tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6357628043625997901.post2969273716224759548..comments2021-02-28T06:33:26.909-05:00Matt Groberthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14729161746029381781[email protected]Blogger3125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6357628043625997901.post-66925090447115511232014-05-22T22:37:27.808-04:002014-05-22T22:37:27.808-04:00Congratulations on your new venture. It&#39;s smart that you set yourself up with some times like this to unload, charge the battery and move forward.<br /><br />Be well!<br />WillHibernationhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/06209232417170426487[email protected]tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6357628043625997901.post-14988053759676636602014-05-22T12:46:27.710-04:002014-05-22T12:46:27.710-04:00Sounds like fun.....My house has no walls!!!Mr. Q[email protected]tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6357628043625997901.post-86585848577611233122014-05-22T08:32:46.006-04:002014-05-22T08:32:46.006-04:00Hey Matt:<br />Nice article to start my day here at the office. It brought up past memories of camping at Wagon Tracks campground (is it still there?) back in the 80&#39;s. Every year in late May, my fishing partner and I would spend a week or so camped out on the island. We waded sun up to after sundown (spinner fall), added some bourbon afterward then would do it all over again. Leaves in early bloom, mixed hatches, butter colored browns and many more refusals were standard fare. We&#39;d be there religiously even if Walt Dette told us the river was &quot;high and in the willows&quot; on his hotline. Then somebody in Hollywood decided a movie with faux fly fishing was a good idea (and it was - to sell movies)and the already popular Beaverkill spots became choked. More frequently, we ended up driving past our usual parking spots that were now overflowing with BMW&#39;s whose owners carried more crap on them than a Cabela&#39;s catalog. Glad your up there this time of year and got in. It’s a magical place. After reading your post I&#39;m wondering if it&#39;s time to give it another crack. There&#39;s nothing like cracking the hatch code (or just getting lucky) up there. You know it&#39;s loaded with fish. It&#39;s just a matter of time and our perceived &quot;skill&quot; to figure those rascals out. When it happens, why do we feel like such heroes? Like feeding a fish something it&#39;s supposed to eat anyway makes us somehow so superior in intellect...I don&#39;t know the answer, I just know it&#39;s the second best feeling in the world. And it lasts longer.<br />Have fun,<br />Anthony B<br />Anonymous[email protected]