Thursday, January 22, 2015


Roscoe, New York, the self-proclaimed "Trout Town USA," greeted me on a crisp early fall evening, after a solid five hours of driving.  I could hardly contain my excitement as my veins flooded with adrenaline and the thought that I had finally made the pilgrimage of angling tradition.

Created with flickr slideshow.

    Bridge after bridge, and famed river after river tore at my mind as I ran down Highway 17.  The Beaverkill, the West Branch of the Delaware, the Neversink, Willowemoc Creek--to the newcomer, the feeling is something comparable to being starstruck.
    I found my way through town, almost to Livingston Manor, the small but dense post-office town that lies just east of Roscoe, and set my boots on the plywood floor of a bunkhouse in the wooded lot on the peripheral property of the Catskills Fly Fishing Center.  Resting on the bottom bunk for a moment, clad in jeans and heavy flannel for the reduction in temperature since 10:00 AM on Tulpehocken Creek in central Pennsylvania, I had made it.

    Now the three days that followed were plagued by hot weather and low water, not without the added surprise of the 20th annual Catskills Bamboo Rodmaker's Gathering.  I did manage to snap a few photos, though I rarely took out my Nikon--the majority of these are Iphone and point-and-shoot photos.  I apologize (kinda) for the less-than quality, though to me these images recount an experience that well makes up for it.


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