Friday, December 23, 2011

The Magical Waters of Falling Spring Branch and Letort Spring Run

      I believe if you stare into the waters of FSB or the Letort, you will become hypnotized by the gentle sway of the water cress. However, this hypnotizing motion will not make you cluck like a chicken or Shuffle like LMFAO. It will however draw you back and forcible kick your ass over and over again, while you try to figure these magical waters out.
      I have figured I better get in as many fishing days over this winter holiday as I can. Reason being, once the spring semester starts, I do not know how many trips I will be able to go on.
      I decided to make the two and half hour trip to the Cumberland Valley and hit one of my favorite streams and one of my arch nemesis.
       Ever since I read Mike Heck's Spring Creek Strategies book, FSB went to the top of my list as a stream I wanted to fish. Luckily, last winter a friend and I decided to book a guided trip with Mike. He is top notch and very reasonable priced. Go check out his site. That trip was my first time dealing with a true spring creek. I got skunked, but working with Mike helped me learn how to approach a stream of this caliber. Look for a guest interview coming up from him.
      Anyways, I arrived at FSB at 8:45 in the morning and was greeted with rising fish. I skillfully crawled to position. Began my casting motion......and spooked all of the trout on the stream. It really is ridiculous, you spook one fish and the whole stream knows you are there. I just have to laugh, because that is why this stream is so great. My competitive nature of succeeding on such a technical stream will torture me the rest of my life.
      I was able to succeed today. There is a nice small waterfall and some broken water. This was going to be my best chance at a fish. I did not have to be as precise and the broken water helped hide me. After fifteen or so casts I hooked up with my largest wild rainbow to date. It was gorgeous. The gold speckling across the back glimmered in the suns rays. FSB holds great memories for me in my brief fly fishing career. I caught my first wild rainbow there in the summer and now my largest to date.
      I decided to leave FSB around 11:30am and head northeast to do battle with the mystic Letort.
I name you Goldie

Wish I had friends to take picture of me holding fish, instead of the boring wrist shots.


"Uhhhm excuse me, but you care moving?"

Now I know how Jesus walked on water
Even the trout celebrate Christmas
      " The stream holds some of the most sophisticated brown trout in the fly fishing universe.  But to the fly angler who wants a challenge it's the place that let's you test your skill on a legendary stream with legendary trout and perhaps see the ghosts of legendary fly anglers who past this way.  It is not a stream for a person who is just getting into fly fishing contrary to what many so called websites will tell you."-E. Macri Check out Mr Macri's site on the Letort. It will scare the piss out of you.

       I arrived at the battle dome around noon and began my dissent into hell. I walked to take a picture of the Letort Spring Run sign and had fish scurrying everywhere. I knew it was going to be one of those days.

        I worked my way upstream of the Bonnybrooke access and just had fish laughing at me. I do not even know why I try. Somehow I found a bruiser, twenty plus. It had that beautiful light grayish brown coloration. I got myself into position to cast my sculpin and on the back cast snagged a tree. This was not an ordinary snag either. This was a birdsnest, cut everything off and retie your leader and flies back on kinda snag. I know you all have had them. by the time I redid everything he was surprisingly gone! (sense my sarcasm) I turned around and walked down to the  meadow that Vince Marino and Charlie Fox made famous and worked my way back upstream. Not only did I spook ever single god damn trout on this stream I even spooked the deer. I was able to get a fifteen incher to chase my sculpin twice from under a bridge. The first time he missed the hook, looked up at me, and shot back under the bridge. The second time he shot out again to grab it, and must have forgotten I was there. He saw me right when he was about to grab it and once again retreated under the bridge. This fish obviously was not of the best genes.
   I headed home completely broken and cursing the Letorts name under my breath. They say to keep your friends close and your enemies closer. Guess I have to move to Carlisle.
Peek a Boo
Who's house is this?
Bait Chuckers and Dirty Pinners  Stay the F Out!


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