Tailing Loops

Today was such a beautiful day, I was determined to beat the prevailing conditions (lots of runoff plus a few good soaking rains), and find fishable water after work. Of course, knowing that there was fishing to be done, the clock on the wall went into slow motion, but by the time 3:30 rolled around, I was off like a shot.

After stopping at home to change and get my gear, I headed out to check the Loyalhanna. Luckily, Rte. 30 pretty much follows the course of the creek from about a quater mile east of Kingston dam all the way to Ligonier and beyond. Though you rarely get close enough to the water to determine depth, I've fished it enough to tell at a glance what its like (based on color, reference points, and choppiness of the water among other things). From Kingston, things weren't looking good. The color had calmed down a bit, from "YooHoo Brown" a day or two ago to "Watery Coffee". Not that beautiful teal green everyone loves, but the color would work well for fishing. Unfortunately, the water, regardless of color was still very much high and fast. Though I could have found somewhere to cast from shore, I wouldnt have many options anywhere on the creek. Thus I extended my journey, and swung north at Ligonier to check out a favorite stretch of Mill Creek.




A short time later, I pulled off into some soupy mud to see Mill Creek, also high...but maybe...just maybe...manageable in hip boots. Taking a walk a few hundred feet upstream didnt reveal much encouragement, but the same walk downstream led to a few fruitless drifts. While I would have liked to catch some fish, I still was just happy to be fishing, so I headed on downstream, only to find that most of the promising water was inaccessible, thanks to the high water. In contrast to the Loyalhanna, however, Mill Creek actually did have that perfect semi-opaque teal green cast to it, at least in the pocket water and deeper holes. I'd venture a guess that without major rainfall, fishing conditions on Mill Creek might be near perfect by the weekend. Unfortunately, major rainfall is in the forecast. So, unsuccessful but encouraged, I snapped a few pictures, broke down my rod, and headed for more reliable water.


After leaving Mill Creek, I headed back toward Latrobe. The family of a girl I used to date owns a small (less than 1 acre) pond that they've been gracious enough to allow me to fish for several years. The pond is fairly deep for such a small body of water (I'd estimate at least 12, probably more like 18-20 feet of water, with a fairly steep grade from the bank), and it is home to a healthy population of fat, fiesty bluegill and 12-18" bass. I think the bass may be a bit overcrowded, since 85% of them are between 14 and 15 inches, but there must be enough food to go around, because over the past 6 years, I have only caught one fish that wasn't healthy as a horse here, and that one was injured by scrapping with another fish, not from some disease.

The pond is well maintained, and gets a treatment to knock down the rampant weed growth two or three times a year, but the vegetation still manages to claim the pond in the name of plant-kind from mid-July to late September.

Today marked the first day that the pond was totally ice free. I caught a smallish bass a few days earlier through a large oval opening in the ice, but now the whole thing was open for business. Darkness was coming in fast tonight, thanks to incoming clouds (remember the major rainfall I talked about?), so I had to work fast. A sloppy cast relieved me of the purple woolly bugger I'd been using, so I tied on a white #8, weighted, and moved to the downwind bank.

Several unproductive casts later and I said to myself, "Self, it's getting pretty ugly out, lets make this the last cast."

So I made a great cast (for me), stripped in a few feet in short, erratic jerks, then tended to spooling up my slack line neatly on my reel. With the slack in, I went to reel the bugger in, when I felt resistance on the other end of the line. Without a moment of hesitation, I executed a soft-but-swift hookset and felt the familiar head shake of a largemouth bass connected to my bugger. A short, but well-appreciated battle, and I brought my first post-thaw fish to hand:


This 14" largemouth really made my day. As I released him and headed back for the car, I couldn't help but smile. For the first time in months: It's Fishing Season!


_