Looking back, I don’t know where this fishing trip actually began. Whether we left from my home or from our camp at Peaceful Valley, I can’t recall. Nevertheless, we were on our way.

I thought we would fish the East Branch of the Delaware. That’s when my friend Willie said to me, “Let’s go try the West Branch and see what’s going on there.” 

At the time, and even to this day, I have not been a big fan of that river. Access is limited; there are too many boats with guides, and the river is sometimes off-color, with a definite hint of algae in the air. 

Anyway, rather than upset Willie, because he was a dear friend, I agreed with his suggestion. And in those days, it wasn’t like we lacked in fishing opportunities. So it would have been selfish and insensitive for me to have said no. When I asked, “Where did you have in mind?,” he said, “I have a spot on the West Branch, where I fished before; it’s called the Mud Hole.” 

“Why is it called that?” I asked.

“I actually don’t know,” he replied, “because the few times I’ve been there, I’ve not noticed any mud. But I have caught some nice trout!”

When we left Route 30 and headed west on 17, I asked Willie where to. He said, “Continue on until you see a small diner in the mall between both the east- and westbound lanes. There’s a turn-off there that heads down toward the river, which crosses the railroad tracks. Once there, we turn right, drive up the old railroad bed to the Mud Hole. Amtrak removed one set of tracks some time in the past, and all that remains is a white gravel railroad bed.” 

I followed Willie’s directions, and soon we were parked on the old railroad bed, not far from the water. When I checked the river in this section, I saw that it flowed around a small island before joining the main channel. I could already see that there were some caddisflies in the air, which was a good sign for our fishing to come. It was right around 1:30 p.m., shortly before Hendricksons would appear, if they did.

Once we had our gear on and climbed down the short bank to the river, I saw that there were some Hendricksons on the water, in addition to the hatching caddis. All this insect activity was very promising. 

Willie and I decided to watch the river for a few minutes before choosing which fly pattern to use and where to fish. While we watched, the Hendrickson hatch increased, and more and more caddisflies landed on the water. Trout began to rise.

I decided to cross at the head of the pool and fish the main channel. Willie chose the tail of the side channel. Once on the main channel, I watched the river for a few minutes to determine the best holding water, where trout would likely be feeding. 

It didn’t take long before I saw the first rises. A few seconds later, I happened to look up into the sky, toward the west. What a spectacle! There were literally thousands of caddisflies in the air. It was like a tan snowstorm. I had never seen anything like it. 

When caddis hatch, unlike mayflies, they are good fliers and immediately leave the water before heading to streamside vegetation. Then at some point, usually around dusk, the insects will return to the river, where they will mate and go through the egg-laying process. That’s the time when caddis provide the best fishing opportunity—because once egg laying is complete, the adults die and fall to the water surface. 

On this day, because the hatch was so big and there was a bit of a breeze, hundreds of caddis were blown onto the river.  What was really interesting was that the trout preferred the caddis to the hatching Hendricksons.

I was using a size 14 tan-caddis imitation. It was one of those rare days when the trout were not fussy. Just cast to a feeding trout and get a rise. I fished a lot of fly hatches during my life on a lot of rivers, east and west, but never saw as many flies, caddis or otherwise, on the water, in one place at one time.

Willie and I hooked and landed more than our fair share of trout on that lovely Catskill afternoon, fishing the Mud Hole. After about two hours, we were satisfied, waded to shore, unstrung our rods, removed our waders and returned to Peaceful Valley for an early dinner and perhaps fish the evening rise. 

Although I keep a diary and checked the notes that I had for the years that Willie and I fished together, I was not able to find a record of that trip to the West Branch and the Mud Hole. Based on what I remember, that trip had to have been sometime in the mid to late 1990s, because Willie passed away after a short illness in November 2020. He was a best friend and the best fishing companion one could ever possibly have. And I’ll always remember our day together, fishing the Mud Hole.