April 7th, Day Zero has arrived. The pre-dawn light reveals new snow dusting the ground here at Crooked Eddy. I stole out on the porch while the second cup of coffee brewed to check the thermometer: 32 degrees as the new dry fly season mathematically begins.
In truth I wandered bright rivers late last week, a Catskill Adams knotted to a long leader. I found the afternoon water temperature favorable, reaching 52, at last finding that first rise. A phantom, a rise for show, one to heighten my spirit as it awakens from the long sleep of winter. Surely not the mark of a certain feeding trout.
Saturday, as all of Roscoe celebrated the new season, the chill settled amid the winds and rain, though there were hopefuls encountered at the Catskill Brewery, as I tied dry flies, answered questions, and told snippets of the Catskill tradition. Sunday turned into a surprise day at the Catskill Rodmakers Workshop, where I not only completed finish planing the strips for my rod’s butt section, but whisked through an intermediate pass on the six strips selected for the mid-section. Perhaps the fire of spring and anticipation fueled me, for I worked on little sleep after a long day in Roscoe.
I felt the old energy returning even yesterday morning, quickly tying three of my black CDX caddisflies before leaving for the rod shop. Though I always encounter little black caddis about these rivers in those days before anticipation is finally transformed into the sublime glow of fishing the rise, I have never seen a trout take one, nor even rise to one. Later though, they can be the answer to an invisible question, as trout quickly jaded by the spring onslaught sip them from the drift between clusters of ignored Hendrickson duns. One rule of fishing: it is always best to have those patterns you know will not work, alongside all of those that you know will!
The forecast tells me to expect twenty-six degrees tonight, and a high tomorrow at freezing, milestones that will not tempt our water temperatures in the right direction. I may have to dedicate time to the tying vise to keep the internal fires smoldering. It will not be an early spring this year, looking more like the hatches will unfold slowly and later than I had hoped. Still, such seasons can provide brief yet wonderful opportunities to the faithful. The angler endures the damp, cold days, walking and wading in search of the light. Should providence smile, it will be a shy smile, one easy to miss during the long, silent hours of the day.
(Photo courtesy Michael Saylor)
Bright Waters Catskill 