Fly Fishing the Famous Beaverkill River in Roscoe, New York

Probably the most famous fly fishing river in the Northeast, the Beaverkill begins at Junction Pool in Roscoe New York, where hundreds of fishermen and women test their skills each spring. Roscoe is the center of fly fishing in the Catskills. For over 100 years, the Beaverkill, Willowemec, Delaware and other streams have attracted the preeminent fly fishers in America including Theodore Gordon, Art Flick and Joan and Lee Wulff.  Roscoe, New York calls itself “Trout Town USA” and the Catskills soon became known as the birthplace of American Fly Fishing. 

For the East Coast fly fisher, a trip to the Beaverkill River is like a pilgrimage, a journey to a sacred place. In ancient times, Jews used to travel to the Temple in Jerusalem three times a year to offer sacrifices to God. Today, a trip to Israel remains a sacred pilgrimage for Jews, a way to connect to the past and the Bible. While I would not put Roscoe New York on the same spiritual plane as the Temple in Jerusalem, for many fly fishers the Beaverkill River is a sacred site, a place like no other in America to cast a fly. 

In October 2001, I drove to Roscoe for a fly fishing trip that felt like more than a normal few days on the stream. It was only a few weeks after 9/11. From my apartment in Brooklyn, I could still smell the smoke coming from the remains of the twin towers. New York City felt like a war zone, and I needed some time away, a safe place in a world that felt upside-down.

After a two hour car trip, I arrived at Roscoe New York, population 597. Every pilgrimage has rituals, and a trip to Roscoe is no different. I ate at the Roscoe Diner, I visited the local fly shop to get some gear and good advice, and I checked into a local B&B. Finally, it was time to go fishing.

As I had been looking forward to fly fishing the Beaverkill for a long time, I could not help imagining what would happen when I finally cast my line. I dreamt of a beautiful river, filled with large rising trout. On a perfect fall day, I would be the only person around for miles, and I would catch and release fish after fish for hours.

Picture: The Beaverkill River

Needless to say, my dreams for this fly fishing pilgrimage were a bit unrealistic. Junction Pool was too crowded, the Beaverkill River was low that year, and I got skunked for two days, not catching a single trout. I realized that while the pools of the Beaverkill might be famous, for me that day they were also fishless.

On my second day of fly fishing, when the streams would not yield a bite, I decided to abandon my fly rod and go for a hike. I climbed to the top of one of the hills which was very steep, and I looked around. Trees covered the Catskill Mountains in all directions, the leaves were turning brilliant yellows and oranges. I had never witnessed such a beautiful fall scene in my life. As I stood on top of the hill, I realized that I had completed my pilgrimage. The sacred site that I was looking for was not Junction Pool or the Beaverkill River. It was on top of that mountain, where I felt in awe of the beauty of nature.

View from the top of a Catskill Mountain in the Fall of 2001

A fly fishing pilgrimage is about taking the time to escape the everyday, about traveling to a place that is far from the ordinary. This type of journey can be a search for safety in a post 9/11 world, a return to nature and simplicity when human society seems so distorted. A pilgrimage is also about connecting to the past. I may not have caught a fish in Roscoe, but knowing that I was fishing the same rivers as Theodore Gordon and other greats made me feel grounded and authentic.

Perhaps the ultimate goal of a pilgrimage is enlightenment.  Standing on top of a hill in Roscoe in the fall, I realized that I had completed my pilgrimage.  The sacred site that I was looking for was on top of that hill, where I experienced the awe and beauty of a fall day in the mountains.

The Drive to The Trout Stream

There is something special about the drive to the river. It is a time of transition, as we leave behind our everyday lives and focus only on the stream, the fly rod and the trout. Whether a two hour drive to a local stream our a two day trek to famous rivers in far off countries, the journey to the water can be an opportunity to separate from the world of work and obligation and to enter a quiet, beautiful and natural place.

One August morning a few years ago, I arose well before dawn and packed my waders, vest and rods into the truck for the drive to a trout park in rural Missouri. I was too excited to sleep, because that day was my only opportunity to cast a fly in my home state for the entire year.

Living in Connecticut, trips to my hometown of St. Louis are infrequent at best, and the chance to visit a Missouri trout stream even more rare. It was pitch black when I pulled the rental car out of the hotel and began the drive to the stream. I was determined to arrive at the stream at dawn, if not before.

An hour later I pulled off the interstate and began final leg of my trip down a long rural road. With the stars still in the sky, the first light of dawn was beginning to appear in the eastern sky. I rolled down my widow to feel the warm summer air. I sped up and down small hills and around curves.

Fields of grass began to appear on my right and left as the sky turned from black to blue. It was only the on-coming headlights of the occasional car in the other lane that reminded me that other human beings even existed. For that half hour drive down that rural Missouri road, I was at one with the sound of the wind, the bends in the road and the rising dawn. It was a beautiful drive that put me at peace.

Appreciating the journey and not only the destination is a lesson that Moses learned while guiding the Israelites through the desert. For forty years, Moses led the people from one stop to another, responding to their complaints, pleading for them when they strayed from God, guiding and protecting them. Moses had to learn to enjoy the journey since he knew that he would not make it to the Promised Land.

At the end of his life, Moses stood on Mt. Nebo in modern-day Jordan, surveyed the land, and knew that his task had come to an end. He died on that mountain, his vigor unabated, and we hope, taking consolation in all that he had accomplished.

Like Moses, we will not make it to all of the Promised Lands in our lives. We will fall short of our goals, our accomplishments will only take us so far before we leave this earth. Our task then is to savor every moment as this poem by Rabbi Alvin Fine teaches:

Birth is a beginning
And death a destination.
And life is a journey:
From childhood to maturity
And youth to age;
From innocence to awareness
And ignorance to knowing;
From foolishness to discretion
And then, perhaps, to wisdom…

Birth is a beginning
And death a destination.
And life is a journey,
A sacred pilgrimage—
To life everlasting.

Fly fishing is almost always about the journey and not the destination, the process and not the end result. Getting skunked, not catching a single trout on a day of fly fishing, is a more common occurrence than many of us fly fishers would like to admit. When the trout are elusive or our flies simply the wrong size or color, we can give in to feelings of frustration. Or we can take a few moments to appreciate everything else that happens while on the stream; the flowing river, the trees, the meditative feeling of casting the rod. Every time we get skunked, we remember it is called fishing not catching, and that perhaps that is a good thing.

When I arrived at the Trout Park in Missouri, I quickly discovered that the stream was crowded and the fish, while plentiful, showed no interest in my flies, preferring the live bait of my fellow anglers. While it is always good to go fishing even if not single trout will rise, looking back, I came to realize that the drive to the stream, and the peace and solitude of the dawn, were the best part of that day.

Places to Fish in Israel with Maps

I recently came across a great website that gives detailed fishing reports for fishing spots in Israel: www.fishinginisrael.info.  Put together by Nigel Ridley, each article contains descriptions of the fishing spot along with pictures and maps of where to fish.  Below are two of Nigel's articles, with many more to be found on his site.  Enjoy!  The Fly Fishing Rabbi 

Saltwater Fishing Spot In Israel: Tel Dor

South of Haifa, the coastline from Kibbutz Nachsholim to just before the beach at Habonim (where you're not allowed to fish - it's a nature reserve) offers some very good rock and reef fishing. All along this stretch of coastline there is a submerged rock plateau. It is strangely flat and wide with a covering of sea water of about 10cm on a calm day. This plateau enables the angler to fish in deep water even right next to it's edge. 

Further out there are reefs so bottom fishing is not really feasible but float fishing, spinning or fishing with crankbaits will certainly pay off with some good sized fish.  There are quite a variety of fish species to be had from the smaller ones that inhabit the seaweed covered rocks to larger ones such as barracuda, little tunny, spotted seabass, members of the grouper family and others. The best times to fish though are, like most other places along the coast, around dawn and dusk when the larger fish move closer inshore from the deeper water.

Just a word of warning: the submerged plateau is dotted with potholes here and there, so be careful where you are stepping especially in the dark. During the summer months it is not a problem standing in the water in a pair of sandals but if you intend fishing in when the water temperature is not so warm, then you will need a pair of waders at least.

 

Getting There

Turn off the Coastal Highway at the Zichron Ya'akov Interchange and turn left at the Faradis junction. Pass through Faradis and turn left towards Kibbutz Nachsholim immediately after leaving the village. About 3km down the road turn right towards the kibbutz entrance but keep going instead of actually turning left into the kibbutz. The road quickly turns into a dirt track. The track turns left at some fish farm buildings; turn left where you see a small sign marked 'Tel Aviv' pointing back at you. It looks as if there is no through road but it will take you to a small parking lot close to the beach (get there early - it fills up quick!). From there head to the beach and work your way south to the rocks and good fishing. You can also camp on the beach making it more convenient for dusk/dawn fishing. Talking about conveniences, there are none so be prepared to rough it a bit.

I've created a map on GoogleMaps so you can see how to get there.

Tight lines!

Freshwater Fishing Spot In Israel: Jordan Park (Park HaYarden)

Known locally as Park HaYarden, the Jordan Park offers a small quiet stretch of river for fishing.  There are an abundance of small fish, some St. Peter's fish, carp and catfish. It's a great place for a family camping weekend with lots of things to do and trails to hike along. There is also 'Abu Kayak' where you can rent inflatable rafts and kayaks - a great way to explore the river for those hot fishing spots! You can also use it as a base for fishing trips to the Kinneret and the Jordan River, both of which are just a few kilometers away.

Getting There

If you are coming from the Tiberius direction then head north along Route 90 and then right onto Route 87. Continue past Capernaum (Kfar Nachum) for about 6km, passing over Arik Bridge as you go, and turn left onto Route 888 at the Beit Tsaida junction. You will see the entrance to the park on your left after about 1km.  If you are coming from the eastern (Golan Heights) side of the Kinneret then head north along Route 92 and then bear left onto Route 87. Continue for about 1km and turn right onto Route 888 at the Beit Tsaida junction. You will see the entrance to the park on your left after about 1km. 

Tight lines!

To read more about fishing in Israel on The Fly Fishing Rabbi, Click Here

Fly Fishing for Tarpon, Permit and Bonefish

I am very pleased to be able to share this article by my friend Dr. Michael Attas, a practicing cardiologist, ordained Episcopal priest and avid fly fisher:

While I cherish my time on my home waters of the Rockies, I also long for the chance to explore new places with my fly rod and to move into new territories-both physically and spiritually. On a trip to Belize, we searched for the big three for salt water fly fishermen—tarpon, permit and bonefish. Each requires a certain type of equipment, a certain mindset, and a certain set of expectations. Each fish is a glimpse, in its’ own way, into the mystery of creation and its’ ecologic diversity.

The tarpon has the appearance of some prehistoric silver monster from the depths, with majestic mouths and colors. When you hook a tarpon, the run and inevitable leap towards the heavens is guaranteed to stir the heart of even the most experienced fisherman. It is almost a given that the first time a tarpon is caught it is rarely landed, for the experience and physical skills required are just so different for a fly fisherman who lives on trout waters. As a cardiologist, I realize that reeling in a tarpon is like a salt water version of a treadmill stress test—if your heart can stand the runs and jumps it is probably in pretty good shape!!

Tarpon

The leap to the sky of the tarpon demands that the fishermen “bow to the king”— in order to keep the fish hooked we must lower our rod tip with our body and let the line have some slack before it re-enters the water and makes another daunting run. To me, this expression has some wonderfully religious overtones. We must always stand in reverence and humility before the creator of the universe. We cannot demand too much, pull too hard, keep the line to the divine too taught or we run the risk of missing some feedback to the presence of God in our lives.

Our relationship to God is often on based on trust that the link will remain even when we don’t sense its’ presence. It is not about meeting God on our terms, but on His. When we trust that process, we become like the fishermen who finds—much to his surprise—that the king Tarpon is still tugging mightily on his line despite his trusting movement of supplication. When we let go of our need to control God, it is often when God can move into our lives in new and powerful ways. Control is not something that works in our religious lives or our experience with a majestic fish like a tarpon.

For many experienced salt-water anglers, the permit is the Holy Grail of fly fishing. I have known very good fly fishers who have fished for decades to permit and never had even one take their fly. It is utterly maddening—one makes a perfect cast to a clearly feeding fish and the fly is met with total indifference of a mighty flash of escape. I had a very experienced guide tell me that he had cast to hundreds of permit, and then for no clear or discernable reason one time a permit simply decides to take a look at the crab pattern he threw. In our modern times, we like instant gratification and clear user manuals. If that is your mindset when approaching a permit, you almost certainly will be disappointed.

  

Permit

Bonefish are perhaps the most fun fish for most fly fishermen. A five pound bonefish will take a long screaming run, making that delightful sound a good reel makes as it does what it was designed to do. Watching school of beautiful tailing bonefish feeding is like glimpsing a tiny fleet of sailboats—their tails point to the heavens as they grub around the bottom for food. Or a school may move through the skinny waters, causing the classic “nervous water” look.

We cautiously lay a line out with grace and ease; the strike is not heavy often but a brief tug as we strip the line back. But then the magic happens—before you can almost respond with your mind a bonefish has made run of 150 yards and is close to the backing of your line. Luckily, you come to your senses and begin to play him and draw him in. Perhaps one more run and he is spent, and a gentle release into the wilds reminds of why we love this sport.

Bonefish

Each fly fishing trip to a far off destination represents a new beginning for me, for I have to leave my comfort zone. I must become familiar with new flies, new gear, new insects. A month or two before trips I often get out the 10-12 weight rod and hone up my heavy rod casting. I begin to work on the double haul, something we simply don’t have to do in the Rockies. I try to get my muscle memory back in shape, so that I don’t waste a part of a trip having to relearn things that I don’t have to practice often enough.

It seems to me that sometimes my spiritual life often needs a similar sort of jump-start with freshness. A willingness to try new things has led me to sudden spurts of a feeling of connection to God as well as to new waters. They seem to go hand in hand. But it can only happen when I say Yes.

To read a previous post on The Fly Fishing Rabbi by Reverend Mike, Click Here. He also writes a column for the Waco Texas Tribune on health, ethics and religion.

The Beginning of Fly Fishing Season

Although we are already into June, it still feels to me that the fly fishing season has just begun. It was not too long ago that I took my gear out of the basement for the first time in months and smelled the scent of the river rising from my vest and waders. It is a distinctive smell, a scent of water and plants and nature, one that never fully leaves your gear during the off-season.

It is said that smell is one of the five senses that is very connected to memory. We remember a place in our mind’s eye, or recall a song from the distant past. Yet it is a smell from our past that can instantly bring us back to that distant place. It may well be that moment of smelling the river on your fly fishing gear begins the fly fishing season in earnest.

There is much to do to prepare for the first trip out to the stream. Fly rods, reels and fly lines are taken out and examined. Waders are checked for leaks and repaired. Tippets and leaders are counted. Flies are surveyed. A list is made of necessities to be purchased for the upcoming year. Accounting for all of your fishing gear after a long winter is a time honored tradition of fly fishing.

Judaism also teaches that we are to perform a yearly accounting, not of fly fishing gear, but rather of our souls. Just as fly fishers inspect their gear at the beginning of the season, Jews perform a soul-searching at the beginning of the Jewish New Year, Rosh Hashanah. In Hebrew, this process of soul-searching is called chesbon nefesh, which literally means an accounting of the soul.

We are to reflect on our deeds in the year that is ending, both good and bad. We are to examine all aspects of our lives, professional and personal. Focusing on our shortfalls, we are to search for areas of improvement in the year to come. Surveying fly fishing gear helps us prepare for the fishing season and ensure that we have everything we need for a trip to the stream. Chesbon Nefesh, Jewish soul-searching, helps Jews to prepare for the year to come and to begin the process of repentance and repair.

Another time honored tradition at the beginning of the fly fishing season is the first trip to the fly shop. I love all fly fishing stores, the big chains and the small independent stores. There is something special about visiting the local shop that somehow stays in business year after year, with every square inch of shelf-space covered in leaders and tippet spools and the drawers filled with an endless array of dry flies, nymphs and streamers. At the independent fly fishing store you sit and talk to the owner, ask about business (usually hearing in response “we’re getting by,”) and gather info on the local streams.

Let’s admit the truth: the fly fishing store is like a toy store for adults. As children, we all remember trips to the local toy store and the shelves filled with baseball cards, action figures and brightly colored games and puzzles. Standing before an open drawer filled with countless flies, we recapture some of that same joy and excitement. We examine each fly, thinking that perhaps this red/gray Adams will bring that large brown trout to the surface, or a brown copper John nymph will prove irresistible in the fast currents.

Fly fishing is fun, an activity we do when we are not at work or taking care of other responsibilities in our lives. Stocking up on flies, surveying your gear and catching the scent of the river, these are all traditions of the Spring and the beginning of another glorious year of wading into the stream and casting a fly.