It’s June 1, 2019, and green drake time here in northcentral Pennsylvania. The big brown trout should be charging out of their lairs and devouring those giant mayflies. There’s only one problem—too much water.

It started with a record-setting heat wave in the south, fueled by unseasonably warm tropical air from the tepid Gulf of Mexico, (now America). Then a northern cold front dipped down, clashing with the warm humid air, spawning wave upon wave of violent thunderstorms across Pennsylvania. In May of 2019, it rained on twenty-one days, the most rainy days ever in a month, this after Pennsylvania’s wettest year on record, 2018, with 63.6 inches of precipitation.

I check the USGS stream flow map every morning. The stream gauges were all black and blue, indicating flows over the ninetieth percentile—much above normal. Penns Creek, a Susquehanna River tributary in central Pennsylvania and famous for its green drake hatch, was way too high to safely wade. Some of our less pressured local trout streams also have green drakes and eager trout. So, I drove thirty minutes to a small mountain stream in southern Lycoming County. I expected it to be high and it was—off-color and leaping over its banks into overflow channels. The fish had to be hunkered down on the bottom. They can survive most floods behind large rocks or other obstructions, unless there is extensive bed load movement. Late fall storms can destroy their spawning redds (the gravel nests female trout make), wiping out an entire year’s class, although under normal conditions trout populations will bounce back quickly. This day, though, there was no way to get my fly to them. I was afraid if I fell in I’d end up in the Chesapeake Bay.

At its headwaters, though, the water was high but a little clearer. I managed to catch several dozen wild brookies, none over seven inches and not a single brown. Catching pretty little brookies is fine, and I had discovered a nice stretch of new water, but when you’ve anticipated the green drake hatch for months, with visions of giant browns rapaciously devouring the mega mayflies dancing through your head, it’s a bit of a come-down.

Downstream, the water was still raging, and I had to walk fifty yards or more in between fishable pockets. I caught a couple more brookies, but still no browns. To add insult to injury, I saw a few green drakes coming off the creek and on the streamside logs and vegetation.

The rains finally stopped the next day, followed by a bright and sunny cold front with unseasonably cool nights. I knew the fishing would be tough while the trout acclimated to the colder water. By the time waters receded and warmed, the green drake hatch would be over.

Are local trout streams getting flooded more often?

Yes, according to my research. The northeast region, with a sixty percent increase between 1958 and 2021, is in the bullseye of more frequent major storms. I wasn’t imaging things. In 2024, Hurricane Helene morphed from a tropical storm into a Category 4 in barely more than a day. When the warm moist air from the south meets the ridges of the Appalachians, it flows upward into colder, lower pressure air and releases suddenly—a phenomenon known as orographic lifting—dumping huge quantities of rain in a short period. In the mountains just north of Asheville, North Carolina, Helene dumped up to forty inches. It happened to Trout Run when tropical storm Debby dumped over ten inches of rain within an hour near Fry Brothers’ Turkey Ranch, and other areas of the Northern Tier. Tropical storm Lee in 2011 was another example of orographic lifting followed by catastrophic flooding.

What can we do to help our streams be more resilient to flooding?

Pennsylvania is stuck in an escalating cycle of spending millions of dollars to dredge and armor stream channels, repair and rebuild flood damaged roads and bridges, and protect adjacent land uses from erosion or flooding damage. Many of these river management investments fail during the next flood, or result in increased damages from downstream flooding or upstream bank erosion, and increased gravel bars. At the same time, stream erosion is increasingly cited as one of the most significant statewide water resource concerns.

Dr. Ben Hayes, director of the Watershed Sciences and Engineering Program at Bucknell University, has published extensively on using more sustainable models for stream stabilization and habitat improvement. His studies have shown that properly anchored woody debris will stay in place during flood events and help the river connect to its floodplain. This will contribute to increased floodwater storage to reduce the peak runoff of stormwater flows and more groundwater recharge, making the stream cooler and more resistant to drought as well as improving aquatic habitat.

When the stabilizing influences of a stream’s natural boundaries—vegetative root systems on the banks, for instance—are disturbed, the resistance of the bed and bank to erosion is largely diminished. Of course, even streams in a natural state will move in response to large precipitation events. Streams in our region appear to be in a phase of disequilibrium largely in response to major shifts in sediment delivery from their watersheds caused by historic logging practices—channels were dredged, straightened, and widened in order to transport timber, and mountainsides were denuded—and a series of floods over the past century or so.

A more sustainable approach is to allow the stream to passively reconnect with its natural floodplain rather than trying to constrain it within existing channels. Woody debris, such as fallen trees, can be left in place or replenished unless it threatens to clog bridges. Riparian corridors help hold water and should be encouraged, and ceasing or limiting channelization and construction of stream projects allows the stream to work toward a state of dynamic equilibrium (a balance between input and output).

Streamside property owners see first-hand the impacts from flooding and often demand site-specific stream stabilization solutions that can result in adverse impacts on the waterway. Flood disaster funding can alternatively be used to relocate, buy out, or modify structures and roads. For example, owners of the Pier 87 restaurant along the Loyalsock moved back out of the floodway and raised the structure well above flood levels, providing a great view of the river and saving considerably on flood insurance. The existing pad is reused as an outdoor patio. Eighteen months after relocating, the restaurant rode out the next flood with no issues.

I’m hoping for better luck with the green drake hatch this year, unless the heat wins, and we see low water, late summer conditions in early June. I was scheduled to go on a backpacking trip last fall to Wilson Creek in the mountains of North Carolina with my non-fishing brother, who had decided to give “this fly-fishing thing” a try, but we had to cancel due to Helene. Who knows how long it will take for that stream to recover. I’m well aware that my concern about the quality of fishing on my favorite trout streams pales in comparison to the problems of flooding, drought, landslides, and wildfires. It’s easy to discount or ignore these problems when they don’t directly impact you, but now it’s getting personal!