The Farmington

After this weekend, the Farmington might just be my favorite stream in the North East. I drove up early Saturday morning with Eric and we put in almost 14 straight hours of fishing- a long day if I've ever had one. We'd initially thought that with the heat and all, maybe we'd leave for a lunch break and return for dusk, but we just couldn't seem to tear ourselves away from what was probably the best day of fishing either of us has ever had. The action was almost non-stop and the weather was totally comfortable, aside from a couple short downpours. And I'll get this out of the way first: I did not take any photos. You'll just have to take my word for it. My barely functioning iPhone quit for good after my pack took a dip in the water- so the photo above is the only evidence I have that I was even there. 

My first fish of the day was a powerful brown, maybe about 15 inches or so. I was pretty pleased with what I thought could be the best I'd do all day. Well, this fish turned out to be pretty unexceptional for this river. They stock them bigger up there, apparently, and both of us caught fish like this all day long. And we lost some much, much bigger ones. I won't tell too many sob stories- but one fish in particular was a heartbreaker. It was one of those stubborn, large trout that immediately let you know they aren't going to cooperate. And with the powerful current that surrounded us both I don't think I had a chance of landing this fish. I could barely even move it until it made a slow, unyielding run into faster water and snapped the tippet. There were other encounters like this, but that one stung the most. 

We stayed until dusk and that's when things really got interesting. There was a bit of a sulphur hatch that ramped up the action and revealed just how many fish inhabit this stretch of the river. I made the mistake of moving on from a run that was producing fish in search of new water, but still did pretty well. Eric, on the other hand, wisely stayed put and had an epic session of dry fly fishing. I think there's a lesson there somewhere. But I really can't complain, this was a fantastic day. When it was finally too dark to tie on a new fly, we called it a day and lurched back to the truck. I don't think I've ever been that sore, tired, or satisfied from a day of fishing. I can't wait to go back. 

Home At Last

Today was the first time in more than a month that I've been able to fish the croton watershed again. It's been a real pleasure to experience so much new water this season, but I've been really missing the home streams I fish the most. I hit the East Branch first thing this morning and had it all to myself. Rare for a weekend. I was wondering why this was until I realized just how bad the mosquitoes are right now. The deet mostly kept them at bay, but I can see why most would pass on all the face biting. Otherwise, the water was cold and the fishing was better than it has been on my last few visits. It felt good to be back. I caught a chunky little rainbow on a hare's ear in the riffles that actually took some drag and a few minutes to land. I also briefly hooked a smallie that jumped about four feet the second I set the hook. I didn't mind so much when it spit out the nymph on the way down, it was an impressive move. There were the usual stockie browns too, but none were above average in any way. And a couple perch- funny how the summer brings out so much variety. 

I packed up and headed over to the West Branch, mostly just to see how it's faring in the heat. Not so well, unfortunately. I didn't have a thermometer to get a reading, but  the water felt way too warm to fish safely. Nobody was fishing there, fortunately for the trout, but that only made it harder to walk away without getting my line wet. I really hope whatever work is being done wraps up soon and this great stream can be restored to actual tail water again and not a place to avoid. 

Next stop: the Amawalk. I drove up near the dam, looking for low temperatures. What a difference. Even the air felt cooler and there was a layer of mist to complete that mountain stream vibe. And no mosquitoes, oddly enough. I went back to that tiny plunge pool where I caught a nice brown on my last visit. I crept up,  flicked a double nymph rig into the foam and it was immediately tugged down. I felt the weight of a nice fish, but was more amused than disappointed to quickly see that a sunfish and a crappie had each taken a nymph. Now that was unexpected. I didn't even know the Amawalk held crappie. Every cast after that one yielded another small panfish. I doubt that big brown would allow so much company in such tight quarters. I figured it had moved on so I did the same. I walked quite a ways downstream and caught a couple small browns before doubling back. It felt great to visit my favorite stream again, but it had been a long day. With a lot of variety. 

Small Stream Gem

I'm constantly amazed by how well trout can hide and conceal their presence. During a vacation weekend near Roundout Creek I was able to sneak in some fishing on a very small stream that someone had generously disclosed the location of to me. There wasn't any path to speak of- just the parking pull off that I was told to look for. After pushing through the brush toward the sound of rushing water, I walked up on two tiny pools that looked absolutely pristine and untouched. I stood and watched the clear, cold water flow through one of them for a little while. It was only a few feet wide and i could see every tiny pebble on the bottom. What I could not see was any sign of trout presence. And if they had been there, they must have seen me coming a mile away. I couldn't resist a few casts, just in case. I was shocked by the splashy attack on the little green caddis dry I floated through the pool. The little brown that smacked it was tiny, but a perfect little wild fish. There were probably more in there hiding somewhere, but now they definitely weren't going to show themselves for another fly. I poked around a bit more and went on my way, feeling satisfied with this discovery. This may have been the smallest stream I've ever fished and catching a trout there was a wonderful surprise.

Return to the Catskills

This was the weekend of the much anticipated Catskills trip for a group of anglers from the Westchester fishing forum. It was a really fun trip and great to meet these guys and fish together. Things weren't looking so good when we arrived, though. I drove up with Eric and our first glimpse of the East Branch was disappointing to say the least- it looked like the Willy Wonka Chocolate River.  We drove into camp as sheets of yet more rain turned the dirt road into an instant muddy mess.  We sat in the truck and wondered if the weekend was going to be a bust. Fortunately, the rain didn't last long and we got out and checked out our "bear den" cabin. Right away the neighbors greeted us in unison... "BROS!!". There were over a dozen college kids in the cabin next door and evidently they were here to party. Hard. This was not looking good. Luckily, things only got better from here on out. We met the rest of the crew as they arrived and had some beers around the fire as we talked shop and figured out a plan of attack. The guys were all great- super friendly, knowledgeable, and very psyched to fish. After a sleepless night back at s̶p̶r̶i̶n̶g̶ ̶b̶r̶e̶a̶k̶  the bear den, we upgraded to a cabin far away from the madness and life improved.

By morning the river had totally cleared and we were in business. The whole gang of us met up bright and early and fished the East Branch together, a short drive from the campground. The water was crystal clear and it was cool and overcast- a perfect day to fish. The action was steady for everyone and there was plenty of room to fish this beautiful river. The water was almost emerald green in places and the wading was nice and easy. Streamers and tiny nymph droppers seemed to do the job, everyone seemed to have the most success on the small droppers. I stuck to nymphing with a 20 pheasant tail under a larger beadhead and picked up a nice 14" brown pretty quickly, which ended up being the largest fish of the trip for me. Everyone did well- but I was hoping to see at least a few of the giant slabs these waters are capable of producing. Still, it was a really fun morning and a great start to the weekend. After a quick break, we split off into groups and fished some different rivers in the area. I hit the Beaverkill with Eric, Jack and Matt. The section we went to was one of those wide, shallow parts that I found so challenging last week. But this time, thanks to some tips from the other guys, I learned to tight line a nymph through the riffles and it produced results. The trout I caught weren't that big, but catching them in the middle of a warm sunny afternoon with cold beer on hand was not a bad way to spend a day. My usual instinct is to target the slower transitional water or deeper runs, and in this case it was not where the fish would take a fly. Lesson learned.

That evening three of us went back to the East Branch after an early dinner and fished the section below the campground. As we walked up we could see fish rising in the slow moving water up and down the river. There seemed to be several small hatches happening at once- we saw sulphurs, midges, isonychia and a few stray caddis flies. There were some massive splashes occasionally, like someone lobbed a brick in the river. I got a glimpse of some of these fish and they were just enormous. Needless to say, we were all dying to hook one of them. I tried fly after fly- but only had a couple missed takes on a very small BWO. They might have even been refusals. For the life of me, I just couldn't get any interest from these trout. I've heard much about these selective Catskills fish and this certainly made the case. We all had a hard time that night. The three of us commiserated afterwards and tried to figure out what we could have been doing wrong. Maybe you need a 12 foot 6x leader. Maybe they only wanted midges. We had each thought to try tiny emerger droppers, but that didn't work either. Well, I did get one small one that way, but that's not exactly verification. It remains a mystery.

Feeling unsatisfied, we returned to this spot in the morning. I really thought that nymphing here might give us a chance to connect with one of these big trout. But again, no dice. We quickly went to the other section that had produced trout the day before and finished off the morning with a steady pick of smallish fish while nymphing the riffles. And then it was time to hit the road. I feel like this trip got me a little bit closer to understanding how to fish this area, but I still have so much to learn. The knowledge of a guide would be invaluable here and hopefully I'll get the chance to hire one on another visit. All of that aside, this was a really fun trip with some great anglers who were a pleasure to meet and fish with. I can't wait to do it again.