The Esopus Creek in Ulster County, N.Y. is chock-full of wild rainbow trout. They are not necessarily very big, but the "silver bullets" fight way above their weight class.
And half a dozen of these little eight to 12 inch beauties make a superb meal.
Here's a rookie getting a lesson from a guide. I can hear it now. "Too much line. I said too much line! Ya tryin' to strangle 'em? Hell, lemme show you."
The guide flipped his cast over his left shoulder, just to rub it in.
Also spotted: Harry the Heron and Curtis the Crawfish
In the mid-1990s, I lived in Albuquerque, N.M. and worked at a bookstore. One of my co-workers was a guy named Glenn May, known to me as "Glenn the White Man" because he was indeed the whitest person I've ever met — completely immune to the high desert sun, it seemed.
(He also dated Phil Donahue's daughter, which is neither here nor there.)
Anyway, neither of us had any money but we fished all over northern New Mexico and southern Colorado in a style we dubbed "raggedy-assed" fishing — wet wading, backpacking, tent-living, jalopy-driving trout bums. We couldn't afford "angling lodges" (or even no-tell motels) so we pitched our tent wherever we fetched up. We even invented an inexpensive backpacker's meal, with the unfortunate moniker "Donkey Dick Stew." (It was based on kielbasa.)
I haven't heard from Glenn in a while — he disappeared into Cameroon with the Peace Corps — but I remain true to the raggedy-assed ethos.
Note contusion on right shin. It ain't fishing if you don't get banged up.