The cool Pennsylvania limestone water was refreshing as it swept over a table of rock upstream of my position, rolling over itself in the head of the pool and stubbornly giving way to my wader less legs. For as long as I could remember, where I stood had always been a gravel bar during the last week of June. This year however, I stood in 12 inches of grass matted down by knee-deep current as I dredged a tandem nymph setup to trout which I could see, but for whatever reason could not catch. The stream was clear but high, with more rain forecast later in the day.