Singing the Winter Time Blues
As winter begins to wind down to the point where it blurs into something that looks like Spring, most fly fishermen begin feeling that inner pang that awakens the burning desire to be somewhere or anywhere fly fishing. Some call it butterflies, anxiety or blues. Whatever you call it, the only cure for it is to go fishing. It doesn’t matter that it’s freezing outside with snow on the ground let alone the fishing season has been closed for months now. What really matters is there is a place where water flows that you can cast a fly in and have a chance to catch a trout.
You’ve spent the last months of Winter tying replacement flies and even may have created new patterns to try out in the spring. Repairing all your equipment, tying on new leaders and reorganizing your fly boxes was done over the holiday’s when the weather kept you house bound. Reading a couple of new books on fly fishing only added a couple of book to your library and may have added more fuel to the burning desire to fish when you know only a fool would venture outside. Finally you spent the last few weeks planning numerous fishing trips that will fill out your summer calendar through to the next winter.
The only thing left to do is get all those things together and go fishing. So I started to plan a trip and for some unforeseen reason my partner couldn’t go. The next trip I planned the weather slapped me in the face with gale force winds and 2 inches of rain. Still I’ve been stuck in the cabin all winter and I’m not going to let a couple of false starts get in my way.
Finally neither rain, sleet , snow or lack of fishing partner is going to keep me home. I’m going fishing and nothing is going to stop me. My first trip out will be at a river close to home. It’s winter time low on the river and the trout are moving on midges. I know from years past what to expect. I’ve fished this river hundreds of times through out the years and know that winter fishing will be the hardest and most challenging.
Saturday is the day. I’ll be by myself and there will be no pressure to perform in front of my partner or guest. I know this river is pretty much the only dance in town and there will be a lot of other fly fishermen like me up there so an early start to beat the crowd is in order. Saturday morning arrives and on the hour drive to the river all I can think about is what kind of river to expect. Rumors, fish reports and word of mouth has given me at least an idea of what to expect, however the mystery fills my mind while I drive.
The last turn in the road reveals the river to me. Ah the Joy. It looks perfect, no wind, the temperature is winter time warm and I see rising fish. Oh the excitement! As I drive up the road along the river I’m feeling lucky there are no other anglers on the river. After viewing the whole river I turn around and find a section of river where the trout are rising. I get out of the truck and walk over to the edge and watch a pod of trout feed not more than twenty feet from me. Gearing up with waders, jacket, wool cap and gloves becomes a struggle knowing I still have to string my rod. When finally I’m all ready to go, the short distance to where I want to begin fishing is filled with confidence in all my equipment, flies and skill. I’ve waited all winter for this opportunity and the long wait is finally over.
As I watch the rising trout it becomes immediately apparent to me the rumors are true. The trout are feeding on adult and emerging black midges in sizes twenty and twenty two. I have plenty of those in different sizes and configurations as well as a whole bunch of other varieties. After tying on the appropriate fly my first cast is horrible so is the next and the next. Finally the rust begins to fall off and I make a somewhat decent cast right to where the trout are rising.
My fly lands on the water where two rise rings instantly appear. I wait for the expected take, wait, wait, and wait until I lift my fly to another group of rising fish and wait, wait and wait again. My first hour on the water is a repeat of my first minute on the water. I switch flies, try smaller emerges, try smaller adults, try different combinations, even smaller tippet but nothing seems to work.
Well in times like these its best to go back up to the truck and have a cup of coffee and rethink the situation. Maybe a new strategy or a new stretch of river will improve my chances. With a clear head, new strategy and a good cigar I decide to move to a spot I know the trout will be rising there too. On the quick ride over there I’ve had a chance to calm some of the frustrations that those little creatures with a brain the size of a pea have wrought upon a seasoned fly fisherman of over 39 years. And there they are just where I thought they’d be, fifteen or twenty rising trout.
The situation is the same as before, I’m here and the trout are there. Except I’m better now. I’ve eliminated a whole winter’s inactivity and cob webs. My casting, mending and fly placement has all returned and I feel pretty good about my chances. It just seems the trout just don’t want to cooperate and make themselves available to me. The same story of the first hour repeats itself again and again.
On my drive to this hole I did notice a few other fishermen working over a pod or two of rising fish with the same results. So the rationalizing begins. Well other guys seem to be having the same problem of not catching fish as I do so it’s just not me. Well I’ve done my best so I just might as well enjoy the moment, the beautiful day and the joy of fly fishing while I’m here.
Up the river I notice a small pod of trout rising so I worked my way there with the thought that I might get lucky. Believe me I’m now relying on luck and not skill at this point. If nothing else my casting is superb but the catching is lacking. My first cast is perfect. I begin the obligatory wait and then it happens. A large Brown attacks my fly. I strike and you probably know what happens. I miss. After three hours of working over rising fish my one opportunity comes and I miss.
With renewed spirit and excitement, I pick up the line and cast back. Instantly another strike. Instantly another miss by me. I’d like to say I ended up catching trout the rest of that morning but it just didn’t happen. I’ve been a fly fishermen long enough to know these days do happen from time to time. For me what is important was to continue what has been a life time joy, fishing. After months of being cooped up at the house and reliving the past years fishing successes, it just felt great to be back doing my passion. And that was my rationalizing on the drive home.
A few days latter while at work I ran into a young man who I’ve helped over the last months to learn about fly fishing. I’ve spent some time teaching him about the joys of the sport and some of my own experiences.
The last time I talked to him I gave him a tip on where to go fishing during the winter. As I recall It was the same river I had fished a couple of days ago and the same one I’ve written about above.
He talked to me about all the fish he caught and even showed me numerous Browns he had caught on his camera phone. Wow I was impressed. I had been to the same river, the river I have fished hundreds of times and had been blanked and here come this young man who just took up the sport and he shows me all the beautiful trout he’d caught.
Of course I had to ask him what he caught them on and the answer was so simple that I felt a little embarrassed that I hadn’t thought to do that same thing. This young man who is an outstanding spin fishermen got to the river and instead of fishing to the rising fish like everyone else he just threw out some Wooly Buggers through the deep pools and the fish just attacked them.
So the moral of this story is, when you begin to think you know it all, you really don’t know much at all. The next time I’m on that river and the midge fishing is challenging I’ll switch to one of the most simplest forms of fly fishing and cast a Wooly Bugger out to the trout. When fishing becomes difficult, all you need to do is go into your bag a tricks or review some of life’s experiences and reuse some of the things that have worked before.
The one thing I do know for sure is I no longer have the Winter Time Blues. Your first fishing trip of the year should be a time to brush off the cob webs and get back to the basics. When the next winter season arrives in eight months I’ll have a whole summer of fishing memories to reflect upon and my first trip of the year will bring a smile to my face. Tight Lines.
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