Jul 22 2008 8:07 pm
Like a stack of old towels on the floor of a wet basement, my brother oozed a pungent, mildewy odor that traveled slowly and steadily through the stifling, wet air. The sun was like one thousand needles, tearing my skin into little dry patches. This brutal, sweaty monotony was marked only by the quiet squeaking of the oar locks and the whir of line flying off my brother's spinning reel. He caught one fish. A nice smallmouth. We saw some musky. I rowed a lot. The water was low. 26 miles is a long float.
This was the trip down the Juniata River from Thompsontown to Amity Hall at the worst of times.
The best of times was running the rapids in the lower river. The smallie blowing up on my brother's popper. Swimming at camp on the second night. Two quarts of gatorade and a greasy truck stop breakfast in the smoking section at Clark's Ferry on Sunday morning.
I met my dad in Coburn PA on Sunday at the Feathered Hook. We fished Penn's Creek and it was super slow. On Monday we fished Spring Creek and it was also slow. We didn't catch any trout but I did miss a couple takes.
My dad took off and I took off for the Little Juniata. Thank the freakin' lord for the Little J. Every time I'm skunked on Penn's I can always head down there to pick up a fish or two. I landed one fish on a beetle tight up to the bank last night and broke another off. Then this morning I got one nymphing a small stonefly pattern. I also caught a very small Rainbow (?) on a caddis. They don't stock Rainbow fingerlings in the Juniata. I guess they're reproducing?