What’s new and news with Currentseams

Happy Saturday, everyone. Just some quick notes from your humble host. First, I hope everyone’s making through winter OK. Courage! Spring will be here soon. Thanks for your readership.

~ Speaking of reading, I’ve been writing. Just finished up a piece for Eastern Fly Fishing on the Farmington River. Many thanks to everyone who helped out, including but not limited to Torrey Collins, Don Butler, Steve Hogan, Neal Hagstrom, Brian Eltz, and of course my editor extraordinaire, AKA Mrs. Culton. It should be out later this year. And my Housy piece in the same mag should drop any day now.

~ I see Currentseams is very close to 700 followers. Once we reach and stabilize that number, we will have another subscriber appreciation drawing. Get six of your friends to follow!

~ My tying weekend at Legends is sold out. If you’re one of the people who signed up, many thanks for your support.

~ I hope you’re enjoying my “Best of North Country Spiders” series. We still have a few more to go.

~ Finally, my guiding rate card has changed (you can see it here). This reflects the ever-growing cost of doing business, what the local market is currently bearing, and brings me into line with my peers. Or, as Aunt Eller sang in Oklahoma!:

“I don’t say I’m no better than anybody else, but I’ll be danged if I ain’t just as good!”

Aunt Eller

Tight lines to all.





Matt Supinski at FRAA Wednesday, January 23, 7pm

Come see my friend Matt Supinski speak at the FRAA meeting tomorrow night, Wednesday January 23, 7pm, at the Farmington Senior Center, 321 New Britain Avenue, Unionville, CT. His presentation is Into the Mind of a Brown Trout, and it dovetails nicely with his new book, The Brown Trout Atlantic Salmon Nexus. Matt is a fun and engaging speaker, not to mention he knows how to fly fish — and then some! The meeting is FREE and open to everyone.

The official event poster.


Best of 2018 #1: A Striper on the Fly from the Shore for 12 Consecutive Months

Whew! After nine December outings, over 30 hours of fishing, four different locations, it all came together at the 11th hour (both figuratively and literally). I didn’t think it was going to happen. December was by far the toughest month, with high and cold water, wind and subfreezing temperatures, and a maddeningly inconsistent bite. It only proves that catching a striper on the fly from the shore for twelve consecutive months takes skill, planning, perseverance, and — this cannot be understated — luck. Am I going for 13? Maybe. Stay tuned.

It all began on a whim. It was a warm(er) January night, and the tide lined up with some free time. Forty-five minutes in, there he was. I was crazy enough to try again in February, succeed, and off I went.



Once you get past March, things get a little easier. They certainly get warmer, as you can see from the gloveless, submerged (not happening in February) July water hand. 



WHACK! I was dragging the deer hair head streamer across the surface to change it out when the fish hit. What a great story about how I caught my December bass! But wait. What is that? Not a striper. Nope, it’s a five-pound Northern Pike. I can’t remember ever being so depressed about catching a quality fish on the surface in 35 degree water. Good thing I didn’t lip it.



I planned on paying homage to a friend (who’s had a very tough go with cancer this year) by catching the December fish with one of his flies, but I lost one on the bottom, and I wanted to keep the other. Ultimately, the winning fly was a three-feather flatwing/bucktail hybrid version of the Crazy Menhaden. I called Ken on the way home to tell him about it, and he said, “You should call that fly the ’12 Consecutive Months December Striper On The Fly From The Shore Crazy Menhaden.'” Who am I to argue?

Crazy CU


Cold but happy Post-December Striper Flashlight Hat Man.

Flashlight hat man

Best of 2018 #2: Birthday Steelhead

Every once is a while, the steelhead gods remind you that they really aren’t out to get you. Planets align, good karma rules, and all is right with the chrome world. This year’s birthday steelhead trip was such moment. Sure, one day of skunk, but bookended by a great day on the creeks and an even better one — my birthday — on the Salmon. Not a bad thing to wish for when you’re blowing out the candles.

Skunk’s off early on day one. Brilliant even in the pale light of a cloudy dawn.



The future’s so bright, I gotta wear shades. Whoops! Then it rained, and the next day was a cold, wet blank. Not worry. Good times coming.



Every dog has his day. I’d rather be lucky than good. Whatever the bromide, it’s some kind of wonderful when you’re the guy in the pool who’s making everyone else wonder what he did to deserve hooking steelhead after steelhead. One of my best days ever on the Salmon, and thanks again to everyone who lent a landing net hand and so kindly shared water.



Best of 2018 #4: the high water payoff

I literally waited two years for that September day: a heavy rainfall spike in the Farmington flow, a drop to a certain height, water still off-color, and (hopefully) big browns on the hunt. The plan was simple: pound the banks with streamers. She rolled on the fly, a yellow Zoo Cougar, moments after it hit the water, and I knew right away she was something special. A worthy opponent, and my largest Farmington brown of 2018.

We should probably measure this one in pounds rather than inches.



Best of 2018 #5: Steelheading with my boys

In a way, it’s ridiculous to try to assign a value to something as precious as time alone on the water with your sons. Suffice to say that I treasure the opportunity to go steelheading with them. We’ve got a nifty little system: Gordo gets the spring drop back shift, and Cam takes the late fall duties. Lucky dad! I get to do both. Memories are made, tales begin to be told, and it’s always an adventure.

This young man has become an excellent steelheader in just a few short years. (What a proud papa I’ve become!) As usual, Cam gets it done, whether rain, sleet, snow, or cold. Or all of the above.



Gordo and I have fished the Salmon River in April on sunny days and our shirt sleeves. No such luck in 2018: 34 degrees, freezing rain, classic ice storm. At least the fish cooperated — or they did for Gordo. Fresh chrome in April! Woo-hoo!