Back in the summer of 1992, my neighbor Mauro G. and I made our first fly-fishing canoe float down the West Branch of the Delaware from Hale Eddy to the Route 191 bridge at Hancock. In eight miles of river, we didn’t see another boat, and only two wade fishermen.

We are reluctant to make that trip these days. At every bend in the river where, over the years, we had staked out likely spots to fish, there will now be one or more fishermen already in place. And looking downriver, there will be drift-boats ahead and more behind. The word is out that fishing on the Delaware can be great, and the river is becoming more and more crowded.

A weekend ago, with fine weather and the temptation of the Hendrickson fly emergence, there were 30 drift-boat trailers parked at Tower Road at Callicoon. On a recent float with friend and guide Bill Fraser, on a stretch of river where, years back, we had been close to alone, there were five boats ahead of us and four following hard behind. Worse, on a relatively wide stretch of river, a drift boat guided by a Montanan came so close to us I could’ve backhanded a cast into their lunch. The fishing can still be great, but with the days of the “unknown Delaware” behind us, there is now all the more need to follow river etiquette.

Part of the problem stems from the wariness and spookiness of the Delaware’s wild trout. Noises or disturbances from passing boats, a clumsily wading fisherman, or even a fly line in the air above them can put the fish down and ruin the fishing for considerable time. And while the river is big, locales where the trout are likely to hold are limited. Moreover, each fisherman needs a considerable undisturbed space in which to cast and work his fish.

The foundation of fly-fishing etiquette is, of course, common sense: “The Golden Rule”—treat other fishermen as you would be treated. Interpretations vary from one river to another—for instance, combat fishing conditions tend to prevail upon New York’s Salmon River in the fall. Here on the Delaware, where the fish are spookier and there is more space, a more gentlemanly code should apply. For details, I made inquiries with a couple of notable Delaware fishermen.

Dan Plummer of Friends of the Upper Delaware River said, “Obviously don’t get so close to someone that their longest cast can reach your line on your longest cast. This equates to about 150 feet. And it’s always good form to communicate. It’s so nice to exchange hellos, ‘How’s it going, any bugs, catching anything?’ Doesn’t mean you have to become best friends, but why not acknowledge our shared love of the river? Then it’s easy to ask, ‘Mind if I fish above or below you?’ When I’m in a boat and approaching a wade fisherman, or another boat anchored up and there isn’t an obvious way to avoid them, I ask (before I’m on top of them) ‘Which way would you like me to pass?’ Nine out of 10 times you get a pleasant answer; conflict avoided. I think that trying to do everything you can to make sure you don’t disturb your fellow fisher-person is the way to go.”

Joe Demalderis of Cross Current Guide Service who has written thoughtfully and in detail on boat-to-boat issues (tinyurl.com/lxaluj9) suggests: “If a boat ahead is fishing, pass on the opposite side that they’re fishing on, giving as wide a berth as possible. Once passed, never cut in front and start fishing. Go far down river, even to the next pool or riffle before you fish. If you absolutely must fish that water, hold back and fish behind them.”

Hey, if we meet or pass on the river, let’s wave and smile, but from a distance.

[Peter Kolesar is filling in for fishing columnist Andy Boyar, who is on hiatus.]