Steven Taggart 8/30/26 Steven Taggart 8/30/26

"The River” - A Little Story about My Journey with The Film

The River

A Little Story about My Journey with The Film

By: Steve Taggart

August 26, 2026

(This has been edited for the mobile view. If you are on a desktop, it might not all line up perfectly. Apologies…I am new to this blog writing.)

WOW!! Here at last.

What a journey it has been.

This little write up, with some pictures I have taken along the way, is just my experience with the film. I’m sure each of the main characters (there are four - Dan Plummer, Sherri Resti Thomas, “Shell” Dufton, and Moi), the main film crew ( Andrew Ackerman and Jonathan Hiller), and everyone else involved, has their own story.

So...here’s my story.

Without further ado...

I’m Just filling space to get to the next paragraph.

Sorry, I started this at 3am, being silly.

It all started on Friday, April 27th, 2018, at FUDR’s One Bug banquet. In the parking lot of the Old Bat Factory.

It was a cold April day. I had clients and thought I would be late to the dinner. But, the river was high, and the fish hunkered down, so I made it to the festivities just in time to see Dan at work!

Walking up to the building, I saw Dan being followed by a man with a camera, Andrew. Dan was in character, wielding a knife as I approached. I didn’t know what was going on, so I added to the theater some inappropriate banter about Dan’s attire. Then he informed me he was making a film while Andrew laughed In amusement, or horror, at our interaction.

There was a lot going on at that year’s banquet, and I didn’t hear more of the film till that June’s kids camp.

That year’s camp was running light on kids.

I was fortunate that Dan reached out to me about the openings.

I enrolled my daughter, Aly, and my two nephews, Michael, and Ethan.

I helped teach at the camp that year, and every camp since. On Tuesday, entomology and casting day, Dan informed me he had some guys coming to film. I met Andrew once again and met Jonathan for the first time. I don’t have any photos of the guys filming, but they captured some cool footage of our late dog, Curly Shirley. It made the final cut.

Dan invited me over to his cabin on the river the next day to fish.

This after shot is all I have of the day. Jon on guitar.

When I got there, Dan was being interviewed on his porch facing the river.

When they finished, they asked if they could mic me up for the fishing session. This was a surprise to me. I had no clue. What came of that filming, is sure to make some people laugh at my expense.

After filming on the river by Dan’s, they asked me if they could come to our camp, Busy Beaver Lodge, to interview me.

If I remember correctly, they said they wanted to interview me because, they thought I was “interesting.”

They interviewed me on August 27th, 2018. It was about 90 minutes. As we were wrapping up, they asked me if I had anything to add, as this was, “The last time I might be on film.

Well, on October 10th, they were back at BBL for a second interview.

It was about another 60-90 minutes.

These interviews were like a therapy session. I talked about everything in my life from childhood, all the way up to that present moment. It was slightly intimidating to be on camera, but Andrew and Jon made me feel at ease. They are kind souls. Genuine.

The interviews really got me reflecting on my life. I started writing soon after.

I started on a memoir, which I hoped to have finished by now, not even close, and I have written 56 published stories for the Hancock Herald, and the Catskiller.

In February of ’19, my wife and I planned a date night at the lodge. The one and only time we tried to have a night at camp alone with no kids or guests. Michelle had it all set up for us to leave on Thursday the 21st, right after the Dylan’s bus left. Then the ice storm happened with a two hour delay.

There was also another wrench thrown in. Andrew flew back from Colorado for some winter shooting, and they requested my presence on that evening for a few hours.

Michelle had a nice dinner planned. Well...after filming at Dan’s cabin, I was very late. She ate dinner by herself and drank most of the wine. I was probably slightly overserved from Dan also.

The next morning we were all a little slow. I chipped one of the boats out of the ice for an impromptu float.

The float came about from the fireside chat we had. We floated from Stockport to Buckingham. I handed Dan a rod with a tiny woolly bugger. We didn’t even check knots. He lost two fish and landed one in the three hour float.

It was a cool scene in the film, but it did not make the final cut.

I think me and Dan air casting in his cabin did make it.

We had a greasy lunch at the Circle E Diner, and Michelle and I made it home just in time for the kids.

It was her dream-date-getaway.

Fox’s Bowling Center is now in two films. It was recently in the blockbuster Marty Supreme.

Andrew and John came back in July 2019, for a big week of shooting. They brought another crew member, I forgot her name. I should have kept a journal.

I never thought of keeping photos and notes together. I was just living moment to moment. Between my job at the fire department, guiding, the FUDR kids camp, family, and random shoots...it was a pretty intense period of time...but exciting.

I hoped that I could piece this whole thing together by going through my photos, but I didn’t always take pictures, and the Cloud, or my back-up practices let me down on some I did take. I lost a whole week from a wet phone that got fried. More on that in a bit.

So, if my memory serves me correctly, that week we shot the fireworks scene at Sherri’s house, fireworks at the East Branch Fire Department field, bowling at Fox’s, our group float, and about an hour of shooting at our house before the float.

Some cool scenes came from that week of filming. It was a nice bonding week for all involved.

Some photos from the group “characters”, and families float. 7-7-19

We floated from Long Eddy to Soaring Eagle Campground on the Main Stem of the Delaware River.

Curly was getting older and needed help getting back in the boat.
Dylan was having his snack before hamming it up for the camera. His big swimming scene.

The Viaduct above Basket Creek. One of our favorite stops on our family floats.

Andrew looks like a natural at the oars.

Aly looking happy with the film crew in the background

Aly took a nice picture of Michelle, with me on the oars, and the gang upriver.

At the start of that week in July, Jon asked me to think of a special place along the river where we could do another interview.

I knew Jon liked to hike, so I picked a place that has the most beautiful view of the river. A view of a place that is very special to me. I have floated through that pool, and walked through its waters, more than 500 times. Lots of memories.

We hiked up there on July 8th, 2019. We looked for rattlesnakes along the way, but no luck.

There were some camp counselors relaxing when we got up there. After we set up, they moved to the adjacent ledges.

I think we shot a powerful scene.

We hiked out with headlamps.

On March 7th, 2020, John and Andrew were back East from Colorado again for more filming.

We lost Curly the fall before and added Nova to the family. The boys had some fun with her.

I took her for a walk while they were setting up, and she was tired.

This was the third interview at BBL. It was about 90 minutes and covered a lot of my personal life from childhood onward.

As I stated earlier, these interviews were pretty reflective, almost therapy like.

This one way very much so. I spent a lot of time thinking on my training rides about what I wanted to say.

They asked great questions and were easy to talk too.

I do remember getting pretty deep in this one. A lot of emotion went into this film. From me, and all of the main characters.

Fireplace scene. out of the 90 minutes, there is maybe a 10 sec clip in film. There was a longer one in first cut. I will have access to my cut scenes, and raw footage, at some point.

All of this reflection got me started on a memoir.

Maybe I can finish it by 2028.

The day after this, I was at the firehouse still coming down from the interview, they were on their way to Washington D.C with Dan, Sherri, and FUDR staff as the country was shutting down due to COVID.

I believe Capitol Hill was nearly a ghost town when they were there

On June 25th, 2020, Andrew and I floated from Long Eddy to Callicoon.

Andrew filmed some wildlife along the way. We talked about the ’04 flood and my experience in Hankins in the aftermath. The loss of my boat, camper, and a lot of gear and belongings.

He wanted to stop and do a short interview there, but the light was still a bit harsh.

I told him that Pine Flats usually has nice evening light.

Some clouds rolled in and the gray light was beautiful.

I took a seat on a rock along the riverbank, and Andrew shot the toughest scene for me.

It wasn’t planned. It just turned out that way.

I love the grey muted light. I didn’t know what we were shooting. It was powerful…

Every time I float past there I think of that day. I can feel that moment in the air

One of my favorite shoots was a b-roll float on June 30th,2020. Dan had Andrew in his boat, I floated John. I took some cool shots of the men at work. Right before a thunderstorm, I asked John if he could film me casting, just for my use. He did, and the clip is back in the film after not making the first cut.

After the storm hit, I fried my phone and lost all of those cool photos as mentioned above.

You can see the storm coming in the background

Storm clouds in the background…it was closer than we realized!

After that float, Jon put a little clip of my casting scene to the music of A River Runs Through It for fun. It ended with a nice shot of the thunderstorm, with a lightning flash and thunderclap, that happened minutes after the casting. That whole scene took place just around the upriver bend that is visible in the picture above of John setting up the camera on the ledges. It’s a special place! The shots of me casting and the rain are stills cropped from the clip

Cool shot of the rain that did my phone in.

The last bit of filming that I have a picture of is from August 23rd, 2021.

John and I did some driving around while I talked about my job at the firehouse. I had drove up that morning after getting out of work to attend a meeting at FUDR’s office.

John looking happy as always…and he grew his hair out!

The very last time I think I filmed with the guys, was a scene with Dylan along the Beaverkill. I’m not sure, but it was most likely in August ’22.

In all, I probably spent 6 hours or so under the camera lenses of Andrew or John.

I am thankful that Dan invited me to fish that first day, which he said was part of the plan, it was a special journey. A journey that I didn’t expect. I can’t speak for the other main characters of the film, but I bet they didn’t expect it either.

A lot has also happened in my life since Dan started this project, and a lot has happened in his. In the last 8 years I’m sure a lot has taken place in all of our lives.

A year and half ago I suffered a TBI at the firehouse. It has changed my life quite a bit. I am doing well but still recovering. Looking back on this journey makes me smile.

Afternoon drinks after some nice morning exercise. A few hours before film premier.

This March 24th, Dan, Sherri, and I were in Durango Colorado to see the film on the big screen for the first time. It wasn’t a full size theater screen, but perfect for the venue we were in, The Durango Arts Center. Andrew and his wife live there and are involved with the Center. We had a great crowd of around 75 people.

It was a quick trip. We landed 4:30 the afternoon before, had a nice dinner and visited the hot springs. The next morning I rented a gravel bike and rode up into the San Juan Mountains. I met a lady on the trail, she came to the movie! The gang went for a nice walk along the Animus River while I rode

After the ride, we met up for great Mexican food and Margarites.

A nice picture of Andrew, me, Dan, and Sherri right before the screening. It was 80 plus degrees and sunny in March. We all were a bit tan.

Then...it was movie time!

The crowed laughed, cried, laughed, cried and laughed some more, and at the end…stood up and clapped.

We had a 20 minute Q&A afterwards, and there was so many questions, Andrew had to cut them off.

I think it is fair to say, it was quite emotional for all of us.

Well, that has been my journey with the film to this point.

On September 3rd, 4th, and 5th, we get to share it with our local communities, peers, friends and families.

I hope it is as well received here as it was out West, but I’m sure it will be.

Hope to see you all at the shows!

Lee Hartman, Dylan, Me, and Dan After the Deposit Premiere

Michelle and Sherri With Great Smiles…Looking Happy!! Post Film

Andrew, Me, and Aly…Aly Saved The Night!

Me, Dan, and Shell Walking Into The Film

Steven Taggart 8/10/26 Steven Taggart 8/10/26

Wet Sleeves and Soggy Hugs

Wet Sleeves and Soggy Hugs

By: Steve Taggart

November 10th, 2023

I am in western New York on a steelhead fishing trip with some good friends. It is my fourth trip out to this region, and I always seem to be on the back foot. It usually starts with a lack of sleep from the firehouse, driving six hours through the night to be on the water at first light, or some other factors…but it’s usually sleep…a lack of it at the core. Maybe you’re supposed to “suffer” a bit when you fish for steelhead.

It is the middle of the night, and my heart is beating along very quickly, and my mind is running with it. I’ve been on Prednisone for a few days for a bad poison-ivy rash and sleep has been scarce. The long travel day, the excitement of a few hours of fishing this afternoon, watching Brian land a beautiful fish, and the scotch used to celebrate probably haven’t helped the cause. So, I let my mind ramble…Why do I love this so much?

Steelhead fishing is a special pursuit. I started seeking fish with a fly rod over thirty years ago, and first stepped into a steelhead river twenty years ago in British Columbia. Dry fly fishing for wild trout will always be at my core, but there is something about steelhead that is magical. Sure, I have a pull to their anadromous cousin, the Atlantic salmon. I’ve read countless books on the subject, tied hundreds of salmon flies, and traveled to Canada a treble of times in search of “The Leaper.” I’ve been lucky to land salmon on each of my trips…and nice ones! But for some reason, If I had to pick one, it would be steelhead.

In the early 2000s I co-owned a fly shop in New Jersey, Tight Lines Fly Fishing. We both had some success Atlantic salmon fishing, and he had done some steelhead fishing in the Great Lakes. We tried to build a shop around the finer points of fly fishing, and salmon and steelhead were near the top of the list. I got pulled into the history, allure, and mystique of these stream-born, ocean-going fish, and their eastern lake-run offspring,too. I became knowledgeable in the vast world of exotic tying materials, classic and modern fly patterns, and became proficient at tying them. It all heightened my interest in pursuing these majestic fish, but there were two things that kicked off my lifelong obsession with steelhead, Trey Combs’ book, who many consider the bible on the subject, Steelhead Fly Fishing, and Joe Saverino.

Like a good deal of my closest fishing friends, I met Joe through Captain Jeff Becker from Long Island. Joe was, and still is, a world traveler. He is the first person I had met that fished pretty much everywhere, at least all of the places I dreamed of fishing. The list of wild salmon and steelhead rivers he has fished would make anyone jealous, and I was lucky enough to join him on a few destination trips in later years. Joe gave slide-show presentations on British Columbia, and places like Scotland at the shop. He would also tie some traditional Spey flies for us, like the Lady Caroline. He also introduced us to Spey casting. On the banks of the Delaware River, in Hankins NY, I cast my first Spey rod. The rest, as they say, was history…I was addicted!

That was the summer of 2002. Soon after that casting lesson our shop was full of different length rods and lines. We were both obsessed! Having my trout guiding base a few feet from a giant West Coast like riffle on the Delaware help fuel my passion, I was casting every spare moment. In those early days it was all traditional long and “short” belly lines, certainly much longer than the Scandi and Skagit lines we would adapt later. Two more things influenced my first steelhead trip, they were Lani Waller’s Trophy Steelhead video, and a gentlemen named Paul Morrisey. My friends and I watched Lani’s video hundreds of times and were mesmerized. Meeting Paul at the Somerset fishing show in New Jersey was the final piece. He told me all about the Bulkley River in northern BC, skating dry flies for steelhead, and gave me a brochure for his friend’s rental cabin on the banks of the river. I would walk to his table as often as I could to hear his tales. He would tow his camper from Connecticut and fish his way across America, then up the coast of BC. He said we would meet us up there the first week of September, and we would skate some flies (fishing only dries was a no compromise condition of river companionship)…the trip was booked.

Fishing British Columbia was a highlight of my life. Out of all of the trips I have taken, and I’ve been lucky to do some traveling, it is my favorite. It was magical, mystical, exhilarating, and certainly stimulating. I got to fish eight full days, and a frantic hour on the ninth morning before heading to the airport. I didn’t land a single steelhead, and it is still my favorite. I did loose two heavy fish that took on the dangle. They both moved slowly into the current and just sat on the bottom before the hook pulled out. The highlight was on the evening of the seventh day when a 6-8 pound steelhead took my skated dry fly and spit the hook after a couple of jumps in the fading light. The last hour of my trip I skated a fly in the run in front of our cabin where my friend Mike landed a beautiful 12 pound hen the day before, on a dry. A fish in hand for me wasn’t to be, and thus started a twenty year obsession pursuing steelhead with a low yield.

There was a gap of a few years after BC where I fished for salmon in Gaspe with Joe before I started chasing the elusive tug of my silver friends in the Great Lakes. Fittingly, my first trip was to the Salmon River with my two-handed mentor, Saverino (I like calling Joe that). I landed my first steelhead on that trip, and Joe was there to tail it for me. I had some good success that year and in the next few. It wasn’t BC, but it was close to home, and the fish, and water were beautiful. I hooked and landed enough fish the first few years that I thought it was quite easy, at least predictable, to hook a fish or two a day. Then the voluntary beat down came for the last ten years. I landed a few fish, maybe a handful of fish, in eighty plus days of fishing. I had many grabs, split-second hookups, and a few short runs before the hooks came out or the leader broke. One fish ripped up the pool before it put the sword to me. Yet somehow, I never got too frustrated…I love the game.

My good friends Brian, Adam, and Ray introduced me and my friend Woody to the “Catt” in western New York. The Cattaragus is a beautiful river that runs through the stunning Zoar Valley, then winds its way through the Seneca Indian Reservation. The slim results had followed me to this river too, same as in BC and the Salmon River. The grabs were there, but fish in hand were tough to come by. One to be exact, in about a dozen days of fishing over three trips on this river. But it was still magical, beautiful, and I approached every trip with the same butterflies in my stomach. On occasion I have fished by myself for steelhead, but it’s fishing with my friends, my brothers and sister Racheal that makes it so special…sharing our successes and “struggles” together. I always say, “Enjoy the process and comradery, the experience is the prize…the fish a special gift.” Then again, a gift once in a while would be nice…

It's now five am and I am still staring at the walls in the living room listening to the whirl of the ceiling fan. The boys will be getting up soon. It’s time to stop going down memory lane as if I have an audience. I’m tired after the sleepless night, but I am excited, and conditions are perfect. After driving through a muddy farm field, Ray and Brian head up stream. Adam and I head down and cross the river in the dark and get our gear ready. When our rods are strung and flies secured, we separate and turn off our head lamps. As I’m standing in the shallows of the cold river I stare up at the fading stars and a smile comes across my face.

As light slowly breaks the dawn a beautiful landscape is revealed. I strip some line off my reel, sweep my rod to a stop, and send my fly dancing in the current. As I work my way through the run, I am in a trance-like state. It could be the sleepless night, or maybe just the anticipation of a pull. Halfway through the pool I feel tap, tap. I’m instantly brought into the present. Without moving my feet or lengthening my line, I repeat the cast. Three casts to the same spot yields no result. On the next cast, just as the fly swings into the sweet spot, I feel a slow pull…then tight…fish on! After a spirited battle, I slide the beautiful buck into the shallows careful to keep his gills wet. As I kneel in the cold river , holding this beautiful creature (picture above), I am filed with joy. Adam runs up to take a picture. Careful to keep the fish wet, I lay my fleeced forearms low in the water. After a few clicks of the camera, I turn my silver friend’s nose up into the current and say goodbye, with a little bow. I turn to Adam with my wet sleeves and give him a soggy hug.

I’m writing this the morning after getting out of the hospital. I’m still coming down from quite possibly the best fishing trip of my life. I’m also trying to process my second hospital stay in six months. During the peak of my guide season, I ignored some obvious signs in my left arm because fishing was great, and there was work to be done. I pushed through two days of guiding, and almost three knowing something was wrong, very wrong. I spent five days total in the hospital for a staph infection and had surgery, It could’ve been much worse. Ironically, those two days guiding where among the best I’ve ever had, and during this incredible fishing trip, I was ignoring some of the same signs.

This trip turned out to be magical, almost too good to be real. The fish I landed with Adam was my first. Over three and a half days we all hooked and landed many fish, many beautiful fish. We all enjoyed the experience together…it was all about the hang, the fish a bonus, a welcomed one. It tightened our brotherly bond even more. My right arm started to hurt me on Thursday afternoon, and we thought it was a spider bite. We talked about the staph infection, my hospital stay, and surgery I had in May. My arm started to hurt more and swell each day, and I had a good idea what was going on…another staph infection. I started taking antibiotics on Friday night. After fishing on Saturday, I was sure I had one. Instead of fishing Sunday morning, I knew it was time to drive the six hours to the ER near home because I would be staying a few days, and I wanted to be near my family. I drove straight to the hospital with my fishing gear in my truck. It wound up being a four day stay with minor surgery on the last day this time, instead of the first. I type this with a very sore arm, and a bloody bandage. More irony… It was the poison ivy, the reason why I was taking the prednisone that kept me up all night, that was the root cause of the staph infection.

The fairy tale ending would’ve been landing one more steelhead on Sunday, cutting off my fly, and sitting on a log while saying goodbye and thank you to the river and my beautiful friends. But the river owed me nothing, the fish were too generous, and I had ignored the obvious long enough. As I’m sitting here reflecting on my last trip, with a hole in my arm and veins full of antibiotics, what I’m most thankful for were —my wet sleeves and soggy hugs …. Thank You Boys!