When you have fished a long, long time you notice that your old haunts come back to haunt you. Places and times and memories of fish and ways of fishing that you have not done in decades return and simmer in your unconscious wait to re-emerge again.

Giant tuna you have caught and the fights and the excitement of the first one. Marlin lighting up and crashing a bait so close to the stern that you could touch it if you thought of it at the time but you never do. First trout on a nymph when you were six or seven. First striper on a fly rod when you were with your dad in the boat at five.

Casting a big swimming plug with an eel skin on it and seeing an explosion the size of a Volkswagen beetle engulf it and the feel of that fist run when you were nine or ten.

Endless memories of fishing all night in the bay with your dad for days on end eating crackers and peanut butter and drinking Nehi non-carbonated orange soda and a sandwich now and then. Fishing in the canoe all night for largemouth bass with jitterbugs and crazy crawlers. Abbot Run and the blizzard hatches of light Cahill’s all through May and bluefish at Barrington beach every day all summer long.
Fishing the Hex hatch on the Wood River for years and years all alone and never seeing a soul there after the middle of May. Trolling Flatfish lures for trout on opening day in Wallum Lake and drinking hot chocolate out of a thermos and sandwiches that my mom made. Living at the beach all summer every summer and having my own outboard boat when I was old enough. Eleven years old was old enough then.

Riding my bike with a tackle box and waders and two rods and…
I do not know how I managed to do that all the time but I did.
Stalking Grasshoppers and catching them every time.
Watching a family of mice move along a mouse track with the mother carrying the little ones on her back.
Friends.

So much to remember and remember I do.

Life is sweet.

It has been over a month since I had time to sit and write. It has been frenetic and full.
Been lots of places and fished with lots of people. Sean Ransom has been working on the web site and a new one will be up soon, easier to work with and update and post pictures and all the rest of the modern improvements. 

Stripers are everywhere and people are catching them. The Atlantic Herring are on the move out of the harbors and the blues and the bass are paying close attention. 
The ocean front is fishing well and there are bass in the waves. The upper regions of the salt rivers are full of fish and some of the ponds are a little slow unless you know where to look. The crabs have probably done the mating thing already and the little 1/8 to 1/ 4” tiny ones will be around soon and the bass will be feeding on them making everyone crazy. The ocean is an amazing place.

I have been fishing a lot with three weights and have had no problems landing fish quickly. It is actually more in keeping with the size of school bass to catch them on lighter gear and learn how to fight fish yourself rather than horsing them in with heavier equipment if conditions allow for their use. People who dismiss light gear as too light and hard on the fish could learn how to fight fish rather than grouse about it. It is the person’s lack of fish fighting skill that makes the fight last too long not the equipment in almost every case. Five weights are great striper rods. They are strong enough to cast nine weight lines or heavier easily and can handle school bass and even larger fish with grace and the fish is not overpowered. It is a fair fight because it is balanced. 
Sometime you lose. 
That can be a good thing.

It is summer and a great time to fish for stripers that are not moving around but hanging out at home. We are in between moons so many places with soft current will be holding fish that are focused on bait that is staging to move on the next moon. This is normal and occurs near and on the half moons every month. The bait changes but the pattern is the same if you can see it and work with it. Not everyone can but some can and do it with great success. There are squid around and sand eels and the silversides are moving down from the upper bay. Lots going on and we have big menhaden to keep the bigger fish content to graze on the schools and hang out for an extended time. For some people the fishing is easy, bait guys are having a ball.

There are fish to be caught by fly rodders along the rocky shorelines and the cliffs in Newport and Narragansett. This is a great time to try that as the fish are there and willing and they are close and content to stay there for a while.

Fish the little pockets of white water from the waves and the small rip currents that flow out between the rocks. It is much like fishing in pocket water in a trout river. Short casts and short swings through the places where a fish may be hunting for its next meal whether that is a baitfish, a shrimp or a little lobster or crab. Fish along the rocks are opportunists at this time of the year. There are some very big fish in the rocks right now.
In years past the month of July was always a time to fish the beaches and rocks along the ocean front. The bay is great and full of fish but July was a time to explore the open surf again and poke along finding little pods of fish and sometime vast numbers of them that were unmolested and wouldn’t be until September came and the hoards of surf fishermen arrived. The fish are there but few people go and fish for them. I have caught more weakfish doing that along the sand beaches at night the last few years than in any other way.

It is a great time to find perfect solitude along the shore when fishing

What is the difference between a river and a creek? I saw creeks that were three hundred feet wide, miles and miles long, full of trout and completely wadable. I saw rivers that were the same but I do not know why one is called a river and the other is called a creek?
I discovered that is always best to empty your bladder before you embark on a long deep wade over stones and rocks in swift current to reach the far bank where the, just a bit too deep, water stops your forward progress. Taking a pee becomes a major life decision and of course that,¡¨ Should I wade back,¡¨ decision comes just at the moment when a fish decides to start doing back flips in the air after caddis¡¦s twenty feet beyond your longest cast . Should you wade twenty more feet or retrace your steps for three hundred and do the deed and then come back? Decisions, decisions. 
Pee first.

For a flatlander like me it was stunning to see these beautiful rivers. Wide complex sometimes gentle sometimes intimidating. I never knew what they looked like and now I do and I am very pleased. I fished in the West Branch and the East Branch and the Willowemoc and the Esopus. Two creeks and three rivers. The Beaverkill was the third river. I ate at The Riverside and met the regulars and Dan the owner and the food was outstanding. I got to spend time with Mike Canazon and cast his beautiful handmade Catskill style Bamboo rods and see how he makes them. Wonderful stuff. The great Bamboo rod maker Bob Taylor came over to visit Mike and stayed the night and we all ended up at a special secret Beaverkill hideaway. 
Ken Kobayashi opened his home and showed Denise and I around and made sure we saw all the rivers, ate well and took us to his favorite pools and special hidden Catskill treasures. I got to drink some single malt out of his tin flask. ƒº 
Bamboo was everywhere and dry flies and silk lines and peach 444¡¦s the old standby, Blue winged olives and Carnutas and March browns and Caddis¡¦s and I did not see people catching fish. I did not see any hatches with fish on them but I did see fish rise and I did see bugs in the air but I am visually challenged. 
I can cast further than I can see. At a certain point I can¡¦t tell if I have a rise unless the fish gives me a tug. 
I am embarking on a new challenge at my age. Re-learning how to trout fish without good vision and I am enjoying the re-education process. I have to get some of those little Binoculars to see risers past forty feet and a fine mesh landing net so I can catch the bugs and see what the hell they actually are. This is a great place to go to renew ones first fervor for trout fishing at least it was for me. I loved every minute of it. I may even order up one or two of those handmade Catskill bamboos at some point. I want the old fashioned full slower action the way bamboo rods used to be. I like them to sing sweetly with the weight of the line without a DH or SH assist.

The rivers are gorgeous and wide and clean and clear and the pools have names like Hendrickson and Wagon Wheel and Cairns and ¡K Little brass plaques that say something like, ¡§Theodore Gordon slept here the night before he invented the Quill Gordon.¡¨ There is no plaque that says that but there could be. I did see one that said it was his favorite pool. Everybody that I met there is familiar with fly fishing history and has an opinion on everything. I ran into Dave Brant at the Riverside restaurant who is still teaching at the Wulff School and he reminded me that I had not signed his book yet. I reminded him that he never has it with him. 
No one asked me a single question about Striped Bass. It was great.
I did get to talk about the tiny crabs that hatch in July with Ken K as he saw them with me one night in R.I. and was amazed at how a great big striper could be so interested in those tiny little crabs, size 16¡¦s the size of wood ticks. It is incredible to actually see and this amazement was from a guy who uses size 28¡¦s on an 18¡¦ leader all the time. 

It was great to be around people who love fly fishing lore and bugs and trout and still practice all the traditions and hear those ongoing debates and ¡V it made my soul smile.

Denise took me to her secret spot on the East branch of the Delaware and it was a secret spot. She kicked in her four wheel drive and headed out across a meadow and into the woods beyond and told me not to look at the signs - I said what signs. What a beautiful place. A river as smooth as silk with little stones from bank to bank and the banks were two hundred feet apart from each other. NO people.
Just endless river and wild trout - no stocking. I did not know places like this existed in the East but they do. The next day Ken K took us to his favorite place on the West branch it was a carbon copy of the East Branch in terms of beauty. I was in Pennsylvania! 
What a place. Rivers everywhere and if you were not at a famous pool on the Beaverkill or the Willowemoc there were no people. Just like home. 
Parking lot - and - fishermen. No Parking lot ¡V no fishermen. People will not walk.
Little clumps of them having a ball and just up the river - no one - and that seemed to be true everywhere we went. It is a trout fisherman¡¦s paradise. Trout fisher-women¡¦s too.

I was very lucky to have Denise to show me around as she has been fishing there all of her angling life and knows her way around and knows about the fishing too. Ken was great and very knowledgeable about all the flies and the places to fish and the timing and the history s between the two of them and their friends I was treated very well for a tyro.
The both of them have amazing eyes for seeing tiny flies and hatching flies and naming the bugs and for seeing risers two hundred feet away under a bank next to a rock under a tree that almost broke the surface. The fish are always two hundred feet away by the way. At one point I was in the head of a pool on the Beaverkill, my first time fishing the river and I saw Denise way down stream sitting on the bank. Mike and Bob came out of the woods and she moved a bit further down. Then Ken came across the river from the far bank and the two of them proceeded across the river, wading up to their armpits it seemed and moved closer and closer to that far bank. Finally they were so close that it was hard to distinguish them from the trees. I waded out and moved down and started across to see what was going on. I had not seen a rising fish and I moved slowly across the river the water tugging and pushing and navigated over the big rocks and the small rocks using the eyes in my toes and gradually got closer and closer and then I saw a fish rise right there in front of them, Denise was casting and drifting her fly over him and then right when I got there she hooked him.

They told me later that she had raised that fish several times on several different patterns until finally she had put on a little reddish colored spinner at Ken¡¦s suggestion and he took it solidly. That was the first fish I saw hooked. He saw the fish and came and got her 
That is friendship.

The next morning Denise and I took the long way home driving past the whole of the East branch past the reservoir and into Margaretville and stopped at the Esopus.
There was this incredible little town where we stopped and ate. I think it was called Phoenix or something similar. It reminded me of that old TV show called Northern Exposure. It is worth a visit. Stop in the Mexican restaurant and sign up for fly-fishing lessons at the hardware store.

We were driving along and she pulled into a supermarket parking lot, drove around back and got out of the car. The river was right there. I mean the creek was right there all 300 foot wide of it, shallow and a tinge discolored. She said, ¡§Did you see that¡¨? What? ¡§Look over at the far bank right by that path next that rock next to that tree. Let¡¦s get suited up.¡¨ It was raining. 
It seemed like it rained on and off all weekend and the rivers doubled in size overnight near Roscoe and this Esopus Creek was high and moving fast but it was fishable. 
I looked and looked and then, damn, I saw a fish rise beyond my normal non vision, vision but I saw it! Then I saw another one and another. 
The whole far bank was full of rising fish and I could actually see them. She asked me if I saw the flies.
My eyesight miracle was a bit limited not big enough to see the Size 24 BWO that she thought might be hatching at least not at that point. 
I turned around to talk and she had her waders on, her rain Jacket and hat on and I suddenly found myself at the edge of the river boots on rod in hand wanting to pee but ¡K
Across the river we did go. 
Took about ten to fifteen minutes to get across but we got there and the fish were there and they were rising. 
She tried a spinner first and then a BWO and I tried a March brown as I could see some floating down. 
She looked over and said, ¡§I know what to use¡¨! 
She then pulled out a fly that her friend Dick Smith who guides up there and works in the Beaverkill fly shop told her to use as it was hot right now and she tied it on and made a cast. 
She tilted her head and knowingly said;
¡§This is it, Dick knows his stuff¡¨. 
There were two fish right in front of her about twenty feet away and another one was just a tad further down stream and about four feet further out. 

She loves her little bamboo rod and she made the sweetest little quartering cast and the fly landed perfectly. It drifted about a foot when a fish rocketed out and took it. Big splashy rise and she tightened on him and he bolted and headed across and down and the hook pulled. She flinched and pulled up on her line to check and see if the fly was gone and as it hit the surface, the four feet down and further out trout grabbed it and held on.

She had managed two fish on one cast and this one was a good one and he was in big trouble.
She fought him for a while and finally he gave up and she got him in and he was a good two pounds and pure gold with great big spots and was a fine, strong, fat brown. A very beautiful fish.

She rose her eyebrow and said,¡¨ You want one of these Dick Smith Specials? I have one more and I will give it to you if you want. 
I want to see you catch a fish¡¨.

I took it and thanked her. 
I tied it on. 
There was a fish rising in front of me. 
He was slashing too.
The fly Dick had given her was a Henryville special with a different type of wing configuration than I was familiar with and I made a cast and Bang. I missed him. Hmmmmm.
I could not raise him again. 

A little further down there was another fish rising and I waded down and Denise followed and I got to where I could cover him and made a couple of casts and nothing; then I made another and gave it a little skate and bang. 
Missed him too. 
That was it. 
I could not get that fish up again and 
I was quite happy. 
Then a big hatch of Cahill¡¦s started and the fish stopped rising.
They may have gone down to feed on the nymphs and it was raining and I had raised the two fish I had a shot at and I had been witness to Denise hooking the only three fish I had seen hooked in four days and I was very sad to have to leave. 
I heard fish stories but¡K
I didn¡¦t see any fish hooked and caught except by Denise all weekend. 
She is deadly.

It was time to go.
I had to pee.

Went to a May Day celebration yesterday with Denise and had a great time.

Saw what happened in ancient England with an Oriental twist. Dancing around the May pole, lots of food and great food and farm animals and a peacock prancing around to boot. What I liked most about it was seeing children having fun without having to wear crash helmets and knee pads and no soccer moms or dads trying to prevent their kids from imaginary dangers like a skinned knee or other types of normal Boo Boo’s.
It was refreshing to say the least to see children allowed to have fun without being regimented and protected and harnessed and without fussbudget monitors futtzing and clucking and bellowing about the dangers of being alive and having fun on the planet.

The most fun I had was watching kids pin down a wonderful lady and hear the explosion of giggles as dogs and kids and rain and mud and the chaos of love and good will and joy erupt out of the core of human beings souls both old and young - spontaneously and freely once the should’s and ought’s were abandoned.

I saw a little boy chase a chicken through the woods and bushes and paths and tables and peoples legs for an hour and then when a big male peacock crossed his path change from chicken hunter par excel lance to a wild eyed peacock stalker. No one stopped him and he had his first taste of unbridled human animal freedom and survived. The chicken finally roosted on top of a step ladder and and the peacock survived too.
Something to be said for Pagan rituals. 
This is the year of the rat on top of the May pole . 
The year of the Pig is over.

Then Denise and I went striper fishing. 
She wanted to chase a big one and she had fire in her eyes. 
Well she did. 
She chased one and almost got him. 
Thin wire hook after a long hard fought battle and the hook wore a hole and the thin wire finally cut through and released the fish so close and yet so far. 
About ten feet away. Small thin hooks are not very forgiving in a long hard fight. 
She did land several very respectable fish 6 to 8 lbs and a teeny tiny one and missed several in a row until she stopped striking at the tap and felt them before she set and used a tight line pull (which you have to do with larger fish) and hooked and landed them quite nicely and quickly.

3/0’s are just about the right thickness for a hard fight with a decent fish. You can lean into them and not worry about cutting through the mouth and that is old fashioned thinking and it is good thinking. It works. Also you can put your finger into the bend of the hook and push down and get the hook out without doing damage to the fish.

Good strong hard mono tippet and good soft but tight to the fly presentation and you get to release the fish. That is satisfying.

She has a new favorite striper rod. A thirty year old 10 ½ foot 4 wt. She can handle anything on it and well. It gives the fish a level playing field and you have to be good and smart to land them quickly and she does it with grace.

It is wonderful to see someone fish without depending on an overpowering club to beat the fish into submission with. Wonderful stuff to witness.

She wants to go again tonight and use a bigger hook.
She is going to get her wish.
So am I.