Amazing Dry Fly Fishing on the East Coast | Just Two Hours Outside of New York City

Delaware County could not be more different from the crowds and bustle of the big city. The scenic drive up Route 17 alongside the Beaver Kill and East Branch of the Delaware to Hancock was worth the trip itself, and my excitement only grew as I began to pass an increasing number of vehicles hauling drift boats and fly rods.

The Birthplace of American Dry Fly Fishing

At the time of my first visit, I was working in a fly shop in New York City (yes, they exist) and had met several guides and lifetime fly anglers who fished the Delaware River Watershed almost exclusively year-round and who, to a man, recommended this region as one of the top 10 places to dry fly fish before you die. Raised by a dry fly purist of a Dad, I felt something of a moral obligation to grab my gear and make my way to the West Branch to see what all the fuss was about.

My Eyes Were Opened

What I didn't understand in my inaugural visit to this watershed is how enormous and special the region is for the tri-state area. I wasn't aware of how linked to the history of fly fishing in America these waters were. 

Encompassing over 12,000 square miles, the Delaware River Watershed is comprised of both the East and West branches of the Delaware River, the Neversink River, the Mongaup River, scores of smaller rivers, streams, and creeks, and nearly 200 freshwater lakes, ponds, and reservoirs.

Where "Matching the Hatch" Began

Theodore Gordon, also known as “the Father of American Dry Fly Fishing,” first tied hatch-specific flies to match the insects hatching in the Neversink and Beaverkill rivers in the 1860s. Inspired by dry fly-only beats in the UK, Theodore pioneered patterns, such as the Quill Gordon, that are still considered staples in the fly fishing world. If you’d like to learn more about the eccentric fish addict Theodore Gordon (and I suggest that you do), you should check out his notes and letters, conveniently compiled in this book by John McDonald.

Fly Fishing Skills Put to the Test

Hyped up on the scenery, the history, and enough caffeine to worry my cardiologist, I decided to hit the water and start catching fish. Or so I thought.

My first time fishing the West Branch required every ounce of my skills not to get skunked. Arriving in the early afternoon, I spent the next five hours casting with only a single juvenile bluegill to show for my efforts. Something was off. Realizing that I was overmatched, I reached out to a friend and West Branch fishing guide, Brian Sheppard, to help me better understand what I was doing wrong.

Fly Fishing Guide Brian Sheppard

Owner and operator of City Fly in New York City, Brian fishes the West Branch nearly every day from early April through peak season in mid-June. Immensely helpful as a guide, Brian enlightened me on the challenge that I was up against.

“I call this the Olympics of fly fishing. It’s truly an expert’s game. We have so many bug species, and we have true native, wild fish that are wary. When you come here as a beginner, it’s really daunting." said Brian Sheppard. "I think one of the interesting things about it is, of course, the history. We’re so close to the Neversink River, which is really where American-style dry fly fishing and ‘matching the hatch’ came from. That’s where Theodore Gordon designed the first traditional style dry fly. It’s hallowed ground so to speak.”

It was only after Brian explained it that it hit me: The trout in the West Branch are true natives. That means that, for generations, these fish have thrived solely on their ability to eat without getting eaten. They can spot a suspect fly (and a crappy cast) a mile off and would sooner go hungry before rolling the dice on a meal that didn’t appear 100% kosher.

Upping My Fly Fishing Game

Based on my experience, the fish also seemed to take their reputation seriously. My first day on the West Branch was humbling, to say the least, and I was determined to produce a better result on my second day. So, armed with the experience of a seasoned guide and the gnawing need to show the river what I was made of, Brian and I set out the following morning.

Fly selection and water reading are key skills to a successful day on any water, but even the perfect fly can be foiled by a sloppy presentation or a sub-par drift — a lesson quickly learned on the West Branch. I found myself having to learn specific fly fishing techniques for this watershed from Brian. 

Smart Fish Require Smart Technique

“We’re a downstream approach, and that’s something most people aren’t accustomed to. These fish are so wary that we’re using long leaders, as light as we can, and we’re approaching them with a fly-first mentality. I’m always presenting my fly at 45 degrees, or steeper, because if these fish see your leader you will not get a bite. It’s not going to happen.” - Brian Sheppard

Master the "Reach Mend"

Brian also taught me the importance of having a solid reach mend to combat drag. Reach mending is a technique used to compensate for current speed during your cast rather than after your fly hits the water. Phil Monahan has a fantastic write-up on the reach mend on the Orvis fly-fishing blog.

Fly fishing success comes with persistence -

“Let’s hit it one more time, and really mend hard before you lay the line down,” Brian said as he rowed back up the shallow bank for the third time. We had spent the better part of the morning stealthily drifting down the West Branch and were rapidly approaching the high-noon lull without seeing a single trout. The large pool that I had been casting into for the past fifteen minutes looked perfect: dark water fed by a back eddy that curved ever so slightly into an undercut bank on the opposite side of the river. We both knew there were fish holding here. Fish that were, most likely, laughing at my attempts.

- and skill.

I cast again, feeling somewhat defeated, but nevertheless focusing on my reach mend technique as Brian instructed, and boom — fish on. I couldn’t believe it. The cast felt no different than the last thousand, but somehow, it worked. I was so shocked that Brian actually had to remind me to start reeling.

To this day, I still think of hooking that fish as some sort of divine intervention, but Brian repeatedly reminds me, "There are no free handouts on the West Branch." Whether it was luck or skill, I'll take it. It was my first and only trout that day.

Is the payoff worth the pain?

There are few scenarios where getting your butt kicked could be considered a good thing, and perhaps fewer instances where I would consider catching a single fish a successful day on the water. But the West Branch of the Delaware is the exception. Every fish caught or missed is a direct result of the determination and skill of the angler.

One Day of Pure Fly Fishing With Dry Flies

There’s something about the West Branch that, to this day, sticks in my mind. Whether it’s the thrill of catching a truly wild fish or the legacy of the region itself, the West Branch has been the mark that I have measured all of my trout fishing against since. Don’t get me wrong, I’ll take a solid day of nymphing or hooking up on a streamer any day of the week, but I think that what I enjoyed most about the West Branch was the challenge itself: pure dry fly fishing the way it was meant to be.

Putting It All in Perspective

“This river, because of the history, because of the pure technical challenge, requires only the best anglers. To cast a dry fly isn’t for everybody. And it demands so much, and you come here and you struggle and you struggle… and it will make you one of the best fly fishermen in the country. If you can come here and catch a fish on a dry fly, you can catch a fish anywhere in the world.” - Brian Sheppard