The first step is to clip away any coiled or frayed pieces from the end of your fishing line. A clean, fresh length of line is essential for a tight knot. Once this is complete you need to thread the line through the eye of the hook. Pull about eight to ten inches of line through the eye. Then grip the eye of the hook between your thumb and pointer fingers. This will allow you to maintain a space near the hook that you will use later. With your free hand take the end of the line and twist it five to eight times around the line coming from the pole. Be sure to maintain your hold on the eye of the hook.

The end of your line now has to be put through the bottom loop that you made just above the hook. Gently pull the line tight with one hand and push the wrapped line down towards the hook with the other hand. Now you should hold the line about twelve to eighteen inches from the end and grip the lower curve of the hook. Give the hook a few gentle tugs to assure that the coils of the knot have tightened. You can now use a pair of scissors or a fishing knife to clip away the excess line.

There are several factors that you should be aware of that can alter the quality of your knot. First is the age of your line, It is a good practice to replace your line every season to assure trouble free fishing. You will also notice that heavier, larger diameter lines will not coil and set as tight as the lighter casting lines. In these instances it may be wise to use an easier Palomar knot to secure your tackle. Remember that practice makes perfect and that with a little practice your knots will only take you seconds to tie, and they will squeeze so tight that your arm may break before your line does.

The mountains filled the entire sky line and would hold snow caps well into June. It was not more than a hundred yards between any given bodies of water. There were bustling mountain streams rolling over rounded rocks, throwing white foam to the surface. The trout there were as smart, if not smarter than the anglers who fish for them.Peppering the valley were ponds filled with fish, and frogs, covered in bright green lily pads with tall cat tail stalks scattered about.

It was such a visually stimulating environment the colors on the trees in autumn would explode in the late afternoon sunlight, and the little white buds on the mountain laurel lined the trails to assure an auspicious journey. The trails were endless, and hiking there was like walking through a North American animal exhibit at a museum. The animals were everywhere, from deer and rabbits in the meadows, to snakes and lizards slithering through the rocks.

The sounds and scents of that time still remain strong in my memories, and sometimes when I hear or smell them now, I am overcome with this nostalgia of a simpler time. It can be the sound of the peep frogs chirping a rhythmic song just before dusk, or the wind whistling through the long blades of grass in a meadow. It is also the sweet aroma of lilacs thick in the air like a fresh baked pie, and the nose curling stench of an alfalfa field after it rains. No matter what the trigger of my memory, it is always a welcome reminder of my childhood.

Although, I no longer have the innocent, carefree life of my youth, the memories of the mountain valley will remain with me.  It is with a sense of gratitude to myself, that I recall these memories. I am thankful that as a kid I took the time to appreciate the beauty of the mountains. My hope is that more kids will recognize the beauty of the world around them, and get out and enjoy it, learn to appreciate it, and care for it in the future!

From that point on, my day immediately got better!  I shot her back an email telling her to pick up some extra line for one of the extra poles and  got right back to work.  I became super efficient and mowed down the rest of my work load for the day, jumped in the truck and ran home to get the tackle ready.  I arrived home to find my wife packing sandwiches and drinks.  I grabbed the Gander Mountain bag with the new line off the table and quickly rigged the extra pole.  We made it from Accord to the upper basin in about 23 minutes!

We got down to the shore and got setup pretty quickly.  Chairs out, 3 poles in the water and had my sandwich half way unwrapped when I was reminded how much different it is fishing with the family then fishing with my buddies.  “Honey can you unsnag me”,  “Daddy can you untangle me”, “Daddy can you put some bait on for me”, “Can you go back up to the truck”.  It is a lot of work being a fishing guide for two girls!

After we got settled down, my wife broke out the rest of the eats.  The guys down shore from us have already pulled in two and my daughter is starting to become impatient (imagine that).  No sooner did she get the last complaint out when WHAM!  the pole goes over.  My daughter quickly picked it up and started reeling like crazy until the fish began to fight and her reeling became irratic and hard-to-reel.  “Daddy, help … I can’t reel it.”  I grabbed the pole, reset the hook to make sure it was deep and bang … fish on!

As I got the fish close to shore I realized that I forgot one of the most important things a fisherman can forget … the net!  Keeping the tip of the pole as close as I could to the water, I made sure the fish stayed in the water as long as I could as I reeled it to shore.  Reaching past the tip of my pole with my hand I grabbed the line just above the fish and quickly (and as smoothly as possible) relocated the fish over dry land.  The result: 19 inched 4 1/2 pound brown trout.  Yum.

While fishing with the guys is fun, there is a huge amount of satisfaction that comes with having your family enjoy the outdoors with you.  In a day and age where most kids are glued to their iPods, computers and video games, a shift in the way we perceive our new age culture can be accomplished by simply taking your kids fishing.

Lou Lynch is an avid sportsman and advocate for the conservation of the North American Whitetail Deer.  For more information on the QDMA and how you can help your local deer herd visit www.HVQDMA.com .

I have noticed that it has become a little fustrating trying  to track down the online application for these access permits. So, I am supplying the link here! Hopefully it will save everyone a little time and aggrevation. Enjoy, but please stay out of my spots! Just kidding, sort of! Please remember to email us those photos, so we can build a nice photo gallery.

http://a826-web01.nyc.gov/recpermitapp/permitrec.aspx

Good Luck!

Fish on…

This year the DEC put out a baitfish publication. They have a list of baitfish that are allowed anywhere in New York State. This list is called the “green list”, if a baitfish is not on the green list, it either has a restricted use, or is no longer allowed.

Many anglers will notice immediately, as I did that Sawbellies are not on the green list. Don’t panic though; they can still be used in areas where they are necessary. When looking through the brochure just remember that a Sawbelly is a small species of Herring and you’ll find it listed under its real name “Alewife”

For the convenience of the Mighty Angler users I have tracked down and installed a copy of the brochure here.
It is in PDF format just like our maps, so if you do not already have Adobe Reader you can get it here.

These are some of my favorites!

‘If our father had his say, nobody who did not know how to catch a fish, would be allowed to disgrace a fish by catching it.”

“My father was very sure about certain matters pertaining to the universe. To him, all good things, trout as well as eternal salvation come by grace, and grace comes by art, and art does not come easy. “

“Eventually, all things merge into one, and a river runs through it. The river was cut by the world’s great flood and runs over rocks from the basement of time. On some of the rocks are timeless raindrops. Under the rocks are the words, and some of the words are theirs.I am haunted by the waters!”

Enjoy, Fish On!

One morning last April, I headed out to Accord to pick up my fishing partners for the day. I usually drove us all because their homes were on my way to the reservoir anyway. By 6:15 am we had their gear loaded in the trunk, on top of mine, and we were headed for the water. We made our two usual stops on our way there, one for coffee and one for bait. We arrived at one of my favorite off shore fishing spots around 7:00 am. It is one of the few spots where three people with six poles can fit comfortably. We unloaded the car and took the long hike down the narrow trail through the woods. The morning seemed to be the warmest of the season thus far, and we had a good feeling about our chances of hooking something big. When we got to the shore, the water was like glass, not a ripple anywhere in sight. I remember telling my companions that these conditions were perfect for the big brown trout to be feeding.

We spread out along the shore line, setting up each pole with a rod holder and an empty can with a stick, which we used as an alarm on the fishing line. One by one, we baited each hook with a sawbellie minnow and cast the line straight out and then loosely fit the line around the stick in the can. After the poles were all baited and cast, we set up our tailgating chairs on flat sandy part of beach behind our poles. Now it was time to sit and wait for a can to tip over on the rocks and alert us of the presence of a trout.

An hour or so passed and no cans had yet fallen. I was nearly done with my coffee and considered joining my partners in their peace pipe session down the shoreline. Just then the loud clanging of my nephews can broke the silence. He immediately turned on his heels and made a staggered dash over the rocks to his fishing pole. It was plain to see his line whirling off the end of his reel; this was certainly a good fish. I tried to slow his excitement and urged him to let the fish run. “The big trout rarely swallow bait while on the move, and it is necessary to give them time,” I explained. Despite my efforts to guide him through, my nephew closed the bail, stopping the line. He then lowered the tip of his pole to the water. As the fish went out we could see the line pull tight and with a burst of force, he pulled the tip of the rod over his head. Then nothing, the loose excess line fell back to the water. My nephew began to reel in and he realized immediately he had missed his chance. When he got to the end of the line all that was there was a dead minnow with the imprint of teeth in a half moon shape on either side.

While mumbling a few obscenities, he staggered over to the bait bucket to replace his dead, scarred bait with a fresh lively one and cast his pole out again. As we all settled back in to waiting mode, we enjoyed a few laughs at my nephew’s expense. We suggested maybe from now on he should put off smoking his “happy pipe” until after lunch time. Another half hour passed and my nephew once again received the only action, but this time on his larger pole, which was set up closer to mine. He hesitated at first allowing the line to go out for a minute or so before picking up his pole. The line was unravelling at a very quick pace, So he began pulling the line off the reel quickly to keep the fish from feeling the resistance of the spool as less and less fishing line remained on the spool. We once again urged him to resist trying to set the hook too soon, but he expressed an unnecessary fear that he would run out of line. Once again he lowered the tip of the pole, closed the bailer and yanked the pole over his head. This time it appeared he had managed to hook whatever had taken his bait. He furiously began turning the handle of his reel. The drag system on the reel was screeching in sync with his motions, and for a solid fifteen seconds the excitement became contagious. Lou and I jumped from our seats at the same time. I grabbed the landing net and stumbled over the rocks to assist with bringing in the fish. About the time I arrived by my nephew’s side, his reel went quiet. He had again lost his chance to bring in the trout, and all of the adrenaline induced excitement came crashing down. This time his profanities were loud and clear, echoing against the mountains that surround the reservoir. He continued to release his frustration with fits of rage, much like someone suffering from Tourett Syndrome. He finally got to the end of his line, and he discovered he still had his hook with a bit of flesh remaining on the tip. Our enjoyment of his theatrical displeasure was hard to disguise as we turned and walked off in opposite directions of shore line. Our feeble attempt to hide our laughter failed to go unnoticed and was met with even more profanity.

Another hour and a half had passed, and the mood had began to pick up again. The conversation was focusing on lunch, and we were hoping to restore our optimism. So we gathered up the flattest rocks that we could find and built a make shift buffet table. The rustic menu consisted of readymade sandwiches, chips, and cold pasta salads, as well as Italian bread with a freshly made bruschetta. We each set up our plates and returned to our respective locations on the beach. We sat for several minutes enjoying lunch and the euphoric experience. We sat and absorbed the beauty of the rolling mountains, which were lit up with the afternoon sun.

I just finished the first half of my pastrami and swiss sandwich when the can fashioned to my white fishing pole launched from its perch and spiraled into the water. I walked over to my pole and checked that the line was free to come off of the spool without restriction. I then turned back to my plate to retrieve the second half of my sandwich.  My nephew looked at me with dismay and said, “Are you crazy! That thing is just gonna swim off with your bait!” I assured him that he would soon see why it takes patience to catch trout.  With a few bites remaining in my sandwich I stood and watched as my line stopped moving. I reached down and retrieved my can from the edge of the water and loosely reset the alarm.  Now I could sit and finish my lunch because after all, I knew that’s what was happening fifty yards out in front of me. My nephew expressed his “I told you so” as I sat back down, refusing to accept my explanation of what was happening. A few moments later my can was again spiraling through the air. This time I was on my feet before my can had reached the water. I grasped the bottom of the rod with my right hand and closed the bail with my left. I lowered the tip of the pole as the line tightened, and with a strong hard pull over my head, I felt the weight of the trophy fish as my hook sunk into its rib cage.

I gave a loud shout for someone to grab the net, as the muscles in my forearm burned from the strain of the fight. Twice this monster showed itself by leaping from the surface of the water. The first time he leapt at about forty yards out and then again as I pulled him toward the shallows. Each time it caused the drag on my reel to scream almost as if it were in pain. Once I had gotten him close enough to shore, I forced him to my left and beckoned my friend with the net to set up on my right. In one quick pass we had forced him into the bottom of the landing net. The battle was over, and I had won, My prize was a thirteen pound Brown Trout. Realizing I hadn’t taken a breath in over a minute, I let out a victorious howl. I pulled the mammoth fish from the net and headed a safe distance from the edge of the water. As I prepared to snap the line, I made a point of showing my nephew how deep in the belly of the fish the hook had been set.  As I tried again to explain the need to give the fish time to eat before setting the hook, he calmly replied, “whatever” and returned to his chair to pack his pipe.

I know by now most of you are aware of the dredging going on in the north end of the Hudson River.  Those of us who fish the Hudson need to be very wary of the fish we catch there. I only fish the Hudson during the month of May when the Striped Bass are running, but the Hudson is always active with anglers and recreational boaters from April to November. I would advise anyone who uses the river to do their own research on the dangers of the PCB’s that they are attempting to remove from the river.

I find local newspapers are not always the best resource, I truly believe the media is tainted by the powers that be and only report what they are told to report. I think we have seen enough of that during the last presidential administration! Anyway let me stay focused on my point, I am putting a link in here to the official dredging site, but keep in mind this site is maintained by G.E. the same company that caused the pollution in the first place, but none the less it does contain some helpful information on the dredging process. You can find them at http://www.hudsondredging.com/

Although it is only my personal opinion I would not eat anything from the Hudson River and certainly would not drink from it. I have read reports that still say you can consume one meal every thirty days, but why would you take that chance. Maybe you should fish from one of the natural streams that run off the mountains and empty into the Hudson. I am sure the fish you catch there will be a much safer bet.

A quick need to mention about a personal experience I had fishing in the Hudson River. About seven years ago I was fishing from a boat with a few friends at the intersection of the Hudson River and the Rondout Creek. I hooked a thirty pound Striper. After pulling the fish in I noticed two large round lesion’s one on its belly and one around one of its eyes.  I don’t know why this fish had this deformity, but I have never kept another fish for consumption out of the Hudson ever again. I have also seen other people pull out Channel Catfish with similar infections on their bellies. This may be related to the PCB pollution or maybe something else, but either way I am not going to feed my family these fish.

I know this was a bit long winded just to provide you with a link, but I feel very strongly that we need to open our eyes to what is happening to our planet. Even if we bring it to the public one river or one polluting company at a time! The resources of our planet belong to all of us, not just the rich and powerful. This is America and we all have the right to speak up and disagree with what is going on around us especially when the future of our rivers and lakes are at stake.

If you are aware of other issues that are affecting our environment or have a helpful link that can motivate people to change how we treat our planet, Please post them here or send them to us through or contact page here.

Thanks for reading my blog; I will be posting again soon….

 Or maybe it is that the water temps have reached the peak of perfection causing feeding frenzies before the months ahead bring on the ice.

Well whatever it is August has always been good to me and many other anglers. I find hitting your favorite spot early in the morning before the sun gets too high in the sky is peek time for summer trout.

 Bass on the other hand will attack all day long as long as you cast where they are. Hint: usually in the shade or under a canopy of some sort (trees, rock out croppings). Just lure them out away from obstacles and you will be catching fish nobody else is finding.

So no matter what your plan is for August, don’t give up on your favorite fishing spot yet. Because there is plenty of time to still catch that trophy.

If you would like to read more on August fishing I found a good article on nyfisherman with some solid evidence of great fish caught in August.

Until next time Fish On!

Scott Linden gives some great casting tips in this video, I am sure you will find this helpful. We all know casting correctly is the single most important thing in Fly Fishing. Enjoy!