Stained and rotting snowbanks. Sideways rain that wants to turn to snow. Grey skies. Roads bleached with salt. Green and brown patches of snowplow scarred lawn start to show beneath the snow on the edges of driveways and parking lots. Mud season is coming fast. Just about here.  And not one of us in “The Real Upstate New York” are immune to the dullness of the local landscape and the ensuing mild depression that results.

We are coming to the end of one of the longest ice fishing seasons we have had in years here in Upstate New York. It is not over (in fact some of the best ice fishing of the year will be found in the days ahead) but I am over it. The ice remains thick but the urge to load a sled and traverse those wide open spaces, auger holes and dangle lines, has lost my interest.

Sipping a hot cup of black tea while reading the witty paragraphs of the Vermont writer Howard Francis Mosher in the muted  afternoon daylight coming through the den window of my cabin is as exciting an activity that I wish to engage in early March.

Over the weekend I spoke to a gathering of outdoors people at The Prison City Brewery And Pub. In years past I would have declined an invite to spend a Saturday afternoon in late Winter narrating slides in favor of guiding. A Winter Saturday, when the ice is thick, has always been reserved for ice fishing. Guiding. Working.

Now-a-days, sharing tales and color pics of vibrant Springtime trout from trips past with like-minded folks, nursing a crisp draft Pilsener, is more appealing. The pang of guilt that my pig headed Irish nature gives me, telling me I should be on the ice, should be working, is not as sharp in my 50’s as it was in my 40’s.

Mud season, this dreaded time of year, is made less pitiful — more enjoyable —  by the myriad and many venues offered by Rod and Gun Clubs, VFW’s, and business’s that bring Sportsmen and Sportswomen together to eat, drink, and sell their goods and services. If we cannot hunt or fish we can by God enjoy killer beer, spicy chili, and talk about it!

Truth? I’ve never been a fan of being “featured” at these gatherings. As an introvert I succumb to an uncomfortable nature in a building full of people who (myself included) think they know the intricate workings of fish and game better than anyone else…Certainly better than some dude who calls himself a professional guide.

As a full-time guide presenting a topic at one of these events is like being a dartboard on the wall. The parade of deer and duck hunters has each a pocket full of darts.  And I’ve no doubt most of them catch more fish than I do and shoot bigger deer than I do. The difference is, I have, wise or unwise, made the age old craft of guiding my trade and modest living for the last two decades.

On this first day of March 2026 “Fly Fishing In The Finger Lakes” was going to be my illustrated topic. Joel, my seven foot tall middle aged outdoor writer friend, showed up at my request.  Certain when it came time for me to plug my laptop into the smart TV and show my litany of grip-and-grin fish pics that I would have only a slight chance at success…Joel was summoned. Fly fishing might be my forte. But technology is not.

Many in the audience knew me and I them.  I was not trying to “sell” fishing trips per say. It was a crowd, I asssumed, where the fine and detailed points of technical fly fishing would fall dead upon the floor. So no great anxiety. As long as the slide show slid on when I clicked the keyboard arrow key…Things would be just fine.

God, I imagine, for the sake of our sanity, limits the length of Mud Season to a few weeks. Unlike this past Winter, and the other three “real” seasons, Mud Season is short lived. It has me thinking though.

The number of years my legs will continue to drag ice sleds full of gear for miles over the ice to guide ice anglers will have an end to its season. When that Winter comes what will take it’s place? Enjoying tea and reading books by the cabin window will never pay well. If I am going to get old, give up paid ice fishing trips to talk to gatherings of anglers on windy Winter days, public speaking is a craft I should consider refining.

Peace.

Mike