Jun 8, 2013 4 min read

I was thinking about trout fishing, or the lack of activity along the streams. I have news for you, there is still a lot of trout swimming around just waiting for the right bait to be presented in front of them.

Perhaps there is a logical reason for anglers to quit fishing in the middle of May and it’s based on the quality of the local streams. Mingo Creek, for example, tends to go all but dry in the warmer months and Linden Creek (Little Chartiers, it’s correct name) becomes stagnant with little flow.

Back when this grey-haired man was a redhead, Linden Creek ran green all summer. Freshwater Mussels were common and seined for hellgrammites in riffles that now have little or no water flow. It took two to collect a mess of these water-living worms that make fine trout bait, one person holding the seine while the other kicked over the rocks upstream. Try that today in this creek. The shelled life is gone and I haven’t seen a hellgrammite in years. With this creek, it’s not so much a problem of pollution as it is with a lack of water. Did something happen to upstream springs or the bed of the creek?

So it’s no wonder that local trout fishing declines as the weather warms. But that doesn’t mean there is no fishing to be found. Up in the Laurel Mountains, the Youghiogheny River flows well all summer. Ohiopyle is a good jumping-off point to fish this large fast-flowing river. Eileen and I spent many a hot summer day catching trout just upstream from the town of Ohiopyle. In the same vicinity is Meadow Run, another trout stream. And don’t overlook some of those small, step-across streams. Many of them hold Brook trout. Finding a stream with Brook trout is little more than a trial-and-error adventure.

Years ago, one of my family’s favorite pastimes was exploring small mountain streams. Most of our adventures took place in McKean and Potter counties, but yours can be done in any area that has cool, clean, flowing water. One time we were parked on a mountain road, slipping into our boots, when a car passed. The driver gave us a strange look, probably wondering why we had fishing rods. There was no stream nearby, but I wanted to try a small creek, a half-mile back, which could be seen from the gravel road but was unimpressive. Experience taught me, don’t judge a creek by what you see at one location. I was right. The headwaters of this unnamed and unnoticed brook was one tiny waterfall after another with a pool below each. We caught brookie after brookie, making the hike worthwhile.

It’s not uncommon to strike out when checking a new stream, but the adventure and surprise when success is found makes the whole quest worthwhile. I have sat on a rock watching the Brook trout dart out from cover to grab a worm or other tidbit I was tossing its way. Tall hemlock trees, moss-covered boulders and a tiny trickle of clear water tumbling over a ledge – maybe others have fished the same spot, but in such a place one gets the feeling of solitude. Maybe nobody has ever fished there.

I have downed some big bucks. The same can be said of long-bearded gobblers. I have caught Walleye of more than 25 inches, and big bass and Muskey, but the greatest of all where those days when we searched the northern mountains of Pennsylvania for a new pristine and remote brook trout stream. If I was granted one part of my life to live over, there is little doubt that would be the part I would choose. And I would choose to share it with my late wife Eileen.

George Block writes a Sunday Outdoors column for the Observer-Reporter.