Monthly Archives: June 2026

Today’s lesson: Don’t be an unprepared idiot when you’re deep in the woods.

I fished the Rose River in Shenandoah National Park on Saturday, and I was a very bad Scout. You know, with the motto “Be Prepared.” I was not. I slipped on a wet rock — the substrate there, while looking very much like the substrate in CT, is far smoother, ergo less purchase — and fell hard. My first reaction in this situation is to protect my rod, which I held in my left hand. I landed hard on my right side, specifically my right outer thigh (where I’m sporting a ~most excellent~ bruise today). I clawed at something to latch onto with my right hand. (You’ll want to skip this part if you’re squeamish.) I got up, feeling the pain in my thigh, and numbness on the ring finger of my right hand. My hand was covered in blood. Great! I ripped off the tip of the finger skin, a good dime size, which was now hanging by a flap.

So, Idiot 1: I left my wading staff in the car. Idiot 2: I had no first aid kit with me. All had was a length of TP that I had had the foresight to bring along. I washed the wound in the creek, then applied some hand sanitizer to it, which was so staggeringly painful I’m getting skeeved just recalling it. I used the TP and pressure to stop the bleeding. But now what? I needed some kind of makeshift bandage. I rummaged through my back pack and was stoked to find a container of band-aids. Having them was sheer luck. This was my steelhead pack, and normally I wouldn’t have them.

Trust me: you don’t even want to see this.

Then, on the way out, as I was stepping out of the river, my right ankle bent at an odd angle. I felt a snap/crackle/pop on the inside of my ankle. This also really hurt, and I feared the worse. How the hell am I going to walk over a mile back to the car with no support (see Idiot#1). Fortunately, it was only some kind of sprain/strain. I was able, after a few minutes, to put weight on my foot. I hobbled back to the parking area. Today, I’m walking only with a slight limp.

I’m still mad at myself for not having some basics for the backcountry: staff, first aid kit, even bug spray, and some kind of signaling device. I’m working on fixing of all of this as you read this. I’ll be posting about what I find and buy in the future. Fishing trips are supposed to be fun, but there are always risks in the wild. There’s no excuse to be so unprepared. Thus chagrinned and self-admonished, here endeth the lesson.

Ticks and Irving

I think we can all agree the late spring though summer is a swell time to be on the water. However, depending on where you fish and how much bushwhacking you’re doing, there are the downsides of ticks and Irving.

“Irving” was the childhood name we gave to poison ivy, AKA poison Irving, or, for those closest to him, Irving. A bad case of Irving was nothing to laugh about. (It still isn’t. I’ve had to get medical treatment twice as an adult for severe Irving outbreaks). But calling it Irving took a little of the edge off the itchy reality. I mention Irving because I will have an Irving rash on my body from now through most of the fall. I seem to contract it just by looking at it. As I write this, it’s on my torso, both legs, and both arms. At least it’s not on any nether parts, which is a kind of discomfort that can only be described as exquisitely cruel. I do my best to avoid it, but it’s become an unfortunate certainty. A good lather up with quality soap on water is the best defense once you’ve been exposed. I’ve used special “poison ivy soap,” but found I get the same results with Lever 2000. YMMV.

Then, there are ticks. I acquired five of these loathsome creatures last week in my garden. They weren’t nearly on me long enough to do any harm, but their ubiquity and disgusting nature makes even brushing them off a skeevy adventure. I’ve gotten in the habit of doing a tick check everywhere on my body when I come in from the river/field/woods. Another practice I started last year was treating my fishing shirts, pants, and hats with permethrin. You spray it on your clothes, let it dry, and it bonds to the fabric for six weeks or six washings.

This is the stuff. Available at Amazon.

Let’s all enjoy the great outdoors. But let’s be careful out there. Maybe next time, I’ll talk about sunscreen and bug spray.

My bizarro Farmington season continues

This is a late report from last week, but it’s a report that I think is worthy of your attention. I fished the evening (virtually non-existent) rise with surfcaster extraordinaire Toby Lapinski at popular dry fly mark within the PTMA. We fished from 4:30pm-9pm. When we arrived, I was delighted to see that there were no other cars in the small dirt parting area; in hindsight, I wonder if it was because everyone else knew something I didn’t.

Here’s the bottom line: the sulphur hatch stunk like a salt marsh at low tide. I’d give it a 1 out of 10. So, that was disappointing. What was even more disappointing was the lack of fish over 8″ long. What was rising was, by and large, small wild fish, mostly brookies, with a few browns in the mix. Now, this could also be considered good news. In fact, I’ve never run into such a substantial pod of wild brook trout on the Farmington. Between us, we easily landed a dozen of them. Once, at dusk, I hooked one, and as it sped into the shallows in a desperate attempt to get free, a larger brown charged out of its hole in hot pursuit. I could see the bulge in the water as the predator neared its target; unfortunately at the last moment, the hunt was aborted. But that was cool to witness, and I wish you could have been there to see it, too!

We only put one decent fish in the hoop, this some-teen wild brown by Toby. It had three bird wounds; you can see one of them on the midway point of the fish’s flank.

I’ve been so busy in the yard this spring that I haven’t been able to get out to the Farmington as much as I’d like. But the rest of the summer is still ahead, in all its lazy, hazy, crazy glory.

Tuesday tidbits: Farmington River, Hatches, Articles, Book

I had a really weird session on the Farmington last Thursday. Despite a robust sulphur emergence — 8.5/10 — the wet fly bite stunk. Turns out it was due to a lack of fish. By my best estimate, this long time favorite pool was holding about 1/4 of the normal trout biomass. I had duns in the air, on the water, cripples galore, then mats of spinners. Instead of a boiling surface, I had….a rise here….and there… and then nothing…and then a lonely rise. It was incredibly discouraging. The feeding was over by 8:45pm, unheard of in these parts. I’m usually picking my way out of the river well after 9pm, crouched over, casting to trout sipping spinners. Not on this night.

On the plus side, I met some very nice anglers, and we shared the water with a most civil energy. Joe was trying to fool this wild brown, but just wasn’t able to connect. When he left, he offered me his spot. Second cast, bang! About 16″. Taken on a size 14 classic Catskills Light Cahill dry.

We are in prime sulphur time, which means you should have some soft hackles in your box. Here’s why:

Sulfurs take a good, long time to emerge from their shucks — and then sometimes, not at all. The trout get a good, long look at the food source as it drifts near the film. I fished this invaria cripple out of the water, and it was one of hundreds that never made it out of its nymphal case. Wet flies and soft hackles are a perfect match and method for this situation, as are dry fly cripple patterns.

I’m going to be writing an article for an upcoming issue of Surfcasters’ Journal. The subject will be the importance (or unimportance) of color in fly patterns. To the keyboard I go!

Finally, I hope to get on my horse and get some info out to everyone who requested a signed copy of the book. I’d like to do that by the end of the month. So stay tuned!

Farmington River Mini Report 6/1/26: June is bustin’ out all over!

It was cold on Monday for June 1, but today we are firmly in a warming trend with great flows (275cfs). I’m anticipating stronger hatches and better fishing.

It wasn’t that way on Monday. I guided Matt and John for the purpose of teaching them the art of wet fly fishing. They’d seen me talk at the Edison Fly Fishing Show, and we’d had this date on the calendar for months. Sadly, we had unseasonably cool weather and a gusty day that held hatch activity to a minimum. We only got two in the hoop, but on another day both anglers would have easily been into double-digits. Strong casting, good mends, hundreds of fish-worthy presentations — I’m really excited for them to experience wet fly fishing at its productive best in the future. Well done, gentlemen!

Not a sulphur, but a Cream Cahill, size 12-14. They’ve been out in decent numbers on the lower river.

After our session I ventured downstream. Very weird evening. I stuck eight trout on wets but had only two hooksets, and landed neither. It was as if the fish couldn’t make up their mind about eating. At 7pm, I switched over to dry flies, and while there were plenty of fish rising, none of them seemed to be in a steady rhythm. I had my best action from 8pm into dark, using creamy colored dries and one big, honking Iso dry.

I’m back to heavy-duty yard work mode, so this will be my only post this week. I’ll try to get back to normal posting next week. In the meantime, fish on. It’s the most wonderful time of the year….