About rivertoprambles
Welcome to Rivertop Rambles. This is my blog about the headwaters country-far afield or close to home. I've been a fly-fisher, birder, and naturalist for most of my adult life. I've also written poetry and natural history books for thirty years. In Rambles I will mostly reflect on the backcountry of my Allegheny foothills in the northern tier of Pennsylvania and the southern tier of New York State. Sometimes I'll write about the wilderness in distant states, or of the wild places in the human soul. Other times I'll just reflect on the domestic life outdoors. In any case, I hope you enjoy. Let's ramble!
1/ From mayfly egg to molting nymph, from deep channel into warming shallows, from the underwater shuck into floating dun’s regalia– the two-tailed fly… A few escape the charge of hungry trout, ascend into willows for the garb of … Continue reading →
Posted in Uncategorized
|
Tagged ecology, fishing, Green-Ass McGee, Kettle Creek, mayflies, myths, nature, Nemeton, poetry, Sononjoh, Walt Franklin, writing
|
The inclement weather of late (an overdose of rains) has kept me from the lawnmower and the fly rod more than I prefer, so I’ve had some time to figure things out. I’ve decided (after a little research) that fishing … Continue reading →
Posted in Uncategorized
|
Tagged angel, angle, angling, fishing, history, nature, paganism, poetry, religion, Talking Pine, Woolly Bugger, writing
|
With a couple more fly rod outings at Narragansett Bay, I continue my perfect .ooo percentage while casting in the salt. I’m doing worse than the Baltimore Orioles at their game, currently batting .302 in the American League. Although it’s … Continue reading →
Posted in Uncategorized
|
Tagged baseball, bird watching, Casey Farm, cinder worm, Narragansett Bay, Rhode Island, saltwater flyfishing, striped bass, travel, undercurrents, writing
|
I’d passed the Pine Creek tributary a thousand times, hardly ever noticing its alder-bank flow beneath Route 6. I seldom considered its steep descent along the edge of state forest land until I learned it was a PA Class A … Continue reading →
Posted in Uncategorized
|
Tagged ecology, environment, fly-fishing, Gougers, hiking, lost terrain, Mill Run, Pine Creek, poetics, psychology, wild, wild trout
|
I’ll call the small stream “Panther Run.” This Pine Creek tributary, once renowned for mountain lion sightings, is now a freestone tumbler that’s unwilling to reveal its actual moniker. I fished the run initially on a sparkling day in May, … Continue reading →
Posted in Uncategorized
|
Tagged brook trout, common names, ecology, environmental defense, fly-fishing, myth, nature, Panther Run, Pine Creek, poetry, small streams, trout lily, wildflowers, writing
|
I’ve got this notion of a “lost terrain” and think I might discover it through my wanderings. Hiking with a walking stick or fishing with an artificial fly, I imagine there’s a special place that’s close at hand, mysterious but … Continue reading →
Posted in Uncategorized
|
Tagged fishing, hiking, home, landscape, lost terrain, nature, photos, poetry, Thoreau, wildness, writing
|
It was a busy but relaxing 10-day visit. From the fishing dead-start in Virginia (reported in previous post), the action heated up. Brookie Joe managed to fish and push beyond his usual boundaries, casting over Shenandoah Park’s Staunton, Conway, Rose, … Continue reading →
Posted in Uncategorized
|
Tagged Big Hunting Creek, Blackwater Nat'l Wildlife Refuge, Brookie Joe, Chesapeake Bay, Earth Day, fly-fishing, Harriet Tubman, hiking, music, Pink Floyd, Sauceerful of Secrets, Shenandoah Nat'l Park, wild trout, wildlife, writing
|
I was situated comfortably on the stream again. I was casting streamers with the new split-cane rod until the stonefly hatch informed me that a nymph or dry fly might be interesting. To be out in the warm spring air … Continue reading →
Posted in Uncategorized
|
Tagged Allegheny River, birth, environment, fishing, nature, poetry, renewal, resistance, society, solitude, Spring, stoneflies, Walt Franklin, writing
|
At last the upstate temperature had risen into the 50s, and snow-melt rushed down from the hills. In this topsy-turvy world of climate change, the New York weather might now be warmer (again) than the winds of Barrow, Alaska. Oh, … Continue reading →
Posted in Uncategorized
|
Tagged community, dreams, environments, essay, fantasy, freedom, nature, poetry, reality, sense of place, small stream, Spring, Thoreau, wild, writing
|
