Something’s Freezing Over, and I’m Hoping It’s Only My Fingers (or, Why I Don’t Fly Fish In The Single Digits)

The thermometer outside World Headquarters/Man Cave read 3 degrees this morning (the thermometer inside the Man Cave read 37 degrees, which suggests I’ll soon be increasing my carbon footprint).

Those are the kind of temperatures that put the kibosh on all sorts of outdoor activities, especially those involving water (at least the liquid kind).

I know it’s considered extremely extreme to fly fish in sub-double-digit temperatures, but my lower limit falls at 12 degrees or so – the point at which the water freezes in the guides so quickly that all you can do is plop the exact same length of line on the water each and every cast – and hope nothing capable of breaking your tippet grabs hold.

(This is one circumstance where fishing a Tenkara style rig makes perfect sense.)

On the Big Wood River, I often fished in 15-17 degree temperatures, which were tolerable – right up to the point where even a slight breeze came up, which led to the immediate freezing of the fly line in the guides.

I’m all for suffering in the name of sport, but draw a line when the suffering extends to not being able to practice the sport in question.

In other words, it’s a good day to stay inside and write.

Which is good, because I’m frantically working on projects that should have been finished a week ago, and teaching my Online Marketing Boot Camp classes four nights a week.

Those are gratifying and yes, the ego’s largely out of control, but even as my head swells to levels which prevent automobile travel, I can’t quite shake the knowledge that real success involves time on the river (or in the woods, or at the shooting range), not time spent at the front of a classroom or flatscreen.

Then there’s the matter of Little M, who is a joy, yet she’s not exactly great for productivity or sleep – both of which are in seriously short supply right now.

For those wondering just how much more adorable Little M is than every other living being on the planet other kids, I offer proof (from a slightly warmer day – and don’t pretend you didn’t know the kid pictures were coming):

And – in stunning proof that Little M walks exactly like I wade – here’s actual video evidence of her first steps (don’t pretend you didn’t see this coming too):

Mesky Walks from Tom Chandler on Vimeo.

For the Wally the Wonderdog fanboys, rest assured that – after a somewhat bewildered start to the relationship – Little M and the Wonderdog are now as thick as thieves, partners in crime on all sorts of scams (one night Little M consumed extreme quantities of food, and as I turned to get her some more, I noticed she waited for my back to turn and then fed her mac & cheese to the Wonderdog).

Of course, you can’t hide inside forever, and even nasty, continent-wide cold fronts eventually move on.

It’s cold as hell now, but it’ll be warmer this weekend – when my poor overworked soul will be free to soar with the eagles, and I’m not ruling out trips to the Upper Sacramento or the shooting range (likely both).

Hope is central to the practice of fly fishing, which means it’s central to fly fishermen too.

Today may be too cold, tomorrow’s too jammed with work, and the day after’s jammed with something else (and the nights are all jammed), but the day after that the weather should be cloudy and rainy and snowy (which means BWOs), so with that in mind…

See you on the river, Tom Chandler.

Technorati Tags: damn it's cold, fishing, Fly Fishing, fly fishing in winter

Tagged as: damn it's cold, fishing, Fly Fishing, fly fishing in winter