The Chief Goes Cooler Fishin

The Cooler Fishin Chief on Elk Creek

After spending the morning with a construction crew on I-90 with traffic wizzing by at a horrific speed, it was time for a break. I went to the Elk Creek Access off Rt. 5 to eat my lunch. I met three retired gentlemen anglers who were conducting very successful field testing on smallmouths with various jigs and twister tails. In about an hours time I probably saw 50 smallies hooked and released. After spending a couple of more hours in a noisy carbide tool plant I returned to the mouth of Elk Creek with four Straub's Peter Special Darks for some cooler fishin. The old gentlemen were gone and I had the stream to myself. I tied on a #4 RBF Wooly Booger and commenced to continuously hook and land smallies until my arms hurt. The Streamborn 10' 5 wt. built on a J. Kennedy Fisher blank with a fighting butt was ideal for these bronze backed torpedos. I fished for two hours and landed 17. I did lose a handful.

A Dandy Smallie

Some of you Pro Staffers have seen my Frabil landing net at the Baetis Summit. For those of you that have not seen this behemoth net, it is 20" across the bottom. Also, that little white spot in the left side of the mouth is a #4 RBF Wooly Booger. Gentlemen, that is a huge smallmouth.

Average Size Smallmouth

Word must have gotten out that the Chief was murder'em as about nine beaners showed up and began scurrying around the rocks like hot tamalas so the Chief packed up and headed off to the Alvonia Tavern in Fairview for a Lake Erie walleye dinner. After consuming my monthly allowance of mercury, I headed back to the Bel Aire for some Staub's finest and hopefully some sleep.

Carry on.

Barronette Afternoon

Barronette Afternoon

I don't know about you guys, but when I think of some of the great Western artists who have committed the wild & romantic imagery of the Rocky Mountains onto canvas, names like Charley Russell, Karl Bodmer, Frederick Remington and Thomas Moran come to mind. Now I can add a new name to the list; our very own fearless leader, the Chief.

One day last March, after a loooooong 12 hour day at work, I drug my sorry butt home to find a package waiting for me on my doorstep. The return address said Beech Creek, Pa. Hmmm, I thought, The Chief must be sending me all his remaindered copies of Caddis and a Beadhead. Then I noticed that the package was a long round cylinder not unlike what you would use to mail a rolled up map. Great, he's finally sending me that map of Midger's favorite fishing holes -including the spot where Pat caught that 28" brown trout- complete with GPS coordinates, access points and satellite imagery. Welp, you can imagine my surprise when I popped open the tube and pulled out the above painting done by none other than the Chief himself. Dang near knocked the socks right off my feet. The Chief, being his usual generous self, graciously sent me one of ten limited edition prints he had made of a bucolic scene along upper Soda Butte Creek in Wyoming that he rendered onto canvas. I already knew that he built world class graphite fly rods, was a gourmet cook and a cutting edge engineer but this just blew me away.

He didn't even have to tell me the location. The scene was instantly recognizable as the Fair Maiden's favorite trout stream. I have no idea if the Chief was formally trained or he simply took up painting as a hobby but I was so impressed with the painting that I had it matted & framed and it now occupies a place on my living room wall not too far away from my official RBF Turkey Beard Measuring Stick.

Not only are the Pro Staffers a great looking bunch of guys but they're extraordinarily talented too and I'm honored to be a member.

Mucho gracias senor' El Chiefo!

Fun fact: Barronette Meadows and it's associated towering peak are named after the colorful Jack Barronette, a a quiet soldier of fortune who built the first toll bridge across the Yellowstone River near the old Bannock Ford on the "miners road" to Cooke City. He was also the one who rescued the unfortunate Truman Everts after he went missing from the 1870 Washburn Party and spent 37 days wandering around the wilderness with nothing but the clothes on his back, a brand new Garmin GPS and a full rack of Clem's BBQ ribs.

Meet the Fair Maiden

If it wasn’t for the Fair Maiden I would probably be dead by now. She has taken such good care of me through the years. I do know that if it wasn’t for her I would definitely be living in squalor. I have no idea how I got so lucky.

We first met in sixth grade. She was wearing a wool skirt and argyle knee socks. I fell in love. We began dating in high school. I taught her how to drive, play guitar, fly cast, shoot and skin furbearers. She taught me how to be civil. We got engaged along a hiking trail near Caledonia. After a night long Polish wedding we settled in Bird-in-Hand. Two years living like flatlanders was just too much. I landed a job as a logging safety specialist in 1979 and we moved to Beech Creek. The Fair Maiden took a job as a medical technologist at Lock Haven Hospital. We bought a large chunk of ground at the foot of Beech Creek Mountain and began to build our home from timber cut in Big Run and Eddy Lick. Our daughter, Katie, was born in 1982 and we moved into our new home. We began raising chickens, goats, guinea hens, geese, wild turkeys, coon dogs, beagles, rabbits, a horse and of course, donkeys. We broke ground for a garden and orchard. The Fair Maiden had her hands full with the farmstead, a growing daughter and an ungodly husband. Somehow she managed.

She also managed to become a very good angler. The Fair Maiden loves the sights and sounds of the trout stream. She is a very good fishing companion. We pack shore lunches and always have a beer when we are finished.

One summer, we were fishing Big Fishing Creek most every evening catching the rainbows that escaped the hatchery. The Fair Maiden was simply murder’em on a #18 McMurray Ant. It was fun just to watch her hook those fish.

That same summer, our local TU Chapter held its family picnic at the Hate to Leave It Camp now known as the Seig Conference Center. Our guest was Joe Humphreys. He gave a casting demonstration over rising fish for an hour and did not hook a fish.

We paused for our meal preparation and the Fair Maiden rigged up her rod, tied on a McMurray Ant and began casting over those rising fish. First one, then two, then three trout were hooked and landed. A crowd was gathering. Comments were made on how she managed to catch fish when the “expert’ could not. I was watching this ungodly fishing demonstration from the foot bridge. I believe that the Fair Maiden was now up to eight decent trout, including two nice brookies. About that time, Humphreys approached me and with glaring eyes uttered, “Don’t you ever do that again!” I glared back at him. I knew what he meant, but I played with him. “What do you mean, Joe?” “You know damn well, what I mean!” he replied. “I guess I do, I said, she’s down there catching fish and you’re up here making a jackass out of yourself!”

The Fair Maiden along her favorite trout stream.

The Fair Maiden fell in love with Soda Butte Creek in YNP. She really enjoyed catching those cutthroats with a caddis and bead head. This is where the Fair Maiden will get full credit for the popularity of the caddis and bead head fishing method made famous by RBF. I never had confidence in this ungodly method of catching fish until I saw how successful she was in hooking fish after fish. That’s when I started writing my bestselling book.

Besides fishing, the Fair Maiden is also enjoys cooking, baking, kayaking, bird watching, skiing, singing and taking care of the Chief.

Celebrating a Fly-Fishing Life

George Harvey’s life was celebrated by about 100 family, friends, and fellow fly fishers this afternoon at the Stackhouse School at Fisherman’s Paradise. George Harvey’s granddaughter led off with a poem by her grandfather. She was followed by several of Harvey’s friends, colleagues, and pupils who recounted stories of fishing trips or personal encounters with the “Dean of Fly Fishing.” At 2:15 a bagpiper in full Scottish regalia summoned the crowd outside to the banks of Spring Creek. To the strains of Amazing Grace from the piper, the granddaughter and Joe Humphreys scattered George Harvey’s ashes on a riffle near the footbridge to the hatchery. The piper continued his plaintive tune and slowly walked upstream as the crowd thinned out and a light rain began.

Thirty Years A Hunter - Book Review

Pioneer Life or, Thirty Years a Hunter by Philip Tome

Speaking of the Big Woods Summit; I've said before and I'll say it again. My favorite hunting narratives are the ones that can also stand on their own as fine literature. Originally published in 1854, Philip Tome's tale of frontier life in Potter, Tioga and Lycoming Counties certainly lives up to that standard. Born in 1782 near Harrisburg, Pa. his was the first white family to "prove up" at the mouth of Slate Run in the Pine Creek Valley. Tome and his dogs hunted the virgin forests on foot and the rivers by canoe. Told in a powerful and rugged style befitting his own character, his story is replete with the wild and exciting scenes faced by the first settlers bearing up under fatigue and exposure in what was then Pennsylvania's wilderness frontier; Panthers prowling settlement rooftops & chicken coops, vast herds of elk along with bears, wolves and rattlesnakes filled the forest and an eye opening look at the almost incomprehensible hardships that faced the first white settlers in what is now modern day Potter County.

"I have found the favorite haunt of the bear to be in Lycoming County, above Pine Creek on the headwaters of Larry's Creek, and on the first fork of Pine Creek. I have also found them near the head of Kettle Creek, Cedar Run and Young Woman's Creek. In the month of August they were to be found traveling west, and crossing Pine Creek, 24 miles from the mouth (near present day Black Walnut Bottom - ed. WR), where they had beaten a path that might be followed for 15 or 20 miles...I have noticed that generally about every 7th year the bears travel west in August and return about the middle of October....and when started they went in a straight line not stopping for mountains, rivers or any other obstructions."

"In the fall of 1809 Mr. Lyman came into the country (Potter County - ed. WR) and erected a rude cabin.......there being not a bushel of grain, nor pound of potatoes, nor pound of meat, except wild, to be had in this country.........we lived on leeks, cow cabbage and milk....among other vexations were the gnats, a very minute but poisonous insect that annoyed us far more than mosquitoes, or even than hunger and cold; in the summer we could not work without raising a smoke around us.....We had to pack our provisions 80 miles from Jersey Shore. Sixty miles of the road was without a house; and in the winter, when deep snows came on and caught us on the road without a fire we should have perished.....My courage almost failed and I almost turned back but when I thought of my children crying for bread I took new courage......The want of leather, after our first shoes wore out was severely felt. Neither tanner nor shoemaker lived in the country so I was obliged to work and travel in the woods barefoot."

And so on it goes. A rare and insightful glimpse into the relatively recent past in Pennsylvania's Big Woods Country. Might I be so bold as to suggest that Mr. Tome's limited edition book deserves a prized spot in any Pro Staffer's hunting library. Happy reading!

Be the first one on your block to get your very own copy right here:
Wennawoods Publishing

George Harvey Water, Spruce Creek

Reading the announcement of the annual Big Woods Summit at the famed Rossiter Lodge in the Wilds of Pennsylvania induced a serious case of spring fever. I had an urgent need to fish. Where to go on a picture perfect April spring day? Thinking of the upcoming celebration of George Harvey’s life at Fisherman’s Paradise on Sunday April 20, I decided to head west of State College on Highway 45 to the “George Harvey water” on Spruce Creek. This is the only public water on Spruce Creek, named after George Harvey, the “Dean of Flyfishing”, and is a fantastic half mile of stream.

I arrived about 4 p.m. to clouds of caddis coming off the riffle at the bottom of the half-mile stretch. I pounded the water with every combination of dry, wet, nymph fly I could find in my vest to no avail. I tried a caddis and a bead, a bead and a caddis, a caddis-bead-caddis, well, you get the picture. I finally settled on pounding the water with a generic elk hair caddis and eventually caught some smallish fish.

I slowly worked my way to the top of the half-mile stretch by 6:30. At the top end there is a nice pool that usually holds one or two good fish. I landed a few fair to middling browns and then things went quiet. I switched to a #12 rust-colored elk hair caddis for a change of pace. After a number of drifts I carelessly let the fly glide to the bank and began to pick up the line when the caddis imitation disappeared in a loud slurp. As soon as I came tight to the fish I realized that I had not changed tippet and still had a piece of 6X at the end of the leader. I held my breath and slowly, gingerly worked the fish toward me. He allowed me one good look at him. At least 18 inches. Large black spots. A mouth like a pike. He shook his head and the tippet and fly parted ways.

Chastened but exhilarated, I worked my way back down stream. The clouds of caddis against the setting sun made for a surreal scene. I half heartedly cast to several pools and landed a few more smallish fish. I climbed the bank to head home but decided to try the pool near the USGS stream gage. The clouds of caddis were now a fog and fish were doing acrobatics chasing the bugs coming off the bottom. Again I tried every combination of fly and technique I could remember from reading the winter’s flyfishing magazines. Finally, with my arm and shoulder slowly going numb, I simply dapped a lead-wing coachman with a brown hackle throat on the surface. There were a few nips at the fly and then a shadow came from behind a rock and swallowed the fly.

The Spruce Creek Rod and Gun Club is some distance upstream from the George Harvey stretch. Each year during Ag Progress Days in August I attend a picnic at Wayne Harpster’s covered bridge on Spruce Creek, just below his farm. The covered bridge was built with Jimmy Carter’s help. There are monster rainbows under that bridge. Those monsters sometimes get lost and stray downstream. I had hooked one of those monsters. This time I had fresh 5X on the leader and I slowly played the 20-inch slab to the shallow water. He had brilliant red cheeks and a luminescent rainbow stripe. With a tip of the hat to Wayne Harpster and George Harvey, I released him.

A good day on Spruce Creek. Thanks, George. Rest in peace.

Big Woods Summit

Time to start planning this years “Big Woods Summit”.
I will be arriving sometime Tuesday May 27th to prepare the camp. In addition, I plan on doing some out of valley fishing. There are some prime brookie streams that I want to check out.
Departure from the Rossiter lodge will be on Sunday June 1st.
Please let me know if you are attending and what day you will arrive. Those that show up early will be in-store for prime buffalo Porterhouse steaks.

Where am I?

This is my first attempt to post to this auspicious blog. Stealing an idea from Wade Rivers, the first one to correctly name the location of this image wins a dozen home baked cookies at the Big Woods Summit.
So, where am I?

1. On Spring Creek near the pink trailer.
2. Dead Indian Pass, Wyoming
3. At the second railroad bridge on the Little J.
4. North Fork of the Shoshone River, Wyoming.
5. Clarks Fork of the Yellowstone River, Wyoming.
6. Looking out of the outhouse window at Rossiter Lodge.

Agrontrutta

Strike Indicators

The best all around strike indicator is a RBF XYZ Caddis! You can read all about the use of this ungodly strike indicator in my bestselling book, “Caddis and a Bead Head”.

However, there are a few arduous conditions that call for the use of the ungodly Thill Strike Indicator. These high-grade balsa wood bastards come in three sizes 5/8", 7/8", and 1-1/8" and you get a package of 4 for $4.79. I like the little one the best. They come with silicon inserts to lock on your leader but I find it easier to make a loop in the leader and slip it through the float hole then pass the float through the loop and pull tight.

One such arduous condition is deep water. Just ask Goose about the effectiveness of the Thill Strike Indicator. He was dredging a deep hole on the Little J and few years back with three #2 shot. He got hung up a few times, mumbled something about the sluggish trout and sat down to re-rig. The Chief got out his 5/8” Thill float, tied on a RBF AP PT and added one #4 shot and pitched it all out into the deep hole. Goose was watching in disbelief from the opposite bank. He shouted out, “Hey whatya fishin for, carp?” Just about that time, that little chartreuse and orange bastard disappeared beneath the surface. A few minutes later the Chief beached an 18” brown.

You can find these nifty little bastards at Cabela's.