May 7th - Finality

The sun setting on Hendrickson season 2024.

Looking back at the various angling journals I have kept; May 7th sticks out as an important date. On average, this is the date that I have found to offer the peak of the Hendrickson hatch. After that date the duns are on the downswing while the spinners offer opportunities for a week or so afterwards.

This year the 7th was more about endings than peaks. The Hendrickson hatch clearly started early and seems to have found its peak on the 29th of April. Fishing that day was quite good for myself and a couple of friends and others reported similarly good success. Unfortunately, the following day brought heavy rain and a cloudy river - great for streamer fishing but terrible for the dry fly enthusiast.

The Battenkill, as it will do, receded slowly and while there were likely bugs hatching, few anglers were there to take advantage. By the 5th and 6th of May - the weekend of the Battenkill Fly Fest - the Hendrickson's had all but completely hatched out, though the grannom caddis offered sport. I fished hard over the weekend. A better description would be that I looked hard and fished little.

Promising looking spinner falls were blown away by ill-timed winds and quickly dropping air temperatures. Rises were infrequent. I still managed a nice brown of about a foot and a brookie half that size. When it came time to go home on Sunday, I felt that the hatch was done. The heavy rains that I woke to that morning assured high waters yet again. And so, I drove home knowing that another Hendrickson season was in the books.

But then, on May 7th the weather warmed, and the winds softened. Checking in with a friend or two I learned that while the river was high, the wind was down, and it was a beautiful day. I needed little additional incentive and made the trip up to Shushan a day earlier than planned. Would May 7th prove to have the magic touch once again?

Right away, signs were good. I stopped by one of my favorite "bug bridges" and was able to see mayfly spinners bouncing up and down in good numbers. It was only 5:30 and more bugs would be joining the party. The wind remained gentle and while the river was indeed high, the clarity was not terrible. The color of a fine amber or copper beer. Just the sort of color that helps an angler greatly. Especially this one.

At location # 1 there were several small brook trout rising tight to the right (looking upstream) bank. Perfect for this left hander. There seemed to be an easy entry point and I stepped in and out into the current and was quickly disabused of the notion that wading would be anything but challenging. But I had rising fish and how deep could it possibly get by going out one step further? The answer is in the question, and I was out of the water quickly.

Location # 2 looked great. A large fish was rising half a football field upriver, and that fish was not going to be caught. Between the jungle of shrubs and trees, beaver ponds and other terrestrial challenges it simply was not worth the effort to find out if the water would be too deep to wade. But it was the closer water that had me interested and when a fish rose a reasonable distance across from where I stood, without the need to get in the water, I was ready to wait it out right there. Then a canoe with a pair of anglers came down river carrying a message. Lots of fish rising upstream. And so, I left.

Location # 3 beckoned me like Die Lorelie of Teutonic legend. Perhaps not quite so dramatically, but the beauty of the spot, the activity of the fish and the apparent ease of the wading seduced me. And so it was that I found myself on a lovely evening with a few trout feeding, including an obviously good one. I cinched on my trusty Battenkill Flats and eased into the water. A rise downstream in an easy drift line made for quick success. Even if it was only a small brookie. And then I saw the lovely head, back, and tail rise of one of the rivers larger denizens. Closer to the siren I waded. Closer to my undoing.

When I found myself a sufficient distance from my target, I realized I had two options. A standard cast that risked hang up in the trees behind me or turning my back to the target and delivering the fly on the back cast were the obvious choices. The standard cast proved as snaggy as I anticipated, and two flies were sacrificed to the alders. The back cast delivery worked but getting a good drift was difficult to say the least. There had to be another way.

As the trout continued to feed, calling to me, I considered a third option. Wade downstream and make an upstream cast. That had to be the answer so boldly I made way to the streams edge and began to wade downstream. And like the seafaring men that were seduced to their death by the mermaid, the demise of my evening came upon me swiftly and cold. As my trout rose with carefree abandon, I stepped into a hole that brought the river rushing into my waders and me scurrying to the bank. Once again, May 7th was a memorable day on the Battenkill. And with it, the end of the Hendricksons.

When the river finally recedes (currently 1500 cfs vs a norm of 818) we should see the early, large sulfurs (invaria to the bug centric) and March Browns should be stirring as well. Caddis are about throughout the day so a wet fly swung in the riffles is sure to produce.