The beauty of the waterproof point-and-shoot digital camera is that its presence can turn a failed fishing trip into a useful photo safari, and frankly, that “feature” was needed last Saturday.
That's Wayne. That's the Upper Sac. That's wet snow. And yeah, that's cold...
Despite what was turning into a sizable snowstorm, Wayne Eng foolishly agreed to head downriver in a search for a BWO hatch, which I had on near-certain, second-hand authority was happening mid-river.
So much for data gathering.
After only a slightly tense drive down I5, Wayne and I arrived to… nothing.
The Upper Sac flows were perfect, the snow was falling (infinitely preferable to rain), and we were on time.
Remnants of fall...
All we had to do, we thought, was wait for the bugs to start popping, then catch the big, big trout we knew would gobble them.
So we waited.
And waited…
And… (you get the picture).
It’s an odd feeling; you’re standing in the middle of a river while great big snowflakes fall, disappearing neatly into the Upper Sac like they were disappearing into another dimension.
I half expected them to emerge from a river on the other side of the planet in fifteen minutes time, but might just be the science fiction reader in me.
By the time the hatch was usually over (about 2.5 hours of waiting), Wayne and I had seen the following:
Two BWOs.
Which is where the waterproof digital camera works its way into the picture.
Hope this doesn't void the warranty...
At least you’d think it would.
Despite the fact we were outside, the dark clouds and very low light levels meant slow shutter speeds, which made hand-held photography a dicey affair.
Despite my attempts to slowly squeeze the button while breathing out (a lot like shooting 10 meter airgun), a good 2/3 of the pictures suffered some level of blur due to camera shake.
So much for the photo safari.
Cold Weather Gear Tests
At least some gear testing got done.
I wore a Patagonia Nano jacket – the ridiculously light (packs down to a softball sized handful) minimalist synthetic jacket that’s fast become a favorite among adventure outdoor types.
The waiting....
My original plan was to fish it all day in the rain just to see how weatherproof it really was, but after arriving and discovering just how much wet snow was falling – and that the temperatures were right at freezing – I bailed.
Sorry, Undergrounders. The amount of suffering I’ll undergo in the name of science is apparently limited, especially when I’m facing a wintry BWO hatch.
Coward that I was, I slipped my Marmot Precip rain jacket over the Nano (which got pretty wet in just the amount of time it took to wader up), and let the amazement begin.
For something that weighs damn close to nothing, the Nano kept me warm (helped only by the rain jacket and a very thin undershirt) right up until the end.
Wayne wore the Nano’s bigger brother (the Micro Puff), which I suggested was too warm for active pursuits.
If you know Wayne, you realize he’s equipped with an absolute minimum of insulation, and he seemed perfectly happy with the Micro (which he also wore under a rain shell).
Frankly, I’m impressed.
Today’s Foot Tip
When you’re standing in very cold water, keeping your feet warm becomes the fly fisherman’s biggest challenge, and most react to the cold the wrong way.
Circulation in your feet is paramount, so adding an additional layer of socks to your normal-sized wading boot is a prescription for what I’ll suggest is a painful, pins & needles thaw back home.
A little toe room works wonders, which is why some anglers wear bootfoot waders in the winter, sacrificing footing for warmer feet.
In my case, I simply wore the slightly oversized wading boots Orvis sent last year for testing. Given their Jack-the-Ripper metal studs, footing was simply not a problem, and my feet were comfortable right up until we left.
I used to pull this same stunt with a pair of one-size too big Weinbrenner felts (which died an untimely death at the hands of a neighbor dog).
Amazingly, it still works.
Not Finished Until You’re Home
Given the amount of snow that fell during our trip, it’s hardly surprising the trip back up the canyon offered a little more tension than the drive down.
Ultimately, we bailed off I5 just south of Dunsmuir, reasoning that even unplowed back roads were safer than a freeway filled with people who don’t have sense enough to slow down in a snowstorm.
Sadly, that was the perfect decision; I5 Northbound was closed by an accident that left drivers idling on the freeway, staring at the other drivers for entertainment.
Yeah, same reel (but different pic!)
Once I dropped Wayne at home, the drive still offered real-life drama. Instead of the usual 12 minute drive home, I reached the warm embrace of my family only after 50 minutes of unplowed roads, including a few white-knuckle moments.
The mighty 200,000 mile Ford Bronco – once a capable truck now reduced to a wheezing hunk of iron featuring barely treaded tires – did in fact get me home, and despite its lengthening list of issues, remains the perfect Shasta Wintermobile.
The Day After
The next day we woke up to a measured 16″ of snow on our back porch, and by noon, I celebrated last year’s fiscally risky but vertebrae-saving decision to buy The Honda Snowblower of Doom, which – despite a dicey back on the part of the operator – cleared the driveway with a minimum of pain, suffering, and the kind of language you don’t want your daughter to hear.
With temperatures forecast to stay below freezing until after Thanksgiving, I suspect little fishing will be attempted, at least as long as the sun is shining.
See you indoors (where it’s warm), Tom Chandler.
Special Bonus Picture
16" of snow? Time to learn to make snow angels...
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