That’s because catching a fish on the first cast is a jinx, like talking openly about a no-hitter in the seventh inning, or telling an actor to have a great performance.

Fortunately, I found another Big Wood Rainbow trout 15 minutes later, and before my day-before-Thanksgiving trip to Idaho’s Big Wood River was over, I’d landed six pretty trout.

My jinx-breaking trout; I’ll always be grateful.

Still, the first-fish jinx sorta held; my first fish was my biggest, and the fishing slowed as the day went on. I didn’t see a fish the whole last hour, which was my cue to find a way up the bank and onto the riverside trail for a hike back to the car.

It was a laid-back, pleasant day on the water, and – due to the first-fish reinforcement – I stuck with a red brassie all day.

The day also reminded that the 8.5′ 4wt Diamondglass rod is a nice technical nymphing rod; it flung the small, stick-on indicator, #4 shot, and red brassie in pretty much the right places all day, which was nice because I was operating largely on autopilot.

The Big Wood River in Ketchum, ID.

The 1.5 miles (or so) of the river I fished was deserted – at least until the last few minutes, when I stumbled across a local. A little older than me, he urged me to fish right above him, and as we got to talking, it turned out how he’d fished the McCloud River a lot.

We have a joke in Dunsmuir about “all roads leading to the Upper Sacramento” and it’s true enough – at least among fly fishermen. I’m simply not that surprised when someone knows my home water.

He was a nice guy, offered what information he knew about the upper reaches of the Big Wood River, and pointed out the easy path to the trail.

Naturally, he’d hooked a few trout too (I watched him hook and lose one), and because I absolutely sure that a midge was the right fly, he told me he’d caught his on a big rubber-legged nymph, having struck out on the Zebra midge earlier.

So much for belief.

The Big Wood was a different river than in its winter incarnation (the only one I know), and while I’d like a shot at it in warmer weather, I’ve also been warned that it’s heavily fished during the warmer months – enough that the locals tend to find other water.

A Big Wood River rainbow trout in late afternoon light.

Perhaps it’s better that it remains a cold-weather river for me; it’s never disappointed, it’s fun to fish, and some of the trout have a yellowish coloration that makes them look like brown trout when they jump.

And yes, to catch a trout on the day before Thanksgiving is a powerful symbol of what life is like right now, and I think I’ll postpone my Thanksgiving post for a day in order to gain a little perspective on that thought.

See you around the turkey, Tom Chandler.

Happy Thanksgiving! (to the Undergrounders from the head turkey).

fly fishing, fishing, idaho, big wood river, ketchum, rainbow trout, brassie, nymphing

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It’s pretty out – the light and water both evidencing that hard-edged, crystal clarity they acquire in the winter – and the fishing is slow and methodical.

That’s mostly due to the cold-blooded nature of trout, who are moving very slowly. It’s also a good fit with the angler’s requirements: you’re wearing extra clothes, it’s hard to tie on tiny flies with frozen fingers, and falling in usually means the fishing day is over.

This will be one of the few times this year I walk out the door firmly resolved to use lead on my leader, though when you’re fishing a #20 midge pupae, you don’t need much.

Slow & steady win the race in winter, and if I land a couple of trout on a pretty river (with a few too many houses on it), so much the better.

See you on the Big Wood, Tom Chandler.

fly fishing, fishing, big wood river, idaho, fly fishing idaho, winter fly fishing

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Given the natural curiosity of the Undergrounders, I already know the question you’re dying to ask: “Will those Big Wood River trout eat a #22 olive midge emerger this time of year, or are you doomed to nymph a #20 red brassie on light tippet?”

The answer is: “I’m not sure.”

Those who’ve been poking around the Underground for a while know I’ve fished Idaho’s Big Wood River several times, but always in January and February – the dead of winter.

The Big Wood River, 2005

While my time there produced some fun photographs, temperatures in the teens meant fishing was difficult, and also meant rising fish were rare.

This week’s trip should find me facing high temperatures in the mid 30s; cold enough to keep the pretenders away from the river, but warm enough that ice won’t be a problem until late afternoon.

Interestingly, the local fishing reports seem to have faded away for the year, the inference being that anyone with brains is skiing Sun Valley’s famous slopes, leaving the trout for next spring.

My last trip was in 2006, and I did surpisingly well fishing a single tiny midge nymph in the slower runs, plowing through several feet of bankside snow when I wanted out.

My last day of fishing found me walking the two miles home in a chillling post-sunset headwind. I was perfectly warm in my waders and wading jacket, but when I walked in the house, the L&T noticed the whole front of my jacket was frosted over, the lower two snaps iced closed.

That’s either a testament to the quality of today’s fly fishing cold weather gear, or an indicator of my general state of obliviousness.

This year, my poor ears should enjoy a bit of long-sought cold-weather relief; a Patagonia Synchilla Duckbill cap. The Underground already loves the combo of a visor (imporant when you’ve got eyeglasses), ear flaps and yes – enough breathability that it won’t cook my brain while hiking.

The Patagonia duckbill hat

More as it happens.

With 14 hours of driving ahead of us, I’ll be dark Monday and part of Tuesday, but back online afterwards.

See you in Idaho, Tom Chandler.