Along the Mohawk in October

In the soft, golden light of an early fall morning, I found myself at the edge of the river with my fishing gear slung over my shoulder. The night before had been magical; the sky had danced with the ethereal glow of the northern lights, a breathtaking display that seemed to whisper promises of bounty and adventure the next morning.

With that celestial omen in mind, I waded into the river, feeling the chill of the water with only 1 thing on my mind. Catching a rainbow trout. The current rushed around my legs, tugging my legs with each step I took. A subtle reminder of nature's power. I moved carefully, each step deliberate, until I reached a spot where the river created and provided a calm pool at the end of some rapids. This, I thought, was the juicy spot, a haven for trout.

I cast my line, the lure arching gracefully before it kissed the water with a gentle bloop. The tranquility was almost palpable, the only sounds being the soft murmur of the river and the occasional call of a distant bird. As the morning wore on, my thoughts drifted to the previous night's spectacle, the vivid reds and greens that had painted the sky, a divine message perhaps, that today would bring success.

And then, a tug. Not just any tug, but a solid, promising pull. My heart leapt with the thrill of the chase. I reeled in, feeling the fight of what I hoped was a good-sized trout. The dance was exhilarating, the fish darting left and right, but slowly, I gained the upper hand.

After what felt like an eternity but was likely minutes, I landed the trout. A beautiful, speckled creature, its sides gleaming with the hues of the river's depths. With a swift, respectful bonk on the head, the fish's struggle ended. I whispered a thank you to the river, to the gods of sky and water, for this gift.

Back at my campsite, the air was filled with the scent of pine and the smoky aroma of a campfire. I filleted the trout with practiced ease, its flesh firm and fresh. The fish tacos were simple yet perfect - the trout seasoned perfectly with “Slap Yo Mama”, wrapped in soft tortillas with lettuce, tomato red onion and a healthy does of Tabasco As I savored the meal, watching the sun descend behind the trees, I felt a profound connection to this place, this moment. The northern lights had spoken, and the river had delivered. It was more than just a catch; it was a communion with nature, a reminder of the beauty of living in harmony with nature's rhythms.

As I savored the meal, watching the sun descend behind the trees, I felt a profound connection to this place, this moment. The northern lights had spoken, and the river had delivered. It was more than just a catch; it was a communion with nature, a reminder of the beauty of living in harmony with nature's rhythms.