For nearly 20 years, my father and I have traveled to North Central PA for a fishing trip.  This year, our plans were postponed.  It’s a special place to us, and missing out on that late May trip was weighing a bit on me.  The air is so crisp, the mountains are distinct, and in many places, the trout are native.  The region as a whole, remains a very wild place, despite the encroachment of industry.

In a “normal” water year, things would be cranking along on the main stem of the Delaware, also known as “the big river”.  It’s definitely not as predictable, as its West Branch, a fantastic tailwater, but it’s usually dependable for some bugs and fish faces.  Not as much this year.

 The flows haven’t been below 3000 cubic feet per second since July 2018.  Wade opportunities have been difficult and limited.  In a typical year, we go through the usual progression of bugs starting in mid-April.   

A couple years ago, my friend and I took a pretty cool extended fly fishing road trip.  I bought a 1974 Ford Highboy, a 4 wheel camper top of similar vintage, and we spent the better part of July, trout routing our way home to the East Coast at 60 mph.  That journey started in the Shasta Region of Northern California, where we picked up the rig.  After royally upending the timeline of our host for this first leg, we spent the evening sipping whiskey in failing light, as wild rainbows happily fed on the surface.  We missed fishing this river, and I’ve always wanted to get back.