Boat launch horrors in horsefly hell

Early this week I plan to get my boat, Open Debate, back on the salt for the season, a prospect that had me reminiscing about the very first time, some 40 years ago, I ever attempted to launch a boat. It did NOT go well.

It was back in the early 1980s when I bought my first powerboat, a seasoned 17-foot Boston Whaler Montauk with classic mahogany trim pushed by a vintage 90 horsepower Johnson outboard. My focus would be to chase Delaware Bay tide runners, huge weakfish that were running strong back in the day, along with occasional flounder forays to the back bays of Ocean City, Maryland, where my paternal grandmother conveniently owned an apartment building.

After purchasing the well

used, tri-hull craft with my limited funds, my wife Patti and I trailered it back to our West Bradford home where it would live as I planned our inaugural watery adventure to test the little vessel’s seaworthiness. After studying a roadmap (remember them?) I estimated that the nearest boat ramp on the northern stretch of the Delaware Bay was in the little town of Woodland Beach in Kent County, Delaware, just north of the Bombay Hook National Wildlife Refuge. It would be a reasonable 60-mile drive from home that we could cover in just under an hour and a half.

Since this would be my first ever attempt at backing a boat down a ramp and launching it from the trailer, I enlisted the services of good friend and teaching colleague Ralph Haney to join us and help guide my efforts backing down the ramp. The next Saturday we hitched up the trailer and pointed my F-100 Ford pick-up south down Route 1 to Smyrna and then east on Route 6 to the quiet little village of Woodland Beach.

The drive took a little longer than planned as I cautiously kept checking the rearview for reassurance that the boat and trailer were still intact. But when we finally pulled into the Woodland Beach boat ramp parking area, something seemed strangely out of place. It was a warm sunny Saturday and there were no other vehicles in the lot. None. Not a soul was stirring anywhere around. Not one. We were about to discover the terrifying reason why.

I positioned the trailer at the head of the ramp as Patti and Ralph jumped out to assist in guiding the rig down the ramp and into the bay waters. I threw the column-mounted stick shift into reverse and awaited their input, watching for hand signals that would tell me if I should bear a little more to the left or cut back more to the right. But then when they both started waving their arms frantically in every direction and slapping themselves, I had no idea what they wanted me to do.

I was a little more than halfway down the ramp when I saw them both race into the water and submerge themselves up to their eyes while still trying to wave directions. That was about the time when I realized what the problem was, namely hordes of hungry, hungry, horseflies while at the same moment I learned what a powerful, painful bite these nasty little critters could inflict as they infiltrated the truck cab and chowed down on my naked arms and face.

This explained why Woodland Beach resembled a ghost town that day, if not a scene from Alfred Hitchcock’s horror movie, “The Birds.” But this relentless attack of “The Flies” was all the incentive I needed to slide my Boston Whaler off that trailer and onto the water in world record time.

Patti and Ralph instantly clambered aboard as I parked the truck and raced to join them. With flies swarming all over us, I turned the key and thankfully the Johnson outboard started up right on cue. I revved the engine and headed out into the bay at warp speed, trying to outrun the fog of horseflies shrouding the boat. The scene was as comical as it was painful, and once we escaped that thick cloak of flies, we had a good laugh at ourselves as we compared the legions of red welts countless fly bites had branded on our exposed flesh.

The dark humor of the moment was soon eclipsed by our collective realization that, oh my God, we’d have to return to the Woodland Beach ramp to extricate the boat from the bay. Meanwhile it seemed there was no respite from those ubiquitous biting buggers anywhere on the bay because it didn’t take long for the gang of horseflies to catch up with us, inspiring me to repeatedly take off at top speed to temporarily escape them.

Since this trip was basically a test drive, we hadn’t packed any fishing gear, not that we could have hung around long enough to drift and fish while being chewed to pieces in this horsefly haven anyway. Unfortunately, we hadn’t packed any insect repellent either. I’m not sure how much time we spent on the water that day, not much over an hour I’d say, as we plotted our strategy for getting out of there without being eaten alive.

Years later we would belatedly learn that Woodland Beach had a reputation as the “green head capital of the world,” green head being a reference to the blood sucking greenhead horse flies that thrive here due to the fly friendly environment provided by the salt marshes that abound here.

So back on the boat, once I determined that the engine, tilt trim, bilge pump, navigation lights, and steering mechanics were all in working order, it was time to bite the bullet and head back to the dock where that relentless swarm of bloodsucking beasties awaited us. All the while a handful of horseflies harassed us as we made our way back to shore knowing the biggest, buggiest, bloodiest battle lied ahead back at the ramp.

The moment I nosed the little Whaler into the dock, clouds of horseflies descended upon us. We hastily tied the boat to the dock and raced to the truck. Moments later I masterfully maneuvered the trailer down the ramp as fast as I was able. I hopped back into the boat as Patti and Ralph untied it and shoved it toward the trailer. I hit the gas, steered the boat onto the trailer, cut the engine, hopped into the water, attached the winch cable to the bow, and cranked with all my might until the Whaler nestled squarely on the trailer. All this seemed to happen in slow motion as the three of us ceaselessly swatted, smacked, slapped, and whacked the assaulting flies.

There was no time to lash the boat down on the trailer if we were to avoid donating even more blood to these ravenous insects. As soon as Patti and Ralph piled back into the pickup, I gunned the engine and flew out of the Woodland Beach parking lot post haste. A few miles down the road on a horsefly-free highway, we pulled over and completed the task of securing the boat to the trailer while breathing collective sighs of relief that our horsefly horrors (other than lingering itching and scratching of multiple welts) was finally behind us.

It had been a memorable maiden voyage, mostly for all the wrong reasons. In the weeks and years that followed, we would fish the Delaware Bay while launching the boat from the Mispillion Inlet at the Cedar Creek Public Boat Ramp some 40 miles south of Woodland Beach. From there we would head out onto the Delaware Bay to match wits with dwindling schools of weakfish. Although I did launch the boat one time in the back bays of New Jersey, my go to regular spot for flounder fishing remained Ocean City, Maryland.

Over the years we spent a lot of quality time on the water in that little boat, mostly from Cedar Creek or Ocean City. But for some reason, we never returned to the scene of the crime at Woodland Beach, the greenhead horsefly capital of the world, don’t you know? WCFG&W MEETING » The West Chester Fish, Game, and Wildlife Association will hold their Annual Spring Meeting on Thursday, featuring keynote speaker Tyler Grabowski, Fisheries Biologist with the Pennsylvania Fish & Boat Commission. The WCFGWA election will also be held at this meeting set for 7 p.m. at the East Bradford Township Building at 666 Copeland School Road in West Chester. KIDS’ TROUT RODEO » . The West Chester Fish, Game, and Wildlife Association will host the Dave Heller – Bruce Riddell Trout Rodeo at their nursery grounds this Saturday for children ages 15 and under. The event is free and open to the public. Participants should meet at the Paradise Farm Camp property (895 Ravine Road, Downingtown, PA 19335) at 8:00 a.m. Fishing will run from 8:00 a.m. until 2:00 p.m. Raffle prizes will be provided. TROUT STOCKING THIS

WEEK » The following area streams are slated to get fresh batches of trout from the Pennsylvania Fish and Boat Commission this week:

Berks County: Manatawny Creek (5/2 & 5/5), Mill Creek (5/4), Sacony Creek (5/4), Spring Creek (5/5), Tulpehocken Creek (5/5).

Chester County: East Branch White Clay Creek (5/4), Pocopson Creek (5/4), White Clay Creek (5/4).

Delaware County: Darby Creek (5/5).

Montgomery County: Manatawny Creek (5/5), Pennypack Creek (5/2).