Fear and loathing on the Schoharie

PHOENICIA, N.Y.  — A couple weeks back I made the first journey of 2022 to the ancestral estate in the wilds of Ulster County, N.Y.

I am pleased to report that there were almost no signs of mice.

The Esopus Creek downstream of The Portal (also known as the Shandaken Tunnel) was a roaring torrent of Yoo-Hoo, but the tribs were in good shape.

Using a new Tenkara rod, the Dragontail Foxfire, I coaxed some wild brook trout from the tiny stream in my valley. Having reestablished diplomatic relations with the neighbors after a two-year pandemic pause, I had a relatively clear beat to work, and the fish were in a cooperative mood.

(The Foxfire is mostly fiberglass, has a slow action and fishes at 6.5, 8 and 9 feet and a bit. It is designed to use a light level line (#3 or #3.5 fluorocarbon) and it’s meant for little blue lines. To see what the fuss is about, go to www.dragontailtenkara.com. And no, I don’t get a kickback.)

The highlight of the trip was the nickel tour of the Schoharie, some 20 miles north in Greene County, with my buddy Gary.

Gary’s been fishing that system for 20-odd years so the old-timers there tolerate him.

He also quit smoking recently, and was more than usually acerbic in his running commentary as we drove from spot to spot.

One extended riff about someone with blue hair selling him a pair of flip-flops in Los Angeles was particularly memorable. Alas, it was also completely unprintable in a family newspaper.

I can share the tag line though. “Makes me ashamed I was ever a hippie.”

The effects of long-term nicotine withdrawal are ferocious. “When was your last cigarette?” I inquired.

“Uhh … February something.”

“Don’t worry,” I said helpfully. “In another year, the worst will be over.”

We went to a spot where the West Kill dumps into the Schoharie. There is a deep pool, well over 20 feet, according to Gary.

“There’s a boulder down there the size of a Volkswagen.”

I didn’t ask how he knew that. I was afraid of the answer.

I had alertly forgotten to bring a reel, so I could use either Gary’s 6 foot 2 weight rigged for left-hand retrieve, or another Tenkara rod I’d shoved in the pack.

This one, the Tenkara USA Hane, is 10 feet 10 inches, single length, and very sturdy. It also collapses to about 15 inches,  so it fits just about anywhere. (Go to www.tenkarausa.com for another experience that does not make me rich.)

There were caddis everywhere, but this big pool seemed very pond-like.

So I deployed a 10 foot furled line, about two feet of 2X fluoro tippet, and a black conehead Wooly Bugger with one of its rubber legs still intact.

To the bend of the hook I attached another 2 feet of 5X fluoro, and a size 14 green caddis emerger.

The idea was the heavy streamer would sink fast and on the retrieve the caddis would be jerked upward, as if swimming to the surface.

It worked. In about an hour I caught and released three respectable browns in the 18-inch range, with glittering eyes and firm, manly jaws.

Meanwhile Gary was messing around with an 8 foot fly rod, getting caught on the backcast and swearing up a storm.

So the moral of the story is: If you don’t want a lot of mouse mess when you open up camp, don’t leave anything out where the mice can get it. Also if you quit smoking, do it around Thanksgiving, so when fishing starts up again you won’t be so grouchy.

And, of course, don’t buy flip-flops in L.A. And if you were a hippie, never admit it.