It was the flood that saved our day, and LaSorte knew it was going to work that way. The fishing got better and better as the water rose, the clarity slowly started getting worse, and debris started floating by. Basically, the fish couldn't see as well, and with leaves and sticks in the water, they had a very short window to analyze the bugs as they drifted over. It quickly became a slay-fest. We had shot after shot at rising fish, with a few double hook-ups and many fish brought to the boat. The cherry on top was a little present from the river gods: a fly box full of untouched bugs literally drifted downriver into our boat. I looked down, picked it up, plucked a mayfly out of what must have been $300 worth of flies, tied it on, and caught a fish. I tried giving the box to the guy at the West Branch Angler, but he told me nobody was ever going to claim it, and that I should keep it as a gift from the Delaware River. It was a beautiful end to a very strange day that started out looking about as dire as it gets for trout fishing.