Walking along a brook with Steven Weinberg, it can seem as if he has a hello for everything around him: the clear, spring-fed stream; Rusk Mountain, still wearing its spring-stubbly, not-yet-green face; the acorn he spots on the ground and stops to examine.
Weinberg’s neighborhood is alive, and he shares it generously in “The Fly Fishing Book: An Artful Guide to Angling,” his new work due in stores May 5. The book weaves watercolor, memoir, local history, nature writing, and angling into a guide that is as much about looking closely as it is about fishing.
We were hiking a Department of Environmental Conservation trail that follows a small tributary of the West Kill in Greene County as it tumbles down from the mountains toward Lexington, about a 10-minute drive west of Hunter.
“I didn’t fly fish much before I moved up 13 years ago,” Weinberg said. “This is where I first saw brook trout and understood how they move.”
June, he said, is when the fish really come out, “if you know how to see them.”
“I came around this bend where a maple was down in the stream, and I could see three or four trout sitting in a pool,” he said.
Those seasons and life in mountain streams soon became the subjects of Weinberg’s work. Already a successful illustrator of children’s books, Weinberg found irresistible colors on the mountainside and, in the stream, the bejeweled native brook trout.
The artwork in “The Fly Fishing Book” deserves as much attention as the instructive passages that accompany it. Boldly colored trout leap from almost every page. Some of the brook trout Weinberg paints are adorned with deep purple, resembling the color of an impending July night sky. Others flash orange and yellow, like lightning in water.
“The Fly Fishing Book” also has a quietly firm foundation in conservation and environmental protection. “I like the part of fly fishing where you can take people fishing and they fall in love with it,” Weinberg said.
Around us, trout were rising and splashing. I kid you not: They were leaping out of the water.
“If you want to keep doing this, there are a couple of policies we have to put in place or keep in place. And then things click. It’s a really good way to get people to change their minds about the environment.”
I first saw Weinberg’s trout paintings in a shop in the Kingston Rondout in 2017 and later learned that he and his wife, author Casey Scieszka, had purchased and renovated an old dude ranch in Lexington. Tucked beside Rusk Mountain, with a wild stream running through the hollow and into the valley, their Spruceton Inn soon flourished as an artists’ outpost and residency.
Artists and guests would invariably ask Weinberg about fishing, and the idea for “The Fly Fishing Book” came naturally.
“This is a book for all ages,” he said. “If you’ve never gone fishing before and you’re curious about it, this is your starter package. You will know rods, reels, water, fish.”
He paused, listening to the stream.
There are casting tips in the book from Joan Wulff, the long-distance casting champion and teacher; recommendations on flies from Judd Weisberg, a student of Art Flick’s; and provisioning tips from author David Coggins.
It is inspirational, practical, and beautiful on every page. Weinberg’s illustrations of anglers streamside, at the fly-tying bench, and eating lunch al fresco, an important part of fishing, are not only instructive but a feast for the eyes.
An unmistakable splash rose above our conversation.
“Oh, one just rose. See the branch. Right behind it. There, it just rose again,” Weinberg said, slipping behind a sapling near the bank. “Look on the near side, it’s holding water. Rising every few bits. Wow.”
We sat and watched a 4-inch brook trout feed on aquatic life.
“It’s very nice against that red rock,” he said.
I could see Weinberg painting as he spoke.
A benevolent smile crossed Weinberg’s face. “That’s the part that inspires me.”
We continued upstream. Weinberg caught a brookie and cradled it in the water. “In fishing, we are constantly being humbled. That’s always good. Anything that does that to you has got to be good.”
He unlaced his fingers. The trout slipped away as Weinberg softly called to it, “Thank you.”
Bennett Ratcliff writes about fishing and the outdoors for The Overlook. Send correspondence to reporting@theoverlooknews.com.