Unknownflyman
Well-known member
It was a cold one on the river today, yesterday was no go 13 below in the morning. Today it was 23 degrees rising to 26 and the water temperature was 34 degrees and probably falling. The ice is melting quickly above zero, increasing ice berg flow in the late day. The only reason why it’s not frozen solid is the river is mostly spring water, a steady 48 degrees.
I didn’t know what kind of condition the river was in but I knew it was well frozen after 3 weeks of sub zero temps. Fished from noon to five and swung a black holographic soft hackle and only had a bump.
I had to keep moving and that kept me somewhat warm, but winter fly fishing is dealing with cold hands and feet. Nothing rising no trout activity and it was clear. I knew the odds were stacked against me and the hours beat me down, I fished harder as the sunglasses came off and the night was about to happen. I came up to a nice long stretch that was fast, deep, wider due to the water melting ice, the water felt colder and I shook off the fact my hands didn’t work well, I didn’t wear gloves all day, I normally don’t.
The soft hackle had to go, my confidence waned I looked through my streamer box quickly as the sun was about set. Fumbling around I found one of two classic Mickey Finns I tied last fall. One was fully dressed and the other sparse. I picked the sparse one and groaned as I could barely make the knot my fingers stiff and numb.
A new found confidence as I cleaned the ice out of the guides for the hundredth time, stripped out a good amount of line and sent it to the far bank. On the third cast right before the darkness set in looking west to the glowing orange and purple sky, on extended long cast my line stopped in the middle of the river, it wasn’t a hit, a tug or anything. I knew it could only one thing, I swept my rod to the side the rod heaved and a beautiful trout caught air and bolted down river my clicker and 3 wt rod bucking. Had all my line out and the fish was running under ice and back into the flow, there was no way to get out of the river due to shelf ice and no way to get the fish to slack water, the current was swift. I did it the hard way pulled that trout up river to me and flipped the fish on water submerged ice shelf because I didn’t have my net today, grabbed my phone snapped a pic, pulled the fly and let it bolt away.
Five hours of swinging flies had passed, and I didn’t even hold a trout yet see it for seconds. It was a nice brown and I had landed it in very difficult conditions, I was warm happy and a smile appeared as I saw the glowing sky. Reeling up my line getting ready to wade up and cross dangerous ice to get back to land, I sensed something watching me, I look across river and see an opossum gazing at me, got a couple pics, gave a nod and made my way back to my truck, where heat, coffee and chocolate would be better than anything.
To most people, well, I know It doesn’t make any sense this fly fishing and during January at that, but it does to me. The means justifies the ends.
I didn’t know what kind of condition the river was in but I knew it was well frozen after 3 weeks of sub zero temps. Fished from noon to five and swung a black holographic soft hackle and only had a bump.
I had to keep moving and that kept me somewhat warm, but winter fly fishing is dealing with cold hands and feet. Nothing rising no trout activity and it was clear. I knew the odds were stacked against me and the hours beat me down, I fished harder as the sunglasses came off and the night was about to happen. I came up to a nice long stretch that was fast, deep, wider due to the water melting ice, the water felt colder and I shook off the fact my hands didn’t work well, I didn’t wear gloves all day, I normally don’t.
The soft hackle had to go, my confidence waned I looked through my streamer box quickly as the sun was about set. Fumbling around I found one of two classic Mickey Finns I tied last fall. One was fully dressed and the other sparse. I picked the sparse one and groaned as I could barely make the knot my fingers stiff and numb.
A new found confidence as I cleaned the ice out of the guides for the hundredth time, stripped out a good amount of line and sent it to the far bank. On the third cast right before the darkness set in looking west to the glowing orange and purple sky, on extended long cast my line stopped in the middle of the river, it wasn’t a hit, a tug or anything. I knew it could only one thing, I swept my rod to the side the rod heaved and a beautiful trout caught air and bolted down river my clicker and 3 wt rod bucking. Had all my line out and the fish was running under ice and back into the flow, there was no way to get out of the river due to shelf ice and no way to get the fish to slack water, the current was swift. I did it the hard way pulled that trout up river to me and flipped the fish on water submerged ice shelf because I didn’t have my net today, grabbed my phone snapped a pic, pulled the fly and let it bolt away.
Five hours of swinging flies had passed, and I didn’t even hold a trout yet see it for seconds. It was a nice brown and I had landed it in very difficult conditions, I was warm happy and a smile appeared as I saw the glowing sky. Reeling up my line getting ready to wade up and cross dangerous ice to get back to land, I sensed something watching me, I look across river and see an opossum gazing at me, got a couple pics, gave a nod and made my way back to my truck, where heat, coffee and chocolate would be better than anything.
To most people, well, I know It doesn’t make any sense this fly fishing and during January at that, but it does to me. The means justifies the ends.
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