Delaware Detour

A beautiful evening on the Upper Delaware River awaiting the gathering cloud of Green Drakes to settle on the water and draw wild trout to the surface.

This past week I took a diversion down to the Catskills to try my hand at the West, East, and Mainstem of the Delaware River system. I was kindly invited by Greg Cuda and Peter Hetko, with Greg acting as the defacto guide. We will stick primarily with the Mainstem, though I met with some success on the East Branch and also had the pleasure of watching native Lamprey's (which are actually NOT an eel) in the midst of their spawning ritual. It's interesting is the best way to put it!

The West Branch once again failed me, and I think it is time for some counseling. But yes Greg, Tom Miller, and the rest of the fly-fishing world that tell me it is amazing I believe you. So, it's on to the Mainstem for an interesting morning and evening of fishing.

Last Thursday dawned bright, crisp and windy. Very windy. As we made our way to the river, I was a Debbie Downer, predicting gloom and the sort of apocalyptic failure we experienced the evening before on the West Branch. More on this later.

The river itself showed itself to be a beautiful resource. It has been 20 years since I last floated the mainstem in a canoe and at least where we chose to fish it did not seem to have changed all that much. Wild and Scenic designation of the Upper Delaware has certainly offered some true benefits. The parade of sulfur duns that made their way downstream unmolested, along with numerous caddis and the occasional Coffin Fly and Green Drake emerger revealed this to be a truly buggy river. A stew of bugs indeed. I could have left right then and been a happy camper. But then there was a splashy rise way out in the middle of the river. The three of us hatched a plan of sorts as Greg headed downriver, Peter stuck closer to our point of entry, but also downstream, while I stuck close to home and waded upstream to a large rock that created a nice fishy seam. I sat down and waited.

The sulfurs continued to drift by, not so much blanketing the surface, but a persistent and consistent drift. My patience was rewarded when I saw a splashy rise. On went a sulfur emerger and out went my cast. Then another and finally another. Had I put my quarry down? Was this just a one rise wonder? My queries were answered soon enough when the fish rose twice with abandon. The second rise came to what could only have been a Green Drake emerger. My next cast proved this to be a correct guess. The fish took and then the fish ran faster than I used to when I heard there were leftovers in the office kitchen back in my working days. The run ended with a ping and disappointment. That disappointment led to numerous curse words when I realized that I had purchased exactly one Green Drake emerger. I THOUGHT I had picked up two. Oh well.

By this time Peter and Greg were well downstream and the wind continued to blow. I headed down to see what was up when I spied not one, but two robust takes out in the channel. One thing I will say about the stretch of the river we were fishing is that it was a pleasure to wade. Not too deep, a current that was not going to knock me over and rocks cushioned by moss and weeds. In this stretch of river I noticed that there were some March Browns starting to show and was rewarded with another take when I tried a similar emerger pattern as the drake, only smaller in stature.

I was 0 for 2 and happy as could be. There were bugs. Fish took my fly. My Debbie Downer attitude was well downstream. When I caught up with Greg and Peter, they noted my happy demeanor, and I explained that by expecting nothing at the start of the day it could only get better from that point forward. I suggested to Greg, who had filled my head with images of hundreds of rising trout and multiple species of mayflies hatching on the West Branch, that he should learn the fine art of under promising.

While on the East Branch we observed spawning Sea Lamprey. Greg Cuda provided some information that explains how important this native fish (it is not an eel) is to health of the Delaware ecosystem.

Fast forward to the evening and we returned to the same place we had fished in the morning. Surprisingly, there were few anglers parked at the access point though the number of trailers did suggest we would see a few drift boats later that evening. The Delaware is an expansive river, and it is the perfect place for floaters and waders to exist without one getting in the way of the other. It is also a gentle river and as I stood along the riverbank preparing for the evenings campaign, I recalled fondly the day I canoed the river with an old friend many years earlier. The Delaware is indeed a gorgeous river and well worth a float.

That we selected the right location would be an understatement. At the top of the tree line we could make out the forms of large Coffin Flies undulating up and down. In the water the never-ending supply of sulfurs continued to drift downstream, and the ubiquitous caddisflies flew about. The wind that had been our enemy in the morning had completely settled down. The evening chill was entering the valley gradually. A fish rose out in mid channel. Game on.

The next two hours offered all the frustration and joy one can experience in an evening's fishing. Peter was the first to hook up. After a sizzling run, his fish had him in his backing and downstream chase ensued. A fellow angler making his way back upstream did the honors of landing the fish, a solid 15-inch rainbow.

Greg and I both had targets, but the fish tended to rise once then go quiet for many minutes. No wonder. The Coffin Flies are a solid size 8 and it doesn't take much to fill up on these bugs. The steady stream of them, not a blanket fall but a consistent supply, gave the trout the opportunity to feed at their leisure. I finally moved a fish, I think the same one I brought up that morning, only to miss the strike.

In the fading light the rises became more frequent, but I struggled to see the fly (a size 10 2xl Compara-spinner) despite its size. Only after I began to approach my targets carefully, shortened my casts, and positioned myself to better take advantage of the light, could I see the fly and achieved success. In a 20-minute flurry I brought up three fish. The first fish took me for a ride, peeling off line that I have not seen since it was first spooled onto my reel. My old CFO was up to the task, however and after having to follow the fish 50 yards downstream I had my first Delaware rainbow; an 18-inch fish that was as colorful as the sunset.

Fish number 2 was on only briefly. In the process of reeling in to clean up my line after landing the first fish, I managed to get a tangle in my line that I had not noticed. As soon as I saw this, I knew the outcome and sure enough, after one solid run the fish broke me off. The light was fading now, and I thought of calling it a night but then one particular fish began to rise steadily, with far more regularity than any I had seen earlier. The Coffin Flies were still floating downstream, though not with the same abundance as they had just 20 minutes prior. I managed to untangle myself with a minimum of curse words and was ready to go. A simple cast, a short drift and a hard, splashy rise ensued.

This fish was not interested in being landed. After the take it ran hard, jumped twice and I had to follow downstream to keep up. Thankfully, the wading was easy. Even so, I found myself close to 100 yards downstream from where I had initially engaged. And then the fish REALLY decided to turn on the juice and and a final surge ended the battle in defeat for me, the line going slack.

Upstream, Greg was finally into a fish, a solid 18-inch slab of a rainbow trout. This one, however, did not take the Coffin Fly, but a size14 rusty spinner. Greg had figured out that the spinner fall had changed and wisely made the change to a different fly and was rewarded accordingly.

With that we left the river happy and tired. It had been a full day in the Delaware valley. The drive back to Shushan the next morning was a pleasant one, the valley through which we travelled being quite beautiful.

The next day I was back on the Battenkill, fishing a spinner fall with my wife Deanna. We each took a little brook trout and despite the thrills experienced on the Big D, a smile came across my face as we left "our" little stream. I knew then that the Battenkill will always be my home, though I am looking forward to more adventures on other rivers that offer so much.

River Report (Battenkill)

The Battenkill is currently quite low, flowing at 318 cfs, well below the median of 538. The river was crowded with floaters over the weekend, not a surprise given the warm, sunny days. Anglers were far less prevalent. I counted two fisherman from the Spring Hole to the Water Works Bridge access on Friday evening and none on Saturday. There is plenty of room for folks to get out and fish.

Water temps are holding up, though I am a little concerned that today (Tuesday the 4th) and tomorrow may see warmer temps than we would like to see if it gets to the mid 80's as forecast. Keep your thermometers handy. Rain is forecast for Thursday and beyond. Let's hope this comes to fruition.

As far as bugs go; I am seeing dark blue sedge caddis (about a 14), as well as March Brown and Isonychia spinners mixed in with sulphur spinners in a variety of sizes. The evening that Deanna and I fished we had fish taking emerging caddis early. Towards dusk they switched to the March Brown spinner. An honest size 12. A rusty Battenkill Flats worked for me. A Dorato Hare's Ear in a size 16 scored for Deanna.

That's it for now. Enjoy your fishing and keep an eye on conditions to ensure we don't stress our trout needlessly.