Corkers

When a first time visitor comes to our fishing camp in Shushan I give them the quick tour. I show each of the small bedrooms that are adorned with references to some of the people and flies that make up part of the history of the Battenkill. This was done by the previous camp owner and is a very nice touch. Just before we enter the open space that makes up the kitchen, dining and living space I direct my visitor to take a glance at the molding along the corner of the left hand wall. They immediately notice notches and letters next to each of those notches. My more astute friends recognize these for what they are, others look at me quizzically, as I did when they were first shown to me.

Each notch marks that of a deer taken by the camps original owner. This is a small sample.

Our camp did not start out as a fishing camp. The builder and original owner was an occassional angler of the worming variety. His true passion was deer hunting. The notches on the molding were a way for him to record who among his friends took a deer (or more) in any given year. It is rumored that this fellow was a bit of a poacher. The sniper's nest in the loft and outdoor mirror by the back window would certainly suggest such was the case. The odd customized opening to one of the sheds on the property would also tend to confirn this. The opening is on the side of the shed that faces away from the road. Perfect for bringing in a deer without anyone noticing.

All these features add a little color to an otherwise typical small camp tucked in the woods of any rural countryside. This past year I got to thinking that it would be fun to celebrate some of the notable catches made over the course of a fishing season. I didn't want to begin making my own notches into the wood but settled on copying a practice I read about in a fishing magazine. There is an outfitter on the Delaware that described how guests that stayed at his camp would celebrate their big fish not through photographs or mounts but by using the cork from wine bottles as a place to put the fly that took a large fish. On the cork itself the details of the catch could be recorded. A nice idea worth replicating.

In order to kick off this practice the first challenge I had was to get my hands on some wine corks. Not being a wine drinker, I had to ask around. I thought my brother in law would be a good source but it turns out he doesnt drink all that much wine. But he has a friend. And that friend does drink wine. And based on the number of corks I received, along with the "just ask if you need more" comment, he drinks his share of wine. Good wine. If that makes a difference. Outfitted with a lifetime worth of cork, I now had to go and catch some fish.

Before anything, though, some rules had to be established. My wife Deanna and I discussed this over a beer and came up with the following somewhat flexible rules: a corker brown or rainbow trout must be at least 18 inches (on any river), a corker brook trout (from the Battenkill watershed) would need to exceed 12 inches and of course, we established an "other" catagory, which will become clear enough shortly. As noted previoiusly, anyone catching a corker must sacrifice the actual fly that caught the fish to the cork. That does have some relevence.

For the year 2025 we managed to catch four fish that fit within our description of a corker. Unfortunately, we were only able to adorn three corks with flies, so 2025 wound up as a 3 corker year. The first corker was a brown trout from the Battenkill. It took a Battenkill Flats during a sparse Hendrickson spinner fall and measured out at 20 inches on the nose. This was something of a lucky catch as Deanna and I were on our way back from the Battenkill Fly Fishing Festival and stopped by the river just to see what was going on. Which didn't appear to be much. As we were about to get in the car we heard a rather loud splash and looked back at the water to see a rise spreading out across the tail of the pool, not twenty feet where we were standing.

When on the river I have a 60 second rule. If a fish doesn't rise again within 60 seconds I just move on. Or count down a second 60 seconds. Sometimes a third. It's more of a loose guideline than a rule, to be honest. Well, it didn't take a second 60 seconds for this fish to come up and I was in my gear faster than you can say Ephemerella subvaria. Deanna declined to go after the fish - honestly. It took a couple casts to find the appropriate drift, but the fish continued to feed and the take seemed inevitable. After perhaps four casts I was on. Early season fish are full of energy and this big boy was no exception. Despite a moment or two of uncertainty (would the fish head for the riffle below?) soon enough the fish was in hand and corker number one was in the books.

The second corker fell squarely in the "other" catagory. Deanna and I were fishing the Spring Hole for the second night in a row. The previous evening had been good, with fish taking a variety of bugs on top. Nothing big, but plenty of action for a cool August evening. With little surface activity happening, I suggested to Deanna that she try one of the soft hackles she had tied over the winter. She did so and had a bump on the first cast. On the second cast she was into a fish and soon enough had a wild brown trout of about 8 inches into hand. Corker # 2 was soon adorning the designated shelf in the living room.

Corker # 3 was perhaps my favorite fish of the year. My friend Will and I were chasing tricos and came upon a pod of brookies rising in some very slow water. Tricky water. But the fish were amenable and we each took a couple of 8-9 inch brookies adorned in fall colors. It was well the midpoint of September, just shy of October in fact, and while the tricos remained strong, it took a mildish day like this to get them on the water in numbers and the fish responding well.

Brook Trout in fall colors are a thing of beauty. Note that this is not Corker # 3.

After catching a few fish we noticed a subtle rise against the far bank alders. A little wink of a rise. The sort of rise you should not ignore when trico fishing. Will very generously offered me the shot at this fish. The challenge lay in getting the fly in just the right seam that would deliver the counterfiet to the fish. It took a few casts, but the fish was happily engaged in chowing on the little bugs despite my clumsiness. When I finally got the right drift there was no hesitation in the take. September brook trout on the Battenkill punch above their weight and this fish explored a lot of water and went airborne twice. When it came to net I was stunned to see a very chubby, very healthy brookie that Will taped out at 12 1/2 inches. I know that folks that fish Maine or the Adirondacks are probably rolling their eyes right now, but this was a solid brookie for this river.

What was even more pleasing about this fish, corker # 3, is that it took a fly I had put together over the summer that worked very well for me. Not an original pattern, but one that used a hook different from previous tricos I had tied.

As for the corker that was not to be, that was a fish taken on the Mainstem Delaware in June. My firend Mark Ripley and I had floated the river with our excellent guide Bob Lindquist and while it had been an enjoyable day with a few fish caught, there was a long period of quiet that came with the hot weather. Towards dusk Mark finally got into what turned out to be a beautiful 19 inch rainbow that raced all over the place like only a Delaware rainbow can. I won't lie, I was jealous.

My envy evaporated quickly when I hooked into a fish that had been taking spinners. It took a couple fly changes before the fish took a # 14 polywing rusty spinner. Like Mark's rainbow, this fish was not anxious to come to the net. When we finally landed it, after two spectacular leaps right at the boat, the hefty fish taped out at 21 1/2 inches. I asked Bob if I could keep the fly and he happily said yes. Unfortunately, I managed to lose the fly somewhere between Hancock and Shushan and Corker # 4 is now just a pleasant memory.

Now, when we are at camp in front of a fire, Deanna and I can look at the fly festooned corks and think back on some happy days on the river. The specifics of the catch are written on the cork itself, but it is the variety of little unwritten details that really stand out in our memory bank, whether is was the sounds one hears along the river or the feel of the sun in the face or the color of the foliage along the hillsides of the river.