August

Perhaps unlike any number of anglers, I have fond memories of August, visions of countless golden hours of Catskill summers along the rivers of my heart.

Most speak of the “dog days” and conjure visions of dry pebble beds where mountain streams once bubbled downhill, and it is true that is one part of the mosaic, but there is more. August often brings a welcome change to the heat waves we see in June and July. There is a fresh breath in the air, and cool evenings return to these mountains providing a freshening with high summer.

My memories include sulfurs on the West Branch, with her wild brown trout feeding at the height of selectivity, drizzly days with tiny olive mayflies peppering the surface, where the tiniest rings from falling raindrops share a place with the soft but widening rings of good trout rising.

Summerfest arrives this very weekend, a time for anglers to gather, celebrate the history of our Catskill rivers and their lore, browse tackle treasures from the past, and share tales with old friends.

I remember finding a sweet five strip rod one Summerfest, making a trade and sweeping it off to the West Branch that afternoon. A pair of lovely big brownies christened that rod, testing it’s casting and resilience. Though that rod was traded for another seasons later, it is cast in my memory from the triumph of that very first day!

July has passed with joy and anguish. I fished but five days during her last three weeks, but oh what days they were! Now I look forward to the blessing of high summer: stalking trout at the peak of their wariness, weekend music festivals, fairs and gatherings, the pleasure of cool evenings and a chill at daybreak.