Wonder Blog, Tappen Eisendrath

Western Run is a gem in the middle of northern Maryland, it offers an escape to everyone from Baltimore up to the border of Pennsylvania. I began exploring the area in high school when I found fly fishing, before then it was just a stream that I crossed on my way to school. It was known as a once great fly fishing river, however, in my time it was all but forgotten. None of my peers had even heard about it but when you describe the location to them, everyone knows where it is.

It took me years to figure out the best ways to fish the river but recently I seem to have figured it out. The fish there are not easy to catch and without prior knowledge about the river, it can seem like it is void of life. I have sent friends and family there to go fishing and when they return they all say the same thing, “There’s no fish in there!”. I then show them the pictures of fish my brother and I have caught, to which they reply, “That came out of Western Run?!”.

There is a strange mentality in the fly fishing community of secrecy. However it’s not that strange, there is only a certain amount of fish in the river, and the more people that fish there the less fish that you can catch. Even though it is a growing pastime and overcrowded rivers are a concern, I think it is important to disseminate the information, so the love of sport can live on and be passed to people of all walks of life. This is my reasoning for creating this project and I would be lying if I said that it was easy for me to pass information on publicly. However, I must remember that most of my success on the river is thanks to other people who have shared valuable information with me.

While wonder blogging over the past few weeks and being forced to visit the river for reasons other than fishing, I have been reminded of the beauty of Western Run. This has inspired me to share what I know and encourage others in the area to explore this river and possibly try a new hobby.

I present…

The Fly Anglers Field Guide to Western Run, MD

This small four-page pamphlet is intended to be used for advice on how to catch and identify the four most abundant game species in Western Run. Contact me if you would like a physical copy.

I arrive at the river at 10:00 am. It is another typical Maryland summer day, hot, humid, and borderline unbearable. I pull into the parking spot and see another car parked at the bridge access, which is rare. I see a man fishing downstream of the bridge so I decide to go upstream to avoid him. After wading about 10 minutes up the river I arrive to one of my favorite holes in the river. It has a rush of water that swirls out into a large circular bowl with boulders on one bank and a beach on the other. I figure this will be a good spot to spend the next hour.

While I was leaving the river during my last visit, I was flipping rocks, and under almost every rock were juvenile crayfish. I took this as a sign and tied some crayfish flies the night before. I stand shin deep in the water casting to the banks and jigging my crayfish creation into the deepest part of the water. Immediately the fish were all over it, the next 20 minutes were spent pulling fish after fish out of the water with little downtime in between bites.

After the excitement I take a moment to just exist in the river, I walk to the sandy bank and sit down. While sitting I noticed the large amount of animal tracks around me. Raccoons, deer, ducks, and who knows what else. As I’m pondering the activity of these creatures I catch something out of the corner of my and see that a beaver had snuck up on me. It was the smallest beaver I had ever seen, no bigger than a rugby ball, and it was walking straight towards me. It must’ve been just 15 feet away, and as I reach for my phone it darts into the bushes. Who knows if it didn’t see me, or didn’t care that I was there, or just wanted to say hi. I think to think that he was coming to say hi.

After that I continue fishing, and notice that a sulphur hatch was happening. While I know what a sulphur looks like and know what flies imitate it, I know very little about the bug. So, I took it upon myself to learn more when I got home. Epeorus vitreous is a species of mayfly that spend their nymphal stage at the bottom of the water. When they hatch they leave their shuck at the bottom of the river and move up to the surface, before drying their wings and flying away. They then fornicate and repeatedly dip their abdomens in the water to disperse their eggs. After this short period they die and fall back to the water, making them easy prey for fish.

Sketches:

The creature that I made my fly to imitate

Among the many animal tracks were by where I was sitting

The bugs that were hatching

The sneaky fella who crept up on me

Conclusion:

I felt more engaged while sketching my observations form the site. For the next time, I would like to improve on the speed of my sketches even if they don’t turn out as well. Many of the things that I drew, I only got a short glimpse of and ended up having to find pictures to finish the sketch.

Western run weaves through the farmlands of north central Maryland, lazily meandering through the small plots of trees that border the edges of corn fields and horse pastures. The banks are overrun with invasive Japanese knot weed, which is terrible in every way aside from the fact that they outcompete thorn bushes and are painless to walk through. At 9:30 am it was already 85° and very few clouds shielded me from the intense sun beating through the humid air. Birds are chirping and frogs are croaking over the subtle sounds of the occasional riffles that separate long sections of slow and wide water.

Staying still for long enough, you can see the entire food chain of fish unfurl in front of you. Minnows congregate in the shallow water, away from predators. Millions of creek chub occupy every part of the river, swarming my weighted may fly imitation nearly every cast. Occasionally a fall fish will eat it, which are fat and ugly but not as ugly as the chub. Downstream of me, in the slowest water, a chub explodes from the water and frantically dashes from bank to bank as it’s chased by the dark shadow of a small mouth bass. They both disappear into a log jam and the chub likely disappeared into that bass’s mouth. At the riffles in the head of this pool I hook another fish, through the murky water I could see its bright yellow and spotted brown trout body and after a short fight, I netted him. The brown trout here are gorgeous, small, and rarely seen unless they are on the end of your line.

1. When did Knot Weed take over these river banks?
2. When was the last time fish were stocked in this river?
3. Which fish do smallmouth bass prefer to eat?
4. When will the water be too warm to ethically fish for trout?
5. How long until this river is too warm for trout to survive?
6. Do trout impact the smallmouth bass population?
7. How many people come to this area a week?
8. How has this fallen tree stayed put for so many years while others have been rearranged by floods?
9. How does knot weed impact bug life in and around the river?
10. How can I help protect these fish?
11. How can I reduce the impact of knot weed?
12. What hole holds the biggest fish?
13. Why do chub have warts?
14. Why do chub burp when they are out of the water?
15. Why is the water murkier than usual, even though we haven’t had rain in a while?
16. Are there as many fish when the river flows into the more populated areas downstream?
17. Do bass or trout travel more within the river?
18. What did that chub do to get chosen as lunch by that bass?
19. How many fish does a kingfisher eat in a day?
20. What kind of fish do kingfishers prefer?
21. Why do bass jump more than brown trout when you hook them?
22. When do crayfish spawn?
23. Where do crayfish spawn?
24. How big of a brown trout can this river support?
25. How big of a bass can this river support?

#1: When did Japanese Knot Weed take over the river banks?

Japanese Knot Weed was brought to the US in the 1800s. Like many exotic plants it was used for ornamental purposes. Its tall and dense profile along with its rapid growth was useful for creating privacy barriers. It is native to Japan, China, Korea, and Taiwan. It is currently thought to be the most invasive species on earth and can be found on every continent besides Antarctica.

Source: “Invasive Plant Profile: Japanese Knotweed” 2020. National Parks Service.

While I know this river very well, most of my visits are spent wandering up and downstream. By standing still and observing the same area for a long time, I was able to witness things that I don’t usually notice when I’m constantly moving. At times the river can seem void of fish, I always blamed the time of year or weather for this but now I think that I may just be so focused on finding the fish that I end up leaving before I they reveal themselves. My next visit, I would like to go to another spot upstream and wait to see any small mouth bass activity.