Saturday, Dan and I hopped in the car at 7 AM and reached the Vernooy Falls trailhead a little after 10. It's 1.8 miles and 700 vertical feet up to the falls, which we accomplished with little fuss. Moving up and downstream is another matter. There's really no trail, so you're bushwhacking through a pretty steep gorge. (Note: I wasn't in a photographing mood, so these photos were taken off the net).
The tone for the weekend was set in the first half hour when a largish rock give way as Dan descended into the riverbed. He clattered down (hard) and snapped the tip off his rod. Fortunately, he wasn't hurt, just shaken, and ultimately sore, but it cast a pall over the activities.
Of course, catching a few dozen wild brook trout might have changed our mood, but it wasn't to be. Surprising to me, we each caught only one fish. It wasn't for lack of trying... below the falls, the habitat seemed a little marginal (pretty shallow), but above the falls, which we explored in the afternoon, the habitat seemed superb. There were certainly plenty of flies on the water. I saw caddis, cahills, blue quills, and hendricksons, and tried them all at different times during the day. I fished on the surface, and nymphed. I saw only one rise, and had only three strikes all day. These were all in the same structure (a moderate pool below the falls). The strikes were little brookies nipping at my nymph, and I managed to land one of them. 10 minutes later, Dan took another carbon-copy fish in the same structure using a parachute adams. That was it.
I frankly don't understand it. Either these fish are unbelievably spooky, or there just weren't very many of them. I would think it's the latter. Hard to believe they would have been THAT spooky, as the water was fairly high, and turbulent, so I would have thought it would have covered us pretty well. Also, on streams with spooky fish, you can usually SEE them running away from you, at least occasionally. Certainly, in 5 hours, if it was a matter of spookiness, I'd have expected to see more fish signs. But I didn't see a single spooked fish.
After a night in the EconoLodge in Monticello, we hit the Neversink Gorge Unique area on Sunday. This is a 2.5 mile walk, descending about 750 vertical feet.
Talk about a constrast! Here the Neversink is about 150 feet wide. The water was a lot higher than shown in this photo... where we started fishing, the water averaged about knee deep, with slots and runs anywhere from 3 to 6 foot in depth. STRONG current. The kind of place where you needed a wading staff to get anywhere, and where you fear for your life if you slip on the irregular, bouldery bottom. I've waded in one or two tougher places (at least the rocks here weren't particularly slick), but not many, and not recently.
Two twenty-something fishermen showed up on the opposite bank soon after we started. They crossed over to talk (oh, to be 25 years old again! Now that I'm 50-something, I wouldn't dream of crossing the stream where they did). One of the guys pulled out 3 fish from the deeper slots in the middle of the stream, as I watched his slow approach. When they finally arrived, we got into a nice conversation. They seemed to be classic trout bums (You fish here often? Yeah, this is my third time on the stream this week). They checked out my nymph rig, and opined I needed heavier flies, and suggested going to larger sizes. The guy who'd caught all the fish pulled out 3 different nymphs from his fly box which he handed me, and swore would fix me up.
They moved on, picking up another fish in the next pocket, and were soon gone. These were the only other human beings we saw all day on what is a superb, if challenging, trout stream. If it were more accessible, I suggest we'd have seen a couple of dozen fishermen on a typical stretch of a Catskill Stream of this quality on a beautiful Sunday in mid May. It was glorious to be alone there.
I had NO luck at all with their flies. I'm usually a very good nympher (though I rarely fish such a large stream), I lost two of his flies (which were really heavy!) in the second slot I fished, as they jammed into the bottom of a slot too deep for me to retrieve. They had recommended tungsten bead heads, which are super heavy but I don't carry in my box (they're useless on small streams). I suspect my nymphs just weren't getting deep enough fast enough. After 3 hours, I was still fishless.
In desperation I changed to a full sinking line, and tied on a zoo cougar, my favorite streamer, which is a yellow sculpin pattern with a lot of flash. That turned out to be inspired, as I was immediately rewarded with a strike, and several chasers. It was also great fun double-hauling the line to reach the far bank, 70 feet from where I was standing. So at least I was entertained, and ultimately, after several more short strikes, managed to land a fat, 14" brookie which slammed the cougar as it flashed past his holding spot, just in front of a boulder.
So at least I wasn't skunked.
This is the kind of stream that rewards experience. I suspect next time (armed with a larger supply of heavy nymphs, and mentally prepared for the wading), I'd do OK.
The walk out was a long 2.5 miles and 750 foot climb. Mosquitos were making it a slow torture. I didn't want to goop with up DEET, since I figured I'd be in the car shortly. Instead, I suffered.
This weekend was hard work.
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