onemorecast
New member
<o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com<img src=" http:="" www.njflyfishing.com="" vbulletin="" images="" smilies="" redface.gif="" border="0" alt="" title="Embarrassment" smilieid="3" class="inlineimg"></o:smarttagtype>People have different reasons for hiring guides. Some want to be put on big fish, others want a learning experience in a place they’ve never fished before. I belong to the latter category, so in an effort to shorten up my Catskills learning curve, I decided to hire a guide (Dan Ansbach, known as “bkill” on this site) to show me around the <st1>Upper Delaware</st1> system. After a couple of postponements due to weather and flow/temp conditions, we settled on this past Saturday.
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The day started off at the Beaverkill, where we covered one well known spot, Hendrickson’s Pool, and a few nameless spots. Being August, it was no surprise to Dan to find the river devoid of people. Not many bugs, but tricos were doing their thing and my first fish came up for one in the back eddy of Hendrickson’s, despite some rookie mistakes on my part.
After that, it was on to Roscoe, where we stopped by Mary Dette’s shop. It was great to meet her and support her business by buying a bunch of flies. Too many flies.
After a slice of pizza, we went back to fishing.
Casting into tricky currents proved to be the lesson of the day as we moved on to other Beaverkill spots and the Willowemoc where we prospected with big dries in fast water. I missed a hit in one spot, while retrieving my fly and had a nice rainbow break me off in another. Expect the unexpected, I told myself. At the <st1:city w:st="on"><st1>Willow</st1></st1:city>, we threw a mix of dry flies and nymphs, which brought out one fish (landed) and another missed hit. I found the <st1:city w:st="on"><st1>Willow</st1></st1:city> to be very picturesque and we competed for spots with some feathered fish-killers at times. Again, no human anglers on the river.
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After another break, it was off to the East Branch, which told a different story. We spotted didymo in this section, accompanied by these clumps of beige-ish "bunny fur" blooms.
We did see anglers on this stretch of water, however, they were few and far between and we could fish wherever we wanted. We attempted stalking a few browns rising to sulphurs in a deep, glassy pool.
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Once I was in up to the belt of my leaking waders in 50 degree water, and STILL too far away from the fish, it didn’t take long before I gave up and said “let’s go”. :cold:On the way back downstream, good news! We spotted some more rising fish and the better news was the water we stood in didn’t go past the knees. Despite frozen feet and a bunch of poorly aimed casts across another tough current, I finally drifted a fly right over a steadily rising fish. The head comes up but was it to MY fly? Gee, I’m not sure. I do nothing, while Dan says “Set! Set!” “Oh, that was me?” What a dumb blonde! :bang: How many times have I heard if you can’t see your fly, set the hook if a fish rises anywhere it? Must work on those reflexes! Tie on another, more visible fly (hey – these are old eyes here!) and I finally hook one on a take I could see, a fish with some heft. He threw the hook after less than a minute and that was the end of the fish and the end of our day.
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I had stung a bunch and landed two and learned a thing or two about the rivers. I can’t promise I’ll retain it all, but hopefully, over time it will come back to me with each experience. Overall, a fun time in the mountains!
Dan "the Man", rigging me up while I cast dry flies with the spare rod.
Willow Brownie
#20 Sulphur, but there were a mix of sizes
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The day started off at the Beaverkill, where we covered one well known spot, Hendrickson’s Pool, and a few nameless spots. Being August, it was no surprise to Dan to find the river devoid of people. Not many bugs, but tricos were doing their thing and my first fish came up for one in the back eddy of Hendrickson’s, despite some rookie mistakes on my part.
After that, it was on to Roscoe, where we stopped by Mary Dette’s shop. It was great to meet her and support her business by buying a bunch of flies. Too many flies.
After a slice of pizza, we went back to fishing.Casting into tricky currents proved to be the lesson of the day as we moved on to other Beaverkill spots and the Willowemoc where we prospected with big dries in fast water. I missed a hit in one spot, while retrieving my fly and had a nice rainbow break me off in another. Expect the unexpected, I told myself. At the <st1:city w:st="on"><st1>Willow</st1></st1:city>, we threw a mix of dry flies and nymphs, which brought out one fish (landed) and another missed hit. I found the <st1:city w:st="on"><st1>Willow</st1></st1:city> to be very picturesque and we competed for spots with some feathered fish-killers at times. Again, no human anglers on the river.
<o></o>
After another break, it was off to the East Branch, which told a different story. We spotted didymo in this section, accompanied by these clumps of beige-ish "bunny fur" blooms.
We did see anglers on this stretch of water, however, they were few and far between and we could fish wherever we wanted. We attempted stalking a few browns rising to sulphurs in a deep, glassy pool.
Once I was in up to the belt of my leaking waders in 50 degree water, and STILL too far away from the fish, it didn’t take long before I gave up and said “let’s go”. :cold:On the way back downstream, good news! We spotted some more rising fish and the better news was the water we stood in didn’t go past the knees. Despite frozen feet and a bunch of poorly aimed casts across another tough current, I finally drifted a fly right over a steadily rising fish. The head comes up but was it to MY fly? Gee, I’m not sure. I do nothing, while Dan says “Set! Set!” “Oh, that was me?” What a dumb blonde! :bang: How many times have I heard if you can’t see your fly, set the hook if a fish rises anywhere it? Must work on those reflexes! Tie on another, more visible fly (hey – these are old eyes here!) and I finally hook one on a take I could see, a fish with some heft. He threw the hook after less than a minute and that was the end of the fish and the end of our day.
<o></o>
I had stung a bunch and landed two and learned a thing or two about the rivers. I can’t promise I’ll retain it all, but hopefully, over time it will come back to me with each experience. Overall, a fun time in the mountains!
Dan "the Man", rigging me up while I cast dry flies with the spare rod.
Willow Brownie
#20 Sulphur, but there were a mix of sizes
