Buffalo NY Fishing Report – Observations from 03/30 – 04/05/2026

Here’s our latest Buffalo NY fishing report:  A gorgeous start to the week on the Lower Niagara and Lake Ontario quickly gave way to chaos as a massive multi‑state storm rolled through, dumping up to two inches of rain across Western and Central NY and flooding nearly 50,000 square miles. The system blew out every tributary, pushed mud and debris into Lake Erie, and sent full trees and ice sheets down the Niagara River. Conditions stayed unfishable for days as the river flushed, the ice bridge broke, and big winds shoved ice into the Upper.  As of this writing, there are signs of recovery—good color coming out of Lake Erie, rapid clearing in some stretches, minimal remaining ice, and the boom scheduled for removal tomorrow (04/06/26). It was a tough stretch, but once the system settles, the fish should respond fast.

Days on the water: 1

Who we fished with: friends/clients

Where we fished: Lower Niagara, Lake Ontario

What we caught:  lake trout, walleye

Tactics:  drifting live bait, trolling stick baits and spoons

Detailed Reporting/Daily Observations

03/30/2026 – Nice Day – Tough Fishing

Fished the Lower Niagara and Lake Ontario with Rick, Kevin and DJ.  It was a gorgeous day – unexpectedly I might add.  It was supposed to be windy to start, but when we arrived on Lake Ontario it was like glass.  We trolled some of the waypoints I fished this time last year and picked up 2 lake trout quickly, then dropped a couple, then nothing.  I didn’t mark much between 50 and 100’ – even the fish we caught didn’t show up on the screen.  Everything was perfect too – from water clarity, to current, to lack of waves.

After about 40 minutes with no action, we moved to the Lake Ontario bar – did a few passes to no avail.  No fished marked either.

From there, we moved upstream and got into a good walleye bite (all released, of course).  No more trout landed.  Conditions were good too – water clarity was good and the wind wasn’t an issue.  Plus, we saw the sun a few times – which was a nice change.

3/31/2026 – The Flood

A powerful, multi‑state storm rolled through, soaking Northern PA, and all of Western and Central NY.  Rainfall totals varied from about a half‑inch around Buffalo–Niagara to nearly two inches in the southern tier, with the heaviest band running through Cattaraugus and Allegany counties.  It ended flooding nearly 50,000 square miles. Oh yeah, the wind gusted over 50mph, and in some places, 1/5” hail fell.  The thunderstorms were LOUD – and seemed like they wouldn’t end.  Chaos.  Devastating.   

4/01/2026 – April Fools – but not Really

I took a mid‑morning walk with my wife along East River to see what the flood left behind. Maybe my memory’s off, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything like it around here. I lived in South Florida for a few years and went through multiple hurricanes, so I’m not saying it was that level of destruction — but for Western New York, it was bad.

Think about how much rain fell over such a massive area. A lot of it drained into the tributaries, those tributaries fed into Lake Erie, and Lake Erie dumped it all into the Niagara River. By the time it reached the East River, the whole system was flushing out the aftermath. Trees — not branches, full trees — were drifting downstream from bank to bank. Debris was everywhere. And of course, the water looked like chocolate milk. It was a depressing scene.  I started calling my clients booked for the upcoming days to cancel trips. 

04/02/2026 – Flushing Continues

One thing about the river that most people don’t think about – it’s always moving.  Upon surveying the scene, I was surprised to see how much debris had already washed out of the river.  Water clarity was still trashed, plus there was some ice coming downstream – pushed over the boom by the wind.  Totally unfishable – but there was some hope that things would improve faster than expected.    

4/03/2026 – More Flushing + Big Wind

I trailered my boat to Buffalo Harbor State park to op-check one of my trolling motors that just got repaired.  I also wanted to drive the skyway to get a look at Lake Erie ice cover.  On that drive, I noticed that the water color coming out of Lake Erie was excellent.  However, the Buffalo River was still dumping mud and messing up about a third of the river.  Ice cover looked minimal – YES!  So minimal that the IJC finally put a date on the calendar for the removal of the boom: Removal of Lake Erie-Niagara River Ice Boom planned to begin April 6.

If you read this article, it mentions that there is still a large amount of ice on the Lower Niagara.  There isn’t anymore – the ice bridge broke and started flowing downstream on this day.  

4/04/2026 – Yet Another Recovery Day

What a gorgeous day!  Unfortunately, the system was still trashed.  Water clarity on the upper River got a little better between Lake Erie and the Erie Canal, but the canal is still hemorrhaging mud.  Reference my report from a couple weeks ago to see how the system clears.  If you take a drive from Buffalo to Niagara Falls along the river, you can see what I described/depicted on the map in real-time.

The huge south winds from the day prior also pushed a lot of ice from Lake Erie into the Upper.  I considered fishing it – not with clients – just to poke around.  However, I didn’t want to play Han Solo in Empire Strikes Back: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GAHW7TF4Tyo

I think of this scene every year around this time.  Dating myself I’m sure.

4/05/2026 – Continued Monitoring

Overnight, the region got hit with another .5” of rain – NOT helpful.  As of this writing, the temperatures are declining into the low 40s, it’s overcast, and the wind is blowing from the west with gusts into the 30s. 

I took a walk along the Lower Niagara. BTW – there’s a very nice path that follows the river at or near water level (not the path along the ridge) from the Nexus Bridge/Whirlpool Bridge to the Aquarium.  To access it, you can park at or near the Aquarium or the Nexus bridge.  Walk along the ridgeline path and you’ll see flights of stairs taking you down – similar set up to Devils Hole and the Whirlpool State Park access.  When I was a kid, there was a path here, but for years it was blocked.  I don’t know when the state built the stairs, but they’re awesome – I’m stoked about this little discovery.  It’s a nice change from hiking Devils to the Whirlpool. 

Anyway – I was surprised to see perfect water clarity down there. No ice, no debris.  I cancelled the trip I had scheduled, no regrets there because the wind was howling, but conditions were certainly fishable. 

Seasonal Assessment/General Observations

Buffalo NY Fishing Report – Forecast for 04/06/2026 – 04/12/2026

Next week’s forecast looks like another dicey one.  Although I’m booked every day, I’ll be lucky to fish 2.  A reversion to cold temperatures will be a hindrance, so will all the N winds and the rain.  The ice boom removal, although very much welcomed, will cause problems too as the river will have a bank to bank ice flow for a few days.  Thankfully, big SW winds will be around throughout the week – that should help flush the ice out relatively quickly.

For the days that are fishable, I’m going to have to get creative.  A distant port Lake Erie trip will likely happen.  I’d love to fish Lake Ontario too – but the mud getting flushed out of the Niagara is already making its way out there – making water clarity a potential problem.  It all depends on wind and current.  Fingers crossed I can make something happen out there.

Stay healthy, my friends.  Mentally and physically,

Ryan

Buffalo NY Fishing Report – Observations from 03/23 – 03/29/2026

Here’s our latest Buffalo NY fishing report:  This past week was defined by cold snaps, big wind, and a lot of adapting. A couple of days were blown out completely, a few were spent grinding on the Lower Niagara, and one turned into a full‑on Lake Ontario ice bath. When the weather cooperated, we put in the work and scratched out some fish; when it didn’t, we stayed off the water and lived to fight another day. Classic late‑March Buffalo Niagara—unpredictable, uncomfortable at times, but always worth showing up for.

Days on the water: 5

Who we fished with: friends/clients

Where we fished: Lower Niagara, Lake Ontario

What we caught:  brown trout, steelhead, walleye

Tactics:  drifting live bait, trolling stick baits and spoons

Detailed Reporting/Daily Observations

03/23/2026 – Day Off

I had the day off and was happy to take it.  Big wind and frigid temperatures made it a good day to hit the gym and relax. 

03/24/2026 – Fly Fishing the Lower and the Bar (Day 1)

Fished the Lower Niagara with a new client, Chris—a recent Buffalo transplant from the Olympic Peninsula. It’s been a minute since I’ve guided someone who wanted to challenge himself with a full day of fly fishing. I’ve spent years doing it myself and have caught just about everything that swims around here on the fly (still missing walleye…one day), but I don’t get many fly‑focused calls anymore.

There’s a reason for that.

Sure, we have a solid local fly fishing community, but the Buffalo Niagara Region isn’t exactly a fly‑fishing destination. Think about it: if you’re a traveling fly angler with money to burn and steelhead on the brain, you’re heading to Alaska or the Pacific Northwest. Salmon? Same story. Lake trout? Northern Canada. Muskies? Wisconsin, Minnesota.

Smallmouth bass…well, I’ll challenge anyone to find a better place than WNY. Central Michigan is a contender, but it’s a different game altogether.

Bottom line: this isn’t a region fly anglers flock to, so I don’t get a ton of calls. Which is why I get stoked up when one emerges.  I grill all of them to determine their skill sets and only take those I believe have what it takes to close the deal around here.

Enter Chris.

Like me, he’s traveled, he’s put in the reps, and he’s caught a ton of species on the fly. He’s an excellent caster and has the right mindset for making things happen around here. But the day started brutally cold—and windy. At the start of the day, there were sheets of surface ice coating the river in spots – brutal.  He worked his ass off from start to finish, making great shots and covering water with intention, but the fish just didn’t cooperate.

I’ll admit I felt a tiny bit better knowing my colleagues weren’t doing much either—even with three anglers drifting bait. It was tough – but we bonded over stories and I had the pleasure of teaching him a lot about our fishery. 

03/25/2026 – Success on the Fly

Fished the Lower Niagara for a second day with Chris.  Sun and very little wind made it a far more comfortable session.  The action picked up a little bit, and Chris was able to close the deal on a couple of browns that smashed his fly.  Although not an action packed session, we were both relieved to get rid of the skunk.  We had a blast over those couple of days and are making plans for warmer weather. 

3/26/2026 – Weather Day

Chris was on the docket for this day too.  However, the forecast called for big SW winds and rain, so we stayed off the water.  I’m glad we stayed home too – the deluge began around noon, and the rain didn’t stop until early evening.

03/27/2026 – Day Off

I considered fishing the Upper Niagara on this day.  However, when I pulled up to the Sheridan boat launch at 7:30AM to check things out, it was 25 degrees out and there was a stiff N wind blowing.  Plus, there was a lot of mud and debris coming down the river from the rain the day prior.  Between the cold, the wind, and the chocolate milk conditions, it was an easy call. Another day off.

03/28/2026 – The “Bear” Ate Us

The day started fishing Lake Ontario out of Olcott with Alex and Shawn.  When I arrived at the launch, I quickly realized we were in for an adventure.  The forecast was wrong for one – the wind was blowing BIG out of the NW and there were scattered flurries blowing.  There was also supposed to be some sun – there wasn’t.  It was 25 degrees out too. 

We pounded through 2–4’ waves on the run out. At one point I glanced back at the starboard side and everything was encased in ice—gunwale, downriggers, rods, reels, rod holders. Solid. That left me with one functional rigger, which is far from ideal.

Then things got even more interesting: Alex started turning green. He fought it as long as he could, but after about thirty minutes he was hanging over the side. That was our cue. Time to pull the plug.

We regrouped on the Lower Niagara, only to find it crowded and picked over. The flurries kept coming, temps stayed below freezing, and the NW wind never let up. Eventually we called it early and headed home to lick our wounds.

A tough session all around, but I give these guys credit—they showed up, gave it a shot, and handled a brutal day on big water.

03/29/2026 – The Reunion

Fished the Lower Niagara with Terry. If you’ve been reading these reports for a while, you’ve seen this man’s face—he’s been with me since year one. He took last season off to tackle some health issues, and I won’t get into the details here, but after ten years of fishing together, he’s in the best shape I’ve ever seen him. I always close my reports with “stay healthy my friends, mentally and physically,” and I mean it. Terry’s in his early 60s and living fuller now than at any point since I’ve known him. It’s never too late to turn things around.

The fishing was a grind. We put a few walleyes and steelhead in the net and got in line on most of the drifts, but it wasn’t easy. Still, it was great spending the day with him, catching up, and getting him back on the river where he belongs.  Expect to see his face on some of my adventures in the not so distant future. 

Seasonal Assessment/General Observations

Buffalo NY Fishing Report – Forecast for 03/29/2026 – 04/05/2026

Next week’s forecast looks warmer—more like spring—but it’s going to be very dicey. Tomorrow should be fishable, just extremely windy. After that, we’re staring down a couple straight days of heavy rain and big wind. Tuesday and Wednesday are calling for a couple inches of rain and SW gusts over 40 mph, followed by huge east winds on Thursday. I don’t put much stock in anything beyond a 3–4 day window, but if the weekend forecast holds, we might get a shot.

All that wind and rain is going to mess things up bad for a few days. The water just cleared from the last round showers, and it’ll go right back to being stained until late in the week. The upside: the warm temps, rain, and wind should melt most—if not all—of the remaining Lake Erie ice by the weekend. That’s a major silver lining. We’ll see how it plays out but expect a lot of last‑minute calls.

Stay healthy, my friends.  Mentally and physically,

Ryan

Buffalo NY Fishing Report – Observations from 03/16 – 03/22/2026

Here’s our latest Buffalo NY fishing report:  Hey folks — it’s officially spring, even if it doesn’t quite feel like it yet. This past week brought a mix of freezing temps, steady rain, and the usual blasts of ridiculous wind. Still, I managed to get on the water 3 days, so there’s plenty to break down.

The theme of the week? Reps. Putting in time now sets the stage for when things finally warm up. Action is creeping toward what I’d call “entertaining,” but not quite there. Weekend crowds made it tough to get a clean read on the pattern, but overall I’m optimistic about where this is heading.

Days on the water: 3

Who we fished with: friends/clients

Where we fished: Lower Niagara

What we caught:  lake trout, brown trout, steelhead

Tactics:  drifting live bait

Detailed Reporting/Daily Observations

03/16/2026 – Day Off

Marginal water clarity endured from the rain the weekend prior.  Big wind out of the SW blew through the region as well.  It was very warm though – until it shifted back to winter overnight. 

03/17/2026 – Day Off

Temperatures dropped into the low 20s-upper teens and the wind continued to howl.  I wasn’t booked but even if I was, we wouldn’t have fished.  The water clarity improved markedly though. 

03/18/2026 – Last Day Off for the Week

Water clarity continued to improve, and temperatures made it back above freezing.  The day was nearly windless too.  That set things up nicely for the following day. 

03/19/2026 – What a Wonderful Day

Fished the Lower Niagara with the Whisperer, Bill, and Fred.  The Whisperer has fished with me many times on the Lower Niagara, but this was Bill and Fred’s first endeavor down there.  In fact, they asked him to get in touch with me to put this trip together (the Whisperer doesn’t do cold very often – unless it’s in a heated ice hut). I was happy to oblige. 

Conditions couldn’t have been better for this time of year – crowds were minimal, the sun made an appearance more than a handful of times, water clarity was perfect, and there was very little wind.  Bill and Fred got a solid dose of what the Lower has to offer when everything lines up perfectly.   

03/06/2026 – Day Off

Wasn’t booked – didn’t fish.

03/20/2026 – Should’ve Stayed Home Lol

Fished the Lower Niagara with Ryan and Jack. When Ryan and I talked the night before, the rain wasn’t supposed to show up until around 11 a.m., so we planned on a short morning and an easy exit before things got wet. Well… the forecast was wrong.

We barely had an hour of fishing in before the rain started — and once it did, it never let up. Action wasn’t much to speak of either: a handful of small browns and one solid fish. We pushed upriver into Devil’s Hole hoping the canyon walls would give us a little shelter – they didn’t. Then a big southwest wind kicked in, dropped the windchill, and turned the whole thing into a grind.

At one point Jack said, “my hands are stinging really bad,” and that pretty much summed it up. Conditions crossed the line from uncomfortable to untenable, so we pulled the plug early.

03/21/2026 – Pressure Cooker

Fished the Lower Niagara with Al, Bob, and John. While I was waiting for them in the lot, I chatted with a recreational angler who spends a ton of time down there. He shook his head and said, “What happened? It was so good in February.” My response: “We happened.”

I’ll be straight — there just aren’t a lot of fish in the Lower right now. The water is ice‑cold thanks to that giant Lake Erie ice cube melting day after day, and when you mix that with weekend crowds, any hopes of an action‑packed outing usually evaporate.

That said, I love fishing with Al, and the guys he brings are always the kind who show up ready to grind. And grind we did. We put fish in the net, though only a handful were worth a photo. All things considered, the day turned out about as well as it could have. The guys — like me — were just happy to be on the water.

Seasonal Assessment/General Observations

Buffalo NY Fishing Report – Forecast for 03/23/2026 – 03/29/2026

Next week is looking dicey – some good, some bad.  I looks like winter doesn’t want to leave yet – more days than not will hover around the freezing mark.  Winds look like they’ll be all over the place too – SW, E, NE, and NW.  The middle of the week looks like it’ll be OK – beyond that, there will be some last minute calls.  The long range forecast is super untrustworthy this time of year – hopefully, things will improve. 

I’m booked most days and if the forecast holds, I’ll spend almost all of them on the Lower Niagara.  I’m hopeful that I can get out on Lake Ontario at least once to say hi to some giant lakers.  There’s a chance I’ll poke around on the Upper as well.  Stay tuned! 

Stay healthy, my friends.  Mentally and physically,

Ryan

P.S. I made a lot of improvements to me website over the winter – I updated every page with new content.  Poke around – if you fished with me last year, you might see your picture pop up on one or more sliders.  I apologize for not putting a report out last week.  I made a lot of changes to the format, but when I did, I messed up my entire fishing report history.  Not sure why this happened, but I’m working on resolving it.  If you have any recommendations for things you’d like me to change on these fishing reports – send me an email, give me a call, or message me.   

Buffalo NY Fishing Report – Observations from 03/02 – 03/08/2026

Here’s our latest Buffalo NY fishing report: Hey, Folks! It’s been a long time and I hope all of you fared well through that brutal winter. It was a harsh by all measures – extreme cold, wind, and endless snow made fishing nearly impossible throughout the season (unless you’re down for hardwater). I kept myself entertained with another trip to Guyana, a family vacation to California (a national park bender), hitting the gym, reading, and consuming podcasts. Admittedly, I’ve been a little listless lately – when my wife is telling me to go fishing, you know it’s time.

I normally don’t start guiding until 3/15 every year. However, a warming trend opened a window last week, so I decided to get the boat out of storage and get some reps in. My first guided trip of the year was today – and it felt good to be back in the game.

Days on the water: 3

Who we fished with: friends/clients

Where we fished: Lower Niagara

What we caught:  walleye, smallmouth bass, lake trout, brown trout, steelhead, freshwater drum (not a typo)

Tactics:  drifting live bait and beads

Detailed Reporting/Daily Observations

03/02/2026 – Reunion Day

I want to send a huge thank you to Bob Coplin, Les Fowler, and Zach Karalus from Collins Marine.  Before departing to Guyana in early February, I dropped the boat off there to get my seat bases replaced and to get a keel guard installed (it’s gonna be an icy spring on the river).  Not only did they do an excellent job at that, but they also stored my boat indoors until I came to pick it up.  I did just that on Monday – I forgot how much I missed her. 

03/03/2026 – Weather Day 

I wasn’t booked so I stayed off the water, hit the gym, and moved my gear back into the boat.    

03/04/2026 – Baby Needs a Bath

The Warrior got a little messy over the winter.  As you know, on most days the roads were heavily salted snow coated.  The trip from Collins Marine to where they stored it for me gave the boat a good coating – a deep clean was in order.  So, I called Liam Kennedy of Kennedy Auto Care to make her look like new again.  As always – he did just that.

My buddy Joe Srouji of Anglers Edge Outdoors wanted to get his boat on the water for the first time of the year and needed a companion.  I was happy to oblige.  We got some reps in on the Lower Niagara and called it after a couple of hours.

03/05/2026 – All Systems Go

Got the boat on the water for the first time in 2026.  My buddies Joe Srouji of Anglers Edge and Mike Trifiletti of River Born Fishing joined me.  The mission wasn’t to fish – more to make sure everything in the boat was functional.  I’m happy to report that it was. 

Facing a stiff north wind, we did a couple passes in Devils Hole to no avail and decided to quit and grab lunch at the Brickyard. 

03/06/2026 – Day Off

Wasn’t booked – didn’t fish.

03/07/2026 – The Deluge/Big Thaw

Warm temperatures and consistent rain melted almost all the remaining snow.  Those big drifts in the parking lots, you know, the ones filled with months of plowed material, were all that was left at the end of the day.  It’s nasty looking when this happens – mud, asphalt, and trash are everywhere.

All that rain, plus snow melt, filled the Lake Erie tributaries and the Erie Canal by the end of the day.  I’m glad I didn’t fish through that.   

03/08/2026 – First Clients of the Year

Fished the Lower Niagara with brothers Steve and Dan.  Great guys who are as passionate about adventure travel as I am. I’m glad we had lots to talk about, because the fishing was a grind.

Water clarity above the dams was good – but there wasn’t a bite.  Below the dams to about mid river, it was about 2’ of visibility.  Closer to the fort, it was at least 3’ of visibility.  We picked away and boated a handful but like I said, it was a grind.   By 12:00PM – insane winds kicked up and we decided to call it at a half day. 

Seasonal Assessment/General Observations

Buffalo NY Fishing Report – Forecast for 03/09/2026 – 03/15/2026

This upcoming week looks like it’ll be another series of last-minute calls.  As I mentioned above, water clarity will be a concern in the near term due to the flood.  Big wind, cold temperatures, and rain will almost be a daily occurrence.  I’m booked a few days – toward the weekend.  I’m keeping my fingers crossed that things will improve by then.  Stay tuned! 

I debated whether to put a fishing report out this week, but a few clients called me asking to see if I was still alive, so I decided to provide proof of life.  Also, I’m using a new newsletter distribution service (you likely noticed), so I wanted to put something out to work out the kinks before busy season.  Finally, some reps are better than none.  See you soon.  

Guyana Trip #5 – “Piping Guans” and “Good for Fry”

About the title – I have a condition that, from what I understand, isn’t uncommon in anglers – I repeat things, out loud even, when I’m fishing.  Humming lines of songs or just random phrases – both happen.  Maybe it’s a tick, I think of it more of like a big sigh. 

Well, on this trip, we saw and heard many piping guans – something like the amazonian version of a turkey, chicken, and guinea fowl wrapped into one creature.  They’re beautiful, loud…and tasty.  When I heard these birds, I would shout out, “piping guan!”  It became a camp joke.  Often times I would blurt it out randomly.  Another phrase, “good for fry,” lived rent free in my head on this trip.  It was something Terry shouted every time we caught cootie or suribeme catfish.  It got to the point that we labelled everything, “good for fry.”  Both exclamations were inside jokes I thought fitting for the title – you’ll understand why later. 

Quick note before reading – I embedded many videos into this blog – mainly to illustrate events in the sequence they unfolded.  I’m not confident in the video quality of these embeds so if it’s offputting, open YouTube to watch them.  The option is part of the link.    

Introduction        

This was my fifth trip to Guyana. After spending close to three months of my life in the Amazon, the rhythms are familiar to me — the river, the terrain, the fish, the environment, the people. In earlier trip reports, I wrote about species, conditions, culture, and what it takes to live deep in the jungle. Over the years, we have seen the river at multiple stages, caught giants of every species, ate incredible meat harvested from the jungle, and learned a great deal about the Macushi way of life.

Although my previous visits were incredible, I wanted to do something different on this one. Since that first trip — and on every trip since — there had been a nagging desire to push farther upstream. Logistics, time, and conditions always prevented it from happening.

This time, we finally answered that nagging question every adventurer carries in the back of their mind: what if we go farther upstream than we’ve ever been?

Why Go Farther?

Most folks reading this have followed my work for a while — weekly fishing reports included — so you know I’m very much a leave fish to find fish kind of guy. I’m curious, maybe to a fault, and I’m always interested in what’s happening somewhere other than where I am.  Having new problems to solve keeps me engaged. That instinct to continuously poke around is usually tempered when I’m fishing with clients – I favor action over discovery to keep them engaged. However, when it comes to my own time on the water, I indulge that exploratory urge, always seeking new spots before the novelty of familiar ones wears off.

That may be some sort of disease I have, because the loss of novelty hasn’t happened yet and probably never will. Still, keeping things fresh feels like an insurance policy against boredom. It might even strike some people as a little “anti-Ryan” to keep returning to the same place every other year. I won’t deny that in planning this trip, there was a nagging sense that the excitement of going to Guyana could eventually fade if I didn’t do something different.

So, my buddy Jay — who you’ve seen in the last three trip reports, my brother-in-arms from the UK — and I decided to ask our Macushi brethren to push farther upstream than we ever had before.  We knew it would be taxing—mentally, physically, and logistically. We knew we’d sacrifice fishing time to make it happen. And we understood that the jungle, and the waters that move through it, don’t care at all about our plans. Still, those were risks we were willing to take to experience something different. What we didn’t know yet was how quickly the river would remind us who was in charge.

Settling In — Then the River Spoke

Getting into Guyana and reaching our first camp was smooth. Travel was frictionless as we headed upriver with another pair of anglers visiting for the first time. That familiar mix of anticipation and excitement was there for us, but watching it hit them in real time was entertaining in its own right.

When we turned off the Rupununi and onto the Rewa, we noticed an immediate change. The water was higher than normal and noticeably off-color. Jay and I had fished through far worse on a previous trip, so it barely registered as a concern.

That first day on the water was solid. We landed giant catfish, arowana, and enough peacock bass to feed camp that night. Spirits were high. Everything felt… normal.  That night, the rain came.

I lived in south Florida for three years and rode out six hurricanes, but I had never experienced rain like that. It didn’t fall—it poured. For hours, it sounded as if a river had opened in the sky, hammering the canopy and the tarp above our hammocks so loudly that sleep was impossible.

By morning, the water had begun to rise. As I usually do, I jammed a stick into the sand at the waterline when I woke up. While we ate breakfast, I watched it slowly disappear.

We fished that day. Action was decent — numbers were low, but we still landed giant catfish. On its own, that wouldn’t mean much. Even though that river system is a bountiful place, slow days happen from time to time.  What did stand out was something else entirely: the bugs.

I’ve spent a lot of time in Guyana, and bugs have never been more than a minor annoyance. A few sand flea bites here and there — nothing memorable. That changed fast. By the time I climbed into my hammock that night, I was bitten from my ankles to my butt. How they made it up my shorts is still a mystery, but they absolutely did.

Later that night, as we lay in our hammocks full of fried catfish and El Dorado rum, the sky opened again—harder and longer than the night before.  By sunrise, the river was up a couple feet. By noon, a couple more.  That’s when my emotions started to run wild.

Waiting, Watching, and Letting Go

To jump ahead for a bit of context—when I arrived at JFK on my flight home, I had a few hours to kill. I started thinking about where I wanted to take this blog. I knew it had to be emotionally focused, because on this trip I became more aware of my own headspace than on any previous one.

Why? Because we had a plan—a vision, a clear picture of how things were supposed to unfold—and we were stoked. By day three, that vision started to unravel. Given the volume and color of the water, it was hard to imagine that pushing farther upriver would be worth the effort at all. From that point through day five, I cycled through a wide range of emotions—few of them positive.  Sitting in that airport, trying to make sense of it, I looked up the stages of grief.

In her 1969 book On Death and Dying, Elisabeth Kübler-Ross outlined five stages: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. From day three through day five, I hit every one of them—more or less in order. I was distracted by it. We fished every day, watched the water rise and grow dirtier, still caught fish—giants, not numbers—and yet I spent most of that time inside my own head.

The guys who were there for the first time had no frame of reference. They came back to camp each day after fishing similar water as Jay and I, absolutely blown away by how good it was. These weren’t newbies, either—one of them had fished or hunted in 141 countries before arriving in Guyana. Still, they couldn’t believe how productive the fishing was despite tough conditions. I wanted to feel that way. I just couldn’t.

By day five, after landing a personal-best redtail catfish, I started to touch acceptance. When we returned to camp that afternoon, the stick I’d jammed into the sand at the waterline showed something new—the water had dropped, just a little. Morale lifted. By the following morning, it was clearly falling, and it continued to do so into the next day.  Seeing that rapid change, our Macushi brothers made the call.  It was time to push.

The Push Upriver

The Plan

On the morning of day six, as the other crew departed camp for home, we sat down with Terry and Stephanu, the Macushi elders, to discuss the plan for the push upstream. It would happen in phases:

Part 1: Advance Party to Corona Falls
Me, Jay, Steph, and Flavian would push to the first portage, Corona Falls, in two boats and camp there for the night.

Part 2: Main Body Arrival/Link-Up
Terry, his son Trevon, his sister-in-law Theresa, and his daughter Julie would meet us the next morning, stash their boat below the first portage, and continue upriver in our boats. Extra bodies meant redundancy — for boats, guides, camp setup, and food prep.

Part 3: Move to Cattleback Falls
One big portage, new camp for a night.

Part 4: Move to Bamboo Falls
Another big portage, new camp for two nights.

Part 5: Return to Base Camp
Planned over two days.

Corona Falls

Me, Jay, Steph, and Flavian made it to the rapids below Corona Falls without issue. But the high water prevented us from running the lower rapids as planned. We faced two portages: one over the lower rapids and another massive one along a trail bypassing the main falls.

We moved gear over uneven rocks and boulders without incident. The first boat we dragged over the rapids with a long line went smoothly. The second boat wasn’t so lucky — it got sucked underwater at the base of a rapid and required every ounce of our strength to haul it out. Thankfully, damage was minimal.

Worn out, we turned to the second portage. We scouted the trail, identified a camp site for the night, and left the boats in the water below the falls to fish later. The trail was hot, buggy, physically demanding — and, of course, rain began again, enough to dampen spirits.

Once camp was established, we fished. We hadn’t brought food to lighten the load, confident we could catch what we needed. Our confidence was rewarded: I landed a giant suribeme catfish, and Jay brought in a couple massive payara.

That evening, wet, tired, and filthy, we sat down for dinner. The suribeme sizzled in a cast-iron pan. A bottle of rum went around. Rain still fell, but inside that little circle there was laughter, warmth, and relief. The trip had shifted. The tension of waiting, the anxiety of the rising river — all melted into the satisfaction of newfound momentum. I realized the push upriver wasn’t just about distance or conquest. It was about embracing the process—the exertion, the frustration, the teamwork, and the reward. For the first time on this trip, the plan, the river, and our intentions were in harmony.

Beyond Corona for the First Time – Camp at Cattleback Falls

By midday the next day, we linked up with Terry and the rest of the crew. He brought more gear — cooking equipment, tarps, hammocks, water — all of which had to be portaged above Corona Falls, along with our two boats. It hurt. But with more hands on deck, the work went faster than expected. Soon, boats loaded and gear in place, we pushed off into the unknown.

The river upstream was incredible. The current was faster than we were used to, the channel narrower, the gradient steeper. Every bend held little eddies that looked like they could hold untold numbers of fish. Excitement built with every mile, the kind of thrill that comes from truly venturing somewhere new.

Arriving at Cattleback Falls, we set up camp. Sunshine finally allowed our soaked clothes to dry for a few hours. Yellow-rumped and red-rumped caciques cackled angrily from the trees next to our camp, clearly not pleased with our presence. Jay and I turned our attention to catching dinner — cootie, a local favorite, perfect “for fry.”

Then reality intruded. Sitting down for a moment, I glanced at my ankles and noticed small bugs burrowing in without me feeling a thing. Cobouras, our Macushi friends explained. They were ruthless, leaving only tiny blood dots, but their persistence was a distraction. Nobody could resist scratching, and the bites swelled immediately. We also removed a couple of ticks — the price of setting up camp in a pristine, remote jungle. Morale dipped briefly, but the distraction faded quickly.

Despite the bites, the ticks, and the sweat, there was an undeniable satisfaction: we were moving further than ever before. Every ache, every sting, every challenge was a reminder that we were in a new, beautiful place, blazing a path that no prior trip had taken us. We embraced the discomfort — or maybe we simply accepted it, gradually, until it no longer felt like discomfort at all. We weren’t observers anymore, and we weren’t there to conquer anything. We had become part of the system itself.

Cattleback Falls to Bamboo Falls

After a solid night’s rest at Cattleback, we began the portage toward Bamboo. This one was different. No jungle tunnel of vines, humidity, and insects clawing at you with every step. Instead, we carried gear across a broad rock face and scattered volcanic boulders.

It was exposed and sunlit — a welcome change — but the footing was unforgiving. Every step demanded attention. A slip on one of those slick, angled rocks would have meant a violent fall. Jay and I moved deliberately in our shoes. The Macushi moved barefoot. Calm. Efficient. Unbothered. Impressive.

We reloaded the boats in a bend pool above Cattleback and pushed upstream. Not long after, Bamboo Falls came into view.  It was staggering.  Corona was beautiful. Bamboo was something else — bigger, louder, layered with chutes and cascades. Jay and I stood silent for a moment. Even Trevon and Julie, seeing it for the first time themselves, wore that look of awe.

We landed the boats in a small eddy near the base of the rapids and stepped out onto the rocks, working our way upstream toward the main cascade. The roar of water filled the air. Mist passed across sunlit stone. If someone asked you to picture a wild Amazonian river scene, this would be it.

As we picked our way along the rapids, attention shifted to the slack pockets behind the rocks — pacu water.  Pacu are herbivorous piranha that hold in fast current and graze on aquatic vegetation. Instead of razor teeth most people associate with piranha, they have square, human-like teeth built for crushing plants. They grow large. They’re brilliant red. They look almost out of place in that whitewater.

Catching them with rod and reel in that current borders on pointless. Presentation is nearly impossible, and they’re not there to chase moving baits anyway. So, we did it the way the Macushi do — bow and arrow.  It was a blast working as a team – spotting, creeping, shooting, retrieving.  After an hour or so, we had enough pacu meat to feed the camp for a couple days.

Later that afternoon, we built camp once again. Pacu simmered into broth and was poured over farine.  After eating, we slipped into hammocks for a short siesta.  From mine, I watched Flavian sitting on a rock, fishing a little current break in front of camp, effortlessly catching cootie “for fry.”  That was when it settled in.

We weren’t visitors chasing novelty anymore. We weren’t clients being guided. We were functioning inside the same rhythm — carrying loads, shooting fish, building camp, eating what we caught, resting when it made sense to rest.  Over ten years of traveling together, something subtle had shifted. They say that Jay and I are “like them.” And while we will never claim their heritage or their lineage, what we share isn’t transactional. It’s earned familiarity. Shared hardship, repetition, and trust.

Look, I’m sensitive to a kind of neo-colonial vibe some might get when picturing a couple of “WEIRD (western, educated, industrialized, rich, democratic) guys” making their way through someone else’s world via native “paid labor.”   That ain’t us.  We were all part of a small tribe doing what tribes have always done — working, hunting, eating, laughing, and letting the river decide the rest.

The Descent – A Gradual Transition Toward “Reality”

After two nights at Bamboo Falls, it was time to head back.  Going downstream felt almost luxurious. What had taken three days of grinding effort to accomplish upriver took only a single long push. Current that had fought us now carried us. Portages that had demanded focus and coordination were handled with relative ease. We moved quickly, confidently — almost casually — retracing a route that had recently felt intimidating.

By late afternoon we were past Corona and setting up camp at Riverburst — a familiar site I’ve fished from on every previous trip. Returning there felt like stepping back into known territory. The jungle was still vast, still wild, but it now felt like we were on “vacation.”

The fishing was excellent. We landed many, including the largest redtail catfish any of us had ever seen — a true river giant. In any other context, that catch alone would have defined the trip. We celebrated it, photographed it, and watched it swim off – mildly disgruntled by the inconvenience.  It was awesome – but the sense that something shifted in the adventure became palpable.

Upstream, every bend felt like discovery. Every camp was new ground. Every meal felt earned in a different way. Back at Riverburst, even with giants bending rods, a quiet awareness began creeping in: we’d have to leave this wonderous place soon.

You can feel it before it’s spoken. Gear gets organized more deliberately. Conversations drift toward logistics. Flights. Connections. Responsibilities waiting at home.  The jungle doesn’t change — you do.

After a couple of nights at Riverburst, we motored downstream to base camp — Anteater — where the trip had begun and where we’d spend our final night before leaving the jungle. It’s the most developed camp along the river. The large billeting area with wood floors and a high ceiling felt almost luxurious. The shower did too. So did the benches and tables where we gathered to eat and talk.  It was all comfortable.  But it felt foreign.

Upstream, we had adapted to simplicity — hammocks under tarps, catching all our food, rarely able to wear clean and dry clothes, always a little crusty. Here, with solid floors beneath us and structure overhead, the edge had softened. The acceptance we’d earned was still there — but now reality was pressing in from the margins. The slow return to a world that doesn’t move with the river.

Conclusion – What the River Taught

On the flight home, somewhere between the jungle and New York, I realized the push upstream had very little to do with geography.  Yes, we went farther than we ever had. Yes, we saw new water, stood at the base of Bamboo Falls, and proved to ourselves that we could execute a demanding plan in tough conditions. But that’s not what will stay with me.

What will stay with me is the emotional arc:

The denial when the river rose.
The frustration when the vision started to dissolve.
The bargaining and quiet resentment when conditions wouldn’t cooperate.
The slow slide toward acceptance.

Acceptance, I’ve learned, isn’t passive. It isn’t resignation. It isn’t “fine, whatever.” Real acceptance is active. It’s choosing to embrace discomfort instead of merely tolerating it. It’s deciding that the bugs, the rain, the high and dirty water, the exhaustion — all of it — are not obstacles to the experience. They are the experience.  Once that shift happened, everything changed.

The river wasn’t against us. It never was. It simply was. And when we stopped trying to bend it toward our expectations and instead moved with it — physically and mentally — the trip unlocked in a way it hadn’t before.  We didn’t conquer anything upstream. We integrated.

That might be the biggest shift of all. Years ago — maybe even on earlier trips to this same river — I measured success by miles covered, fish landed, obstacles overcome. There was plenty of that on this one. But this time it didn’t feel like something that needed to be “successful” – if that makes sense.

The jungle doesn’t care what you had planned. You’re at its mercy – despite your best efforts to prove otherwise.  You either adjust or you don’t. When I finally stopped fighting it — stopped trying to force the trip I thought we were supposed to have — things settled. Not because the jungle gave me anything, but because I started moving with it instead of against it.

Yes, we pushed farther upstream than we ever had. But the real ground gained wasn’t on a map. It was the shift from expectation to acceptance — from trying to control the experience to stepping into it fully, discomfort and all. That’s what I’ll carry home.

Notes for Those Considering a trip to Guyana

Yeah, this was a super heady piece – even more so than my usual.  As I’ve said in a lot of my writing, I write more for myself than an audience – kind of a therapy to help me process and catalog what I experienced.  However, I’m sensitive to the fact that I have a little bit of reach and some folks reading this might be put off by booking a trip to Guyana.  I can almost hear some of you muttering, “You call that a vacation?”  Or, “That sounds wild, but definitely NOT for me!”  So, let me offer some caveats.

• Going that far upstream was a choice – it’s something the outfitter rarely does – and I’m sure you can understand why after reading this. It’s not for the faint of heart.  If you visited Guyana and just fished out of the 2 main camps, you’d have a mind-blowing adventure and rarely experience any sort of discomfort.
• As I mentioned a few times above – the bugs were abnormal.  When people ask me about my trips to Guyana, they always ask me about the bugs.  Sure, occasionally, you’ll get bitten by sand fleas or pull a tick off you after breaking trail through the jungle.  But you would experience the same thing if you fished the Everglades, the Appalachians, the Rockies, coastal Virginia, and countless other places in the “civilized world.”  In other words, it’s no big deal.  What we experienced was an anomaly.  However, you can beat the bugs by wearing long sleeve shirts, pants, wading socks, and shoes (I’ll bring these items the next time I go for insurance).  It’s liberating going barefoot – but also distracting if you encounter very wet conditions that spawn biting insect activity.
• This was my 5^th visit – I’ve encountered high water 2 times – this visit included. I’ve also NEVER experienced rain like what we encountered on this trip – the guides were surprised too.  Still, even with high and dirty water, the fishing is incredible.  I’ve heard that outfitters in Brazil and Columbia often cancel trips due to “poor conditions.”  That would never be necessary for Guyana.  Is it better when it’s lowish and clear?  Sure, but that comes with it’s own problems – like getting around without bottoming out the boat.  But unless you’re a mutant like Storm and can control the weather, you don’t get to choose your conditions.  You have to play the hand dealt to you – and I guarantee you’ll be amazed – even if you’re just ace high.

Buffalo NY Fishing Report – Observations from 12/22/2025 – 01/04/2026

Here’s our latest Buffalo NY fishing report:  Happy New Year, folks! Just checking in – the long stretch of challenging weather continues. I’ve been keeping myself busy with exercise, podcasts, reading, long hikes, and Guyana prep, but admittedly, I’m starting to get a little stir crazy. We finally had a stretch of stability that allowed the water to clear up nicely – clear enough that I was strongly considering getting out with clients on December 27th and 28th. However, things didn’t work out as I’d hoped. No fish porn this time, but something almost as good: an honest look at what 2025 taught me about running this operation (spoiler: my best financial year came with a cost), plus a breakdown of how our local fisheries performed compared to previous years. Keep scrolling for more.

Days on the water: 0

Who we fished with: n/a

Where we fished: n/a

What we caught: n/a

Tactics: n/a

Fishery Update – Current and Forecasted Conditions

As I mentioned in the intro, there was a fleeting opportunity to get out on 12/27 and 12/28.  I didn’t end up going out on 12/27 because the night prior, it sleeted for hours into the night, and temps dropped into the low 20s.  When I woke up, it was barely 20 degrees and my boat (cover, engine, trim tab actuators, etc.) was completely covered in ice.  The roads were also treacherous.  However, the water looked excellent.  I was super torn about it but decided to cancel knowing it’d be a brutal experience.  12/28 was possible – it warmed up into the mid-30s.  However, it was supposed to rain by around 1:00.  So, I canceled.  It was the right call – rain started pouring down around 12:30 and didn’t let up for hours.

Things have progressively gotten worse since those days.  We went through another few days of winds exceeding 60mph and waves over 20’ on Lake Erie.  Super cold temps (down into the teens with highs in the low 20s) followed that wind, dropping the temperature of Lake Erie down to 33 degrees.  As of this writing, the river is muddy and there’s a steady ice flow from Lake Erie to Lake Ontario.  Most boat launches are locked up with ice.

According to the forecast, we have a long period of low winds and above freezing temperatures coming our way starting tomorrow afternoon.  That’s supposed to continue into the weekend.  The water should clear up markedly in the upcoming days.  However, I’m unsure about what will happen with those ice flows.  I’m booked Thursday – Sunday.  Fingers crossed I’ll be able to get out.  If not, that’s it for me until March.

Lower Niagara from the Lewiston launch – mud and ice – taken on 1/4/2026

2025: A Year in Review

My apologies for the lack of fish porn.  However, I hope what follows will be of interest.  I used this downtime to do something I rarely share publicly – pull back the curtain on how I think about running this business. 2025 was my best financial year yet, but it came with tradeoffs that got me thinking hard about what success actually means. I’ll walk through the metrics I track (and the ones I ignore), why I approach things the way I do, and whether chasing a banner year was worth the cost. If you’ve ever wondered what goes on behind the scenes of a charter operation – or if you’re a fellow guide questioning your own approach – this one’s for you.

I’ll follow up the “business year-in-review” with a look back on how the fishery performed.  That section will cover what I saw on Lake Erie, the Upper Niagara, the Lower Niagara, and Lake Ontario.  I’m not going to get super specific – I just want to mention how these bodies of water performed compared to previous years.

Business Operations: Keeping It Simple

There are numerous metrics small businesses use to measure success: revenue growth, gross profit margin, net profit margin, cash flow, customer acquisition cost (CAC), and customer lifetime value (LTV). All of these can be relevant to charter captains. However, few of us (myself included) track all of them. I can’t speak for my colleagues, but the main reason I don’t is that I have an unhealthy obsession with numbers – it’s often debilitating. Thankfully, I have an awesome accountant with whom I vibe very well (she might tell you something different, lol).

I also know from dealing with metrics throughout my previous career that they’re gameable and you can cherry-pick them when convenient.  So, I try to keep things simple and operate with a few core principles.

My Operating Principles

Here they are in no particular order:

• Work my ass off on every trip – What do I mean?  Wake up early, ensure I’m prepared, show up on time, and put forth max effort while on the water.  In order to do this, I have to eat and sleep well near DAILY, and I must stay in peak physical condition.  In turn, I focus intently on these things – they are a HUGE priority in my daily life.
• Communicate often and with utmost transparency – From the initial conversation to the days leading up to the trip, to time on the water, I make it a priority to keep clients informed about what to expect.  The only surprises I want to occur are when Mother Nature rewards us with insane action and/or giant fish.
• Employ high-quality equipment – From boat to tackle and everything in between
• Minimize friction to the maximum extent possible – In other words, take measures to ensure every outing goes smoothly. Mother Nature is complex and uncontrollable, but I can minimize friction by ensuring my truck, boat, engine, trailer, and tackle are maintained and available on demand

My take? All the math and metrics that measure the success of a charter fishing business will trend favorable if I follow those principles.  Still, there are some numbers I can’t help but pay attention to.

Volume/Trip Count

This is a common metric that captains and guides use to measure their year. I think it gets used so often because it’s simple – one number to flex your accomplishments. I’ve never been fully comfortable with this metric because it leaves out important details:

• Gift certificate redemption rates vary – All of us sell gift certificates.  So, if I sold 30 gift certificates in 2025 but only 15 got redeemed, which number should I count?
• We all charge different rates – Volume alone doesn’t tell the profitability story.
• Half-day vs. full-day trips – Should they count the same?

Still, flawed as it is, I’ll flex and say I did a lot of trips in 2025. I didn’t break a personal record (though I wasn’t far off), but my number was WAY higher than what I’d projected for myself at the start of the year.

Here’s how I actually use the volume/trip count metric: I work backward from my financial needs – including all operating costs, depreciation reserves, investments, and vacation funding – to determine the trip volume I need. Then I mission myself to hit or exceed that target. So, volume isn’t the goal, it’s the means to achieve my net profit objectives. There’s a difference.

Net Profit Margin: The Number That Really Matters to Me

The ease with which you can rest on your laurels when only considering volume is problematic. So, I balance that with how much money was left over after all my expenses for the year. In my opinion, if there’s a number I need to pay attention to, this is the one.  Right or wrong (I mean that in the technical sense), here’s what I include in my annual expenses:

• Depreciation – I’m going to have to replace my boat, engine, trailer, and truck at some point – within 5 years of the purchase date on average. To do so, I’ll need to sell what I own now, but I won’t get back what I paid for them. So, I need to save for the estimated difference, adjusted for inflation. Call it what you want, but to me, that’s an expense.
• Operating Costs – Think of everything needed to execute charter trips: gasoline, tackle, maintenance, licenses, insurance, etc. There isn’t much flexibility here, though there’s some. Most of these costs are proportional to trip volume (I burn more gas and tackle the more trips I do). Some aren’t.  For example, going back to my principle of employing high-quality equipment – the definition of “high-quality” is subjective. Do I really need to upgrade my rods and reels? Well, yes.
• Investments – This expense is non-negotiable in my mind. A certain percentage of my revenue must go toward saving for a “glide path” retirement. I’ll guide until I physically can’t anymore, but I don’t want to guide at the same volume I am now deep into my 50s. I’ll guide a lot then, but as you know, I have a huge bucket list of places I want to fish. Every year I check a handful off that list (and add one or two). To pick up the pace, I’ll need more vacation days and a way to pay for those vacations. Enter investments.

Looking back at 2025, it was a banner year for me – the best yet – when considering net profit margin.  I was able to accomplish this because I sacrificed a couple summer vacation windows and executed more trips instead. In other words, I earned more and spent less than in previous years, mainly due to a lack of vacation time.

The Tradeoff: Was It Worth It?  A Quick Aside

Here’s the honest truth: heading into 2025, I blocked zero summer vacation time. My wife had just started managing at a local restaurant, and her schedule wasn’t going to allow for getaways anyway. So, I made a calculated decision – capitalize on the demand and sock away money while I could.

Was it greed? Maybe a little. But it was also the reality of outdoor work. As a charter captain, you fish while the weather permits because you never know when Mother Nature will force you to ground. It’s the same instinct an apex predator has – take advantage of favorable conditions because lean times are always just around the corner. You can’t control the weather, the water conditions, or seasonal patterns. What you can control is whether you’re ready to work when the opportunity presents itself.

That said, I have some regret. I should have taken my daughter on a trip or two, even if my wife couldn’t join us. Those windows don’t stay open forever, and no amount of money in a high-yield savings account replaces that time.

So yes, 2025 was my best financial year. But it came with a cost, and whether that tradeoff was worth it depends entirely on context. In my case, the circumstances made it make sense – but that doesn’t mean I’d make the same choice in 2026 if those circumstances change.

A Quick Shoutout to my Clients/Friends

I have to give a shout out to all the folks who fished with me last year.  If it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t be writing this blog at all.  Many of you fished with me in dicey conditions – deciding to go for it when most would’ve stayed inside.  Others fished with me numerous times.  Still others had such a good time they booked another day and/or referred new clients to me.  Thank you!

I want to give a special shout out to the clients that spent the most amount of time on the water with me in 2025.  If you’ve been reading my blogs for a while now, you know who these folks are.  Thank you very much to the Jarosz Clan (the Whisperer, the Silent Assassin, and Captain America); Ryan and Jack Ferraro; Greg and Tanner Wilson; and Tim Corney (and the boys, of course).  You guys were awesome – never a dull moment.  Looking forward to many more trips to come.

2025 “Behind the Curtain” Conclusion

So that’s the behind-the-scenes look at how I think about this business – the principles I operate by, the numbers I track (and the ones I don’t), and the tradeoffs that made 2025 my best financial year yet. It was a year of hard work, tough decisions, and gratitude for the clients who made it all possible. But running the business is only half the story. The other half is what actually happened on the water – and 2025 had some clear trends worth discussing. Let’s transition to how the Buffalo Niagara fishery performed.

2025 Fishery Review

Over the course of 2025, I spent hundreds of hours on Lake Erie, the Upper Niagara, the Lower Niagara, and Lake Ontario. Every body of water tells a story, and this year had some clear winners and losers. I’m not going to get super specific with locations or tactics, but I want to give you my take on how each fishery performed compared to previous years and what patterns stood out.

Lake Erie

Remember that walleye bite? It was insane – the best anyone’s ever experienced around here. Sure, walleye fishing on Lake Erie has been incredible for a long time now. However, thanks to numerous and well-timed thermocline flips, Lake Erie gold ended up stacked in shallow water from Buffalo to Barcelona (and beyond) all summer long. I boated hundreds upon hundreds of ‘eyes last year and never got bored. Was it hard work? Sure, but having the confidence that every outing would be a slay-fest took a lot of the mental stress out of it.

It was great having an incredible walleye bite all season. I wish I could say the same about the smallmouth bass bite. In the spring, more days than not, bassing on Lake Erie just didn’t put up the numbers. Don’t get me wrong – I had a handful of incredible days out there this past spring, but just a handful. The fall bite was particularly bad. I usually hammer smallies starting late September. That didn’t happen in 2025. It was so bad I pivoted and went back to walleye fishing. However, once the water temps dropped into the low 40s around early November, it got really good out there and I managed to pull off some awesome days when the weather allowed me to get out. Bottom line: I’m a little concerned about our Lake Erie bass population, but I have to see what ’26 brings before getting too worried.

2025 was the first (and it won’t be the last) year I targeted lake trout on Erie. I owe much gratitude to my friend and colleague Hans Mann who introduced this program to me. It was the most fun I’ve had since my early years of guiding – mainly because it was new and the fish were GIANT. This program will become a September-October staple for me for years to come.

The Upper Niagara

I only fish the Upper Niagara in the spring and fall, and when I do, I almost exclusively target smallmouth bass. Spring of 2025 was good…just good. The numbers of smallies around were high – on one outing, I boated 98 (a personal best) – and you know me, I neither spot-lock nor “soak” zones. So, we pulled that off covering a ton of water (we could’ve broken 100 more than once had I spot locked places).  I also had numerous days where we boated over 50. So yeah, numbers were good.

As action-packed as it was, there were a couple of zones that hold fish every year in the spring that just plain didn’t in 2025. Or fish would only be there one day and move on. That had me concerned. However, it forced me to explore a couple of new zones – some of which were highly productive. Size was lackluster too – we picked up a decent number of 5s, but no 6s that I can recall.

I didn’t fish the Upper much in the fall. When I did, it was hit or miss. I had a couple of amazing days but also had to grind it out plenty of times. I’ll say this though – it was better than it was in 2024.

The Lower Niagara

The spring bite on the Lower was poor for all trout – mainly because ice flows limited accessibility. Weirdly, the bar never ended up fishing well in the spring either, which hurt. There was an OK bass bite here and there that ended up getting REALLY good close to the spawn. Overall, it was a tough spring down there.

After the water warmed up and all the algae flushed out of the system, the summer walleye bite ended up being awesome on the Lower and the Lake Ontario Bar…until it turned sour around August. Also, all summer long, there wasn’t much of a bass bite down there. Overall, the Lower had its moments for most of the summer but was a grind in general compared to recent years.

Fall chaos unfolded in typical fashion on the Lower in ’25. Salmon numbers were…well…good for current times, but still grindy. The bass bite got pretty good toward the end of October and early November but was still subpar compared to previous years. Walleye numbers and size were awesome – I boated at least a dozen fish over 10 pounds down there. The trout bite was good, but boat traffic was particularly insane. Steelhead numbers were better than I’ve seen in a couple of years. The bar fished really well when the weather allowed us to get out there. It’s tough to provide a complete assessment though – the season was cut short due to shit weather starting the night before Thanksgiving.

Lake Ontario

I didn’t spend much time out there this past year. In the spring – late April and early May – we had a stretch of banner days for king salmon and trout. However, big north and east winds messed that up quickly, leaving only cohos in their wake for close to a month.  So, it’s tough to provide a good assessment of what I saw out there due to limited contact.

Overall, 2025 was a year of contrasts

Lake Erie’s walleye bite was historic, and the lake trout program was a revelation that reignited my love for something new. But the smallmouth bass fishing left me scratching my head across multiple fisheries. The Upper Niagara delivered solid spring numbers but lacked the size and consistency of years past. The Lower Niagara had stretches of brilliance – especially that summer walleye bite and fall chaos – but required more work than recent seasons. Lake Ontario? I didn’t spend enough time out there to say much. If I had to pick a theme for the year, the classic “adapt or die” slogan comes to mind. What I did in previous years didn’t always work, and success came by being ready and willing to adjust as required.  Nothing revelatory – but something to  keep in mind for years to come.

Wrapping Up 2025

So, there it is – 2025 from both sides of the equation. A banner year financially, but one that required sacrifices. A fishery that delivered historic walleye action but left me questioning the bass population. It was a year of adaptation, hard work, and honest reflection about what success really means. As I head into 2026, I’m thinking carefully about how to balance the business goals with the bucket list, the grind with the adventure, and the need to capitalize on opportunity with the reality that time with my family won’t wait. Stay tuned for the rest of 2026  – I’ve got some plans brewing, starting with Guyana in a few weeks. Until then, tight lines and here’s hoping Mother Nature gives us a break soon.