Thank you!
Your support is sustaining the future of local news in our communities.

Remembering Glenn the Trout Spotter

Remembering Glenn the Trout Spotter

The late Glenn May on one of his favorite rivers, the San Juan in New Mexico, circa 2010.

Photo from Facebook

My nomadic attorney Thos is planning a fishing and camping trip of major proportions later this summer, starting in New Mexico and working his way north through the Rockies into Canada.

So I wanted to reconnect with a fellow named Glenn May, who was my main fishing buddy for several years in the 1990s when we both lived in Albuquerque and worked at the same bookstore. Last I heard he was living in Colorado, which is on the itinerary, more or less.

An email bounced back so I tried Facebook, only to learn he died in his sleep in February.

He was a little younger than me, about 60 I guess.

This was disconcerting.

I was already working at the bookstore when he came on board, and we recognized our mutual interest when I found him trying to carve out a shelf or two for fly-fishing titles amid the general chaos of the sports section.

I had a Ford Escort, which was good on gas but didn’t hold much gear, especially when you factored in critical supplies such as beer.

He had a gigantic and battered Ford F350 which was terrible on gas but would go anywhere and could hold everything. It also had a long-expired Delaware license plate, which made for some tense moments.

We managed to wangle the same two days off, Sunday and Monday, and we’d often bug out after our Saturday second shift and fetch up somewhere around 1 a.m., pitch a tent and be on the water at dawn.

The bookstore did not pay much, and out West the distances (and gas consumption) are exponentially greater than in the relatively compact East.

If it was near the first of the month, we took the Escort. Mid-month when we were feeling bucks up, we’d go with the truck.

Glenn was a dry fly guy to his core. I had been trained in similar fashion but was dabbling in the dark arts of subsurface fishing, so when one of us was catching the other was often fishing.

He was also a Dallas Cowboys fan. They were suffering through a particularly bad season one year in the mid-90s, and as we drove from river to river we listened to the games on the radio. He lamented, and I privately gloated.

I wandered back east but Glenn stayed put, eventually becoming a fairly big name in the New Mexico newspaper world. He wrote about fly-fishing for the Albuquerque Tribune and about everything for the Santa Fe New Mexican, and that’s not a complete list.

Then he was off to Cameroon with the Peace Corps. And then Turkey, not in the Peace Corps. He did a stint teaching English in South Korea.

I occasionally got cryptic emails describing the fishing in places like Bulgaria, and he kept up a Facebook presence, so I had some idea of what he was doing.

More recently he was back in the Four Corners, working for the Ute tribal nation in some capacity. I think there was a wife in there too.

I’m struck — again — by how, over the years,I have spent a lot of time with fishing friends and I know next to nothing about them except they dislike fishing with dropper rigs and have a weakness for hazelnut coffee.

The other thing that stands out about Glenn was that he was the best trout spotter I have ever fished with. No scouting flies for this guy. He was almost always aiming at specific fish, where I was working specific spots. To use a sports analogy, he played man-to-man while I played zone.

I spoke to him on the phone in 2004. We reminisced about the time we were edging around a canyon pool and when he looked back all he saw was my ballcap floating on the surface. (I was underneath temporarily.)

Or the time the drunk idiots chucked rocks into the pools we were working. They were poor shots so the rocks came very close to hitting us. They also called our fly rods “fairy sticks.”

We snuck up on them later when they were cavorting in a hot spring and let the air out one of their tires. Only one. We wanted the punishment to fit the crime.

They recovered enough that we encountered them later at a rustic saloon that sold flies and had a collection of brassieres attached to the ceiling. Luckily they didn’t put two and two together, probably because they were engrossed by the decor. We prudently oiled out and made our escape.

I’ll wrap this with a story about the famous New Mexico tailwater, the San Juan River.

The first time we tried it together he was doing well with miniscule dry flies, size 24 callibaetis, and long leaders tapered to 7X.

I think this was when my antipathy for what I call “specks” started. No matter what, I could not lay out my speck the way he could.

So while he was horsing big fat rainbows into the net, I was fumbling with tackle and cussing.

Finally, I tied on a big gaudy Royal Coachman fly with a pink post and about twice the normal amount of hackle. I think I bought it at the brassiere bar.

Shortening my leader to something around seven feet and 3X, I heaved it near the streamside vegetation while Glenn watched. He may have smirked a bit.

A nice rainbow, probably rejoicing at the prospect of a square meal instead of nibbling on specks, smacked the ridiculous fly and we were off.

It was big enough, and I had consumed enough beer, that Glenn kindly assisted in netting the beast. He looked at it, the fly and at me, shook his head, and said “Now that is some raggedy fly-fishing.”

Latest News

Sharon Audubon Birdfest

Sharon Audubon Center naturalist and volunteer coordinator Bethany Sheffer shows off Mandala, a red-tailed hawk who lost an eye after being hit by a car more than a decade ago.

Alec Linden

SHARON – Drizzle and chill couldn’t quell bird enthusiasts Saturday, May 9, for the Sharon Audubon Center’s Birdfest, an all-out avian fete in celebration of World Migratory Bird Day.

The internationally recognized effort is meant to bring awareness to the safety and wellbeing of the billions of migratory birds that return to their summer breeding grounds each spring.

Keep ReadingShow less
Sharon voters reject controversial school budget, 114-99

The May 8 town meeting and budget vote were moved from Sharon Town Hall to Sharon Center School to accommodate what officials said was the largest turnout for a Sharon budget meeting in recent years.

Alec Linden

SHARON – More than 200 residents packed the Sharon Center School gymnasium Friday, May 8, where voters narrowly rejected the Sharon Board of Education's proposed 2026-2027 spending plan by a vote of 114-99, sending the budget back to the Board of Finance after weeks of heated debate over school funding.

The rejected proposal – the ninth version of the budget since deliberations began months ago – carried a bottom line of $4,165,513 for the elementary school, unchanged from last year. The flat budget came after the BOF ordered the BOE in early April to remove nearly $70,000 from its spending plan.

Keep ReadingShow less

Liane McGhee

Liane McGhee
Liane McGhee
Liane McGhee

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.

Keep ReadingShow less
google preferred source

Want more of our stories on Google? Click here to make us a Preferred Source.

‘Women Laughing’ celebrates New Yorker cartoonists

Ten New Yorker cartoonists gather around a table in a scene from “Women Laughing.”

Eric Korenman

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.

Keep ReadingShow less

By any other name: becoming Lena Hall

By any other name: becoming Lena Hall

In “Your Friends and Neighbors,” Lena Hall’s character is also a musician.

Courtesy Apple TV
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?”

Keep ReadingShow less
Remembering Todd Snider at The Colonial Theatre

“A Love Letter to Handsome John” screens at The Colonial Theatre on May 8.

Provided

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.

Keep ReadingShow less
google preferred source

Want more of our stories on Google? Click here to make us a Preferred Source.

google preferred source

Want more of our stories on Google? Click here to make us a Preferred Source.