Ramblings of a Catskill Flyfisher
The trico hatch

One does not hear a lot of talk about the midsummer emergence of our tiniest of mayflies, the diminutive species we commonly call tricos. At least I don’t. Is that because I’m just so far …

The old guard

We met at the camp the other day; it was mid-July. There was ample sunshine and a cooling breeze. Not too warm for this time of year. We were four, the last of seven; the other four were gone. We sat round the picnic table, visiting about our old friends, the river, fishing and the lack of fly hatches.

Why a rusty spinner?

We planned to go fishing on June 2, but when the weather report forecast an 85 percent chance of showers for the western Catskills, the trip was canceled. Next morning, when my friend checked in, …