Momma Said There'd Be Days Like This.

 

It's six-thirty and I'm off the river and typing the report. There were bugs from when I started at 1:15 until just before I quit at 6:00. What kind? The usual suspects which haven't changed much in the past few weeks, olives of all sizes, isos, Hebes, the odd Cahill, and some fall brown caddis flying their way upstream. 

Started out on the lower WB and was immediately confronted by a drift boat back rowing up the river that would have run into me if the sport hadn't told the guide I was there. Wasn't his fault as he had apparently drifted down in the time it took me to park and get down to the river. They had seen some fish and the guide was trying to give his sport another shot at them. He rowed across the river and fished down the other side. A few minutes later two younger guys walked down the shore behind me without saying a word and started fishing just below where I was. It was my intention to fish a couple hundred yards below them, so I walked down past them. While doing so, I was informed, that, among other things, I was what was wrong with the place, they were locals, and they knew what car I was driving, (profanity deleted). Was surprised that they didn't accuse me of eating their cat. For the record, I've probably had the fishing camp and been fishing the river since before they were born. I must admit I enjoyed landing seven fish while neither of them even bent a rod. 

Went from the WB to two places on the EB. There were quite a few bugs and some rising fish. The first stop resulted in me hooking and landing three good sized fallfish. The second stop required me to make a short walk through the knot weed. When I emerged riverside there was a drift boat anchored not a hundred feet out in front of me with another boat rowing downstream towards us. Stood there for about ten minutes while the guide walked the boat from fish to fish, (there were four or five fish feeding and they looked to be good ones). Finally was able to wade out below them, cross over and walk upstream. The fish that were feeding had obviously been fished to. Got two ignores, three refusals and one fish, (perhaps feeling sorry for me), ate my fly. By six, it was over, hence the early return. The fish I caught were, all but one 11 incher, two and three year old's. 

The drift boats come under the category entitled "Shit Happens", and are just part of life on the Delaware. Unfortunately, the two self proclaimed "locals" were discourteous, offensive and rude. It spoiled my day.

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