It is a wonderful thing to have chilly nights, cooler days and copious amounts of rainfall! Here we are at the end of August, the month so many anglers refer to as the dog days, and our rivers are flowing cold and beautiful through the landscape. The freestoners have plentiful flows and the tailwaters will bring a chill to your bones. You can see the insects coming back!
Though I love each day I am blessed to wander these Catskill rivers, that hasn’t been the case throughout this summer. I remember fishing during what amounted to the best part of the summer sulfur hatch on the West Branch Delaware. The flow was elevated in the upper river and on one seemingly perfect afternoon I saw little in the way of mayflies of any kind. Rain runoff mixing with the release flow had raised the water temperature to 54 degrees there, and that is cold by normal standards, but this area usually advertises downright frigid water. I am not a scientist, so I cannot say why the sulfur and olive hatches continue for two to three months past their normal freestone time frame, but the hatches certainly thrive on that 47-degree water. The extra seven degrees that day demonstrated just how precious the frigid flow can be.
I sought out some fast, cold tailwater flows again on Tuesday, and was rewarded with an hour or so fencing with several very active trout. On an afternoon with rapidly changing sky conditions, cloudy one minute with peaks of golden sunlight the next, I found a small hatch to draw me into the fantasy.
A couple of trout were slashing the surface of the run when I arrived, and I could see a few wings on the surface, mostly small pairs awash in the turbulent flow, but here and their I caught a glimpse of larger wings. Immediately I cast my old friend the Isonychia into the fray.
Chasing those slashes failed to produce a hookup, and I reasoned that those fish were simply moving too fast, probably chasing the big swimming nymphs up through the moving water. Being a hardened dry fly fisherman, there was no way I was going to fish underwater. I felt confident that my 100-Year Dun would tempt a few of the better trout to the surface.
I concentrated on the softer seems close to the larger rocks that I could just barely make out beneath. The river was coloring up somewhat, and seemed to rise slightly, and I suspected there had been a quick cloudburst somewhere on the mountainside that hurried soiled runoff down a tributary. Watching a heavier rise in one of those calmer seams, I targeted several casts there and reaped the benefits with a solid grab and a heavily arched, bouncing rod tip!
My foe wasn’t inclined to leave that deep, fast water to make a long run like a pool dwelling brownie, so I had to win the fight on his terms. That T&T cane throbbed each time he gave me a glimpse then dove again. When finally reduced to possession, that foot and-a-half of brown trout was absolutely gorgeous, displaying a deep polished bronze flank littered with brilliant dots of crimson.
Continuing with my plan of fishing along the calmer seams, the next and larger taker offered a similar challenge, fighting deep and long until the flexible power of the vintage bamboo finally subdued him. By that point the hatch seemed to turn toward a predominance of smaller mayflies. Catching a glimpse of bright yellow clued me into tying on a Hebe version of my 100-Year Dun which accounted for another pair of brownies, these significantly smaller like the flies themselves.
When I saw the wings of a larger fly once more, I changed back to my friend Isonychia. Continuing to cast to those seams, I witnessed a flash of bronze as a nose jutted through the surface attached to a huge gill plate. The fly drifted perfectly once, then twice. The third cast was the charm, or perhaps the curse.
The fish took solidly, and I raised the rod into a perilous arch. The cane throbbed, but the trout refused to turn my way. He powered straight down into the froth and cut my fluorocarbon tippet like it was nothing. Ah, I hope we meet again leviathan! Would that your fondness for the 100-Year Isonychia will lead you to my net as summer wanes…
Bright Waters Catskill 