Lost in Southern New York

The best laid plans often don't make it past step 2... So I find myself with a day to wander alone in a strange land, looking for water to fish and hopefully not get a violation from a New York State conservation officer.  (I was narrowly alerted that the water I wanted to fish is closed for spawning!)

Thank you Parkinson's Disease for the extra special gift called anxiety.  I've never been much of a solo explorer, but this is ridiculous.  Then I hear Ralph's pep talk from a couple of posts ago... Not today, Parkinson's.  Time to take a pill and find a fly shop.  Today will be good, right?

Tomorrow will be better.

Addendum, 8 hours later: I found a couple of spots to try on the East Branch of the Delaware River.  As I was gearing up gentleman who says he guides the river around those parts stopped.  He said that if the wind hadn't been blowing 15-20, there should've been a heavy hatch and lots of rising heads.

Instead, I waded out, tossed a streamer then some nymphs for a while. It was 38F, blowing, cloudy.  I waded back out when my hands hurt and my... well, some of my other pieces, were well chilled.  My casting was terrible and I could hear a few fish laughing at me.

Great day.