And so I have come once more to that old milestone, not yet mid-winter, but with two months of it behind I stand with a real hope for spring in sight. That count of days gives me hope in itself, for as each of those one hundred days is passed, the goal moves closer to realization.
Our Catskill rivers are high, and their waters warmer than they might be, for ours has been a wet and mild December. the Catskill watersheds welcomed an average rainfall more than twice the historical average for the month. Reservoirs draining to the Delaware River are either spilling or have spilled their excess within the last few days. There has been no measurable snowfall here in Crooked Eddy.
The angler’s inquiring mind wonders what this will mean for the coming fishing season, and as always we are left to either theorize or simply guess. Should these next hundred days continue the wet, mild pattern of weather, the fly hatches could begin early. If however the next three months bring diving temperatures and heavy snows, spring fishing would likely be late. The one constant in these annual considerations remain: we must wait and see!
In battling the bronchitis that crept into my days after Thanksgiving, I have failed to take advantage of the warmer days of December. My hunting ceased after the opening day of deer season, and I have not prospected any of our warmer than usual winter rivers. On a second round of medicine, I hope to be able to remedy that situation in the new year.
I would like very much to see the sun again, watch it twinkling upon bright water as I cast a long, slow line down and across the flow. A fifty degree day (we just had a rainy one) with clear, sunny skies might help to lessen my cough, and I am certain that a walk along the river could not fail to do me some good. The rain is still falling on the metal roof above my head though, with a chance of snow lurking in the forecast.
One hundred days from now I will walk along the river bank and greet a new dry fly season, with hope if not fulfillment. I shall search the currents for new signs of life. Whether on that first day, or further on, the season will unfold, and I will see that first pair of gray wings dance upon a riffle, behold that first soft bulge in the current and feel the quickening of my heart as I take the fly from the hook keeper and pull that first measure of line from my reel.
Each season is different, and that seems perhaps the best reason to see as many of them as we can!
Bright Waters Catskill 