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.
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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.
Enjoy!□
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