I love to read the columns by Rick Brockway in The Daily Star. His adventures are almost like my adventures only his are 10 times better.
In this I mean that he always hits just the right time to go — the black flies are on vacation visiting me at my house and the smallest size of the rainbow and brown trout are all over 30 inches long.
Couple this with the fact that these fish suddenly have an appetite for rusty fish hooks with old dried up worms attached from the last adventure out. (About three years ago.) I ask “are vintage worms like vintage wines – they get better with time?”
It was a lazy Thursday morning and I was a graduate student at Cornell University when my cohort graduate companions decided that we had been working hard enough to go fishing for a weekend in a cabin leased from one of the paper companies in the Adirondacks.
We would fish in “virgin waters” where the fish would jump for joy on our arrival. The only problem was that we would have to hike about 15 miles before we would reach the camp. Friday morning came and we disappeared.
We were traveling light with only our fishing gear and clothing because sleeping bags, pillows,and blankets were at the cabin packed in 55 gallon steel barrels along with some rifles and cartridges. I had heard stories about hunting in the Adirondacks — the windfalls so thick you couldn’t see daylight. We were told (reassured) that we would be hiking up logging trails and it would be no problem and there was no chance that we could get lost. (I can hear Rick laughing now.)
On our way up it started to rain. After 10 consecutive days of above average warm days, we started hiking as the temperature started to plummet.