Monday, July 13, 2009

Fly Fishing in Fenway

Fishing in the same small waters near Roscoe as the venerable Theodore Gordon, Herman Christian, Roy Steenrod, Reuben Cross, George LaBranche, Lee Wulff, Edward Hewitt, Art Flick, Winnie and Walt Dette and Elsie and Harry Darbee brings one a certain level of introspection.
Honey, just give me a few minutes to fish while we're in town. Just one fish so I can cross this one off my list. Oh, and could you bring the camera? Perhaps a little boastful, or is it just well founded confidence. Ten casts into seriously fishy run and I'm drawing a blank. Am I worthy? This sure looks like a straightforward stretch. Maybe I just don't have the right nymph on? Ooh, one just took a swipe at my strike indicator! Maybe I should put on a dry fly. But what fly, and on top of that, nothing is rising. Should I keep going with the pheasant tail? Was that a hit or just the bottom. Nope, that was a hit. Yep, I'm worthy!
All those great anglers wouldn't have fished here if there were no fish. Nor would they have fished here had the fish been impossibly difficult to fool. Angling for the most difficult fish is a modern affectation. Back in the day they all fished where the catching was good. The catching here is good.Not huge, but fun. You could learn to fly fish here. There are enough willing fish to give just enough positive reinforcement to keep you pulling the slot machine handle. The Beaverkill's payoffs are not large enough to be life changing, or maybe they are?


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