Little hope remains for a last moment of dry fly magic. I have guarded such wistful thoughts for weeks now, as a dry September turned into a dry October. I have made my best efforts to convince myself that the mature trout have been occupied with the spawning urge amid difficult circumstances, and that those who succeeded would return to their hunting lies and offer a sublime finale to the season. My mind admits now that this will not come to pass.
Trout which have navigated another drought season’s difficulties are not looking for surface food, for there has been little available since the full blush of summer. Mayflies, caddisfles, midges; all have been notable by their absence.
Alas, bright waters still pull at me, drawing me near despite my realizations, despite the evidence a spare season has piled before me. It is hard for the soul to let go, to release something as magic, as glorious and entrancing as a Catskill dry fly season!
Bright Waters Catskill 