I haven’t fished at all since before Thanksgiving. I enjoy fishing in the winter and I wish I had gotten out on one of the bluebird weather days we’ve been lucky enough to have in my corner of the world recently, but other responsibilities conspired to keep me away from the river.
Winter fishing is a tricky business when you factor in all the variables. Foremost for me, the weather must cooperate. I prefer to fish on a day when the mercury at least threatens the freezing mark. I also don’t mind if the sun is out, because it somehow has the power to make me feel warmer than I really am. Unfortunately, such days are not terribly common. Finally, my favorite winter waters require a bit of a drive over some roads that can be hostile in winter. Combine these variables with the fact that my day job limits the days I have to choose from and I am left trying to decide if I should use a valuable vacation day to hit the water.
On the one hand, picking the right day is often paramount for winter fishing. A good weather day might bring midges and the first or last rising trout of the year. Using a vacation day allows me to cherry pick the best weather day of an entire month. On the other hand, using a vacation day—the one area of my life in which time is a transferrable currency—on a day of winter fishing feels like a bit of a waste. Sure I could spend those valuable hours to go fishing tomorrow, but even in the best circumstances its likely I will spend my “vacation” breaking ice out of guides and staring at a bobber for only four or five hours limited by daylight and temperature. Used in the midst of summer, that same day might translate into 12 hours of off-and-on dry fly action and a beautiful sunset that doesn’t signal an increased likelihood of hypothermia. Vacation days are as valuable to me as that golden ticket that let Charlie into the Chocolate Factory. Using one requires a certain return on investment that winter fishing doesn’t always fulfill.
Still, at some point in this season of cold and grey, one reaches a point at which a day spent on the water—no matter how frozen and short—becomes an outright must. To put it another way, in the dead of winter, when summer seems like an eon past, a day spent fishing becomes a necessity rather than a diversion. I haven’t quite reached that point yet, but I can see it out there on the horizon, waiting in silence.
Until then I’ll tell myself I need to start tying flies and work on that rod blank that stares at me each time I sit down at the computer desk. I’ll wait for my camera to return from the repair shop and research camera insurance for the next time I manage to drop it in the river. I’ll think wistfully about the best and worst of the year gone past. And I’ll dream longingly of trips yet to come, including my first trip to the Missouri this coming April—my second guided trip ever—which I booked with Headhunters Fly Shop a few weeks back. All that will keep my alive through the winter, until the stars align or the pull of water is too strong and I venture out to meet the river again.
