In early June a fishing buddy of mine, Paul Knauth of Hinsdale, and I decided to take a 4-day flyfishing trip to the nearby Catskills in NY to fish the fabled waters such as the Beaverkill, the Willowemoc and other rivers. We didn’t plan on roughing it on this trip as we usually do but rather to stay in a comfortable motel in Roscoe, NY, eat our breakfasts and dinners in local restaurants and bring sandwiches for our lunches at stream sides.  When not fishing, we planned to visit the Catskill Flyfishing Museum and the famous Dette’s Flyfishing Shop in Livingston Manor, NY.

The afternoon that we arrived, we met with Paul’s friend Mark Sturtevant who is an outdoor writer, angler, fly tier and cane (bamboo) aficionado.  He showed us to a few good spots to fish and what insects were hatching. He suggested we fish nymphs and wet flies near the stream bottom and to get on the stream by daybreak. I asked him if my favorite fly, the AuSable Wulff, would work there and he said no.

When we told him that we were going to fish with our old bamboo rods, (both Orvis Battenkills, mine built in 1967 and Paul’s in 1974) the conversation switched to the cane rods.  He mentioned how one of his old Orvis Battenkill bamboo rods snapped while he was fighting a fish.  Upon subsequent inspection he noticed a black spot, under the guide wrappings just above the ferrule which indicated rot.

We didn’t fish that evening but rather checked on a few places to see how the anglers were doing.  They were having success fishing the green drakes (Ephemera guttulata).  We were excited to fish this large mayfly early the next morning.

Monday morning came and we were on the Beaverkill bright and early.  We planned on stopping for breakfast around 9:00 am, but the fish didn’t start biting until then,  so we skipped breakfast.

While I was casting a wet fly, a big trout jumped right over it as soon as it hit the water. That indicated the fish weren’t on the bottom but rather seeking hatched or emerging flies on the water surface.  I tied on a size 10 (large) March Brown (maccaffertium vicarium) fly with a creamy tan thorax and abdomen.  The water exploded near the fly and before I knew what happened, my valuable, old bamboo rod was split in two (It broke under the wrapping just above the ferrule!).  The fish was still on and when I tried to land it by just pulling the line it quickly broke off.

We each caught some fish, but nothing as big as that one.  Paul was having success fishing nymphs while I stayed on top using large mayflies.  Before we knew it, it was time for lunch so we ate sliced chicken on rolls that Paul had brought from home.  After a short afternoon rest, we returned to the same spot and fished until dark, catching some nice brown trout.  But by then, the restaurants were closed so we had no choice but to have another helping of sliced chicken on rolls.

On Tuesday morning, after breakfast, we tried a different place on the Little Beaverkill.  Paul killed them upstream of a bridge, (actually, we released all the trout) and downstream I caught a few.   It was there that I hooked and missed another huge trout, breaking my tippet (thinnest part of the leader).  After dining on sliced chicken on rolls for lunch, we visited the Catskill Flyfishing Museum.  It was quite interesting and I recommend flyfishermen visit it when in the area.

Later, we went back to the same spot and once again, Paul had phenomenal luck upstream of the bridge, while I fished downstream.  I hooked another big brown that snapped my tippet and swam away. We met an angler there who told us about a good spot to fish just below the bridge.  He said that just before dark, the trout feed heavily there.  So, rather than to stopping for dinner, we went there.

Sure enough, the fish started feeding.  While fishing the inlet of a very large pool, I had a hellacious hit that bent my replacement rod, and before I could react, the fly line came flying back at me. Paul was going to film the fight and when I told him the fish got away, he shouted “No way!” Well, at least it didn’t break my leader and take my fly. We fished until dark without getting another hit.  Once again, the restaurants were closed so we ate sliced chicken on rolls.

On Wednesday morning, we returned to the same spot.  Paul once again killed them upstream above the bridge, while I tried to settle the score downstream.  I had pretty good luck catching 4 nice trout with the AuSable Wulff dry fly. But the big guy that broke me off the day before refused my offerings. Finally, with a big splash he took the fly and the fight was on but only for a couple of seconds as the knot on the fly gave way and he got away again., Once again, Paul shouted, “No way!” That was the fourth big trout on this trip that managed to elude my net.

There was still one more trout near the big pool that scared us the prior night, the one that made the hellacious splash.  After refusing several of my flies, I put on what we think was a “Chocolate Dun” fly and gave it a cast. The following is the description from Paul: “You could see the wake of a big fish as it followed the fly, and when it emerged after the fly, it looked like a submarine.”

It dived for the bottom and was heading for the big pool and after that, perhaps Chesapeake Bay. It pulled so hard that I simply couldn’t turn that fish and I was preparing to follow it downstream when the line came flying back at me.  The line broke at the knot connecting the tippet to the leader. Over my shoulder I heard, “No way!

I never landed any of those five big brown trout that I hooked.  Perhaps I should take fishing lessons from Lawrence “Skip” Dean of Becket who hauled a big brown trout out of Lake Buel earlier this spring.

Picture of Skip Dean provided by him.

Other tidbits about this trip:  The smoke from the Canadian fires was unbelievable with the air quality index just shy of 200.  We spent hours (11 ½ hours one day) fishing in it.  Not smart.

The water level of the river was low, but the water temperature ranged from 58 to 62 degrees F, perfect for trout fishing.

We enjoyed fishing the Beaverkill and Little Beaverkill Rivers because of their easy, wadable bottoms, easy access and the multiple large mayflies and caddisflies that were hatching.

Although I regretted breaking that old bamboo flyrod, it cost me nothing.  It was a gift from the family of a deceased old friend   There were two tips to that rod, so it is still fishable.  I had planned on donating it as a Trout Unlimited raffle item, but am glad I didn’t.  Can you imagine how I would feel if a friend bid $700- $1,000 on it, only to have it break that easily? It turned out that not only Mark’s and my bamboo rods broke in the same place, but Paul had a similar rod and his also broke in the same place last year, probably due to the same cause, hidden rot.

The soles of my old wading shoes began disintegrating on the last day.  I don’t know how one boot stayed in one piece.  They ended up in the motel’s dumpster before I left for home.

This was my first fishing trip in a year due to health issues which kept me close to home. Since the fall of last year, Paul insisted that I would be making this fishing trip and he wouldn’t let me think otherwise.  I’m glad he did for I had a good time waving the flyrods again.

Please note:  The picture of young Cassidy Wojniki in last week’s column was taken by Autumn Phoenix of Autumn Phoenix Photography. This credit had not been included. The Jimmy Fund Sportsman Award was won by Ian O’Hearn and not Erwin O’Hearn.