barred sand bass or sandy had eaten the Crazydad.

The tide has turned and was ebbing out. I pulled up the anchor and drifted back, casting to the grassline. A couple more small spotties, a small calico, and another sandy took the Crazydad. I worked into 16 feet of water and then felt a stong take. The head shakes and bottom dive indicated spottie and the a second hit indicated my fifth double of the day. Indications were correct and two more spotties were between my fins.

After releasing both fish, I cleared the entrance to the boat ramp without getting run over and worked the rocks of the breakwater to the southwest of the ramp. Two more small calicos and a small spottie came to hand. I made a swing into deeper water outside of the moorings and fished in 30 feet of water. On the second cast as I was bringing it up off the bottom I got a hit and the speed told me it was not a bass. The fish move erratically and I could feel the tail vibrations. It was either a small bonito or a big mackerel. Soon I had color and the could see I’d hooked a big mackerel on the bucktail.

It was a good way to end the day. Wisdom says to leave ’em biting and end your last cast on a fish, so I did. A couple hours on the water and I’d caught over 2 dozen fish, 10 of them as doubles. Yep, it was a good day indeed. Maybe I should have gotten a Lotto ticket!

Fish on! Joel