Given I had wandered the Willowemoc yesterday until the number of anglers exceeded my tolerance, I went on to sample another reach of small water. Though there are gorgeous, historic miles of the Beaver Kill above Roscoe’s Junction Pool, very little of that water allows public access and fishing. The “little river” has long been the domain of private angling clubs, and though the enjoyment of these shrines is restricted, it is their stewardship that has preserved the beauty and purity Nature has wrought there.
I read a great deal from those who angled there amid the Golden Age, icons like Sparse Grey Hackle, Gene Connett, Arnold Gingrich, and my favorite, Dana Storrs Lamb.
It was four years ago when I noted the fine print on a Catskill region recreational map denoting the location of Lamb’s “Pigpen Pool”, and though it was autumn and not the perfect time to visit the place, I was quite simply drawn there. Indeed, the Pigpen Pool was located along one of those rare reaches open for public fishing. I found it still just as beautiful as Dana had described it all those decades before my birth.
And so, in my desperation to find the solitude of fishing, I returned. There was no one about the place on this rainy afternoon, and I was excited when I saw a few mayflies winging above the bouncing currents. It looked every bit the fast run on this spring visit, very unlike the pools I fish on the lower river. I made a few casts of course, the old 7-1/2-foot Orvis bamboo being well suited to the environs, though I felt certain that the volume and velocity of the current would not entertain a trout to rise. Simply seeing those few mayflies in the air, standing amid that rush of bright water and hearing nothing above it’s passing save a hint of birdsong, caused me to feel the magic of the place.
Thank you once more, Mr. Lamb.
Bright Waters Catskill 