March 7, 2017 – A Penns Creek Adventure with Sam

Sam out there killing it with the streamer on a streamer kind of day.

Sam G. is the brother of one of my wife’s best friends, and he also happens to be a gifted fly tier, fly fisherman, and guide who works at the TCO shop in State College (Among about 12 other jobs, it seems, which are necessary to maintain his trout bum lifestyle—yes, I am still jealous).  My wife and his sister have been trying to set us up on a man-date for years.  In the interim, my best Christmas presents from my wife over the years have often come from Sam’s vice, and we also correspond periodically.  I share success stories with his flies and ask his opinions on anything fly fishing related.  He humors me and gives honest advice.  He is guiding for TCO these days, and I cannot recommend a better guy and guide.  He is good company and good people, a combination of smart and blue-collar down to earth.  I am decent at best, and I know it, so I ate up his tutelage on a big stream today.  Sure, I fish similar streams like the Lehigh River and the Brodhead, but I know the latter like the bottom of a beer glass, and I rarely fish the Lehigh with the fly rod, especially in the spring because that much water is, as Eric said when I sent him the above picture of Sam in situ at Penns, both awesome and intimidating.  

Gorgeous meat eaters

Penns Creek, which I have not fished in a long, long time until today, is definitely that: intimidating.  Let’s face it, as Sam reminded me, despite its name, Penn’s is navigable and moves a lot of water, so it’s a river not a creek.  With the rain and rising water today, that was very apparent, but we had a good day, a perfect streamer day, in fact.  I didn’t catch half the number of fish Sam did, but I netted about 5 or 6 and moved or hooked a bunch more, including some monsters that would make you want to cry if the possibility of seeing another wasn't one pool or run away.  One particularly memorable one came out of 10 inches of water or less to investigate my streamer splashing down, and Sam turned an even bigger fish earlier in the morning.  No 20+ inchers for either of us today, but we did well, and it was a treat fishing with a guy that others pay to fish with, you know?

My first of the morning in Sam's net, a beauty fish (and the Roberdeau).

I took a 3 hour ride on 4 hours of sleep, and the run from Harrisburg to State College was driven in the dark in a steady downpour—ditto for the ride home.  However, Sam and I only had periods of rain and periods of very light drizzle for most of the day.  The creek came up slowly and stained up slowly, but the browns did not seem to have any trouble finding Sam’s secret Roberdeau streamer (A name given by a fishing buddy after the fort built during the American Revolution—I’ll get the whole story one day.).  To start, I was tired and a little out of it after the ride to State College, and then another 40 minute ride Deliverance-style, following Sam over the mountain on a wet, gravel road to our destination on Penn’s, but I started waking up when I watched Sam hook a couple early fish.  I hooked one fish on a nymph and missed another, but I finally got on the board swinging a streamer in a deep hole with down timber, a pattern that seemed like a solid one all day.

Another nice one, at least 14.

The rest of the day we targeted fish waiting for a meal to swing by, resting in the soft water on the far bank and behind obstructions and wood.  It was even more exciting after a snack/water break back at the cars, when I was able to retrieve my phone and my polarized glasses.  Now I could see my misses and see the huge browns that took a look but decided, Nah...  Sam fished every likely spot at least 3 ways, beginning with a fast strip, then a slow sinking swing, then a high stick to get the streamer down, followed by a series of shakes as the fly swung through the hole.  I hooked fish using all of his techniques, and some of my own, but how many he hooked and landed I couldn’t venture to guess.  Well over a dozen, definitely, close to 20, likely?  It was fun to watch—but only after I had caught some fish myself!

Smiley guy with fish.  The 12 inchers were small.

Around 4 PM, after a blip of sunshine, it began to rain once again.  I was definitely feeling fatigued, but god forbid I should sit down and relax…  Instead, as Sam and I met up at a great looking run not far from the parking spots, I claimed that if I stuck one more, we could quit.  I was working a white muddler at the time, and it was definitely bulkier than the Roberdeau and was not getting down in the strike zone as quickly.  Having lost my own that he tied for me over the winter, Sam shared one more (which is still on my rod!), and as if charmed, we ended the day with this tired old man landing one last fish before another rainy ride home, a beer, and bed.  Thanks, Sam!  If anyone wants an adventure with a knowledgeable, good guy, set a date with him through TCO before he’s booked up for the summer.  This is a guy who deserves to have fewer jobs, so he can fish more??  Yeah, why not.

The last of the day, a nice hooked-jawed male.

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