And so, we have come at last to the turn of the seasons. Autumn awaits two days hence, and I contemplate my farewell to another Catskill summer. This time is always bittersweet for me; it has ever been so since my youth. More poignant now, as the passing of summer rapidly brings the dry fly season to a close.
This has not been a perfect summer; too little rain and too much heat pared the day-to-day fishing down to its bones at times, though as always there were bright moments. I enjoyed the hunt for trout even during the most difficult times, for that is the essence of my being: the grace of a bamboo fly rod and a classic reel, the hope to bring a fine wild brownie to the dry fly!
Perhaps today I will take another long walk upon the Delaware, sans those azure skies and tiny flies we come to accept as the norm for summertime. It is a time to reach out on the big river, to test the riffles with a sturdy Isonychia, either floated or swung. What better way to awaken a Delaware rainbow from his summer nap?
Little of summer’s sunshine can be expected to find me these final days, and Friday’s high is forecast at fifty-three degrees. The change in seasons will be easily noticeable. I am prepared, for I have seen the signs throughout these past few weeks. Yet I hope for a few weeks more with rising trout! I do not wish to surrender to the long months without life upon the surface.