I just cleaned the ferrules of my fly rod, my Delaware River rod you might say, for when the 8 1/2-foot five weight penta was conceived and ordered it was with the Mainstem in mind. Pittsburgh rodmaker Tim Zietak flamed the cane beautifully and presented me with a smooth casting foil. Each autumn, I take it home, to the wide expanse of the Delaware.
As the second week of September comes to a close, summerlike conditions prevail. There is not much dry fly fishing about other than on the big river. Flows are ideal for wading, and plenty of cold water flows from both branches and their reservoirs.
Still, the Mainstem always presents its challenges. Foot access is limited as it always has been, so anglers cluster around the few available. The riverbanks can get a bit crowded in these areas. Walking up or down river will provide some space and solitude, but that too is limited. There are deep eddies, rock studded heavy water right to the banks, and a general lack of convenient walking encountered, and respect for private landowners generally means staying in the river. Age enters into the picture too for anglers such as myself. Long walks in the riverbed take their toll on legs, hips and backs in particular.
There are memories here: bright evenings as the anticipation builds for the hatch, epic battles with drag burning rainbows, and quiet moments when the sheer beauty of the river touches your soul.
On this afternoon the first pool I visit is deserted. I wade out and see one tiny fish break water, nothing more. Deciding to give things some time to evolve, I wade further and cast first an Isonychia dry, and then a soft hackled fly to resemble the swimming nymph. It swings through the tumbled water around a rock pile, though it’s path is not intercepted by any of the trout I seek.
Straining my eyes downriver I see a lone drift boat and wonder if he has found some action where the river moves into a shaded bend, so I stand and watch for a moment. He moves on, and with that I decide to do the same.
My second stop is not so completely deserted, as a lone angler prospects downriver. I am free to sample the first and second riffles which had drawn a small crowd earlier this week. The anglers there seemed not to be catching much of anything, until one gentleman hooked “the biggest fish of the year”. It was more than he could handle, running hard into his backing and staying there, so I moved to shore and bid him walk through to follow. His friend eventually joined us and netted the fish amid much complaining, a lovely 18″ rainbow wearing the angler’s fly on his flank. Foul hooking had seemed ever more likely as he tried in vain to get the fish close, but I was pulling for him!
Mostly the river has surrendered feisty small trout, to me and others this week. On this bright, comfortable afternoon it was much the same. A few flies were seen, but only the occasional rise typical of small, hungry trout taking advantage of slim pickings to draw a cast. That fellow down river walked out before me and reported the same: two, between eight and ten inches. I nodded, as my single fish resided firmly in their company.
Eight days remain in the summer of 2024, and for now the big rivers are the only destination which will draw my interest. I have urged JA to join me but have yet to hear his reply. Working on this or that no doubt…
Bright Waters Catskill 