 Delaware River Fly Fishing: It Will Creep Into Your Dreams
Posted by kranefly on June 19, 2005
(5079 reads)
With a bit of despair and a touch of depression, things in upstate New York had slowed to a crawl with respect to the hunt for screaming reels and rods bent to the cork. Spring runs of lake run fish have tapered to a halt. Trips to the salt with good friends in search of strippers have come and gone. Outings on local streams have been limited by low water and an unusual late spring heat wave when I get the weekly call from Dave.
“What do you think, bud? Got any place in mind?” he says in his usual low tone, as if he is trying to keep his boss from hearing him discussing non work related issues while on company time.
“I don’t know. Maybe we should hit the Dele’.” I say with limited enthusiasm knowing full well that over the past few years the Delaware River can be an exercise in frustration. While the fish are huge and abundant, they exhibit an uncanny knowledge about most any fly pattern that has been tied to date. Many an hour has been spent casting to rising fish, only to blow one 50 foot cast and watch them slide over to just out of casting range. However, needless to say with big fish on the brain, I was in.
We got on the road early and headed for Hancock, New York. I pull the truck into a spot where I had always seen cars parked, but had never fished. Dave and I hop out into the oppressively hot, muggy air wondering if there would be any bug activity at all. We grab our
gear from the bed of the truck, and fall into our usual routine. First one foot then the next slide into damp, mildewed waders still wet from out last trip. I begin to thread my sneaker laces into my wading shoes. “Man, I gotta get some new laces!” I say.
“You’ve been saying that for the past 8 months. Why don’t you just get yourself another pair?” says Dave.
“For the same reason you’ve been fishing those leaky Hodgies, to lazy to do it.”
Same routine. Anxious fingers fumble with laces. We chat about where we should start, head up or down, which fly we will start with, length of leader, which bugs will be hatching…the whole game plan.
“You got the keys?”
“Yup.”
“Let’s hit it!”
We make our way down through the meadow to the river, and perch at the edge of the riverbank like a pair of bald eagles searching for prey. Cool downdrafts blow through the rolling hills and create and eerie fog which hangs above the water. Dave spots a large trout that has settled into its feeding lane. A two inch snout is quickly followed by broad shoulders, a dorsal fin, and then a tail. The large brown leaves behind a couple of bubbles and a broadening ring as it feeds on emergers just beneath the surface. Dave steps into the water, and I head upstream to pick one of my own.
Just as I step into the water and strip out 50 feet of line to cast, I hear a loud “YEEEEEAHHHHH!!!” I turn to see Dave with rod bent, and an ochre and silver flash of an aerobatic brown as it leaps out of the water. I reel in my line and rush downstream to help net and photograph one of our first trophies of the day.
“Nice job!” I say with hand held up for a high five.
“Thanks. That was on my first cast!”
Needless to say, the trip was well worth it. Anytime you can manage to land a fish from the Delaware, you can pat yourself on the back. It can be some of the most technical water East of the Rockies, as well as some of the most rewarding. Once you pay your dues, and manage to “crack the code” of the Delaware, the river will creep into you dreams at night. I know I will be dreaming of those sacred waters until my next visit.
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Re: Deleware River: It Will Creep Into Your Dreams
by uncledan on June 19, 2005 | | I was on the east deleware river today hook acouple landed one lost one. thay have lots of fight in them |
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Re: Deleware River: It Will Creep Into Your Dreams
by jeremy on June 19, 2005 http://www.fliesandfins.com | kranefly .... nice work with the fly rod and the pen... the first sentence of your article is the quite possibly the best sentence every written on fliesandfins.com.
"With a bit of despair and a touch of depression, things in upstate New York had slowed to a crawl with respect to the hunt for screaming reels and rods bent to the cork." |
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