Article by Jason Aptaker
This trip had everything that makes for a classic Catskill day. On May 27, 2026, I set out for these storied New York waters for the very first time. I had great company for the two-plus-hour drive north: my friend tenkara hebi, who has quietly been catching gorgeous wild brown and rainbow trout in these mountains for some time now. Hebi, better known as Simone, is a tenkara angler who truly embodies the minimalist ethos of tenkara.
The weather was ideal for late May, 70 degrees with low humidity. We rolled into the small town of Phoenicia just after 6:00 AM, parked behind a shop, geared up, and took the short walk down to the water.
The Esopus is by no means your average creek. It features tight pockets of water intermingled with wide, sweeping stretches. We started the morning in fast-moving water, targeting pockets and seams where trout might be lying in wait. Not ten minutes in, a black bear began making its way down the bank directly across from me. I called out “BEAR!” to Hebi, who was standing thirty feet away, though I doubt he heard me over the roar of the current. Fortunately, the bear spotted me across the stream and scrambled back up the ridge. I like to think it was his first time seeing a rod with no reel and it spooked him.
After the encounter, we settled into a rhythm, working upstream. I was still soaking in the feeling of being on these historic waters and reflecting on how special the region is. Hebi and I worked fast pocket water and eddies for the first few hours with little luck. I was fishing a simple bead head flymph pattern to sink deeper into the water column. After many casts, I finally got a bite, but couldn’t keep the rainbow hooked. Another sharp strike followed, but I missed the hookset again.
Hebi worked a beautiful stretch further upstream and eventually landed the first, and only fish of the day. The fishing was undeniably tough, but the trip was heading toward a memorable finish that didn’t require landing a fish to feel like Catskill perfection.
We hiked back to the car and drove to a different stretch of the Esopus, where the water opened up with fewer large boulders or overhanging branches for cover. As I stepped in, a large, beautiful brown trout swam just five feet past my legs. My heart raced. Watching that fish slide away gave me fresh hope.
While Hebi fished the far bank, I waded upstream toward a massive solitary boulder rising out of heavy current. I prefer to keep my fly selection minimal, rarely switching patterns more than a few times a day. Standing twenty-five feet below the boulder, I tied on a classic Catskill dry fly; a Dark Cahill I had tied the night before.
With my TenkaraBum 40F in hand, I made several drifts along both sides of the rock. Boom! Fish on! A wild rainbow rocketed out of the water like a rabid piranha with my dry fly in its mouth, gave a violent shake, spit the hook, and dove back to safety.
It was par for the course, but it felt like the perfect ending to my first adventure in the Catskills Mountains on the Esopus. Sometimes success isn’t measured by how many fish land in your net, but by where you are and the spirit of a thing.
Jason Aptaker lives in Manhattan and has fished tenkara for five years, hand-tying high-quality flies sold through his TenkaraNY Etsy Shop. He specializes in traditional sakasa kebari and futsu kebari patterns, plus experimental and classic flies, all tied to premium standards on barbless hooks unless noted. His goal is to give the tenkara community reliable, durable flies that simplify time on the water. Follow him on Instagram at TenkaraNY.
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