Had a surprise this morning with some heavy rainfall, enough to push the West Branch back up to floating country and beyond: she’s running 4,550 and still rising! My fishing day seems to have been washed away with my morning coffee. I’m not complaining, as I welcome the rain, even if it comes in bunches.

Buddy Guy is wailing the blues over my shoulder as I put a few flies in a shirt pocket box for next week. Sad to say that our little cool down will be short lived, with a high of 85 for Sunday and near 90 to start the week.

I did get out to fish yesterday, visiting some water I hadn’t seen in a month. I had hoped the cool down and high flows had freshened the water so that some of the stressed trout I had seen that day would be back to a comfortable normal. I found no evidence of that, despite sixty-one degree water after one in the afternoon, failing to so much as move a single fish. I am beginning to accept the fact that I’ll have to wait for fall to enjoy the quality of fishing I had last summer.

The extra water should help the Delaware, particularly with more hot sunny weather on the way. It won’t get to fishable temperatures, but hopefully the increased oxygenation will help relieve the stress on the fish hunkering in place. The water temperature at Lordville dropped steadily during Tuesday’s storm, reaching a welcome sixty-four degrees. The daily peaks have remained just below seventy since then. Yesterday morning’s lovely fifty-five degrees at sunrise didn’t hurt either!

The NYC reservoir page now shows 2.9″ of rainfall for August, 2.8″ more than it showed on August 3rd. I don’t know the origin of their numbers, whether averaged over various gages or measured at some central location, but perhaps the eastern Catskills didn’t get heavier rain than we got here in Hancock as I believed.

A report from my friend Mike in Western Maryland says that hopper season has arrived, as he’s taking a lot of browns, including some good ones, with the Letort Hoppers he’s been tying. I had hoped for a wet year, with good flows and temperatures that would find me floating the Mainstem now and trying my updated hopper pattern along every grassy bank I passed. Then again, wind really makes hopper fishing great, but it isn’t the rower’s nor the fly caster’s friend on the big river.

Daydreams of hopper fishing gets me thinking about the West. I have been telling Mike that we should make a real trip to Montana now that we’re both retired. No guides, no lodges, no set itinerary; and a couple of weeks to fish wherever the best conditions happened to be. I’ve only been out there twice, both times on someone else’s schedule, and though I enjoyed those trips, the fishing wasn’t anywhere near “as advertised”.

I was truly captivated by the beauty of the Henry’s Fork. I had read about that magical fishery since boyhood and desperately wanted to fish it. On my second trip west, Mike and I managed two days on the Railroad Ranch in seventy degree bluebird September weather. Mahogany Duns were hatching during the afternoons, and the wide flats of the ranch were littered with them, but very few trout rose to partake of the feast. Walking a couple of miles of the Ranch, I located two nice pods of feeding rainbows, each with its own pod of fly fishermen. I did find a couple of singles with a little extra effort, landing a pair of bright fifteen inch bows as I stood mesmerized by the landscape. Oh how I want to go back!

The rain and rumbling thunder have departed, and there’s blue sky smiling through the window over my tying desk. Time to see what I can find to do today…

I set my unofficial rain gage (okay, my carwash bucket) in my driveway at 11:05 AM yesterday. It had been raining lightly but steadily since five, and I was curious to capture the results of the big event that was on our doorstep. By the time the rain subsided around 4:30 PM, I measured about 3.75 inches of rain water in the bucket. With easily another quarter inch falling in the morning, I deduced that Hancock had received around four inches of rain from the fast moving tropical storm system.

The West Branch Delaware rose quickly and crested at about 1,750 cfs between seven or eight in the evening. The eastern side of the Delaware watershed was in the forecast path for heavier rainfall. The Beaverkill was bubbling along over its cobbles at a little more than 100 cfs yesterday morning, rising dramatically to a crest around 11,700 cfs shortly after 7:30 PM. The river crested roughly seven tenths of a foot above flood stage, measured at 10.0 feet at the Cooks Falls gage. All the rivers are dropping quickly, the Beaverkill running at a flow of 3,540 cfs at 5:45 AM.

Despite noodling around on weather sites this morning, I have not found any tallies for the region, but I expect the central and eastern portions of the Catskills may have received the five inches that was forecast, perhaps a bit more. That’s a substantial amount of rainfall over the course of about twelve hours, but only time will tell if it was enough to resurrect our summer fishing.

We were fortunate here in Hancock, as the heavy rain lasted for about two hours, and it wasn’t the type of monsoon downpour we often see in thunderstorms. I think a great deal of the rain we received had a chance to soak into the ground and do the region a lot of good, as opposed to falling in a quick burst that has little choice than to runoff rapidly and produce extreme flash flooding.

I haven’t looked at the West Branch yet today, but the 886 cfs flow I noted at 6:15 this morning is a very wadeable flow. I expect there is still a fair amount of color in the water now, but it might well be clear by evening.

The cooler weather looks like it will last until the weekend, when daily highs will get back into the eighties. If the overnight lows would get down into the fifties consistently, the receding freestone rivers could get back to fishable temperatures. The Beaverkill dropped from seventy-six degrees to sixty-two along with that rush of runoff, but it started to warm back up by early morning. Eighty degree sunshine will unfortunately get it back into the seventies before long. Where’s that May snowfall when you need it?

The NYC website hasn’t updated the reservoir levels to reflect the storm. It will be interesting to see if the capacities show a significant increase. Inflow from the mainstem rivers spiked from the rain, as did the various tributary streams, exceeding the release flows, so storage certainly increased, though I doubt the city will increase reservoir releases to improve tailwater conditions. That would take a lot more rainfall, a pattern of recurring cooler, wetter weather, and even then we cannot rely upon NYC to give our rivers their fair share.

I’m tempted to wipe the dust and cobwebs from my drift boat this morning and drop it in the West Branch, but I expect there will be an increase in traffic that would rob me of the exhilaration a float would provide. The river is still dropping too, and a day of floating could easily become an afternoon of dragging.

There is clear, blue sky outside my window as I write this, and that freshness in the air that rain and wind provides: storm washed. Perhaps I’ll simply enjoy it a bit, tie a few flies, poke around in the yard. I do need an archery backstop, a project I have been daydreaming about for the past two summers.

I was a dedicated bowhunter for more than forty years. My friend John keeps telling me about the whitetail bucks that have been frequenting his property this summer; and the new tree stands he has placed. I keep reminding him of my track record as the unluckiest deer hunter alive. I love the change of pace and the exercise I get from walking the Catskill mountains with my bird gun. I get a lot more out of that than I could sitting in a tree. You do learn a few things after forty years.

Grouse season and bow season both open on October first, and the afternoon fishing can be particularly fine at that time of year. I spent a lot of days last October hunting birds in mid-morning and stalking trout in the afternoons. Can’t say I would mind repeating that pattern.

I awoke to gentle rainfall this morning, hopeful that it will continue throughout the day as promised, and provide real relief to our parched groundwater, rivers and trout. Hancock still lies along the boundary between the bands on the television weather maps: one to two inches of rainfall or three to five inches. Should we be able to avoid torrential downpours, I am praying for at least three inches. We need rain soaking into the ground, not running wily nily over it.

I still long for the wonderful summer fishing of the past, The rain, and the seasonal temperatures forecast for the balance of this week, are a big step toward the realization of my wishes.

I was fortunate to steal a couple of hours Sunday afternoon, as John and I met up again to see if the sulfur hatch might bring a trout or two to the surface once the onslaught of canoes, kayaks and inner tubes subsided. The afternoon and early evening was beautiful, and we both found a fish or two to keep us occupied.

We enjoyed the game: fly pattern selection, tippet changes, short takes and refusals. As the afternoon waned I thought I had solved the puzzle, the seven foot bamboo in my hand throbbing with the struggles of a good fish. I slipped a fine, buttery golden brown into my net only to find the fly had pricked the skin of his belly, not his mouth. He had come up and refused the fake, my strike catching him on the way down. Victory this day to the trout, soundly!

The air, the sunshine and warm blustery winds, and most of all the company made it a good time, the kind that neither of us would trade.

It had been more than a month since I had the benefit of some company on the river. My friend John and I enjoyed a morning fishing apart, as dictated by the continuing threat of Coronavirus. Our time was short we knew, for it would not be long before the throngs arrived at this quiet stretch of river and chased us back to hot, dry land. We made the most of the time we had.

John is one of those rare friends who enjoys the day outdoors, whatever comes. If we catch fish he is smiling; the same if we don’t. If the grouse fly or the whitetails pass our stands, he enjoys the time spent whether a shot connects or not; and he finds equal joy and fulfillment from those days when game is scarce. Kindred spirits. I felt it more than twenty years ago when he walked into my fly shop for a chat.

John is beyond “handy” as well. His abilities reach the level of artistic and inspired. Fly tier, artist, and now bamboo rod maker. That last time we met along the river he brought his second rod, an 8 foot four weight built upon a taper devised by another friend, Tom Smithwick, the man I have called the Taper Wizard. Of course John didn’t just build an amazing cane flyrod. He made a beautiful walnut rod tube to complement it. Even before he heard my admiration, he insisted upon making a walnut case for me.

As we readied our gear for fishing yesterday morning, he placed the case on my car and stepped away, both of us mindful of our duty to protect our own health and that of our families. The morning light enflamed the figuring in the walnut as I turned the six sided case in my hands, the craftsmanship truly as beautiful as the wood, and the very special Thomas & Thomas fly rod it was destined for. I will cherish the gift as long as I continue.

Circumstances have kept us from spending time upon the rivers we both love this spring. There were float trips envisioned during the peak hatches, and afternoons reveling in the glory of the Green Drake hatch, dreams doused, if not by the threat of the growing public health crisis, then by the vagaries of Mother Nature’s whims. John found a different way to spend precious hours with his friend. I will share in those each time I take that rod case in hand and journey to the river.

There’s rain coming they say. Dare we believe them? Predicting the actions of hurricanes is chancy at best. The Catskills appears somewhere in limbo between the forecasts and models: perhaps one to two inches of rain, perhaps as much as five to eight inches. If I could place my order I would opt for something along the lines of three or four inches, spread out over two to three days and nights. Fill the groundwaters which feed the springs which feed the brooks… and on to the rivers. Fill the reservoirs too, so the releases may give new life to the embattled Mainstem of the Delaware, where this summer has been truly harsh.

If I get my wish, perhaps August will shine as last year, and my friend and I will find good fishing, maybe even take that float trip. And of course there is autumn…