Becky Hurlburt, Cornwall’s social services director, oversees the town’s food pantry, which she said is serving a high volume of residents seeking assistance amid rising need.
Pockets of Poverty: A Northwest Corner Series
Poverty in the Northwest Corner doesn’t define an entire town. Instead, it exists in quieter pockets — apartments above storefronts, income-restricted housing and older homes where seniors and working residents struggle to keep pace with rising costs.
Pockets of Poverty is a series examining where financial hardship exists in Region One towns, what is driving it and how communities are responding.
Behind the Northwest Corner’s image of rural affluence, demand for basic support is rising sharply.
At the Community Health & Wellness Center, the region’s only federally qualified health center, patient visits climbed to about 37,000 in 2025, serving 7,212 individuals — roughly 600 more patients than the year before.
At the Corner Food Pantry in Lakeville, the number of families served jumped from 6,218 in 2024 to 7,798 in 2025, while the number of individuals served rose from 27,442 to 35,703.
Taken together, the numbers point to a quieter crisis unfolding across the Region One towns, where working families, seniors and long-time residents are increasingly relying on town social services offices, food pantries and health clinics to cover gaps in housing, food, health care and energy costs.
On a typical weekday, that informal safety net is already at work.
Municipal social services offices often serve as the first point of contact for residents seeking help. In Sharon, social service agent Melia Hill said the people coming in are often working households or retirees on fixed incomes.
“South Main Street is lined with mansions,” Hill said, “but poverty is here and it’s prevalent.”
Hill said requests for assistance — particularly for groceries and basic needs — have risen sharply in recent years. In response, she has expanded coordination with The Corner Food Pantry, helping residents who are unable to access it during regular hours.
Hardship in Sharon, she said, is not concentrated in one place, but is spread throughout the community.
“There are people who could describe what they’re doing as a sort of couch-surfing,” Hill said, noting that it is not unusual for residents to rely on temporary living arrangements with friends or family.
In North Canaan, social worker MaryBeth Wabrek said rising energy costs are compounding financial strain for households already living paycheck to paycheck.
“When people are using whatever disposable income they might have for energy costs, it’s like robbing Peter to pay Paul,” Wabrek said.
That pressure, she said, often falls hardest on residents who earn too much to qualify for traditional assistance programs but still struggle to meet basic expenses.
“Low-income people have got SNAP and are eligible for so much assistance,” she said. “But people who are not necessarily low income, that’s who is getting hit pretty hard.”
Even when help is available, stigma can prevent people from seeking it.
“We have a lot of resources, and so many people are eligible for assistance,” Wabrek said, “but a lot really don’t want their personal business to be out there.”
Stressed systems in Cornwall
In Cornwall — one of the state’s smallest towns, with about 3,200 residents — social service agent Becky Hurlburt said demand is highest among older residents living alone and, to a lesser extent, larger families.
Fuel assistance remains the most common request. But a quieter concern, town officials say, is growing social isolation.
“A lot of people come in and just want to talk,” Hurlburt said.
First Selectman Gordon Ridgway said the challenges facing residents are increasingly complex, often involving overlapping issues tied to health, housing and access to care.
“The number one pressure point is health,” Ridgway said. “Our systems are being stressed as people are stressed. We now have much more complicated cases of mental illness, which can sometimes be combined with housing insecurity and a lack of healthcare resources.”
In response, the town has partnered with Greenwoods Counseling to expand access to behavioral health services, including for school-age residents. Officials are also working to keep seniors connected through programs offered by the Parks and Recreation Department, while exploring cross-training town staff to serve as emergency medical responders.
“The most important thing a community can do is pick people up when they’re down, whether emotionally or physically,” Ridgway said.
Housing shortages reshape the Northwest Corner
Housing costs remain one of the most significant barriers for residents trying to remain in the Northwest Corner.
Median home prices in towns such as Salisbury now approach $1 million, while rental housing remains scarce across the Region One towns. Many available rentals are single-family homes rather than apartments, with monthly rents often exceeding $2,000.
“Litchfield County has become a vacation and second-home market layered on top of a rural housing market,” said Brierley Lloyd Hannan, a realtor with William Pitt Sotheby’s International Realty. “Those two conditions often result in housing scarcity and premium pricing.”
Large minimum lot sizes — typically between two and five acres — further limit housing density, she said.
“As a result, most rentals here are single-family homes owned by individuals rather than multi-family buildings operated by developers or rental companies.”
John Harney, a Salisbury real estate broker and president of the Salisbury Housing Trust, said the shortage affects both buyers and renters.
“Both home ownership and rentals are in short supply,” Harney said.
Zoning regulations, aging housing stock and limited development opportunities have long constrained efforts to expand housing options.
“Zoning has historically been designed to restrict affordable housing by focusing on single-family homes on two-acre parcels,” Harney said.
He also pointed to ongoing tensions between conservation priorities and housing needs.
“There is a tension between conservation land trusts and community land trusts,” Harney said, suggesting that some land donors could reserve small portions of conserved land for affordable housing.
Housing debates often reflect broader concerns about preserving the region’s rural character.
“It’s a real tension,” Hannan said. “But many people recognize that farmers, teachers, health care workers and young families need places to live in the communities they serve.”
At the same time, housing advocates say progress is being made through regional collaboration.
Jocelyn Ayer, director of the Litchfield County Center for Housing Opportunity, said her organization is working with local nonprofits to advance affordable housing projects across the region.
Together, those groups currently have 209 affordable rental homes and 21 affordable homeownership units in development across 12 towns, she said.
“None of this would be possible without the many volunteers who serve on the boards of these local housing nonprofits and town housing commissions,” Ayer said. “They donate countless hours to identify projects, conduct community outreach and maintain housing over time.”
Health providers see the strain firsthand
Health care providers say the region’s economic pressures are becoming increasingly visible in exam rooms.
Joanne Borduas, chief executive officer of Community Health & Wellness Center, said most patients served by the nonprofit health system live at or near the federal poverty line.
She estimated that roughly 65% of patients live at or below the federal poverty level, while another 32% fall between 101% and 200% of that threshold — a group often described as ALICE households.
For a single person, the federal poverty line is about $15,000. Yet in northwest Connecticut, a single adult earning between $15,000 and $38,000 a year can still fall below the ALICE survival budget, which measures the income needed to cover basic living costs and sits well above the federal poverty line.
For a family of four, the federal poverty line is about $30,000. But households earning between $30,000 and $116,000 in the region can still fall short of meeting basic living expenses, according to ALICE measures.
“These are families who work hard but earn just above the poverty line,” Borduas said. “They often don’t qualify for many types of assistance, but they’re still struggling to survive.”
Food insecurity remains one of the most common challenges clinicians encounter.
“We continue to see food insecurity as one of the top issues,” she said, noting that the organization has secured grant funding to establish food closets at each of its three locations.
Health insurance costs are also rising sharply. Borduas said premiums have increased by as much as 35% in some cases, forcing difficult choices for families.
In one example, she said, a family of four saw monthly premiums increase from $798 to $2,425.
Faced with those costs, some residents forgo insurance altogether.
“They tell us they’re taking their chances, because they have a family to feed and bills to pay,” Borduas said.
Economic stress is also driving increased demand for behavioral health services, while provider shortages have extended wait times for care.
Housing affordability, she added, is compounding those challenges.
“The housing market for most families is unaffordable,” Borduas said. “Without providers, we limit access to care.”
Food pantries and volunteers step in
Much of the day-to-day response to hardship across the Northwest Corner is carried out by nonprofit organizations and volunteers.
At the Corner Food Pantry in Lakeville, co-president Holly Kempner said the rise in demand over the past year marks the largest increase since the COVID-19 pandemic.
“These are the largest increases since COVID,” Kempner said.
At another regional pantry, Fishes & Loaves, which operates out of Pilgrim House in North Canaan, executive director Louise Riley said about 120 people visit the walk-in pantry each month.
Riley said uncertainty surrounding SNAP eligibility could place additional strain on local food systems.
“The outlook is definitely uncertain because cutbacks will have a ripple effect,” she said.
What remains constant, she added, is the role of volunteers.
“The volunteers are the backbone of our organizations.”
A small measure of relief
For Lakeville resident Janet Lynn — whose struggles were detailed in Part One — the pressures of rising costs remain a daily reality.
But last week brought a measure of good news.
Dental services are expected to resume at Community Health & Wellness Center’s Torrington site in mid-April and will also be available at its Winsted location, according to Borduas.
The service had been suspended in 2025 due to financial shortfalls, including insufficient Medicaid reimbursement rates, leaving a gap in care for low-income patients.
Lynn, who said she needs extensive dental work and has struggled to find affordable care since the program ended, said the reopening offers a measure of relief.
But across the Northwest Corner, the pressures driving more residents to seek help show little sign of easing.
Residents do not need to be unemployed to qualify, as most food pantries require proof of residence, not proof of income.
If unsure where to start, residents can contact United Way of Northwest Connecticut for guidance.
Assistance is confidential, and there are no questions about immigration status.
For emergencies — including the loss of housing, utility shutoffs or domestic violence — contact FISH of Northwestern Connecticut or the Susan B. Anthony Project immediately.
The following organizations serve individuals and families in the Northwest Corner facing poverty, food insecurity, housing instability and financial hardship. This list represents a cross section of available resources.
United Way 211 is a free, confidential 24/7 service that connects individuals with local community resource specialists who help find assistance for food, housing, utility payments, mental health and emergency needs. Dial 2-1-1 or visit their website.
Kent Food Bank
Lower level of the Kent Community House, 93 North Main St., 860-927-1586
The Corner Food Pantry
Serves Lakeville, Salisbury, and surrounding towns, contact@thecornerfoodpantry.org860-435-9886
Sharon Food Pantry
Sharon Town Hall/Social Services, 63 Main Street, Sharon 860-364-1003
Cornwall Public Assistance/Food Pantry
Cornwall Town Hall. Email Cornwallsocialservices@gmail.com 860-671-0325
Friendly Hands Food Bank
The largest food pantry in Litchfield County, www.friendlyhandsfoodbanknwct.org, 860-482-3338
FISH of Northwestern Connecticut
Provides emergency food, shelter, utilities, crisis support, www.fishnwct.orgor 860-482-7300
Fishes & Loaves Food Pantry
Serving North Canaan, Falls Village and Norfolkwww.fishesandloavespantrynorthcanaanct.org, 860-824-0058
Norfolk Food Pantry
Community-based food distribution, www.norfolkfoodpantry.org, 860-542-5721
Susan B. Anthony Project
Domestic violence services, emergency shelter, advocacy, www.sbaproject.org 860-482-7133, 24-hour hotline: 888-773-2724
Salvation Army Torrington Corps
Food assistance, seasonal aid, referrals, easternusa.salvationarmy.org/torrington, 860-480-2369
United Way of Northwest Connecticut
Financial coaching, childcare support, crisis referrals, www.northwestunitedway.org 860-482-1266
Northwest Connecticut Community Foundation
Funds and coordinates local poverty-relief nonprofits, www.yournccf.org860-435-5959
Connecticut Foodshare
Supplies food pantries statewide, including Northwest Connecticut, www.ctfoodshare.org
Compiled by Debra A. Aleksinas.
Lakeville Journal
Liane McGhee, a woman defined by her strength of will, generosity, and unwavering devotion to her family, passed away leaving a legacy of love and cherished memories.
Born Liane Victoria Conklin on May 27, 1957, in Sharon, CT, she grew up on Fish Street in Millerton, a place that remained close to her heart throughout her life. A proud graduate of the Webutuck High School Class of 1975, Liane soon began the most significant chapter of her life when she married Bill McGhee on August 7, 1976. Together, they built a life centered on family and shared values.
Liane was a woman of many passions. She found peace in the outdoors, whether she was taking scenic country rides, fishing, or walking her dog. An avid reader and a talented painter, she possessed a creative spirit and a caring heart that extended to all animals. Above all, Liane was most at home when surrounded by her family.
Liane is survived by her devoted husband of nearly 50 years, Bill McGhee. Her legacy continues through her three children: Joshua (Tanya) McGhee, Justin McGhee, and Jaclyn (Joe) Perusse. She was the proud grandmother of Connor, Calia, and Kennedy McGhee, as well as Lillian and Tillman Perusse. She is also survived by her siblings, Larry Conklin and Linda Holst-Grubbe. Liane was predeceased by her parents Martin and Lillian Conklin, and her brother, Robert “Bob” Conklin.
In keeping with Liane’s generous nature, the family requests that, in lieu of flowers, memorial donations be made to Hudson Valley Hospice (by mail to 374 Violet Ave, Poughkeepsie, NY 12601 or online at https://www.hvhospice.org/donate) or to the Millerton Fire Company at PO Box 733, Millerton, NY 12546.
A celebration of life will be held on Friday, May 8, from 4:00 to 7:00 p.m. at Conklin Funeral Home, 37 Park Avenue, Millerton, NY.
Her family will remember her as the strong-willed and caring matriarch who always put them first. She will be deeply missed.
Natalia Zukerman
Ten New Yorker cartoonists gather around a table in a scene from “Women Laughing.”
There is something deceptively simple about a New Yorker cartoon. A few lines, a handful of words — usually fewer than a dozen — and suddenly an entire worldview has been distilled into a single panel.
There is also something delightfully subversive about watching a room full of women sit around a table drawing them. Not necessarily because it seems unusual now — thankfully — but because “Women Laughing,” screening May 9 at The Moviehouse in Millerton, reminds us that for much of The New Yorker’s history, such a gathering would have been nearly impossible to imagine.
The documentary, directed by longtime New Yorker cartoonist Liza Donnelly and filmmaker Kathleen Hughes, traces the uneven history of women cartoonists at the magazine, from their presence in its earliest issues to their near disappearance by the 1950s. But the film does something more interesting still: it lets us watch these artists at work.
“The idea was talking to these women about their process and where their ideas come from,” Donnelly said. “You get to witness these women drawing in the film, and I draw with them.”
“Women Laughing” includes intimate conversations with some of the most celebrated and groundbreaking cartoonists at The New Yorker, including Roz Chast, Emily Flake, Sarah Akinterinwa, Liana Finck, Amy Hwang and Bishakh Som. Donnelly also speaks with Emma Allen, the magazine’s first female cartoon editor. During a dynamic roundtable discussion with 10 cartoonists, viewers also meet artists Emily Sanders Hopkins, Maggie Larson, Arenza Pena-Popo and Victoria Roberts.
“I will confess that it was what I was most worried about,” Hughes said of the technical challenges presented by filming 10 artists at work. “You have 10 people. That’s 10 microphones, six or seven cameras. We didn’t even have a budget for it, but our crew donated all the gear so that we could get it done.”
Hughes was relieved that not only did it work, but it became one of the most memorable parts of the film.
“Frankly, when you put people together and have them talk on screen, it can get tiresome quickly,” Hughes said. “So I’m glad that nobody listened to me when I said I didn’t think we should do this.”
For Donnelly, whose book “Very Funny Ladies” was the impetus for the film, the documentary offered dimensions the printed page could not. For Hughes, whose previous films have examined weightier subjects like economic inequality and gun violence, entering the world of cartoonists brought its own revelations.
“I really did think that the cartoonists were sort of in charge of what was in the magazine,” Hughes said, laughing. “That was probably the biggest revelation.”
What surprised her most was not just the structure of the magazine’s famously competitive submission process — cartoonists submit batches each week and face frequent rejection — but the sheer persistence required to sustain the work.
“It was inspiring to see the dedication everybody had to the craft,” Hughes said. “And how creative everybody is, not just in making the cartoons themselves, but in supporting themselves through it.”
An audience reaction that has surprised both Donnelly and Hughes is the laughter. By the time the filmmakers finished editing, they had seen each cartoon so many times that the humor had become technical material — questions of pacing, framing and sequence. The first public screening changed that.
“All the laughter really kind of blew us away,” Hughes said. “You forget.”
The audience response underscores something else the film makes clear: just how much skill lies behind the apparent simplicity of a single-panel cartoon. Donnelly noted that the form is “a lot harder than you think.” Like the cartoons it celebrates, the documentary values economy and precision. At just 37 minutes, its compact running time reflects that ethos.
“A lot of people have said it’s a great length,” Hughes said. “It’s almost like a cartoon version of a documentary.”
Donnelly appreciates the response she hears most often after screenings.
“You leave them wanting more,” she said.
Like the best New Yorker cartoons, “Women Laughing” says a great deal with remarkable economy, leaving audiences laughing and looking more closely at what appears, at first glance, deceptively simple.
“Women Laughing” will screen at the Moviehouse (48 Main St., Millerton) on May 9 at 7 p.m. followed by a conversation with Liza Donnelly, Kathleen Hughes and cartoonist Amy Hwang. Moderated by local filmmaker Pam Hogan. Tickets at themoviehouse.net
Natalia Zukerman
In “Your Friends and Neighbors,” Lena Hall’s character is also a musician.
At a certain point you stop asking who people want you to be and start figuring out who you already are.
— Lena Hall
There is a moment in conversation with actress and musician Lena Hall when the question of identity lands with unusual force.
“Well,” she said, pausing to consider it, “who am I really?”
Born Celina Consuela Gabriella Carvajal into a San Francisco family steeped in performance — her father a choreographer, her mother a prima ballerina — Hall was, by her own account, “born to be onstage.”
“Like a show pony,” she joked.
She trained first as a ballet dancer, studying in France on scholarship before abandoning that path for musical theater after seeing her sister perform in “42nd Street.”
Even then, identity was something inherited before it was chosen.
The Tony Award-winning, Grammy-nominated performer has spent much of her career moving between worlds: Broadway and television, rock clubs and film sets, musical theater precision and raw, unvarnished songwriting. Her latest solo album, “Lullabies for the End of the World,” is an intimate, autobiographical work that explores co-dependency, heartbreak and self-reckoning.
But for Hall, whose career includes a Tony-winning turn in “Hedwig and the Angry Inch,” a starring role on Apple TV+’s “Your Friends and Neighbors,” and acclaimed performances in film and television, the search for artistic identity has been unfolding for decades.
The record’s central themes — identity, authenticity, reinvention — are the same ones Hall has been sorting through for much of her adult life.
“It wasn’t until later that I started asking those questions,” she said from New York City, which she splits her time between and West Cornwall, Connecticut. “What do I want to represent? Who do I want to be? I was trying to find the authentic self instead of just going with the flow.”
The search began, in part, with an unlikely catalyst: a tonsillectomy.
When Hall was 26, surgery altered her voice just as she had joined the rock band The Deafening. “They would just play really loud and never change the key,” she said, laughing.
At the same time, Hall found herself confronting larger questions about purpose and artistic direction.
“I was going through that moment of, what do I really want out of this industry?” she said. “If I’m going to keep doing this, I need to have a purpose.”
Until then, Hall said, she had largely been defined by external expectations.
“I was always who I was told to be,” she said.
The surgery became a kind of reset, both vocally and personally. It also coincided with another form of reinvention: the decision to change her professional name.
“My real name is a lot,” she said.
People stumbled over its pronunciation. It was harder to remember, harder to place. “Lena Hall” felt streamlined, memorable. “It also just sounds like a rock star,” she laughed.
Hall, who is one-quarter Filipino with Spanish and Swedish ancestry, later grappled with whether changing her name obscured an important part of who she is. At one point, she said, she was advised that reverting to her birth name might improve her casting prospects as representation standards shifted.
She declined.
“That didn’t feel authentic,” she said.
Instead, Hall came to see the name change as less a departure than a continuation.
After making the change, she discovered that Carvajal itself was a family alteration, adopted generations ago in the Philippines.
“I’m still honoring my family, even in the name change,” she said. “I’m continuing that tradition.”
Her Filipino heritage remains central to how she understands herself, even as some parts of that history remain difficult to trace.
“I’m very curious to keep searching,” Hall said. “That side of my family is where all the artistry came from.”
Hall’s refusal to flatten herself into a single story or cultural identity is mirrored in her journey as a multi-hyphenate artist. She is, depending on the moment, a Broadway belter, a screen actor, a rock frontwoman, a conceptual songwriter.
Her current side project, the all-female Radiohead tribute band Labiahead, gleefully complicates the picture further, reframing familiar songs through a new lens.
“When women perform something written and performed by men, it changes it completely,” she said. “Nothing even needs to be said. It just happens.”
The same could be said of Hall’s own work.
Across mediums, she is an artist interested less in performance as display than performance as revelation.
Onscreen, she said, that often means doing less.
“The camera is literally on your nose,” she said. “You just have to think, and it picks it up.”
Between Celina Carvajal and Lena Hall, between ballet and rock, Broadway and Cornwall, Hall is making peace with multiplicity.
“At a certain point,” she said, “you stop asking who people want you to be and start figuring out who you already are.”
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Natalia Zukerman
“A Love Letter to Handsome John” screens at The Colonial Theatre on May 8.
Fans of the late singer-songwriter Todd Snider will have a rare opportunity to gather in celebration of his life and music when “A Love Letter to Handsome John,” a documentary by Otis Gibbs, screens for one night only at The Colonial Theatre in North Canaan on Friday, May 8.
Presented by Wilder House Berkshires and The Colonial Theatre, the 54-minute film began as a tribute to Snider’s friend and mentor, folk legend John Prine. Instead, following Snider’s death last November at age 59, it became something more intimate: a portrait of the alt-country pioneer during the final year of his life.
What began as a simple gesture of gratitude evolved into a poignant meditation on friendship, artistic influence and loss, offering viewers an unusually personal glimpse of Snider at home in his quietest moments.
For Brad Sanzenbacher of Wilder House Berkshires, bringing the film to the Northwest Corner has been deeply personal.
“I’ve been a huge fan of Todd Snider and John Prine for 20 years,” he said. “I lived in the Bay Area before I moved here, and I would see Todd live probably at least four times a year — sometimes back-to-back nights. I was that kind of super Dead Head-type fan that was on tour.”
Sanzenbacher said he had the chance to meet Snider several times and attended the musician’s Catskills retreats.
“He was just one of those people that I really connected with strongly,” he said. “Like a lot of people, when he passed away, I was really shocked and devastated.”
When he learned screenings of the film were beginning to pop up around the country, he wanted to bring that communal experience here.
“I know there are a lot of Todd Snider fans everywhere who want closure on his life and maybe a chance to feel like they’re in the room with him again,” he said. “I thought it would be a really cool experience to bring the film to the community.”
The screening is part of what Sanzenbacher calls the film’s organic, fan-driven momentum.
“I love the grassroots movement of the film,” he said. “They were going to do two screenings and that was going to be it, and now they’re showing it all over the country because fans have reached out to say, ‘How can I bring a screening to my town?’ I feel really lucky we’re able to show it.”
He hopes the evening captures some of the camaraderie that defined the Todd Snider fan experience.
“One of my favorite things about being a Todd Snider fan was when you’d go to two or three shows in a row, you’d turn into a little caravan and make friends with strangers and become this community,” he said. “That’s kind of something I’m hoping happens at the film.”
The screening begins at 7 p.m. Friday, May 8, at The Colonial Theatre, 27 Railroad St., North Canaan. Run time is 54 minutes, with time afterward for audience members to gather and connect.
Matthew Kreta
New Sharon Playhouse logo designed by Christina D’Angelo.
The Sharon Playhouse has unveiled a new brand identity for its 2026 season, reimagining its logo around the silhouette of the historic barn that has long defined the theater.
Sharon Playhouse leadership — Carl Andress, Megan Flanagan and Michael Baldwin — revealed the new logo and website ahead of the 2026 season. The change reflects leadership’s desire to embrace both the Playhouse’s history and future, capturing its nostalgia while reinventing its image.
After attending the closing performance of the Playhouse’s production of The Mousetrap last September, Christina D’Angelo told Playhouse leadership she was “completely changing her design direction” for the new logo after experiencing the work and atmosphere of the Sharon Playhouse firsthand. She incorporated the barn silhouette to capture the theater campus’s history and evoke the warmth and magic of the Playhouse.
“The barn gives a fixed image of how we all feel about the Playhouse,” said Megan Flanagan, managing director. “The new branding presents the story of the great history of Sharon Playhouse — who we were, who we are today, who we are becoming — and the barn is that unifying element.”
The design was one of several options presented and was selected unanimously by Playhouse leadership. D’Angelo also designed this season’s branding, creating a visual throughline for the 2026 season.
The Playhouse remains committed to its taglines and mission statements, “Create. Community. Together.” and “Your destination for the arts.” While those phrases are no longer reflected in the logo itself, Carl Andress, artistic director, said the organization is not moving away from them and that they will continue to appear in publications and on the updated website.
“The refreshed brand aims to shift the narrative in the community, reinforcing the Playhouse’s role not only as a theater but as a vibrant gathering place and artistic home,” Playhouse leadership said in a press release.
For more information, including a video about the updated logo and details on the upcoming 2026 season, visit sharonplayhouse.org
Patrick L. Sullivan
Gary Dodson demonstrated the two-handed switch rod cast on the Schoharie Creek on April 18. The author failed to learn said cast.
The last time I tried fishing in the Catskills, in the fall of 2025, I had to stop pretty abruptly when it became apparent my hip was not going to cooperate.
So it was with considerable trepidation that I waded across a stretch of the “Little Esopus” that turned out to be a little bit deeper and a tad more robust than I thought.
This was on Thursday, April 16.
The Esopus is a tailwater, meaning cold water comes out of a dam and supplies the river with regular infusions of cold water that is good for trout.
But it is an unusual tailwater, in that the added flow comes out of the Schoharie Reservoir in Greene County and travels 18 miles through a pipe running under a considerable chunk of mountains and empties into the Esopus in the hamlet of Allaben.
This is officially known as “Diversion from Schoharie Reservoir” or the “Shandaken Tunnel.” In practice it is called “the Portal.”
Between the Portal and the Ashokan Reservoir about 13 miles downstream the Esopus is a big brawling trout river, roughly the same size as the Housatonic. Upstream of the Portal the Esopus is a medium-sized to small freestone stream. Hence “Little Esopus.”
My compatriot Gary Dodson and I were messing around on the “Little” section a couple weeks ago.
The weather was summery. The water temperature was 58 degrees F, about ideal.
The forsythia was blooming everywhere, and that usually means the first significant mayfly hatch of the year, the one imitated by the Hendrickson fly, is going on.
And I did see some Hendricksons floating around here and there.
But mostly I saw zip, except for when I spooked a couple of suckers.
Old joke: Suckers are often mistaken for brown trout. They tend to dive and tug like browns when hooked, adding to the illusion.
It’s only when one comes to the net that the angler feels like a sucker for being taken in. Again.
The day before, with high winds complementing the summer feel, we tried the Batavia Kill impoundment in Windham, where I attempted to crack the code on the two-handed rod cast.
I failed there and blamed it on the wind. So we went to the Schoharie, where legions of recently-stocked trout should have been eager to eat anything, and the wind wasn’t quite as bad.
I failed there too. This is going to take a while.
Meanwhile the usual Harry Homeowner opening up experience included a highly satisfactory lack of mice and their droppings, and a leaky hot water heater.
We’ve had the thing for about 50 years, so it’s hard to complain too much. Phil the Plumber installed a new one and we’re good for another 50 years.
The wading adventure described above felt a little hairy but I managed, and I found an easier place to cross on the return trip.
The new hip didn’t bother me at all. My thigh muscles were pretty sore the next day, though. Too much couch time over the bleak winter.
And while our rabbit population seems to have moved on, the resident deer were messing around on the lawn in the evenings. I like to sit outside reading and occasionally chirrup to them. They like to ignore me until they take fright for a mysterious deer reason and go bounding off into the woods.
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