a nice slow one to end your night with. good night all.

Port St. Willow – Amawalk by yvynyl on SoundCloud – Create, record and share your sounds for free.

#Wednesday. If you have not heard this track already then listen to it now. And if you don’t think, like us, that this is one of the most beautiful songs you have heard all year then a musical excommunication may have to be next up in the order of service. Yes we know that’s harsh and goes against most of our previously stated views re everybody liking whatever music they happen to like and blah blah blah, but that’s just the way we feel right now. Found amidst the clutter thanks to yvynyl.

After trekking over rocky outcroppings, through thickets and groves of hemlocks and swampy floodplains on the river’s edge I finally reached the outlet, the flow had really leveled out. Gone were the riffles. Standing there was an old-timer, must have been 70 at least. I was still huffing and puffing from the hike so I wondered how he’d made it in…turns out there is a more level shorter hike from a nearby highway. Oh well. “Tom” said he’d been fishing the river for forty years and it was the first stream he’d every fly-fished on. He seemed impressed I’d “bushwhacked” in to reach this spot and gave me first choice of fishing. I noticed several gorgeous rises downstream, big ripples that suggested big trout and headed in that direction. He graciously said he’d fished that spot for several years and was happy to share.

I tied on a #16 caddis and went to work casting across and letting it dead drift downstream. The first take was violent, he was on for half-a second and a big headshake and he was off. My heart was racing. I resisted casting again immediately, and following the rules, let the water return to calm for about 8 or 9 minutes. I tied on a smaller caddis with a bit of sparkle to the tail, and cast again. I fought “micro-drag” for a minute, then cast again. Just when I thought I’d put the big brown down, a big SLURP and the caddis was down. A voice in the back of my head was trying to wake me up from my shock, STRIKE DAMNIT, STRIKE! I struck and struck hard. He was on. It was like a brick had grabbed hold of the rod. Head down, the brown dove deep as they do and went for a couple of runs upstream, thank god. Downstream and he surely would have broken me off. I played him for several more minutes, keeping pressure on, keeping his head turned toward me. And he swam toward me giving me time to reel in some line. I reached for my net on my back and–it was gone! Somewhere on the hike I dropped my net! How was I going to land this big guy?

I calmly backed up toward shore and the fish rose enough for me to see him. He was at least 20″, long and fat with a very dusky sandy color suggesting he’d been deep in the reservoir all summer (where less camouflage is needed)! Now my heart was in my chest. His head was broad and fat. Oh Lord, how the hell was I going to land him? I could put my hands under his belly or grab him by the collar, but I’d have to pull him in close, and he’d surely spook. But I got him in, five feet, three feet, one feet. He was calmly treading water below my feet. And then I pulled him slowly him up to reach for him. Then I made a total rookie mistake. His head out of the water, I grabbed the line. And he woke up! Two big head shakes and he was free. He sat there looking at me…me looking at him, eye to eye. Then, he slowly put his head down and swam for a hole. What a fish. Sorry no pictures, but his image is burned on my mind’s eye.

Yep, fall fishing can be a lot of fun, and it doesn’t have to be all trout. Sometimes going for wily smallies can be just as much fun. While recently rafting in West Virginia with my brother, I took the time to hit the New River, a trophy smallmouth river. Wading out on a nice bend where the Dunloup Creek joins the New, I was able to cast just ahead of some nice little class 1 rapids. Behind every boulder there seemed to be a smallie! On a 5 wt they provided plenty of action, jumping and diving. Fast warm water can be a fly fisherman’s best friend, the fishing is simpler. A wooly bugger or conehead worm in just about any pattern will suffice.

Now as the cool crisp winds dry the leaves creating the hush sound of the woods in the fall, I feel a bit anxious. Winter is on its way. Soon the land will be still, but for now big ‘uns await in the cool creeks just below the colored canopy.

I took a look at the CFs on the major Croton streams to see how they were flowing after Tropical Storm Irene. Since the DEP controls water levels, I was thinking they were releasing a lot of water from the reservoirs into the outlets. That combined with the runoff, I expected it to be high…but not this high. Pretty dramatic differences.

- East Branch (Croton River just below dam): median CF = 63, right now, CF =2460 , gauge height, 7′ 3″ and falling
- Croton Falls Outlet (Croton River West Branch): median CF = 70, right now, CF = 430, gauge height, 6′ 6″ and falling
- Amawalk Outlet (Muscoot River): median CF = 19, right now, CF = 241, gauge height, 10′ 6″ and rising
- Titicus Outlet: median CF = 12, right now, CF = 2,180, gauge height, 8′ 7″ and peaking
- West Branch Outlet: median CF = 32, right now, 846, gauge height, 4’1″ and rising
- Cross River (in Ward Pound Ridge): median CF = 4, right now, 825, gauge height, 6′ 2″ and falling

The EB is 39X normal flow.  TO is 181x normal flow, but Cross River takes the prize at 206X normal flow!!

Seeing how Cross River has the only native brook trout population in the area, that’s quite worrying. On the other hand, the buildup of silt on all the rivers should be lower after the flooding, right?

For the heck of it–looked at the Esopus Creek up in the Catskills: median CF = 261, right now, CF =59,900, gauge height, 16′ 9″ but earlier was 21′. The Esopus is 229X its normal flow…I’d say that’s got to be a flood.

…I can’t begin to imagine the damage.

ORIGINAL POST:

Wondering what a Category 3 might look like if it hit New York? Here is a vintage WPA film covering the great 1938 September hurricane, “Shock Troops of Disaster: The Story of the New England Hurricane.”

So with Hurricane Irene mozying up the coast, I really had just one thought in mind, “damn, what’s going to happen to the Amawalk?” The Croton Watershed, home to my three favorite trout streams, the East Branch, West Branch, and Amawalk, have had significant hurricane damage in the past. Even a casual nor’easter can cause erosion and treefall on these delicate riparian corridors. Naturally, I took Friday to join my fellow Gowanus Noodler, Daniel, to fish the east branch, the west and close the evening on the Amawalk. Just above the trestle bridge I had located a nice rising brown in a riffle and he took a copperish larvae under a dropper but wiggled off. Later at the West Branch Croton Falls Outlet,we noticed the water was up and fast–perhaps the DEP decided it would be a good idea to release some water ahead of the storm? There were some big trout holding under logs near the Route 22 bridge, but they wouldn’t be enticed–they were gorging on the larvae and bugs suddenly released from foam patches that had literally been hanging around all summer. It seemed the anglers down in “frustration pool” were doing no better.

CFO presented extremely challenging circumstances. It was frustrating to be unable to “match the hatch.” After an hour of beating the pool mercilessly, I just waded out into the middle and WOW, there were tons of bugs in the bubble line, many dead, but I counted at least 6 different kinds of bugs. In that case, I realized it would be impossible to determine exactly what the trout were eating. Though I had a few rises to a small caddis, no takes. I tried nymphing but had little response.

Daniel decided to stay and work the pool, but I bugged out for the Amawalk, which was luckily still at its usual flow. This old river has had mills on it since the 1800s, and the evidence remains, old dams, rock walls, the sunken forms of basements to cabins long since disintegrated. Brothers Falls Dam was glowing in the late day sun.

In a lovely setting sun, I began to watch a long glide come alive with rising trout. They were taking what looked to be termites and blue winged olives. I didn’t have a termite pattern and my caddis was refused twice, so I tied on the BWO and let it dead drift toward the lip. SLURP! A violent take and I had a lovely wild brown on. 12″, good for the Amawalk unless you’re night fishing, but wilds are muscular and sleek and he surged upstream twice and did a jump when he was close in. The sky was gold and pink, perhaps signaling the impending storm.

The pool slowly began to calm–the hatch only lasted about an hour. One more cast and another good-sized brown took my BWO and broke me off as he dove for cover. What a day, but I did have a restless sleep, I’m seriously worried about the hurricane’s affect on the rivers. Looks like the TU might have some work ahead of itself. Trout Unlimited often do streambank work, restoring damaged local waters–the Croton chapter is lovingly referred to as the “Rock Rollers,” and the twenty plus years of work is evident all through the watershed.

Now as the fist bands of showers descend on Brooklyn, I’m quite happy I live on Clinton HILL. The car is parked as high up as I could get it on Clinton Ave. Two of my fellow noodlers live near Red Hook, an evacuation area. Man, can you imagine if the Gowanus overflows? Yuck, but at least it might get “cleaned” out. Well, there’s ice in the fridge, candles at the ready…just need to nip out for batteries, and ground beef. I think Hurricane Irene deserves a good stew, just in case the power goes out, we’ll have something that can last a couple days in the cooler. After making the stew, we’ll tape up the windows and take the garden furniture in.  We’ll settle in and ride out the storm with cocktails and scrabble. Be safe everyone.