With Amazing Grace

     When I turned onto Route 17, my attention started to shift where I needed it to be.  I turned off today's country music hits and switched over to a personal collection that I don't reach for very often.  Many folks never realize it but sometimes I reach for some decent theatrical music or even church hymns when I want to start a stretch that gets me away from the grind, and into the woods. 

     There's an intersection out there, unmarked, that I encourage you to pursue.

     I rolled through Livingston Manor, NY, and on a stretch of road where you swear you can see the entire span of the Catskills, a melody came on that just caught me off guard.  I had been thinking of my father anyway, because it's also opening week of deer season and that just doesn't come around unnoticed.  Four years later, Amazing Grace in bagpipes, still gets to me, like I heard it carrying him down the Church stairs that hot August morning.  Through a little sobbing by myself on the drive, I definitely felt it was healthy, because I nodded approvingly, as if he asked me, and said "I'm ready".

     With that, I disappeared into the weekend I've been waiting for all year. 

     To go through it sequentially is probably the way to story tell, but it doesn't really matter.  It was a wonderful couple of days, and a period of time in which I needed to recharge some batteries.  I guess let's hit some of the high points and the general themes.

     Even though it surprised me in the moment, I realized that I had never caught a trout from the Willowemoc before.  Of course I rarely fish it, which has a lot to do with one's catch rate.  When this little fella took the #16 BHPT and sunk the stimulator, that gap closed.  I was very appreciative of this little guy...

     There were some nice moments on the left hand side of the Roscoe "T" as well....

     Eventually, the sun went down on even the most enjoyable of times....

     

     It took a little bit of courage and even some less-than-sane decision making to endure the results of those picturesque sunsets. The following mornings were, uh..... "brisk".

     But when you hang in there, and place half of your body in 40-degree air, and half of your body in 40-degree water, and you float a dry dropper in the right glassy slick, with a little bit of faith....

   Sometimes a nice 'bow in the mid teens shows up.....

  Or a November brown that pushes the high teens takes your #10 royal stimulator....

     And if you're really blessed... you break 20" for the fourth time this year!


    
     Well, here's to a wonderful trip... I won't lie, there was plenty of fishless time out there, too, but suffice to say I was happy to have made the trip, and happy to shake off the shivers long enough to bring these beautiful treasures to net.  Sometimes you get out for a few hours and you go fishing.  Other times--far fewer--you get to experience a couple of days off the clock, when you actually have the chance to take an emotional dive.

     I definitely have to close up with giving a shout out to my fellow deer camp pards - I enjoyed crashing what is always intended to be a festival of venison harvesting but typically ends with self depricating stories of what-could-have been.  You guys are great company - let's keep making those funny stories together.