Progress.

There are six of us, and we refer to ourselves as the Roscoe 6.  Others have tried to get an invite to this annual trip, but for 4 years running the only lineup we've ever fielded is the original, Roscoe 6. We can be categorized in many ways; a couple of Mikes, a Tom, Jim, Phil and Jay. A couple of teachers, computer geeks, etc. Or my personal favorite which is 2 addicts, 3 casual users, and 1 impartial.  I'm referring to fly fishing, of course. Before arriving I knew that 2 of us were going to hit the water hard, and work it long hours to produce results, 3 would put in quality time and find that perfect balance of fishing and enjoying the other elements of the trip, and 1 would most likely get his feet wet, but maximize his time participating in some R&R.  It turns out I was wrong. Kinda.

Yes, I'm one of the addicts, and I was in that river while the engine of the truck was still running.  My brother-in-law Mike was soon to follow, and as he has in all years past, he landed the first fish of the trip.  It was the safe bet that he would, but he did it on the Willowemoc, which we were told would be an awful place to fish.  Also, I'm pretty sure the prick did it in like less than 20 minutes of being on the water.

Over the next few hours, Mike would discover a Honey Hole on the Willow. A stretch of 5 feet of water that would yield over 25 fish to the Roscoe 6.  For obvious reasons, this is incredible. However the Honey Hole would prove to do something unexpected.  The Honey Hole put a bend in the rod of those of the Roscoe 6 who had never claimed a Roscoe trout before.  It renewed the excitement of the sport for a few, and turned a couple of casual users, into temporary addicts, and that was extremely fun to watch. I'm not going to go into details about the Honey Hole, I'll leave you to Mike's blog for that one.  It was his discovery and he has a way with words that will actually paint the picture for you. At Last to Wade the River

Some fish were caught on the Willow, it was mid-day on the first day of the trip (Friday), we had our lunch and it was time to make our plan of attack.  We would need to leave the comfort of Roscoe and the Willowemoc / Beaverkill combo for Hancock, to fish the Main Stem of the Big D.  We were sold visions of riffles, with millions of wild Rainbows just waiting to be netted and returned to Fly Fishing paradise.  Now in reality the main stem is a truly challenging river, but when you hear about that new stretch, that secret spot, the vision in your head becomes Elysian River, where every cast turns you into Brad Pitt from A River Runs Through It. Wow, I think I just figured out how to get my wife interested in Fly Fishing.

We planned out the day, planned out the destination, and headed off to see Dennis at Catskill Flies for some last minute gear and motivation.  Dennis confirmed the spots my Cousin Dennis had provided (As they're old fishing buddies) got us the flies we needed and sent us off with a few laughs. After a few wrong turns and first-timer mistakes, we arrived right where we wanted to be on the Main Stem, and the view was amazing. On the second day that we were there, when the fog rolled in, I found myself in some piece of art, some picture that you see on a wall in an old cabin. I was silent, and in awe of the moment.

On the Main Stem at this particular location, I found early success but me being a creature of habit probably cost me some.  When we arrived, there was a fish or two rising on a large stretch of river. I had decided long before we arrived that I was going to sling this Rainbow Candy through the seams and find a trout or two. That's what I did.  A bow, a brown, of fair size find their way to my net.  Nyphing was working for me, so when many more trout started rising, and any fisherman worth their salt would have switched to to Iso, or Olive, I kept right on nymphing.  Which produced no more fish. Progress?  Baby steps...

The following day the weather was on and off, but that wouldn't stop Mike and I. We hit another access point on the Main Stem. Here we found an incredible run but the current was on the move.  Wading was tough, footing was damn near impossible, but the fish were there, and they were hungry for Candy.

We fished all over. 40 miles past the cabin, than 20 miles west of that, and so on and so on.  Respectively, we hit it hard. As hard as was needed to call the fall trip a success.  There is something gratifying about pulling in trout on brand new water. I'm happy to say I was part of it.

So, I started tying flies...

... and in true "me" fashion, I couldn't possibly just tie some flies at a table.  Nope, I had to make my own fly tying station, stain it, coat it, and then start tying.  What can I say? For me, that's all part of the enjoyment.

Station:

 I got to use a lot of left-over wood from when I built the bar.  Had to buy some finishing nails and some of the smaller pieces of wood to make the sections towards the rear.

 The tool holder (black piece of wood with holes in it) was some left over wood from our cabinets as we redid the kitchen this past year.

Here it is all set up.

And here are some of my first flies. I've only made about 8 so far. I'll spare you the first couple that are just gnarly.

The Harrison Jones (Me)

Chewbacca (Mike C. Dubbs)

Zsa Zsa Gabor (Jay)

Goldfinger (Jay)

The Green Linguine

Black Mamba

The Commy Bastard!

Only just wooly buggers for now. Soon going to be trying some Hares Ear nymphs, as well as the Pheasant Tail.  With those 3 under my belt i'll be able to tie 90% of the flies I use in a year.

Roscoe Trip: September 20th 2013

It's been four months since I had the privilege of speeding through the construction zones on Route 17. Four months since I've seen the welcoming sign of the Roscoe Dinner. Four months since my waders could feel the cool running waters of the Willowemoc and Beaverkill. Four desperately long months of anxiously waiting to dance my streamer through the pools, run my nymphs through the seams, and delicately place my dry flies above awaiting trout. Four months that felt like a year, but now I have arrived.

I was quick to drop off my bags in the Castaway Cabin, provided by Creekside Ventures Rentals. What an amazing place to stay, being directly on the Willowemoc. What a treat. I quickly kicked off my dress shoes, slacks, and button down shirt. However, the only article of clothing I added was a pair of mesh JETS shorts.  Ran back downstairs to get suited up to get in the water, the fish were waiting.

So now here I am, dress socks, mesh shorts and an under shirt that had held my beating heart inside my chest while I had to do a large presentation earlier that day in Times Square. I really did hit both ends of our societies spectrum in the matter of a few hours. Times Square to fly fishing in Roscoe... But again, that was all behind me now. Focus on the task at hand.

I got in the water, it was lower than last year... Lower than ever!  And it was clear... crystal clear! In fact, is that a fish? "Mike, I can see the fish!"

I struggled to get my fly and line out of my rod, I was too excited. Here I am looking at pockets and pools that I always thought had fish in them, or doubted that they had fish, and now I could tell. I was sight fishing for the first time in my life and it was incredible. Until about 90 minutes later when every fish I saw had examined and refused every dry, nymph or streamer that I had available to throw at them.  It was incredibly frustrating, and exciting all at once.

The Roscoe 6, our consistent group of misfits that make this trip each year were slowly arriving, and discovering the trout aquarium that we were standing in, and laughing at our inability to catch any. And one by one they would enter the water and experience the same results. Hell we were watching these fish feed, and we could NOT figure out what they were eating... Sounds crazy, right?

When Mike would finally have success with a small white dry fly, we were all quick to follow his lead. This would result in my landing my first Roscoe brown on a dry fly, and although it was small, it was a milestone fish for me. I had honestly forgotten how cool it was to watch a fish sip a dry, it's been a while.

Now that the pressure was off, my trip became about rediscovering the beauty of the Willowemoc, and the areas surrounding Hazel bridge.

Once everyone had arrived, we had settled down to eat some dinner and made our plan for night fishing streamers. After Tom Rossenbauer, who we affectionately refer to as "Uncle Tom," had done a podcast about catching fish 1 hour after sunset, and 1 hour before sunrise with streamers, we had tried it to great success. So as darkness fell, and the fly fishermen cleared the river, we went back to our favorite spots and started stripping streamers.

Uncle Tom pulled through again, as I felt my line get super heavy mid strip, and called out to the Roscoe 6, "Fish on!" I love how even the little trout in Roscoe put up a substantially better fight than any size fish back home.

I know... I look like a mad man, but short of adding that hoodie as it got a bit cold at night, I remind you that under that I'm wearing a work undershirt, work socks, and mesh shorts. It was not about looking the part, as much as it was about playing the role.

Many other members of the Roscoe 6 would find success in Uncle Tom's advice that night, and we celebrated around a fire pit with good tunes and some classically funny moments.

It was pitch black when i took this pic, so Mike had no idea where the camera was until the flash!

Mike strikes again! He had a record trip netting 8 or so Roscoe trout!

I believe this is my favorite picture of the weekend. So long buddy, see you next year!

Phil netting his first Rocoe Trout!

Phil didnt really get the concept of putting the fish near his face so I could capture both in the same picture....

There we go. Great fish!

I suppose the flash didnt need to be on for this picture... but you get the point. ::INSERT FIRE THERE::

Tom and Jim feeling the effects of a long day where everyone worked at some point, and then drove to Roscoe to fish before dark.

Teach us trout master... show us the way!

"I want to tell you a secret, that I've never told anyone else, ever."

The night's first victim was Jim. After making fun of him, I was the second. LOL!

 It was 1:30 am, and I had fished successfuly in a moonlight river, had many a "Roscoe Brewing Co. American Amber Ale" and I was due to be awake in 3 hours for morning streamer fishing. I hit the hay.


Chants of "Uncle Tom!" and "Fish ON!" would ring through the crisp morning air, in the pure darkness. Hours before other fly fisherman were even awake, we were hitting the Willow hard, and effectively.

Congrats Jim on your first fly fishing trout ever! AND its a Roscoe Brown!!!!

Oh you got another trout there, did ya?

The rest of the day would prove to produce fish, just not for me. However the experience was amazing, as it always is.  I don't know if there is a heaven, but if there is, I imagine that it stongly resembles Roscoe, NY and its magnificent water ways.