‘Summerfest’ and beyond

“Anticipation is keeping me waiting.”

— Carly Simon

Barb and I always look forward to the day the Catskill Fly Fishing Center calls “ Summerfest.” It is an opportunity to see old friends, make new acquaintances and browse stall after stall of vendors selling fly-fishing gear, fly-tying material and new and used books on fishing. It seems you can find a bargain at every location.

This year, my first stop was at Wayne Grauer’s stand. Mr. Grauer had recently helped me sell one of my older bamboo fishing rods. I was so pleased with his efforts on my behalf that I wanted to give him another of my rods to sell for me next spring. After chatting with Wayne, l went to find Kumakirri, the Japanese bamboo rod builder from whom I had purchased a six-foot, three-inch bamboo fly rod back in June of this year. He had promised to build a seven-and-one-half foot, three-weight rod for me that he would deliver to me at “Summerfest.” He told me he had put together two rods for me to try.

The Graham brothers, Ed and Jim, came along in order to give me a second opinion on which of Kuma’s rods to choose. It turned out that both of these sticks cast beautifully. One had an ever-so-slightly softer action than the other. After Ed had tested the rods, I noticed him whisper something to his brother Jim. Ed had been telling Jim that either of these rods cast better than the Paul Young “Perfectionist” they currently owned. I finally decided on the rod with the slightly softer action. I would not be surprised if both the Graham brothers were casting a Kumakirri rod shortly. When Kumakirri becomes better known as a builder of high-quality bamboo fly rods, I expect the price of his rods will increase. After writing Kuma a check, I was itching to take my new rod off to a trout stream.

Saturday evening, l was too darn tired to even think of getting into waders. Sunday and Monday found me trying to catch up on chores around the cabin. Late Monday afternoon, the dam of anticipation simply burst. Barb made me a sandwich for dinner so that I could head for the East Branch of the Delaware to baptize Kuma’s rod. Since leukemia has temporarily stolen my best fishing partner’s energy, she sent me on my way with a kiss and a wave.

Off I went up Basket Brook and down Trout Brook and then down the Beaverkill. Arriving at the spot I had chosen to fish on the East Branch, I peered down the bank at the river. Doggone, it appeared to be dirty. Ah well, at least I could check the water temperature. At streamside, I realized that while the water was slightly dingy, it was fishable and the temperature at 66 degrees was fine. I then hopped into my waders and removed the rod from its gleaming silver tube. I did not put it together until I had descended the steep, eroded path that led to the river.

Once the rod was assembled and the reel put in place, l scanned the water. After several moments passed, l saw a single rise form out in midstream. Just one ring on the water, and then no more. Hmmm, a Johnny-one-note. Ah but look, see what is occurring just upstream. Several rings are appearing on the water, one after another.

Several fish were working steadily, knife and fork in fin, dining with gusto. Slow as a great blue heron, surreptitiously as a mink, I crept along the bank until I was opposite their dining table. Silently as a water snake, I entered the water, slowly edging closer to my intended victims.

Ok, ok, that is close enough, don’t push your luck, I thought, let’s see, flat water, soft rise forms, no flies in the air, I cannot see anything on the surface where these fish are rising. Spent may flies or possibly ants, riding low on the slick film of the flow may be why the fish are feeding. I’ll try an ant.

The trout showed no interest in the ant, but they remained at the dinner table. Spinner imitations are often hard to see, so I opted for a little beetle imitation. On the first cast, a fish appeared to rise to the fly, but when I struck there was nothing there. Cast again. This time the fly no sooner hit the water than a trout ate it.

Strike, yes, fish on. Whooee, it feels as if this fellow is packing lead weights in his saddle bags. The silk fly line melts off the reel spool followed by the orange backing line. The fish is way over on the far bank, wallowing at the surface. Good grief, it feels as if the fish has run the leader under or around a rock. He’s gone. No, no, he’s still on coming back upstream with a rush. Reel, reel, oops, he’s off on a run again.

The light rod was bent in a tight arc while it gradually wore down the trout’s strength. Now I was able to lead him into the skinny water at bank side. Mr. Brown Trout ran aground and then lay over on his side. I was able to slip my hand under the fish and lay him along the rod butt. This fish went to the 16-inch mark on the rod. The hook was quickly removed, and the fish held in the water. After six or seven seconds, he slid off my hand and rested in the shallow water. As I stood up he scooted off to deeper water.

What a great way to baptize Kumakirri’s rod. I hope this fish is the first of many to be taken on this fine fishing tool.