Went out on Saturday. I had hoped that those in charge of draining the
Erie Canal for the winter would have been draining over a few days, and
into this stream. This is almost guaranteed to produce a big run. I had
seen more eastern portions of the canal being drained, and thought this
to be a good sign, so I arranged a day out with Joe Verdone.

I met Joe at his place shortly after 9, and met his puppy for the first
time. We moved my gear to his truck, and departed for the water. We got
to our spot, to find out that we were one of about 5 cars parked on the
side of the road. The day was overcast, with on and off rain. We took a
gander at the water from the bridge, and saw no fish. This is a
particularly ominous sign for this particular water-- if you don't see
fish, fishing will be quite challenging. Also, the water was still low
and clear-- my hoped for canal release had not materialized.

We plodded down the embankment as four yahoo meat fishermen-- 5 gallon
buckets, spinning gear, never got more than 20 feet from each other--
trudged under the bridge in the downstream direction, to the non-
amusement of the fisherman who was fishing the downstream side of that
bridge. They parked themselves in our "secret" spot. Joe and I decided
we'd go way further downstream to avoid them. We skirted around some
posted property, and started fishing the downstream side. We didn't have
much luck. As we were moving down to the next pool, though, Joe was
smart enough to keep casting through some water that no self-respecting
fish would allow his carcass to be found in, and he dragged up a little
steelie of about 18". Joe has always been a big believer in the idea
that you don't catch too many fish with your hook in the keeper.

We continued downstream, and found some nice water, with no luck. After
a bankside chat, we figured that no meat fisherman would tolerate fishing
of this quality for very long, and decided to go back upstream. Easier
said than done, on this overgrown bank. Access was much easier on the
water, but by the time I understood this, a wild rose bush had
disassembled my rod. My little leatherman micra came in quite handy in
freeing up my line, and we made it out of the brush in time to see our
meat fishermen hiking back to their cars.

I put in near our "secret" hole, and Joe headed slightly upstream to
that. After about 20 minutes of fishing, without fish, I saw Joe had
wandered a few feet into the posted property, and was politely listening,
then apologizing as the land owner was, even more politely, letting him
have it. As it turned out, the meat fishermen we had been trying to
avoid had given him quite the hard time, and he had just gotten back from
taking their plate numbers.

This landowner is actually quite the nice guy. I haven't fished his
property before, but I usually make a point of going over and saying hi
if I see him out and about, and Joe knows his even better than that. As
things worked out, he invited us to fish his personal hole, right in the
middle of his backyard. He sat there in the rain on the bank, trying his
best to get us hooked up-- He knows every indentation on the river bottom
of that quarter mile stretch. The water had come up about an inch or
two, and the fish had started coming in. In about 45 minutes, I had
taken a nice steelhead, about 22 inches, and had hooked a big brown that
shook my hook after a good fight. Joe hooked two fish that both shook
him. I have this landowner's phone number now. I won't abuse his
hospitality further this season, but I'll surely give him a call come
spring, and offer him a day out on a nice creek I'm more comfortable
with.

At about a quarter till four, Joe and I repaired to a local establishment
for some food and drink, then I went home and napped till my wife woke me
for dinner.

Scott