It’s over half way through February and I’m here on Long Island. Troutfishing for most of the waters in New York ended in October and won’tbegin again until April. Stripers are even off limits until April 15th.But I can’t get my mind off of fly fishing. Is this normal or am Icrazy? Every day while I drive my morning one-hour-commute from Long Island toNew Jersey, every turn seems to remind me of fly fishing. I look to theright while stopped as I wait to merge from the Long Island Expresswayonto the Cross Island Parkway. Just down the embankment on the right isAlley Stream, New York City Trout Unlimited’s latest project. They wantto bring the stream back from the jaws of urban expansion. Temperaturestudies and water quality tests suggest that it could become the onlybrook trout habitat inside New York City’s Limits. Long Island pridesitself in its native (yet small) brook trout population. Creeping intothe city limits would be a great feat. A few miles north, the Cross Island Parkway follows the Western shore ofLittle Neck Bay for several miles. At first, the water lies behind afringe of tall (8 ft) grass. Half a mile further and the water’s indirect view. Some days the tide is low and I can see the muddy bottomscantily strewn with mussels. Up ahead, there’s that rocky structuredbottom off the point that juts out into the bay from the Army base.Other days, the tide is high and I imagine that the water can be wadedquite far out. When it’s windy, I wonder if I could cast more than aClouser’s length. On calm days I look for birds or surface disturbancesas baitfish avoid their predators. Then it’s up onto the Throg’s Neck Bridge crossing the West end of LongIsland Sound. From the bridge I can see quite far. To the left is theskyline of Manhattan; but, I’m usually looking down for boats. Iremember, last fall, seeing boats out chasing stripers and blues in thenearby waters. Up, up and over the sound and then down, down to theterra firma of the Bronx. I ease through the toll booth and stay to theleft for the Cross Bronx Expressway. The Bronx, now that’s a name seldomassociated with fly fishing. Moments after leaving the toll booth, I often slow to a halt in trafficas I cross over the Hutchinson River. Here in the Bronx, it seems quiteindustrial; but, I know that upstream it becomes a scenic little stream,buffered from its surrounding neighborhoods by woods. Even furtherupstream it is followed by Interstate 684 that leads to the CrotonWatershed (trout fishery and New York City water supply). My minddrifts, recalling a cold day two years ago in November when my elevenyear old son and I drove two hours to the East Croton River to wet somenymphs. After hiking through some dense brush we finally reached theice-fringed tail waters. As we stepped into the water, my son filled oneof his hip waders. So we quickly exited the water, emptied the wader andhiked back to the car. The wind was pretty cold so we drove home withthe car’s heater blasting his wet sock and trousers (Dad got in about 5casts, son got zero) The Cross Bronx Expressway is renowned for its stop-and-go trafficduring rush hour. Sometimes, I practice my “air” double haul in thedriver’s seat while stopped in traffic. I don’t care what the othercommuters think. The slow-going typically lets up about half way throughthe Bronx as I pass over the Bronx River. I have read that there aretrout in the Bronx River, roughly 10 miles upstream near White Plains. A few miles further and I’m on the George Washington Bridge. I usuallytake the lower level and look to the right (north) up the Hudson River(Striper spawning ground, and the drainage for half of the trout streamin New York State). I look over at the Palisades on the New Jersey sideof the river. A few months ago they wore a golden, auburn and rustcanopy; but, now there’s only a meshwork of leafless branches, slightlyveiling the granite cliffs. Below the Palisades, I see a park withaccess to the river. It looks like I could cast from some of the rocksat the edge of the park. I might even be able to backcast withouthanging up in trees! Over the bridge, I’m now in New Jersey. Down, down the descent on Interstate 95 from atop the Palisades-levelbridge exit to the marshland below. At the bottom of the hill is asweeping left turn to the South. Overpeck Park, with its tidal lake ison the left. I remind myself that I need to try casting near that bridgeto Leonia. Now I exit from Interstate 95 onto the Easternmost point of Interstate80. Just after the merge, I pass over the Hackensack River. I know thatOradell Reservoir is upstream and New York Harbor is downstream. If Istay on Interstate 80, I can cruise over the Delaware River, throughCentral Pennsylvania and its limestone creeks or patiently drive a fewdays more to Wyoming and Utah. Despite the attractive alternatives of continuing westward, I exit fromthe Interstate onto the secondary road to work. My fantasy fades backtoward reality as I prepare my mind for the day’s activities. But I knowthat the next morning, I’ll repeat the fantasy on my way to work. Am Icrazy? Or does this happen to every avid fly fisherman around this timeof year? Although reality doesn’t include enough fishing, I’m reallylucky because the fantasy actually recurs daily, year-round, and keepsme going on the morning commute.
AvidDavid,
Thank you for that post. I know that must have taken some time for you to write as it is very well thought out and very well written. I think you were able to tap into a dilema that most any free spirit can relate to. The constant inner struggle between the part of us that knows we must go through the daily motions and the daily grind and the other part of yearns for something bigger, something less constricting and something more pure. This struggle, in my opinion, is the very thing that breads creativity on and off the rivers. I am glad that Flies And Fins could be an off the water outlet for you to excercise your creativity as it relates to fly fishing. You stated in your 3rd sentence, “I can’t get fly fishing off my mind.” You asked in your 4th sentence, “Is this normal?”…… Rest assured you are amongst people who feel exactly as you do, face the same inner struggles and spend equal amounts of time on the water even when they are not “actually” on the water. Thank you for that post. I am sure many fly fishermen will comment on their ability to relate.
At least the stripers are only a month or so away. I definitley feel the pain and angst of seeing the ocean every day on the way to school. I dream of the familar tug of a striper heading out of Boston Harbor through the commute in downtown Boston. My girlfriend says I have a terrible addiction lol. Cheer up, soon our rods will be bending and reels will be singing!
Jeremy: What a great visual. Just what I was dreaming of! And B&W fits so well. You are very creative! Thanks for the help.
What an awesome read! You really captured the spirit of yearning to be “free” of the ties that bind us to the status quo. I am fortunate enough to get out on the water once a week and still do the same thing on my 5 minute commute to the office. I have also caught myself reading current seams in the storm water runoff, on the side of the filthy city streets as it heads for the storm drain. Deep down we all desire to be free spirits in one aspect or another.
That’s a fine read! I think it’s pretty normal to feel that way. Do you ever bass fish in Central Park? That’s something I’ve wanted to try the few times I’ve made it up to NYC.
I can’t imagine living in a place like that to be honest, it’s a far cry from here. Nevertheless, I really enjoyed reading the fish tale and hearing about the fishing that close to NYC.
I really enjoyed this article. Thank you for posting
Great post. I grew up just 40 miles north of NYC. Brookies in Manhattan though? I would have never thought that was possible. But then again some of the great brookies I have caught when I was a kid were in spots I also wouldn’t expect to find them.
Strictly speaking, Alley Stream would be in Queens (not Manhattan); but, it’s still in NYC. And I think that brookies in Queens would still be pretty amazing!
I love the poetry of “reading the seams in the storm water runoff…” (I find myself doing the same.) Ahhh, I guess we’re all hooked to the same stuff!
When people ask me why I don’t mind a 40 minute comute, I just tell them I pass 4 rivers…they just go all cross eyed and leave. It’s great. Great story!!! Come up the Hudson in the summer and I’ll meet you north of Albany and fish.
I would have never thought that anyone else would do that. Maybe I’m not totally crazy after all.
I think that we’re both hooked… but not alone!
You’re not crazy. Everytime I drive over water of any type, even an urban drainage ditch, the first thing that comes to mind is what kind of fish is holding in the water. A brown trout from the Madison graces my computer screen saver. I play a video of my favorite trout stream on my computer when I need a fix. Hearing the sound of the water soothes me. So what if people think you’re crazy. They just don’t know any better. Fish on!