Late spring in New York City my friend Ports and I discussed the outdoors and the flow state one enters when fly fishing. Ports is an avid fly fisherman and invited me to come along to photograph him and a couple friends at one of their go-to clandestine spots. So, I did. The drive to the Catskills took longer than anticipated and it was already getting late. We parked on the side of a gravely road near an undisclosed location rumored to be having a good hatch—when bugs take flight in the morning and the fish come out in abundance.…
