The title of this post is very misleading. The bass fishing was lousy the last two weeks of August, and I have no idea why.

Dave from Glastonbury came up one morning and managed only a savage, man-eating perch. It looked more impressive as he reeled it in. Note his look of triumph as he subdued the ferocious beast.

Ian and I went into the Serious Ravine in search of brookies. It was the first major test of my new hip, and it was a success. The underused thigh muscle did file a formal complaint, however. I had a regular doc checkup a couple days later, and just for laughs we measured my thighs. (“We measured my thighs” is a line I hope to never write again.) Sure enough, the left thigh muscle is two inches bigger than the right. Looks like some resistance training’s in my immediate future.

A spring on the way in was running at 57 degrees, and when we made it down the Wotld’s Longest Staircase the stream was at what I’d call a medium-low flow, but cold enough at about 62. Here’s a representative brookie and Ian scaring everybody with his fancy mop fly.

Then the batteries in the point and shoot died.

We shift operations back to the Catskills next week.