11-12-24 REELLIFE digital - Flipbook - Page 8
fishing
SNOW AIN'T GOOD ENOUGH. RAIN IS BETTER. THE KIND OF RAIN THAT STARTS ABOUT 8:00 IN THE
MORNING AND MELTS THE SNOW AND UPWELLS THE RIVER. IT'S GOING TO BE HARD TO CATCH A FISH,
BUT I ONLY NEED TO CATCH ONE.
Two other vehicles in the
parking lot. Two other
fishermen. Singles, I
guessed, reading the
tracks in the snow. I sat on
the tailgate of the F-150,
tightened my bootlaces,
and decided to start
downstream like a proper
fisherman and work my
way up. It was Super Bowl
Sunday, one of my favorite
days of the year.
As I walked down to the
river, one of the anglers
picked up his net and
began the walk back
toward the parking area.
This was better.
Using a large pine tree as
cover, I looked in the water
with the glare glasses and
saw trout. Noses in the
current, but not active. No
bugs on the surface either.
And as I watched upstream,
nothing rose.
At first, I tumbled nymphs
to them, high-sticking,
watching for the white of a
mouth or a rainbow flash
in the braided current.
I suspected the fluoro
leader was not working
for me in the clear water.
But I hesitate to fish 6X
or (shudder) 7X because
these bigger fish are
likely to break off on the
second jump. And besides,
the tracks in the snow
indicated there had been
at least half a dozen anglers
here before me.
Upstream there were tails
visible beneath a downed
tree and I flirted with
disaster, drifting nymphs to
the otherwise hidden trout
in the branches.
Working up, casting beadhead wets, and tumbling
them back through the
regular slots did not pay off
with a take. Now as the sun
began to go off the water, it
was harder to see into the
regular slots and now the
snow crunched under my
