I have to admit,when Steve said "Let's go fish the Hudson," my mind immediately went to West Point. Not sure why, other than I remember looking out over the river and seeing the military academy while riding the train to New York City.

I could have,just as easily, thought of the chilly (OK, really cold) Memorial Day weekend we spent at Lake Tear of the Clouds, at the river's first trickle, waking up one morning, chiseling out of the tent and making our assault on Mount Marcy.Anyone who knows us knows THAT Hudson River knows it suits us much better than the wide expanses downstream. So once I wrapped my head around OUR Hudson River, the trip took on new meaning.

This Hudson River is home to browns and rainbows in the upper reaches, and that's where we would start our journey. The drive to Newcomb is a real treat in itself; you're never really sure what you're going to see. Traveling along the road, we've ofcourse encountered deer and the small things – porcupines, foxes, the occasional coyote. We've never – in 16 years of travel – seen an Adirondack moose, but if you're going to run into one, this would be one of the places do it. That said, I hope we never really "run into" one. This particular trip was uneventful, save for the scenery you really can't get anywhere else in the state.

When you get to Newcomb, as the river begins its more "river-like" appearance at Henderson Lake, and you can go left or right, depending on what you're looking for. Head upstream and you'll soon find brown trout and a native brookie population.Downstream takes you into the stocked area where New York's Department of Environmental Conservation and Essex County plant 13,000 brown and rainbow trout farther downstream in the town of Minerva.

While not purists in any sense of the word (we've hooked many a stocked fish, thank you), when we have our druthers, Steve and I will seek out the native brookies.Although small, they are feisty and will put up a great fight on a light fly rod. These headwater streams are especially fun on a hot summer day, when the "outside" temperature can soar into the 80s. Under the forest canopy, high in the peaks,it's cool and inviting – just the way the trout like it. Steve and I will hit these brookie waters once a year, playing the fish, putting them back and moving on to the next stream the next year.

In terms of tackle, I like the fly rod in these smaller streams. A simple terrestrial pattern will almost always entice a strike. For years, I fished with a small yellow and brown "thing." I'm not sure what it was meant to imitate, but I had two of them in the fly box. The only place I would pull it out was on the small native streams scattered throughout Essex County. I finally lost the last one a couple of years ago, but Steve was kind enough to tie several any imitations with big (well, relatively speaking) blobs of neon foam on top so I could see them. I think that's why I liked the yellow and brown "thing." I could see it in those dark recesses.

The day on the Hudson ends all too quickly, like many days on the small, native trout waters.While the sun is still shining in the meadows and fields, it's getting too dark for me to see anything in the thick forest cover. This could very well be whenthe fish are most active, but my usual slow strike problems are only magnified when I can't even see the neon orange fly floating in front of me.

As we walk back to the truck, I again marvel at the small stream and what it holds. We'll be back, maybe not for a couple of years, but the brookies will likely be there,waiting in the cool pools for those strange orange ants to show up.