Bike-fishing the "Yough" tells forgotten river's story
Bike-fishing the “Yough” tells forgotten river’s story
By Tyler Frantz
Having grown up in eastern Pennsylvania, the Youghiogheny River might as well have been the River Kwai; that’s how foreign it was to me. In fact, prior to someone correcting my ignorance, I wasn’t even quite sure how to properly pronounce its name. That’s why, when offered an opportunity to fish its mysterious, meandering waters during a recent trip to our state’s southwestern Laurel Highlands region, I didn’t think twice about it.
Loosely translated as “stream flowing in a contrary direction,” the Youghiogheny River, or “Yough” (Yawk) for short, flows northwest towards the Monongahela River near Pittsburgh.
Parts of the river remain cold year-round as a result of a bottom-released dam regularly adding cool water from the depths of a reservoir near Confluence. The PFBC stocks the upper reaches with adult trout and the rugged middle section with rainbow and brown trout fingerlings, while the lower stretch is a productive small mouth bass fishery. While in town for the Pennsylvania Outdoor Writers Association conference, I was invited to take part in a guided bike-fishing trip, organized by PA Fish & Boat Commissioner Len Lichvar, who’s also an avid fisherman and outdoor writer from Somerset, PA.
The plan was to meet at Wilderness Voyageurs in Ohiopyle, an adventure outfitting business catering to whitewater rafters, rock climbers and fly anglers alike. Our host would be longtime fishing guide, Dale Kotowski, who according to Lichvar, “has made bike fishing in the area popular and knows as much about the Youghiogheny River as anybody I know.” Meeting Kotowski for the first time, I could immediately tell the man was a true professional. He looked the part, but more importantly he knew the Yough well and wore his love and respect for the river on his sleeve. After all, when a man guides and fishes a river for over 20 years, he forges a bond with the water that can’t be broken.
The three of us suited up and departed upstream via the Great Allegheny Passage, a beautifully graded rail-to-trail path, which provides direct access to a stretch of otherwise remote and inaccessible water along the middle section of the river.
While pedaling side-by-side, Kotowski gave me the abbreviated version of the river’s remarkable history. He briefed me on the diversity of the water structure, ranging from flat, glassy pools to Class III+ rapids. He told of Native Americans traversing the rocky gorge to access distant villages of Appalachia’s past. He also shared a grave story of abandoned mine seeps draining into the Casselman River, which flowed into the Yough and essentially ruined the fishery by stripping it of essential insect life just a few decades back.
“The river was in a very bad spot, not too long ago,” Kotowski explained. “We still don’t have evidence of natural trout reproduction in the river, but many wild trout do thrive in its tributaries, and some join the fingerlings put in by the PFBC.”
“The Yough earned a pretty poor reputation back in the 90’s,” Lichvar added. “People kind of forgot about it- writing it off as a dead river- but it still had potential.”
Thanks to the collaborative efforts of many who love the Youghiogheny as much as Kotowski and Lichvar, the river has made a resounding comeback in recent years. Limestone treatment stations have cleansed the water, insect life is flourishing, and the Yough is reclaiming its place as a premier big-water fishing destination in PA.
Though wading can be treacherous as a result of slick rocks and forceful flows, the river’s boulder-pocketed runs and eddies create some amazing trout habitat. While trying hard to adjust my small limestone stream casting techniques to this almost intimidating western-style river, large March Brown mayflies emerged from the surface prompting trout to sip dinner in the film all around me. Sixty yards downstream, Lichvar was putting on a clinic, hauling in rainbows and browns like it was a youth trout rodeo at the local club pond, while Kotowski earned his gold medal in patience for coaching and encouraging me through several missed takes and quietly muttered choice words.
Finally, just as we were nearing the end of our time on the water, a grown up fingerling chased my dry and dropper rig on the swing and couldn’t resist the dangling nymph that rose downstream. I felt the take, set the hook and carefully worked the pretty rainbow to Kotowski’s waiting net.
On our ride out, Kotowski discussed the amazing Slate Drake varieties hatching on the Yough from June through close to November. He praised the river as a must-visit summer destination – one of which more trout-fishing enthusiasts should take advantage. “A river can never have too many friends,” he said. Prior to my visit, the Youghiogheny was a distant river about which I knew very little. However, in just a few hours of casting line to its water, I learned the inspiring story of how a river once forgotten can in time begin to live once more.
0 Response to "Bike-fishing the "Yough" tells forgotten river's story"
Post a Comment