I revisited some of Teddy Gordon's Catskill haunts the other day.
The water, although a bit low, remained in the mid-60s and lens clear... maybe even clearer than it was 100 years ago when 'acid factories' lined Catskill rivers, boiling hemlock bark to tan leather for boots and saddles and pumping waste sludge straight into the streams.
I found the brookies just as Teddy left them... wild, eager and colorful as an artist's pallette. Since it was a sunny day for the most part, however, the browns were a bit shy.
If I closed my eyes and concentrated, I could catch the sound of Teddy's silk line caressing the air as he cast a Gordon Quill with his beloved old Payne.
The water, although a bit low, remained in the mid-60s and lens clear... maybe even clearer than it was 100 years ago when 'acid factories' lined Catskill rivers, boiling hemlock bark to tan leather for boots and saddles and pumping waste sludge straight into the streams.
I found the brookies just as Teddy left them... wild, eager and colorful as an artist's pallette. Since it was a sunny day for the most part, however, the browns were a bit shy.
If I closed my eyes and concentrated, I could catch the sound of Teddy's silk line caressing the air as he cast a Gordon Quill with his beloved old Payne.
