In between rainstorms today I visited "Little" Seneca Lake near Boyds, Md. This is fine countryside, with rolling hills and winding country roads. Door to water is about 45 minutes from northwest Washington. And I say "Little," because that is the geographical name of this massive body of water, which also serves as a water supply for our nation's capitol. It's big, wide open and quite scenic. And quite busy on a Sunday afternoon, especially when you find yourself inside a small window of sunshine after several rainy days.

I found the road less travelled and waded through waist high prickly foliage to a promising looking inlet, where I landed a healthy largemouth after half a dozen casts. I found this encouraging, but spent the next two hours exploring the shoreline in search of another fish.

I would have no such luck, however. It's only May, I told myself as I packed up my gear before heading home, bass season doesn't even start until mid June. I'll be back to this great big "little" lake, perhaps with the advantage of a rented boat (boat rentals become available after Memorial Day). Stay tuned.

Little Seneca Creek

I found a clear little stream that runs under a quiet Maryland road about a half hour north of Washington. The odd part of this story is that I found it when I decided to quit fishing for the day and head home.

I'd spent the better part of a ripe spring day exploring the Seneca lake area. Great Seneca Creek is what the Maryland DNR calls a "put-and-take" trout area, which means the state puts the trout in, and the fishing public takes them right back out. There are no special regulations at the put-and-take designated rivers and lakes, so anglers can find themselves accompanied stream-side by other anglers employing some rather uncouth tactics. Large spinning rods, white plastic buckets, lawn chairs, and giant aluminum nets would be examples of the gear I've seen these folks use. Plunkers of worms.

I'm a fly-fisher, so naturally, also a snob of the highest degree. I spent about an hour on Great Seneca Creek and got back in my car, blaming my lack of hook-ups on the water being slightly off color. I'd hate to think I just spent an hour fishing a stream that was emptied by someone toting a bucket.

I drove up to the lake that feeds the Seneca, naturally called Great Seneca Lake. This is a splendid body of water, sprawling and wide open. Ideal for long casts from shore. I met a guy who was sitting in his car in the pull-off reserved for boaters, taking photos with a giant lens on his camera, like the ones you see on the sidelines of NFL games. He said it was a bald eagle. I saw nothing.

I tried my luck for another hour, then got back in my car. I blamed my lack of success on the wind. It was gusting. I must have taken a wrong turn because after about ten minutes nothing looked familiar, but I had the familiar feeling that I was lost. I zigzagged the hilly countryside looking for a sign or a landmark, and when I finally decided on what seemed like the right "direction," I crossed over this ideal looking trout stream. I found out later that it was Little Seneca Creek, also designated "put-and-take" by the state of Maryland, but smaller and more inviting than many other public fishing locations. I didn't see anyone with a bucket or lawn chair, in fact I didn't see anyone at all. I also landed my first and only fish of the day, a 9" rainbow that had evidence of bait fishing in the form of a worm hook leader protruding from its mouth. The fish had swallowed the hook (which they tend to do with live bait, which proves that fishing for trout with worms is a harmful tactic, and that I am not necessarily 100% snob). I did my best to relieve the fish of its ailment, but figuring I'd do more harm than good I let her go to fend for herself. I'll be back to the Little Seneca some day, perhaps when it warms up a bit and/or stops raining, in search of any other trout that have survived "put-and-take."