Meaningful rainfall has returned to the Catskills at last! Wading anglers are not smiling today, with rivers high and muddied by runoff, but the needs of the rivers and the aquifers which feed them must outweigh the needs of the fishermen for a time. As I wrote those words, I heard rain trickling from my roof, the beginnings of today’s contribution to the as yet unfilled Delaware reservoirs.

I messaged my best friend to prepare, to free some time for a couple of days of floating. I expect, I told him, that the reservoir dams will begin to spill just about the time these tailwater rivers clear to welcome fishermen once more. The rise and drop of our rivers has been dramatic, a sharp spike on the USGS graphs, from the variable rainfall amounts our region received over the weekend. Hancock recorded just less than three inches through yesterday, and the word is the eastern Catskills received a heavier dose. Every drop of it was sorely needed!

Generally, we are embarking upon a run of typical early April weather for the second week of May. The mountains have grown brighter each day with new greenery. Spillage over the dams will mean a longer time of sustained flows, flows often limiting wade fishing to a little or none proposition.

There is work to be done now, those oars must be readied, the boat cleaned out, and the boat bags checked for the proper mix of flies, clothing and gear to cover all the varying possibilities of an unsettled spring day on the river. My beloved cane rods will be in waiting, as the long graphites more suited to the rigors of drift boat fishing are checked and readied. They have seen little use these past few seasons, and their reels will need their lines cleaned and new leaders affixed.

Once more we look to the skies for the sustenance of our passion: bright water and wild trout.

“The Cat” and I were working in the Catskill Rodmakers Workshop yesterday afternoon, each planing strips of bamboo… the endless task! Three days of rain were expected for the extended weekend and, as has been the norm during this past year, little had fallen, though the skies began to look the part. We both figured it would be a perfect day to rough plane a few more strips, bringing each of us closer to the self-made split bamboo fly rods we seek. It was quiet in the shop, just the whisper of planes skimming scant thousandths of an inch of bamboo from the strips with each pass. Methodical in it’s simplicity, two strokes and turn, the mind settles into the repetition.

A couple visiting the Museum talked with Dave for a while. He patiently walked them around the rod shop, showing the vintage rods displayed and explaining the methods and processes required to produce these magic sticks. They asked about the time required to build our rods, and we both admitted we had not logged the hours spent so far. Dave estimated perhaps 80 hours would be required, and I agreed.

Dave Catizone is a treasure. He was involved with the idea of a museum for the history and growth of American fly fishing here in the Catskills from its’ infancy. He is wise and humble, gifted with a wealth of knowledge of this game and its history. He shows great deference for the storied personalities who formed the region’s community of anglers from the Golden Age forward. These giants of angling were his friends and mentors and it is clear how committed he has been to honoring their accomplishments.

I looked back at my notes this morning, estimating the hours worked each day here since January. My best idea? I have spent some 40 hours to reach the doorstep of the final phase of hand planing the strips for my rod. That last step can be expected to require two sessions, or eight to ten hours. Beyond lies glueing and binding the three rod sections, sanding away the dried epoxy glue and the enamel, then initial finishing and mounting: ferrules, grip and reel seat. Perhaps I am close to the half-way point, if I am lucky.

There was a gentle shower, then perhaps ten minutes of steady rainfall while we worked. In less than half an hour the sun was coming out. Looking at the river gages this morning, it appeared that the Beaver Kill received enough to raise it’s flow gently. No way the inch that was promised was received, though we shall have to let today play out to see what falls. Yes, yes, the Beaver Kill still has a good flow, but I look to the Delaware tailwaters, whose reservoirs have still not filled, with praying hands.

Release flows were very low throughout the winter and remain so. New York City wants them full before they give the rivers the water they deserve, and I worry about the early onset of hot summertime weather before this new month is out. Don’t mind me. When bright water means everything to you, it is easy to be uneasy about the future of the angling passion. Rain is the solution.

My windows are open this morning and I listen to the birdsong. It is fifty-seven degrees here, and the hint of a shower flirts with Crooked Eddy. I have spooled a new fly line onto the vintage Screwback CFO IV which best accompanies my five weight Leonard, a very modern line which perfectly compliments the classic Catskill rod! I wonder, what will tomorrow bring?