The snow was easily knee deep, and every step sank to almost exactly that. I questioned how badly I really wanted to reach the river, but I was standing there with waders on, flies in my hat, and a fly rod in hand. Obviously, I wasn’t going home.
When you worked hard for a fish all day on the previous day and came up empty and then had reserved yourself to the idea that today would be more of the same, suddenly that fish, that moment, becomes the most genuine high five with a friend that’s ever happened.
I found myself this year. Right where I knew I was. But this year it was different. Maybe it was just a time thing. Probably was. All things take time. Especially fishing.
The silence of a winter river is what really pulls me out there this time of year. Not another angler around for miles normally, this is the time for solitude. If you think it’s peaceful standing in a river with a fly rod, then you owe it to yourself to try it on a nice winter day.
- Tags: winter fly fishing