Turning

It seems another very dry September has settled upon the Catskill Mountains. The ten-day forecast shows not a drop of rainfall in the offing, and rivers are already shriveled.

The weather has been beautiful, save for the drought, with pleasant sun-filled afternoons and chilly nights. These are perfect days for fishing.

I spent a little time with friends last evening, wading in the shadows of evening in search of a good rise of trout. My friends had enjoyed good action the night before, and we anticipated a similar outing, but the Red Gods kept the mayflies’ numbers sparse as to awaken a rise just here and there. The company was pleasant, the scenery sublime on a clear West Branch evening; as we anglers often say, the fishing was lovely, it was only the catching that was somewhat lacking.

It has been a number of years since I faithfully haunted these rivers at sunset. With the luxury of retirement, I fish in daylight, enjoying all the beauty and wonder of the Catskills – mountains, rivers and sky! In my traveling days I would often fish through each day unto night. Well, at least during my younger traveling days.

Summer evenings are beautiful, though a wealth of my recollections of bygone days reveals many when it was the catching that paled amidst the vast wonder of the outdoor experience.

My first hatch, and the first to capture my heart was the sulfur hatch. These small yellow and orange mayflies were the premier hatch on the Pennsylvania limestone springs, and they entranced us most often at twilight. As the skies neared full darkness, the hatch reached it’s peak and fishing became a frenzy. Time is short, and the time is now!

Those nights are the province of memory now, for my twilight fishing is rare in my later years. I feel that same excitement in daylight now, stalking a soft, barely noticeable dimple in the shade…