Sometimes it’s just the thought of fishing…

After three weeks of perpetual rain, we finally had a weekend of blue skies and sunshine. Since there was no way to get on the water, I spent my free time in February doing what most of us do this time of year: splitting firewood and tying flies. Tungsten Missiles, Hot Head nymphs, Guide’s Favorite Hare’s Ear, Northwoods Spiders, and the good old Wooly Bugger… slowly stocking my fly box.

Tungsten Missile

While the skies were clear of rain, the high pressure system brought with it cold. As in 14 degrees at 8AM cold. We went fishing anyway. The sun was warm, which helped. But the wind blew at 3000’ so the sun didn’t stand a chance at changing things. It was like fishing in a slushy. Slush and floating ice makes getting a natural drift a serious challenge.

Keeping it between the icebergs

My son had to be at work by 1, and we were an hour up the mountain, so we used his commitment as a good excuse to come to our senses and get off of the stream. While the cold itself was tolerable, the iced-over rod eyelits and frozen fly line was a challenge; and besides all of that, the fish just were not biting.

All that being said, it was still good to get out. Sometimes it is not the catching of fish, nor the time on the river, but the thoughts of fishing that count – giving us just enough to tide us over until next time.

Published by: Blaine Emery

I have spent my life seeking the old ways where things are pure and unspoiled. As much as life allows, you will not find me unless you look on a hidden mountain stream in West Virginia or on some desolate mountain in Wyoming. You can also follow some of my exploits on Twitter @WVPackHunter

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