moosekid
Handsomest Neff Member
The Neversink Unique Area is home to some of the finest wild trout fishing in New York State. Any angler willing to log a few hours on foot has a shot at a healthy population of stream-bred browns, native brook trout, and serious privacy. And while that hike out of the gorge can be punishing, it breeds the vacant banks and eager fish that kept me marching back all summer. I’ve been fly fishing since I was 12, but last summer, something really clicked down in that gorge. If camping wasn’t prohibited by law, it would have been hard to get me to leave.
An idea had been incubating all summer, and there’s no cute way of spinning it into the narrative--I wanted to keep a fucking tipi down there. I could think of nothing cooler. The moratorium on camping did little to deter my bouts of wishful thinking. I started researching tipi manufacturers, watching the DIY videos, and scouring craigslist for a deal. After a few months of hitting the refresh button, craigslist pulled through.
Tracking down a venue for the tipi was, at first, discouraging. I reached out to the fly fishing community, placed an ad on craigslist, and prepared my speech for what seemed like an imminent parade of grassroots doorknocking. But it wouldn’t come to that. A fisherman told me that the property tax records should be available to the public. Minutes later, I was looking at an interactive map of the Neversink Unique Area. The map showed about 20 parcels of private land that extended deep into the gorge, all the way down to the river. A little more legwork produced mailing addresses at which these property owners could be reached.
I sent out twenty letters, in total, and the responses I received were surprisingly supportive. It wasn’t long before I reached an agreement with a generous landowner. I waited for the snow to melt and worked on gaining permission to harvest some lodge poles from a friend’s farm. That deal was easy enough to close. I would be able to harvest 17 Cedars for my tipi so long as I chopped and prepped 15 Cedars for the farm to uses as fence poles -- 32 trees in total.
The inaugural tree.
I managed to ‘Tom Sawyer’ some of my friends into helping me chop the trees. It wasn’t too difficult. After being trapped in Brooklyn all winter, people are generally pretty willing to escape to a place like Meadowburn Farm -- even if it means 10 hour days of chopping wood and hauling brush.
And yes, that is a trout stream -- generously stocked private water that we were given permission to fish.
I’m not normally one to keep a fish, but something about catching dinner after a day’s lumberjackn’ was too romantic to pass up.
One of several hundred ticks that were tangled with.
The next step involved hauling the lodge poles some 50 miles down into the gorge. I wasn’t excited for the trip. The private road that takes you down is primitive. My Bronco commonly threatens to bottom out and I’m unable to cross the bridge without putting both tires within a foot of its edges. These conditions prevented me from getting a log truck or a dump truck down to the tipi site -- I was going to have to do it myself.
The final solution involved the bronco, a uhaul trailer, and a buff-ass stud (not pictured). At 12 feet 4 inches, we were flirting with the power lines in a serious way.
It took two trips, but we made it. I forged myself a couple makeshift saw horses and got to work peeling the lodge poles.
A neighbor had given this tool to my dad some ten years ago, a Sears draw knife from the ‘60s -- never used, in it’s original packaging. This thing is no joke. It stayed razor sharp for the entire process.
It took 3 weekends to get them all peeled. I probably could’ve done it quicker if the fishing in the backyard wasn’t so damn good.
This was my first Neversink fish of the season. A 12” brown that took an Elk Hair Caddis on what we’ll call my ‘first cast.’
I was putting them in the net and the tipi was starting to take shape.
Some friends came to visit and I found myself a shower.
It’s gonna be a good summer.
An idea had been incubating all summer, and there’s no cute way of spinning it into the narrative--I wanted to keep a fucking tipi down there. I could think of nothing cooler. The moratorium on camping did little to deter my bouts of wishful thinking. I started researching tipi manufacturers, watching the DIY videos, and scouring craigslist for a deal. After a few months of hitting the refresh button, craigslist pulled through.
Tracking down a venue for the tipi was, at first, discouraging. I reached out to the fly fishing community, placed an ad on craigslist, and prepared my speech for what seemed like an imminent parade of grassroots doorknocking. But it wouldn’t come to that. A fisherman told me that the property tax records should be available to the public. Minutes later, I was looking at an interactive map of the Neversink Unique Area. The map showed about 20 parcels of private land that extended deep into the gorge, all the way down to the river. A little more legwork produced mailing addresses at which these property owners could be reached.
I sent out twenty letters, in total, and the responses I received were surprisingly supportive. It wasn’t long before I reached an agreement with a generous landowner. I waited for the snow to melt and worked on gaining permission to harvest some lodge poles from a friend’s farm. That deal was easy enough to close. I would be able to harvest 17 Cedars for my tipi so long as I chopped and prepped 15 Cedars for the farm to uses as fence poles -- 32 trees in total.
The inaugural tree.
I managed to ‘Tom Sawyer’ some of my friends into helping me chop the trees. It wasn’t too difficult. After being trapped in Brooklyn all winter, people are generally pretty willing to escape to a place like Meadowburn Farm -- even if it means 10 hour days of chopping wood and hauling brush.
And yes, that is a trout stream -- generously stocked private water that we were given permission to fish.
I’m not normally one to keep a fish, but something about catching dinner after a day’s lumberjackn’ was too romantic to pass up.
One of several hundred ticks that were tangled with.
The next step involved hauling the lodge poles some 50 miles down into the gorge. I wasn’t excited for the trip. The private road that takes you down is primitive. My Bronco commonly threatens to bottom out and I’m unable to cross the bridge without putting both tires within a foot of its edges. These conditions prevented me from getting a log truck or a dump truck down to the tipi site -- I was going to have to do it myself.
The final solution involved the bronco, a uhaul trailer, and a buff-ass stud (not pictured). At 12 feet 4 inches, we were flirting with the power lines in a serious way.
It took two trips, but we made it. I forged myself a couple makeshift saw horses and got to work peeling the lodge poles.
A neighbor had given this tool to my dad some ten years ago, a Sears draw knife from the ‘60s -- never used, in it’s original packaging. This thing is no joke. It stayed razor sharp for the entire process.
It took 3 weekends to get them all peeled. I probably could’ve done it quicker if the fishing in the backyard wasn’t so damn good.
This was my first Neversink fish of the season. A 12” brown that took an Elk Hair Caddis on what we’ll call my ‘first cast.’
I was putting them in the net and the tipi was starting to take shape.
Some friends came to visit and I found myself a shower.
It’s gonna be a good summer.
