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.
