Ramblings of a Catskill Flyfisher


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Fall on the Henry’s Fork

Fall in the Rocky Mountain West arrives early, especially at elevations above 5,000 feet. So it was no surprise to find aspens along the banks of the Henry’s Fork in southern Idaho ablaze with yellow when we arrived in Island Park. It was mid-September.


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My 9/11

A long time ago, when I was a 19-year-old lad, I pounded the Hound all the way from White Plains across this great land to Missoula, MT, where I enrolled at the university there. My adventure began when a high school chum stopped to visit over Christmas and explained he was a student at the university there.


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Roger

On Monday, July 9, I was outside tending morning chores, when the phone rang and the answering machine picked up. I didn’t think much about the call at the time, but when I checked the caller ID, I knew. Lisa had left the message. Roger had passed.


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A night with brown drakes

My friend called this morning to see if I was loose to go fishing. He said the flows had dropped significantly, and the river was fishable for the first time in weeks. We talked and set a time to meet. On the way he asked where I wanted to fish. I said, “How about that section on the lower river, where we just obtained permission?


TRR photo by Tony Bonavist

The Peekamoose Blue Hole

The 'Blue Hole' under siege

There is a magical place, high in the eastern Catskills, where crystalline waters flow to form the “Blue Hole.” It is part of the upper Rondout watershed in the Town of Denning and is fed by Rondout Creek, which flows along Peekamoose Road.

May

I’ve always wished there was enough free time and adequate resources to take the month of May off and just go fishing. Most of us can’t do that, but we can fantasize.


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Opening Day

Opening Day. The words opening day mean different things to different people. For example if you’re a Yankees fan, it means opening day at the ball park. But if you are a trout fisherman, fly fisher, or otherwise, it means only one thing: winter is over, and it’s time to load the car and head to the river.

Reflections

It’s early March, soft snow falling, a fire in the wood stove. Molly is snoring at the hearth. It’s been an abnormally cold winter here in the Catskills, with below zero nights and brisk, windy days. There is a lot of snow too, much more than normal.

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