As if the vibrant demise of leaves isn’t enough to trigger an awareness of the end of the fishing season…I had a hard reality presented to me by a fellow angler last week. I texted to him “the fish have really turned off up here over the past week” in response to his idea of making the trip north of Crawford notch to fish the Ammonoosuc. He replied “Well, it’s that time of year. There is always next season.” An obvious and forthright observation- which sent me into a panic. So, instead of packing away the flies, we don homemade stocking caps crocheted for an extra luck factor and figure out how to squeeze every last bit of excitement out of the river before the discomfort of cold will ultimately herd us away from the banks.
Took a paddle on Streeter pond hoping to see some rainbows dancing around as the fall temperatures set in. Looking for rings to cast midges and gnats, I surveyed the pond for the 2 hours leading up to our ever creeping dusk hour. A still, sleepy paddle without a bite. It’s cool by the time I roll in to shore which warrants a bundling up with fleece and stocking cap. I hope we have snow this year….