With my buddy Todd Wright running co-pilot again this time we made a b-line for Big Fishing Creek (BFC). Despite many reports of BFC being a creek that would humble even the most proficient angler we got into fish on our first few drifts. Later on, as we proceeded up river to more popular sections the fishing got tougher.

Oddly enough there was some sort of “fishing contest” being held at one of the local hatcheries on BFC… which half scared us to death as we rounded the corner. Our first thought at seeing nearly 125 cars parked at the first access point was: “if it’s this freaking crowded I’m packing it up till Steelhead season!”

All prodigy of stream born insects were taking flight the first evening on BFC. Among a smorgasbord of the usual suspects like Sulphurs and many forms of Caddis we saw some giant black stones and a nice, but sporadic hatch of the famous Green Drakes. Most anglers, including those being guided kept in tight little pods in the slow water trying to coerce picky fish with picky patterns. We ran jubilantly for the fast, gradient falling riffle sections and spooned out a few butter orange wild browns with character to boot.

As evening fell we settled down to some slow water and started to figure out a few pieces of the puzzle. Heading back to the car we stopped to chat with a really friendly father and son team. Chris Hazer and his father turned out to be active with the Youth Team USA and we shot the proverbial manure for some time about cripples, comparduns, Humphries, and the joy of retiring to this fly fishing paradise.

Copious amounts of various micro brews, homemade roasted almonds, and a moon laden night capped off the first day.

Next morning we broke camp and meandered our way, with directions from a streamside guide near Colburn, up over and into the mountain Campground of Poe Paddy State Park. This is a picturesque campground nestled away from any main roads or towns and set right on the bank of the mighty Penns Creek. Our timing was merely happenstance, but that was unique as every other angler in the park had driven from far and wide to fish the well publicized and fantasized Green Drake’s of Penns Creek. It’s a funny thing seeing so many cigar smoking fisherman with plastic wrap still on their rod handles sitting around on the banks just waiting. And when I say funny I mean odd. As in one of the oddest things I’ve ever seen streamside.

Literally every 50 feet of the river for the last 2 hours of daylight had an angler sitting on the bank just scanning, waiting for a rise. Then friends would give the heads-up or flip a coin and one angler would wade out to take a few casts at the rise form, possibly hook a fish… or not, and then settle back to his perch on the bank. So odd. Again, we worked what most would call “B” water during the day and found some very enthusiastic wild trout.

Later on that evening we decided to play the “Penn Drake Sitting Game,” and found a nice stretch, and waited. I must say it does have a certain sort of appeal to it – concentrating more on conversation and waiting rather than fishing. And my devilishly favorite moment was catching a gorgeous rising brown after laying out an 80 foot cast on a dime!! Sometimes it’s fun to have an audience.

After a dinner of Venison Ragu, Venison Breaded Cutlets, and a bit too much Cab we packed up a backpack full of beers and headed out into the 11 o’clock hour to find some midnight risers. Story has it that some of the best Green Drake surface fishing happens just after midnight. Unfortunately, we spent more time pissing in the bushes and stumbling over rocks then fishing. The moon never quite made it’s way over the streamside trees to give the fish a visible backdrop. Still, we did manage to go 3 for about 12 swinging stimmies across the surface. Night time fishing is exhilarating… as long as you don’t kill yourself.

The next day we decided to skip that scene and headed toward “Fisherman’s Paradise” on Spring Creek. Much to our surprise we found a whole section of extremely willing fish coming with ease to size 18 black Caddis. Alas, every trip has it’s end and so does this story. I have to go now and see if there might be a cheap little property available sitting on the banks of Big Fishing Creek.