Absolutely Frigid
I’m not sure if it’s a sign of getting old (although many folks here at MidCurrent would take umbrage at my claim to be “old”) but this winter hasn’t inspired the same level of fishing dedication others have.
I routinely look forward to winter fly fishing. The solitude and quiet are the main selling points, as is the fact that nearly all of my personal best trout have been caught between November and April. I love wet wading in the summer, and fishing high-country streams, but winter has its own charm that’s impossible to ignore.
Until this year.
Winter came late to my corner of Wyoming, and December was warm enough I was fishing without my usual down jacket. The fish were more or less in their usual wintertime lies, stacked in the pools and eddies where they can munch on small midges without exerting too much energy. Wyoming’s famous wind howled and ruined most of the early midge hatches, but I didn’t mind trading dry fly fishing for a few balmy days right before Christmas.
My wife and I spent Christmas in Utah with family, which is right when the weather took a turn for the worse. The normally seven hour drive took us nine on the return trip thanks to snow on I-80 and South Pass. Since then, we’ve settled into a pattern of cold days that rarely break 25F, and nights in the single digits. I’ve turned the heater on in the chicken coop, the fireplace is burning around the clock, and we’re huddled inside while we wait for the days to slowly get longer.
So, why would I venture out to the river when it’s this blasted cold?
Well, growing up in Utah, that’s how I spent my winters after the ski resorts priced me out. Utah’s winters are mild compared to Wyoming, which is great because that’s where I gained a true love for winter fly fishing. The Green River below Flaming Gorge Dam is gorgeous this time of year, and the fishing can be wonderful, too.
When I made the move to Wyoming, I kept fishing in the winter. The drive to a tailwater is a bit longer here than it was back in Utah (Wyoming is startlingly empty), but there are open rivers with willing fish.
The problem the last few weeks has been the wind. Just yesterday, with a high forecasted at 33 and no wind, I took off for the river. When I parked, the sun was shining, there were few clouds in the sky, and the river looked prime for an afternoon midge hatch.
As soon as I threw my first cast, though, a sharp wind kicked up from the south, clouds scuttled from the horizon, and the temps dropped ten degrees. My hands froze to my reel, which then froze to my waders. My bobber froze to my leader, and my flies froze as I roll cast them through the run. I did catch one fish, but almost lost it because my reel was frozen solid.
Frozen gear and numb hands are part of the game with winter fly fishing, but it’s wearing on me enough this year to the point that I don’t know if I’ll fish again until late February. Right now, it’s absolutely frigid outside, and I’m starting to think those anglers who spend all winter tying flies might have the right idea after all.
