TROUT AND TROUTING
"A day with not too bright a beam;
A warm, but not a scorching, sun."
--CHARLES COTTON.
Where can I enjoy trout fishing amid good scenery and good cheer
without its necessitating a lengthy absence from the city? That is a
question which frequently rises in the mind of the toilers in the busy
centers of the East, and it is one becoming daily more difficult to
answer. Yet there are still nearby trout streams where a creel of from
fifteen to fifty, or even more, in favorable weather, might be made.
One such locality, which for years local sportsmen have proven, lies
within a four hours' ride of either Philadelphia or New York. All that
is necessary is to take the railroad, which conveys you to Cresco, in
Monroe County, Pa., and a ride or drive of five miles through the
Pocono Mountains will land you in the little village of Canadensis, in
the valley of the Brodhead; and within the radius of a few miles on
either side fully a dozen other unposted streams ripple along in their
natural state, not boarded, bridged, dammed, or fenced by the hand of
man, thanks to the naturally uncultivatable condition of the greater
part of this paradise for trout fishers. The villagers of Canadensis
do their trading and receive their mail at Cresco, and it is an easy
matter to obtain excellent food and lodgings for a dollar a day at one
of the many farmhouses dotting here and there the valleys, and a seat
when needful in one of the several private conveyances running every
day between the two villages.
The open season for trout in Pennsylvania is from April 15th until
July 15th, and there appears to be no particularly favored period
during these three months, for the trout here afford sport equally
well at all times, though they greatly vary in their tastes for the
fly.
If the angler goes there in the early part of the open season, when
the weather is cold, he should engage a room and take his meals at the
farmhouse selected; but if the trip is made in the early part of June
or any time after that, during the open season, camp life may be
enjoyed with great comfort.
Two favorite waters within walking distance from any of the farmhouses
in Canadensis are Stony Run and the Buckhill. The great Brodhead, a
famous old water in the days of Thaddeus Norris, and noted then and
now for its big trout, flows in the valley proper, within a stone's
throw of the farmhouse at which I engaged quarters. Spruce Cabin Run,
a mile distant, is a charming stream, but the trout here are not very
large beyond the deep pools at the foot of Spruce Falls and in the
water flowing through Turner's fields and woods above the falls.
Any of these streams will afford plenty of sport, but if one wishes to
visit a still more wild, romantic, and beautiful trout water, he has
only to walk a little farther or take a buckboard wagon and ride to
the mighty Bushkill, a stream that must not be confounded with the
Buckhill, which lies in an opposite direction from Canadensis.
The Bushkill is the wildest stream in the region, and is fished less
than any of the others named, one reason being that there are plenty
of trout in the waters of Canadensis which can be fished without the
Angler going so far. For those who like to camp, the Bushkill is the
proper locality. I spent a day there with friends one season, and we
caught in less than two hours, in the liveliest possible manner, all
the trout five of us could eat throughout the day, and four dozen
extra large ones which we took home to send to friends in the city.
"The trout in the Bushkill," remarked one of my companions, "are so
wild that they're tame"--an expression based upon the greediness and
utter disregard of the enemy with which _fontinalis_, in his
unfamiliarity with man, took the fly. I remember having a number of
rises within two feet of my legs as I was taking in my line for a
front toss.
I know men who have many times traveled a thousand miles from New York
on an angling trip to different famous waters who have not found
either the sport or the scenery to be enjoyed on the Bushkill.
The lower Brodhead below the point at which this stream and Spruce
Cabin Run come together is very beautiful. It is owned by a farmer who
lives on its banks, and who has never been known to refuse Anglers
permission to fish there when they asked for the privilege.
There are four natural features in the scenery about Canadensis that
are especially prized by the countrymen there--the Sand Spring,
Buckhill Falls, Spruce Cabin Falls, and the Bushkill Falls.
The Sand Spring is so called because grains of brilliant sand spring
up with the water. This sand resembles a mixture of gold and silver
dust; it forms in little clouds just under the water's bubble and then
settles down to form and rise again and again. This effect, with the
rich colors of wild pink roses, tiny yellow watercups, blue lilies,
and three shades of green in the cresses and deer tongue that grow all
about, produces a pretty picture. The spring is not over a foot in
diameter, but the sand edges and the pool cover several feet. In
drinking the water, strange to say, one does not take any sand with
it.
Being located at one side of the old road between Cresco and
Canadensis every visitor has an opportunity of seeing it without going
more than a few feet out of his direct way. Some of the stories told
about the old Sand Spring are worth hearing, and no one can tell them
better or with more special pleasure than the farmers living
thereabout. One man affirms that "more 'an a hundred b'ar and as many
deer have been killed while drinking the crystal water of the spring."
Each of the falls is a picture of true wild scenery. Though some miles
apart they may be here described in the same paragraph.
Great trees have fallen over the water from the banks and lodged on
huge projecting moss-covered rocks; they are additional obstacles to
the rushing, roaring, down-pouring water, which flows through and over
them like melted silver. This against the dark background of the
mountain woods, the blue and snow-white of the heavens, the green of
the rhododendron-lined banks, and the streams' bottoms of all-colored
stones creates a series of charming and ever-varying views.
A half dozen trout, weighing from one to two pounds and a half, may
always be seen about the huge rock at the point where the lower
Brodhead and the Spruce Cabin Run come together, and hundreds may be
seen in the stream below the Buckhill Falls. I do not know that fish
may be actually seen in any other parts of the waters of Canadensis,
but at these points the water is calm and the bottom smooth, and the
specimens are plainly in view.
Do not waste time on the "flock" lying about the big rock at Brodhead
Point. The trout there will deceive you. I played with them a half
day, and before I began work on them I felt certain I would have them
in my creel in a half-hour's time. They are a pack of pampered idlers
who do not have to move a fin to feed. All the trout food comes
rushing down both streams from behind these big rocks into the silent
water and floats right up to the very noses of these gentlemen of
leisure. If you have any practicing to do with the rod and fly do it
here. These trout are very obliging; they will lie there all day and
enjoy your casting all sorts of things at them. This is a good place
to prove to yourself whether you are a patient fisherman or not.
And now a few words about the proper tackle for mountain streams. Most
anglers use rods that are too heavy and too long. During my first
visit I used a rod of eight feet, four ounces, and I soon found that,
while it was a nice weight, it was too long for real convenience,
although there were rods used there nine and ten feet long. My rod was
the lightest and one of the shortest ever seen in the valley. There
are only a few open spots where long casts are necessary, and a long,
ordinary-weight trout rod is of very little service compared with one
of seven, seven and a half, or eight feet, four or three ounces, that
can be handled well along the narrow, bush-lined, tree-branch-covered
streams.
The greater part of the fishing is done by sneaking along under cover
of the rocks, logs, bushes, and the low-hanging branches, as casts are
made in every little pool and eddy. I use a lancewood rod, but of
course the higher-priced popular split bamboo is just as good. I shall
not claim my rod's material is the better of the two, as some men do
when speaking of their tackle, but I am quite sure I shall never say
the split bamboo is more than its equal. I do not advise as to the
material; I speak only of the weight and length. Let every man use his
choice, but I seriously advise him to avoid the cheap-priced split
bamboo rod.
If split bamboo is the choice, let it be the work of a practical
rod-maker. Any ordinary wood rod is better than the four-dollar split
bamboo affair.
The leader should be of single gut, but the length should be a trifle
more than is commonly used. Twelve feet is my favorite amount. The
reel should be the lightest common click reel; the creel, a willow one
that sells for a dollar in the stores; and the flies--here's the
rub--must be the smallest and finest in the market. Large, cheap,
coarse flies will never do for Eastern waters, and you must not fail
to secure your list of the proper kind, as well as all your outfit,
before you start on your trip. The only decent thing on sale in the
village stores is tobacco.
When you buy your flies buy lots of them, for, be you a tyro or
practical Angler, you will lose them easier on these streams than you
imagine. Yes, you must be very careful about the selection of your
flies. They must be small and finely made, high-priced goods. I wish
I might tell you who to have make them, but I dare not, lest I be
charged with advertising a particular house. Regarding the patterns to
use, I will say that none are more killing than the general list, if
they are the best made and used according to the old rule all are
familiar with--dark colors on cold days and bright ones on warm days.
The later the season the louder the fly--that is, when the season
closes during hot weather, as it does in Canadensis. My favorite time
here is from June 15th to July 15th, the closing day, but any time
after the first two weeks of the open season is very charming. I avoid
the first week or two because the weather is then cold and the trout
are more fond of natural bait than the artificial fly. Men take
hundreds of fish early in the season with worms and minnows.
I never wear rubber boots to wade in. An old pair of heavy-soled shoes
with spikes in their bottoms, and small slits cut in the sides to let
the water in and out, and a pair of heavy woolen socks comprise my
wading footwear. The slits must not be large enough to let in coarse
sand and pebbles, but I find it absolutely necessary to have a slight
opening, for if there be no means for the water to run freely in and
out, the shoes fill from the tops and become heavy. Rubber boots are
too hot for my feet and legs, while the water is never too cold. I
have often had wet feet all day, and have never yet experienced any
ill effects from it.
I never use a staff in wading, but I should, for here in some places
it is very hard to wade. I have often fallen down in water up to my
waist, overbalanced by the heavy current, where the bottoms were
rough, with sharp, slimy stones. If you carry a staff, follow the
custom of the old Anglers and tie it to your body with a string to
keep it out of the way and allow your hands to be as free as possible
for a strike. Your landing-net should be a small one, minus any metal,
with a foot and a half handle, and a string tied to a front button on
your garment should allow it to be slung over your shoulder onto your
back when not in use.
Of course, these little points about the use of different things are
all familiar to the Angler with but the slightest experience, and will
appear to him neither instructive nor interesting, but we must, as
gentle Anglers, give a thought or two to the earnest tyro, for we were
young once ourselves.
I always carry two fly-books with me; one big fellow with the general
fly stock in, which is kept at the farmhouse, and a little one holding
two dozen flies and a dozen leaders, which I carry on the stream. A
string tied to this, too, will prevent the unpleasantness of having it
fall in the water and glide away from you. I even tie a string to my
pipe and knife. The outing hat is an important thing to me. Mine is
always a soft brown or gray felt, and I use it to sit on in damp and
hard places fifty times a day.