By Brooks Paternotte
[dropcap]A[/dropcap]fter two days of some of the most extreme fishing I have done on a North American river, I had not even pricked a fish, then my guide, Lance, warned me if I told anyone about this place he’d kill me.
“The spot”
Photo by W. B. Paternotte.
I was fishing the Allegheny River from the Kunzia Dam to Warren, Pennsylvania with my good friend and fellow fly-junky, Geoff. We had driven up from Baltimore a couple nights before stopping in Coburn for a night at The Feathered Hook along the famous Penns Creek, one of our regular spots. Lance, owner/operator of Outcast Anglers, spends many days plying the water of spring creeks in the area as well as time in Montana, Patagonia, Arkansas, and other equally remote corners of the globe. I am hopeful that he is still in Mongolia at the time of publication and less able to fulfill his threat now that I have divulged one of his secret spots.
But how could a place where a fully capable angler like me gets blanked for two days be such a hush-hush kind of spot? Good question. I am still wondering myself. Perhaps it was the unreal wings we scarfed down at the Cherry Lounge in Jamestown, NY after slinging and stripping six inch long weighted flies for ten hours in sub-freezing conditions. Or maybe it was just the gorgeous scenery just upriver from Warren where United Refining sits on about a mile of river front property. In spite of the refinery, we did see scads of bald eagles, a mink, and not a single other drift boat – we had the entire river to ourselves for two days with the exception of two guys wade fishing.
It was actually the fishing. While I did struggle to connect, my partner Geoff managed to land two fish the first day and hooked up with a third the following day. The two that he landed measured between 23- and 24-inches and the one he lost was at least the same. I did move a few fish over the course of the two days, one even following right up to the boat only to refuse my fouled fly.
“Yinz have some rul nice trout up in here.” Photo by W. B. Paternotte.
We went into this trip aware of the dim chances of unbridled success, and Lance does not exaggerate. We knew that a fish or two per day per guy was solid, and we nearly met that benchmark. We might have done better with more flow from the dam, less mud in the water, or warmer weather, but we have all know that is just part of the deal. The magic of this little known fishery is the potential to tangle with two foot long browns and the possibility of something in the 30-inch range. With stuff that size in the water along with 40-pound muskie, it is no wonder we didn’t see a single small fish.
If you do decide to go, don’t tell Lance I sent you.
