Watershed of the Nation
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The overriding consideration for the fly fisherman is that all of Potter County's streams are true headwaters. It is possible to spend an afternoon working your way up a hollow, catching brookies the whole way (some, surprisingly, better than legal size) and wind up at the end of the day with the knowledge that in exhausting the very last little bit of trout water you have reached a point where everyone is truly downstream! (The stream: Hogback Run, the beginning of Cross Fork Creek - you can hear the cars go by on State Route 44 just a few yards away). And, to top it off, you may well find yourself gazing at an endless panorama of hills and valleys. (Not to mention agonizing over the thought of the long trek back to the car!).
It has been estimated that there are some 800 miles of trout streams in Potter County. Every year I make a list of streams I haven't yet fished and plan to visit; every year I fail to complete the task. With old favorites within 5 or 10 minutes, it's difficult to systematically go through the ledger. Most would agree: it would take many years, perhaps a lifetime, to fish every stream.
You will hear stories about the good old days and a super abundance of large trout - 18 and 20 inch brookies, monster browns, etc. In point of fact for many years after the intense clear cutting and extensive gas exploration that took place at the turn of the century and on through the 30's, the streams were badly damaged. More and more land was put under cultivation and poor farming practices caused much erosion resulting in very serious stream sedimentation. The fabled native brook trout barely survived the devastation. In my lifetime I have seen huge tracts of forest, which were but saplings in my youth, mature into the magnificent hardwood forests we have today. Today, it is hard to imagine the bare, brush-covered hills that were left by the retreating lumber barons of the early years of this century. Most such stories need to be treated with a grain of salt; overall, the fishing today is, in fact, superior to that of a half-century ago.
By the first week of June, most of these streams are absent fishermen. Even many local fishermen who look forward to "opening day" and vigorously pursue trout with bait, spinners and fly through Memorial Day, stow their gear and do other things. For several years I kept accurate counts on the number of fishermen I encountered onstream throughout the year. A typical tally at the end of a full year's fishing might total 35 encounters. It can be downright lonely!
Of course the figures are slightly skewed since I spend most of my time on wild trout water, well away from the stocking truck groupies with their live wells (yes, it still happens). One of the most egregious examples of these fishermen is the case of the mill hand who, called into work unexpectedly on "stocking day," sent his wife out to follow the stocking truck, equipped with a can of spray paint and instructions to paint the highway every place the truck stopped. These sportsmen generally disappear before the really good fly fishing arrives in June.
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Spawning brown trout, Mill Creek, late October, 1991. A half-dozen redds in the tail of this pool were occupied for several days. First by the largest (up to 24") trout, then by progressively smaller brethren. Two days of filming from a blind produced an outstanding video. |
A classic, barely-ever-fished stream is Commissioner Run. This is a true mountain brook: very steep gradient, stair-stepping from pool to pool its entire length, and closed off at its lower end (adjacent to the Lumberman's Museum parking lot) by the Fish Commission as nursery water. Pull in, park, string up your shortest rod, forget boots ( the brook can be jumped at any point), hike up the Museum's sightseer's trail until you see no more posting and you'll be amazed at the bright, hungry brook trout surviving in a stream whose deepest pool may be no more than 12 inches. Bring you camera - you will want to shoot some of the rock formations.
Snakes! Well, yes, there are poisonous snakes in the county, mostly confined to the streams of the Susquehanna. But in many years of fishing, I have yet to encounter one on the stream. And it is well documented that the rattlesnake population is nowhere what it used to be. Hiking into or out of a stream might result in an encounter, but it is highly unlikely. Make noise!
You will see other wildlife. Deer, of course. Many times I have looked up to find myself face-to-face with a whitetail; once, even, an on looking yearling who seemed more interested in watching me than tending to whatever it is that adolescent deer do. Black bear are common. Maybe more so in the farming country. I once laid out a nice 35 foot cast only to have a 300 pound bear come charging down to the stream, walk across my line and proceed to what I can only guess to be the nearest farmer's compost heap. Honest, my main concern was not to spook him; otherwise he would have run upstream and trashed the next half-dozen holes. I didn't say a word! Coyotes are here now, and the reintroduction of martin and fishers seem to be taking hold. You'll also see mink and raccoon along the water.
The legendary wild turkeys and
plentiful
small game means
that there are a few weeks each year when your drab fishing apparel
might
not be a good choice - while you're quietly fishing, a turkey hunter
may
be just a few yards away. It's not a bad idea to make note of the
hunting
seasons and, if possible, to let hunters you encounter know your
intended
whereabouts before going astream. Think about it!
