Dream Hunts

Here on a steamy early morning, thwarted by high water, it is easy to slip into memory of Catskill Summers past…

Summertime brings new challenges, the game is different now, for the changes in conditions can be subtle yet alter the habits of the trout. Storms and runoff are the big chips in this game, but something as gentle as a slight change in humidity, or a nighttime low a few degrees cooler than the past week’s norm can trip the switch and put a trophy brown on the hunt. I learn more each season.

Summer is almost always a stalker’s game. The regular hatches are finished with the passing of spring. Oh yes, there can be flies in certain areas at certain times, but they are more capricious than those of spring. Are there a few spinners at dawn? Perhaps, or a ten-minute drift of tiny olives. Spotting a roamer sipping such dainties begins the approach, tense and urgent, as I know it may not last long enough for me to slip within casting range.

Morning cruisers are a test: one rise, one cast, and that cast must be immediate and perfect. Trying to guess the direction of an unseen cruiser and offer a second chance tends to bring disaster, and spooking one may spook others as yet unknown that lurk nearby.

Low light and fog ads another kind of intensity. Stand and listen, you may hear that solid plop, quickly stifled by the thickness of the damp air. Where? How far? Wishing I was there right now; listening…

Wading without a trace, pulling my hat brim down to shade my eyes as they search for the nexus of that sound. It always amazes me how subtle the evidence of even a huge old brown’s rise can be, how quickly it can vanish!