Growing up just north of Baltimore on the edge of suburbia, summer days would find me either on the baseball field, in or around nearby woods and streams, or fishing at Loch Raven Reservoir. Fishing there started with a long trek through the woods across a feeder stream and over a ridge. Sanders, a general store nearby, provisioned me and my mates with bait, sandwiches, and tackle replenishment. They also had the best milkshakes around. Every once in a while, we would transport some of the panfish we caught in a bucket to the stream near my house in an amateur stocking effort.
Fast forward to now and on a recent visit I went on a run near that very stream. Finding it impossible as usual to pass fishy water without taking a peek, I peered into a 4 foot deep pool. I could hardly believe it, but a saw 3 or 4 fish about 8 - 10". I ran back to retrieve my fly rod and wondered if the stream was healthy enough to support brookies.
A quick roll cast tipped with a beaded woolly bugger, soon grabbed the attention of 8 incher. Turns out what I hoped was a trout, turned out to be a rather large creek chub. Not the result I hoped for, but still pretty cool to feel the tug from my boyhood stream.
Tight Lines,
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