Pennsylvania

     September was a month filled with anticipation, new waters, and road trip shenanigans. As August came to an end, we found ourselves pounding our heads waiting for September 12th to come around... we had trout fever. We all live in an area where trout are far and few between, so any opportunity we get to fish for trout, we jump on. 

     On the night of our departure, I did not sleep one minute. Anticipation of what the unknown presented us, ruled my imagination. I stayed awake all night, tying, fly after fly, organizing fly box after fly box, and checking my list making sure everything was packed. I was ready to fish. Watching the time tick away knowing exactly what time it was, I waited to hear my alarms go off. The clock turned from 3:44am TO 3:45am and sounded the alarms... the adventure had begun.  

     Upon arriving at Jeremy's, I noticed that I was late, only by minutes, but I was still late.  We threw everything in the back of the car and headed for stop number two.  Doug was ready and waiting, so we packed the car as tight as we could and sped off to meet Rich and Derek. As soon as we pulled in, Rich informed us we were late. Derek organized all the gear and packed everything neatly into the bed of his truck. Several hours and a few pit stops in between, we arrived at our destination in the Laurel Highlands of Pennsylvania.  While driving up the mountain, we all simultaneously turned to our right drooling over this tiny creek meandering through the countryside. All of us wanted to stop, but we had to hit the big river first. 

     Minutes felt like hours and a few miles seemed like states away. Then through the trees we saw the falls of the mighty Youghiogheny River.... we were here. We pulled in the parking lot, jumped out, geared up and ran to the river like children. The Youghiogheny was the biggest river some of us had ever fished. It's massive size and unknown depth was quite intimidating. Half the morning was spent wading against its strong current and over boulders, only to catch a few small bows, mostly fingerlings. A change of plan was in order, so we headed back to camp to set up and hit another stream nearby... Meadow run.

     Meadow run was exactly what we had been seeking. It was a small stream full of deep pools, waterfalls that cascaded through steep ravines and over car size boulders. It screamed trout. We hiked down the steep winding path to the creek. To say this stream was beautiful would be an understatement. Several fish were caught that evening on foreign water, so needless to say we figured we were doing great! Later that night we all sat around a fire cooking dinner, drinking whiskey, and talking smack to each other. 

     The next day we woke up to the sound of rain drizzling down on the side of our tents. We got up and moving, some of us hung over from the night before and met up with Mike, a local to the area and new found friend. The desired rendezvous happened to also be a diner as well, so we fueled up. Full food and coffee, we headed back to meadow run to try our luck again. When we left it the diner despite our hopes, it was still raining. Once at the meadow, Mike led us down another path that took us to the top of the stream. With six of us now in the group we split up heading upstream and down. The moment a fly hit the water, the skies opened up and it poured till the afternoon. Getting slightly discouraged with the weather, we were having a blast! Fish were slow to start and like the switch of a light, the fishing was on fire...everyone was catching fish. Every pool we came to, we had a fish on. There was even a triple in the one large pool. The day couldn't possibly have gotten any better, until Rich landed the fish of the trip, a 17" brookie! After fishing meadow most of the day, we decided to hit the yough one more time. We walked down a path for an hour looking for a feeder that Mike has told us to throw dries on. Little did we know we had went down the wrong side of the river, but turned out not to be that bad of a mistake. Splitting up yet again, some of us still managed to trick a few Browns into taking dries, as well as loose a couple too. 

     The trip was knowingly coming to an end.  As we sat around the fire one more time eating and drinking, we told the best fish stories trying to out do the other. The following morning we packed up and headed down the road to meadow for one last go. Water was muddy and coming down from the previous rain, but not a single fish was caught. On our way out of the area, we decided to stop at the creek spotted during the drive into camp. Knowing nothing about this creek other than its rather trouty appearance, we fished it anyway. All of us upon examining the creek closer decided we should have stopped on the way in. There were trout everywhere. Browns, bows, and brookies throughout each run and pool. Each of us had several takes but only a few fish were landed due to lack of time. Derek pulled through with last fish of the trip, and a beauty of a brown at that! 

     Hours later we arrived back home in good ol' Ohio. The trip was a great success and much needed time away from everyday life with the best of friends. Bodies tired and beaten up from non stop hiking and fishing, we headed our separate ways back home to our families. We're already planning another trip, not even a month later.