
Most nights I’d time leaving home so I could gear up right as the frogs began to sing in earnest. That wasn’t the event I was targeting, but the amphibian chorus corresponded with the evening hatch. Trout could be taken all evening long. But the action intensified once the sulphurs started hitting the water. Seeing that little spring creek come alive was always amazing. Reclusive brown trout of all sizes would come out from underneath the banks and thick weedbeds to feed on fluttering mayflies.
Those bugs had the Letort Spring Run under some kind of spell. One year I was drawn in as well.
Early in the week I fished the headwaters. In places the channels were deeper than they were wide. Bonny Brook was always my favorite, and it yielded an unusual number of fish on the surface during this hatch. The sulphurs were present, but the slow and silty water isn’t ideal for mayflies. After a few days I focused on the quarry stretch. The vast system of riffles was perfect habitat for both bug and trout. It certainly still looks like a spring creek, but it lacks the character of the rest of the upper Letort. One night I caught three trout without moving my feet – the only time this has happened to me on the stream. The only downside of that section was the noise of the active rock quarry that was a short cast from the water.
After four or five days I decided to concentrate on the meadows just upstream of I-81. Vince’s Meadow, perhaps the most famous extant spot on the Letort, had always proved difficult for me. Earlier in the week I had talked to an angling mentor about my reticence to leave fish to find fish there. He lived on the stream. He knew the stream.









