Deep In the Drainage ELF

It rained in the drainage. Hard. Flash Flood warnings. The rain pelted the roof all night. I could barely sleep. Eagerly anticipating the next day. Creeking in August on free flowing streams.

I got up and looked out at the river. I could see rocks. Not a good sign. I checked the 24hr cumulative on the radar. It showed yellow all throughout the watershed. I checked the USGS gauges online. They were shooting straight up but not to the point that provided any confidence.

Puttering around the house I was skeptical that any local creeking was going to happen, at least in a hard shell boat.

Plan B: Load up the ducky, mountain bike and fly rod. I figured it was a safe bet that I would be able to mix all three into an adventure for the day, maybe into the evening.  So I ran off to load everything up and search for a few vital components. As I was leaving I thought better of my plan B and ran back into the house to leave a note.  

I headed north up into the drainage- some of the smaller creekers looked promising but as I started to pick off the favorites it became clear that nothing was going on this side of the drainage. I gassed up in Sparkle City- ripped of by gas prices a good 20 cents a gallon higher than down in the valley and bought an over priced sub that turned out to be pretty good.

Next valley over, things were looking good so I dropped off my boat and fishin gear and drove the truck down to the take-out. Here the water looked low but still paddlable. It was a short, 3mile bike ride back up.

I felt better about leaving the note as I wound up at the last resort destination on my list of possibilities and there is not any DEC sign in boxes where I was going.

 

The paddle in on the flatwater section showed renewed beaver activity and one did startle me as it slapped its tail right along side my boat.

 

The clouds looked like it may produce the forecasted thunderstorms.

 

The water level is quite a bit lower than I thought it would be. This is ELF boating (Extremely Low Flow) good times.

 

I did not get any interest from the local brook trout population throwing out a nymph with some attractor colors, but the dry flies sure piqued their interest.

Paddling with an Old Friend, In Old Boats, On an Old Favorite River

Hey, they're not making 'old' friends like they use to, at least as the older I get. So when I got a phone call, not a text or an email, an actual phone call, to go paddle the Sacandaga River, I jumped at the chance.
This old friend showed up one late night on my door step decades ago. Back when we lived in a trailer next to the river.  He had paddled by and from the river saw our kayaks loaded on the roof of our van. By the time he got to his car and drove back to where he thought we lived it had gotten pretty dark. Persistent he is, and after driving some back roads he finally stumbled upon our home and knocked on the door. Now not too many people ever come out our way unannounced so we thought someone was in trouble. But our future old friend explained it was his first day out with his Dancer and he was looking for someone to paddle with or take him paddling. We agreed to take Dancer out and show him some local rivers and give him a couple pointers. But we really thought he would be like most beginners and get tired of swimming or get too busy with life and eventually quit. But Dancer kept with it and developed into a competent, independent and safe boater with class V skills.
Life gets in the way but fortunately the river was still there waiting.