Who's the Sucker now?

 

    Central PA is full of limestone streams. These creeks cut winding paths through our rolling mountains and hills, staying cold and clear all year round from mountain spring water. These creeks are small, clean, and full of aquatic insects that keep robust trout populations fat and lazy. This also makes them extremely challenging places to fish. 

    One of the most famous of these limestoners is Spring Creek. This is the stream made famous by PA Fly Fishing Legend Joe Humphreys, who developed some of his most famous nymphing techniques while trying to fool trout in this extremely technical body of water. And lucky me, I just happen to now live within walking distance of Spring Creek in State College. 

    I'm very new to the game of fly fishing for trout. I love wading streams or walking along the shoreline of ponds, casting a 5wt with a foam popping bug for sunfish and small bass. However, where I live near Philadelphia, the only trout we have are mutated, finless pelletheads that only exist in our streams from when the truck dumps them in March to when the water gets too hot to support them in June. The only trout I've ever caught on the fly was a stocked holdover rainbow I managed to sight fish on a black wooly bugger. While I'm at school, I'll make it a goal for myself to be able to explore more wild trout streams and call myself a half-decent fly fisherman by the end of it. 

    My first time on Spring Creek was a misty September morning. My first instinct, having little experience with this fishery, was to tie on a streamer and start throwing it at every single piece of structure I could find. However, I wanted to force myself to learn how to nymph. I tied on a black stonefly, threw it under a split shot and "indicator," and started making drifts. Soon, my bobber hesitated and I struck. A few headshakes, a golden flash, and suddenly, the fish spat the hook. Still, that was the first trout I ever hooked on a nymph, and was a huge confidence booster. I continued working my way up. 

    After that, I came across a shallow riffle that I didn't think it would be effective to bobber fish through. Instead, I put my bait-fishing experience to use, tying on a pink San Juan worm and taking off the float, bouncing bottom through the run. A fish ate on the first drift, giving me my very first wild brown trout on the fly. 

    It wasn't long after that fish that I landed a nicer one on the same set up, this one giving a few spectacular jumps before being brought to hand. This fish had battle scars too, most likely from a past encounter with a bird-of-prey. 

    Soon after releasing that fish, in all his scarred beauty, I had to leave. However, a few days later, after leaving my Biology lecture and switching out my bookbag for my fly rod, I headed back down to the creek. 

    Starting off with a double nymph rig, consisting of a #14 Hare's Ear going down to a #18 Pheasant-tail, I caught a few very small rainbows and browns drifting it through shallow riffles. Soon, I approached the deepest hole on this section of Spring Creek. Adjusting my float so the nymphs would hang just above the bottom, I made a few drifts. When I bobber dropped and I lifted, a massive fish flashed below. 

    Holy shit, I thought, this might be a 20 inch brown. It rolled over, gave several headshakes in the current, and then took off upstream, putting line on the reel. As I gingerly fought this fish as much as I could with 4x tippet, amongst closer inspection, it turned to be a massive white sucker, my nymph planted right in the corner of the mouth. I eventually beached this fish, grinning like a madman. This fish probably got caught by the only fly fisherman on Spring Creek who was more excited to catch a sucker than a trout. 

    I love native fish. The ironic thing is that brown trout, which every angler on the stream are seeking, are an imported species, brought over in barrels from Europe and stocked. Suckers have been here since the beginning of time. Native peoples existed for thousands of years from spearing and smoking suckers when they made their yearly spawning runs. They're a fish I can respect. 

    Maybe someday I'll be on the deck of a boat on a tropical flats somewhere, throwing 40 ft double hauls to cruising bonefish and tarpon. Maybe I'll make it to some fancy big name western River, getting giant trout to sip hoppers off the surface. I can choose how my fly fishing journey ends. But I can definitory say that the starting point will always be these small, technical, and beautiful Pennsylvania streams

Cheers, fishy people