On most rivers, trout aren’t the only things that run in currents. Human behavior does too—especially the unwritten rules of how we position ourselves, speak to one another, and respect the invisible “bubble” around every angler. Anyone who has spent more than a season with a fly rod has a story about that moment when someone slipped a little too close into “their” water. Sometimes it’s innocent; sometimes it’s not. But almost every angler knows the tension of deciding where to fish in relation to someone who was there first.
At the heart of all these unwritten rules is one simple guiding principle: current direction is everything. Anglers typically fish either upstream or downstream, and understanding which direction you are working—and which direction they are working—is the single most important factor in choosing where to step in.
If the other angler is working upstream, the correct play is to stay well below them. They’re moving into fresh water ahead, much like someone inching forward in a line at the grocery store. Cutting in above them is the river equivalent of stepping ahead at checkout. They’ve earned the next stretch; let them take it.
If the angler is fishing downstream, the opposite applies: stay above them. A downstream angler covers water quickly. If you slip in below them, you’ll collide in short order. In other words, fish where they aren’t going. Give them room to continue in the direction they chose.
Even once direction is sorted out, distance becomes the next important variable. Small streams demand generous space—150 to 200 feet at minimum—because trout are spooky and the environment is tight. Medium rivers call for about 200 to 300 feet, enough to let an angler work a full run without feeling shadowed. Large rivers—especially those hosting Spey anglers or aggressive streamer fishers—reward even greater separation, often 300 to 500 feet. A simple reminder helps in all settings: whatever distance you think is polite, double it. Nobody finishes a day saying, “I wish that person had stood closer to me.”
Still, river etiquette isn’t just about distance—it’s also about communication. One of the most effective tools for avoiding conflict is the simplest one: ask. A quick “Mind if I step in above you?” can diffuse assumptions, clarify intentions, and replace tension with friendliness. Most anglers appreciate being asked, even if they don’t care where you go. A 10-second exchange can prevent a 30-minute cold stare.
Observation also plays a critical role. Before you even say hello, it helps to take stock of the scene. Are they actively moving, and which direction? Are they swinging a two-hander, which almost always signals downstream? Are they Euro-nymphing, which is nearly always upstream? Are they working a rising fish, which means they’re committed to that one window of water and deserve space around it? Careful observation shows you not only where they are, but where they intend to be next.
Of course, things get more interesting when only one prime run is left—something that happens on a crowded hatch, a summer evening, or a fall weekend when every streamer angler within 50 miles seems to emerge from hiding. In these moments, etiquette expands from personal courtesy to shared problem-solving. Sometimes the best option is simply to ask if you can share the run—taking turns or alternating positions. Other times, a respectful “leap-frog” works beautifully: let the angler finish the water they’re in, then take the next prime pocket after they pass it. And occasionally the wisest choice is to seek the so-called “B-water,” which has an uncanny ability to outperform the obvious stuff, especially when it’s undisturbed.
Another key piece of etiquette is recognizing what you don’t own. Many anglers unconsciously act like they possess an entire river segment, but the real truth is simple: you own the water you can reach with your next cast—nothing more. Once you leave a run, especially if you wander 100 yards away, it’s fair game again. That said, if someone was clearly fishing a prime area moments ago and stepped out briefly to change a fly or adjust gear, it’s poor form to swoop in immediately. Offering the run back shows a kind of river courtesy that travels farther than any cast. A little class goes a long way in the outdoors.
And inevitably, sooner or later, someone will crowd you. Maybe they step in just 40 feet above you or stomp through your drift. Maybe they cast toward a pocket you’ve been working patiently. In those moments, grace is your greatest ally. A gentle, “Hey there—mind giving me a little space? I’m working upstream,” usually resolves everything. If not, moving quietly to a better spot often preserves the peacefulness that brought you to the water in the first place. And for the truly polite at heart, there’s always the classic “Minnesota Nice” maneuver: offering to adjust your position in a way that subtly—and kindly—signals the conflict without escalating it.
Special situations deserve their own care. Swing anglers working a Spey rod cover immense amounts of water; stepping in below them is almost guaranteed to create instant overlap. Dry-fly anglers targeting a single riser have a bubble of water that should never be invaded. Guides with clients spread out deliberately, and their clients often move slowly; they deserve extra space because you’re not just protecting the fishing—you’re protecting someone’s paid experience.
At the end of the day, all of this folds back into one simple self-check that solves 95 percent of river etiquette dilemmas: “If someone stepped in where I’m about to step in, would I feel respected?” If the answer is no, the solution is clear.