The day was June 1 of this year. That was the date Judy Van Put chose to celebrate the life of her late husband Ed, who passed in December of 2024. A memorial was scheduled for 1 p.m. at the Catskill Fly Fishing Center in Livingston Manor. 

Ed touched the lives of a lot of people, so the list of attendees was long. It included Nick Lyons, noted writer and publisher, and Joan Wullf, the first lady of fly fishing.  

When Judy began her presentation, she indicated that I hired her in 1977 while I was the regional supervisor of natural resources at the DEC’s Regional Office in New Paltz. Judy said she met Ed two days later. 

When these kinds of encounters occur and result in significant life changes, they could be considered acts of fate. I know that I would not have attended the University of Montana if a friend from high school had not stopped in to say hi over Christmas and suggest I apply. He was in his freshman year. 

So the relationships we develop and have with people, some of whom we barely know, can change our lives in profound ways. Would Judy have met Ed if I didn’t hire her? Who knows, but it does not seem likely. 

There were a lot of pictures of Ed, family members and friends in various collages set up around the room, along with a slide series and short videos of Ed casting and fishing. It was sad, yet a pleasure watching him cast after all these years and watch the fly line unfold in beautiful, tight loops. There was no better fly caster and angler in the Catskills than Ed Van Put. 

Sometime before Ed’s memorial, a friend told me that the main sign standard designating the Beaverkill River fishermen’s access site along the Rockland Road, just outside of Roscoe, was on the ground. So immediately after the memorial, I headed there to photograph the downed sign. I can tell you without reservation that if Ed still worked for the DEC, that sign would never have fallen! 

In addition to being a superb fly fisherman, fly tier, and author, Ed was probably the best public access technician the DEC ever had. 

Once I had the photos, I headed home. But instead of returning to Route 17, driving to Route 55 and then Route 209—the way I came—I decided on a different route. So rather than exit onto Route 17 in Roscoe, I stayed on Old Route 17 and retraced my journey back toward Livingston Manor. It was my plan to check out all the places where I fished with Ed or visited with friends in the past. This was to be a historic, nostalgic look back in time.

When I turned left into Roscoe off the Rockland Road and passed the light in town, I looked over toward the Willowemoc and recalled a cool gray day, many years ago, when Ed and I fished. I remember the day because I caught a 15-inch wild brown on a nymph. I continued along Old Route 17, until I passed the Darbee House. Whenever we conducted a fishery survey of the Willowemoc, Bill Kelley, a fellow biologist, and I would stop in to visit with Harry and Elsie. It didn’t take long for the Dewars to come out, the tongues to loosen and the fishing stories to begin. 

After that, I passed the VanPut house, where I stopped so many times to pick up Ed on our way to the “Big D,” as we called the Delaware River. We mostly fished around the mouth of Bouchoux Brook. Or it might have been a trip to the Power Enclosure, where we hunted grouse and woodcock in the fall. 

After the Van Puts’ house, I passed the Fly Fishing Center, then the Decker Town Pool on the Willowemoc, the first place I fished that river. A bit later, I turned left onto Beaverkill Road, where I passed the Beaverkill Trout Club, the Beaverkill Valley Inn and on to the Wullf School. 

I stopped along the road to look at the Beaverkill River and the spot where I taught the aquatic insect classes for the school. Finally, I drove into the Wulff’s driveway, passed the schoolhouse, and went on to the main house. I stopped there for a few minutes, to reminisce about all the nights Joan let me stay while teaching or have a beer with the Wulffs at the end of a school day. 

When I left, I headed over the mountain at Barkaboom, around the backside of Pepacton Reservoir, onto Route 28 and home.

So this trip was a rather sad and melancholy experience. The drive brought back a lot of fond memories of the fishing and hunting I did with Ed, teaching at the Wulff School and of all the folks I taught with. Sadly, all the original instructors—George Renner, John Gayewski, Floyd Frankie, Francis Davis and Dave Brandt, along with Ed—have passed. So with Joan, I’m the last of that group. 

It was a long drive home, a drive with a lot of memories, yet one fraught with a lot of emotion. Reliving all the years spent in this area, the teaching and fishing I did, the friends I made, was a very sad experience. So it’s not likely that I’ll take that drive again.