In our family, there was no clear line between religion and fly fishing. We lived at the junction of great trout rivers in western Montana, and our father was a Presbyterian minister and a fly fisherman who tied his own flies and taught others. He told us about Christ’s disciples being fishermen, and we were left to assume, as my brother and I did, that all first-class fishermen on the Sea of Galilee were fly fishermen and that John, the favorite, was a dry-fly fisherman.
Norman Maclean
Every once in a while, fly fishing connects with the universe in strange but meaningful ways. For me, the term “universe” is another way of referring to my faith. I am Catholic and as such, believe in heaven. Certainly not all fly fishermen have the same view, but I think, religious or not, we all tend to believe in some form of the hereafter. Such was what I read from comments on Facebook when I was shocked to learn that Ithaca-based fly fisher, Michael Lenetsky, had passed unexpectedly on September 19.
Josh said it best – Michael collected people, and it was overwhelming to see all the people that he befriended come together. Michael cast a wide, diverse net and it was on display today.
This sucks. I’m finding we are all like the Mayflies, here but for a brief, fleeting moment. Tight lines, brother. See you on the water my friend.
Unforgettable. Until we meet again my friend, but for now he’s gone fishing.
I knew Michael as an excellent angler with a great sense of humor. I didn’t know him well enough to call him a friend, but he was certainly a good acquaintance. If I lived in the Ithaca area, I’m sure I’d bump into him enough on the local waters to develop a deep friendship. I’d listened to a few of his informative presentations on fly fishing the Cayuga Lake tribs and had lunch with him once when I worked in Ithaca.
I was down in Vestal for a charity event with family on September 20th, unaware of Mike’s passing and remained in Vestal, “off grid” for the next few days, having decided to get in some early fall fly fishing on my beloved warmwater rivers. Each night before sleep leading up to my trip, I rehearsed the places I’d fish with anticipation that there would be some big smallmouth in the mix. Instead, the fishing was good in a different way, including a 15″ black crappie, a real unicorn in a river, and a very hot and repeatable channel catfish bite.
I fished the Tioughnioga on Sunday, September 21st, in a spot where there were always big carp mudding and channel catfish in a backwater hole, but caught neither, instead getting into a bunch of rat bass and fallfish, a respectable walleye and the aforementioned slab of a crappie.
On Monday, September 22nd, I floated the Susquehanna below the Apalachin access on the hunt for the large smallmouth that can be caught there. I landed a dandy 19″ bass almost immediately and a big channel catfish a while later but then decided to venture further downriver where I knew of some other bassy lairs. After a few hours of nothing, I returned to the first area I had fished that morning and working several deep runs, got into 2 more channel cats and lost a third.
I waded the river on my final morning and returned to the area where the catfish bite had been so good, hoping to prove that the bite was not a fluke. And it wasn’t. As was the case the day before, I fished several deep runs, working a size 2 wooly bugger on the swing, interspersed with staccato strips. The takes were hard, shy of ripping the rod out of my hand. The fight of a channel cat is a wonderful mix of a bulldogging smallmouth, and the powerful drag-pulling runs of a carp. I landed 3 channel cats and lost a fourth, all the while thinking of Michael.
I’d posted pictures of channel catfish in the past and Michael had commented that he wanted to learn how to fish for them. We had discussed this a few times on Facebook messenger but, regrettably, never made it happen. Now, as I fished, I felt a deep need to get in touch with him when I got home if only to let him know he needed to get down to the river as soon as possible to get in on the bite.
Returning home that afternoon, I got on Facebook to message Michael, and there it was in a post by Eric Mastroberti – the news of Michael’s passing. It hit me hard. It left me reeling with questions. I chatted with Eric Mastroberti on messenger about it, mentioning how strong my desire was to reach out to Michael after such good luck with the channel cats. Later, I’d find a Facebook post by another fellow angler, Kirk Klingensmith:
Sharing photos from the river in honor of my friend Michael Lenetsky, who passed away 9/19/25. I still have not processed his passing – but in retrospect, I am overwhelmed how the last week has connected to Michael, some incredible fish (Was Michael channeling??), and the circle of fly fishing community friends. On the day of Michael’s passing, I was floating the same section of river that Michael & Tony Ingraffea floated a few years back. It was Tony that gave us the news that day when we got off the water.
I’m not sure what Michael thought of heaven or where we go when our time on this good earth ends, but fishing that weekend in a river as old as time, feeling the surge of life on the end of my line, thinking of Michael only to come home and hear he had left us, well, that’s just too much to be nothing but a coincidence.
Rest in peace, Michael.
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