Calm In the Eye of the Whirlwind

I stole a couple of hours from winter’s whirlwind yesterday, trapped in a three-day stretch with highs in the fifties, before the new snowstorm comes calling.

The gift of time on the water calms my soul and refreshes my spirit, a necessary balm before I must face winter anew. My countdown sits suspended at forty-six days, closer to the goal, yet still far away. In truth I accept that my timetable has no control upon Nature’s, and the Catskill winter shall have its due.

With the luxury of residence, and with time at my disposal, I have found at least a chance to worship at the altar of the dry fly during that second week of April. That chance may be anything from the appearance of a few quivering mayflies to a full-blown hatch with rising trout, though the later quite likely may not come to pass until May lies in the doorway.

Last year the first blessing from the river was received on April 12th, a gift, for I had seen no mayflies nor any rises until that single ring appeared before me on the wide Delaware. One ring, one cast and one take, and the glory of another dry fly season began with a lovely brown trout! It would be a week before I encountered the season’s second rise. A Catskill spring comes in its own time.

It is another beautiful morning, though I wait for Nature to deal her blow. Half an inch of rain is expected to arrive just as the water temperature flirts with its daily peak. I debate whether to take the chance, to seek bright water before the chill of wind-driven winter rainfall steals the glory from the day. A single cast can male all the difference…