Inspired by John Garbarini's wild trout catches displayed on Facebook, and remembering what Gerry Dumont told me during a recent interview, I decided to try a native brook trout stream that careens down a mountain.
First, I tried to access the brook from below, from near where it enters a river, but I found residential lawns bordering on it. So I parked in the lot of a county park, realizing I might have to hike well down below to avoid the warmwater influence of a dammed pond. (I caught a 14-inch largemouth on a spinnerbait in that pond some 10 years ago.) Of course, this time of year, who knows? Do brook trout swim upstream?
In any event, from what I've gathered, a quarter mile below from where the South Branch departs warmwater Budd Lake, the river is full of native brook trout protected by myriad springs that keep the water chilly. I figure the same must happen here, but how far down? In the photo above, you see I found a plunge pool I couldn't pass by. But it was maybe 300 yards below the dam.
I went further downsteam and attempted to work a good-looking pool with a seven-and-a-half-foot 6X leader and two feet of tippet. A mess. Not nearly enough control. So I removed the leader and just tied on three feet of two-pound test. Gave me all the control I needed, until I came to another deep plunge pool. Put a BB split shot on and got the #12 Pheasant Tail down there.
I found the rocks difficult to walk. They were everywhere. I had to climb a steep hill back towards the car. I hadn't much time and did not get very down below the dam. In the open-air Loree Chapel, I sat on a varnished bench that looked new, and I felt deeply moved by the cross in front of me. So I stayed put maybe five minutes.
I came to resolve I hadn't expected to come to. Down among those rocks, I feared for my lower back, as traversing the terrain required putting it into positions that caused pain. And I never want to get hospitalized for it again as I did last summer. Besides, throw it out down among rocks and I might have a very trying time getting back to my car!
Well, sitting on the bench I recognized I felt no more pain, my fishing had been successful insofar as its management was concerned. So the problem was less real than complicated by subjective fears. I'm no old man, not yet. I can do this.
Skunked, though. Again. I see what's online, so I know something of what's possible in New Jersey. I'm proud of the fact that I've caught some natives and wild trout myself. Wild browns and one wild rainbow, besides a number of wild rainbows I caught in the mountains of Georgia.. Native brook trout, I've caught plenty of them in New Jersey, some in New Hampshire. But I'd like to make some outstanding catches, besides once catching four or five native New Jersey brookies as big as nine inches, and today I was trying to gauge how possible it might be, given that my elasticity is not that of a young man now, and I have only so many years. I catch a lot of largemouths. You know? Maybe stick to what I do best.
But I'm not going to give up. Only a couple of years ago, I felt the same about fall and winter river trout. I had gone after them, had a few on, lost one at my feet, but just could not make any catches. Now I've got that fishing under control. At least with a spinning rod. (First step.)
Speaking of which, I noticed today that the South Branch at Long Valley is running reasonably clear and not very high. At High Bridge, it was somewhat high but on the clear side. My wife and I had taken a hike at Round Valley, our black Lab Loki and my camera along, got take out from Metropolitan Seafood, and driven to Gronsky's after eating at the main launch. I realized I should have taken my spinning rod with black maribou jig along. There's a good spot right above where we sat at a picnic table and ate ice cream.
Brook's rocks and riffles.
Sort of pool I know from experience can hold a trout or two.
Look at the rocks.
