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Delaware River Watch Video

We arrived in Delaware County and after a brief swing into the fly shop we were knee deep in the world famous Delaware River. This river is the birthplace of American fly fishing and it is also a place that will humble even the finest of fly fishermen. The hatches were epic. At many points there were so many bugs hatching, it looked as though it were snowing. And the wild trout were rising everywhere. So, there I was in fly fishing paradise. Plenty of bugs, plenty of trout but I could not seem to trick a single one of them. I was throwing everything in my box and I swear I heard a few of those trout laughing at me. Then Nate said to me, “Hey Jer, tie on a March Brown emerger.” I saw one huge brown that rising to a rhythm. I waited for the perfect moment and then threw out a ton of line. I was running a 15 foot leader tapered down to 5x. The fly landed 7 feet or so above the fish and began to drift. The trout gobbled up my fly and I set the hook as though I were fly fishing for steelhead. Snap. Yup, I broke my tippet on the hook-set. I was getting really frustrated. I had a few more takes, or maybe they were just refusals, on the March Brown emerger and then the Trout wanted nothing to do with that pattern. So, I was back to

unleashing everything in my Box. Caddis, Nope. BWO, Nope. Hendrikson, Nope, Hendrikson emerger, Nope. I was really losing it. The sun was now very low in the sky and darkness was upon us. The only comfort I had was in knowing that Kranefly and Waterwhippa were having no better success. It was ridiculous. At this point the trout had moved in and were basically feeding off my shoe. Taunting me. Big wild Brown Trout seemingly eating everything by my fly. I sat there scratching my head and then I heard the sound of fly line being peeled off the water and the famous words, “there he is.” Kranefly’s reel was singing. He had tricked one of those trout and somehow even I felt a sense of satisfaction. Whippa and I both reeled up our lines and watched with envy as Kranefly landed his fish. We realized that Kranefly did what seemed impossible and I felt obligated to ask the obvious. “So, what did he take?” Kranefly responded, “Rusty Spinner.” So, the night had come to and end and the Delaware River proved to be as technical and frustrating as I had expected. I did catch some trout on the Beaverkill River. A beautiful river in its own right and beautiful fish, but they were not Delaware River Trout. So, I sit here in Maine thinking of all the shoulda, coulda and woulda’s. I will return to the Delaware River soon and I will be a little wiser, more humbled and prepared to match the hatch.