Rather than continue staring, I dragged together the big pile of all the stuff you take on winter fishing trips, piled it into the truck, invited Wally the Wonderdog along, and left.

 
March Brown. One of two I saw…

It all looked good; the Wonderdog and I drove to a remote stretch of river (actually, I drove; Wally sat in the back and issued directions).

Once there, he attempted to sniff/mark/dig out pretty much every bush while I rigged up and rooted around the bankside brush for clues.

Encouragingly, I found a handful of medium-sized stonefly shucks and a pair of March Brown adults.

Good signs, and like hopeful fly fishers everywhere, I immediately laid it all out in my head; I’d pound up a few trout on a big dark stimmie before the BWOs started, then switch to #18 dries and pound the rising fish (there’d be hundreds).

Once the little bugs faded, the March Browns would start hatching, and I’d catch a few more (bigger) fish on a #12 parachute.

The plan. You gotta love a man with a plan.

Stonefly shucks, but no trout.

What could go wrong?

The stimmie failed to attract even the briefest attention, and though the Wonderdog and I fished a fair amount of good-looking edge water (the river’s up, so the edges tend to fish better), nothing happened.

Still, we made it back to the "technical" water in time for a sizable BWO hatch, and I — like the Wonderdog — was licking my chops.

Unfortunately, not a single trout rose to eat the bugs. Or the micro-mayfly I hung under the stimmie. Or the March Brown dry I tied on in desperation.

Those March Browns? The slackers never showed up.

While all this happened, Wayne Eng and a friend were fishing only a short distance above me (I didn’t know it), yet when we spoke on the phone, it was if we’d fished two separate rivers.

They saw few bugs, but lots of redds, and the few fish they caught fell to egg patterns. I saw what looked like a few redds, so I’d say yeah — it’s started.

I’m not much for chasing fish on redds — a holdover from my bass fishing days when targeting spawning fish felt a little less than sporting.

After all, they can’t simply give you the fin and glide away, and the battle becomes one of persistence rather than skill.

The good news? There’s a lot to fish up here, and I’ve been itching to try some different water. With local guide Steve Bertrand back and dusting off his fly rods, I’d say we’re looking at something different relatively soon.

See you elsewhere, Tom Chandler.

Sometimes winter fishing is great drama. Other times, you get in the drift boat and just soak up the sun, which feels pretty damned good in the middle of a snowy winter.

I won’t cop to being lazy as much as relaxed; I sporadically fished a dry fly but Dave Roberts and I were both looking for the midday hatches; BWOs early with a chance for some March Browns later.

So we drifted along, caught up on life — which has gotten a little more complicated for both of us lately — and stuffed our faces with great big deli sandwiches (get the spicy mustard), and argued about the proper side of the fly reel for the handle.

He says left-reelers are at best misguided (at worst, we’re limp-wristed, wrong-sided, overly sensitive writer types who are bad for the sport).

I say right-reelers are uneducated, unevolved apes who need right-mounted handles because their leftside knuckles are worn away from dragging on the ground.

The knuckle-dragger himself; now guiding and tying custom flies fulltime.

With that settled, we got down to the serious discussions of fly patterns, and now that he’s guiding and tying flies pretty much fulltime, he showed me a couple of really pretty March Brown patterns we were hoping to test.

Right on cue, the BWOs started coming off, but with our #1 slot occupied, we headed downriver a bit to a spot that Dave — despite fishing this river constantly for more than two decades — really only found last year (that’s a lesson in something, but I was too lazy to decipher it).

Initially, the trout weren’t much on the rafts of BWOs that went by, but you could say they took note of the March Browns that started popping at the end of BWO hatch.

It’s really too early for the March Browns, but they were hatching lightly last time I made it up, and this time — only a few weeks ahead of schedule — the hatch was stronger.

Maybe they couldn’t wait to see the sun either.

More Fly Fishing

With the fish chasing March Browns, we fell into our usual program. Outside of a few hero casts, we were just a couple of kids insisting the other take the next shot then trash talking each other when we missed the fish.

You don’t keep track in moments like that, so all I can say is we caught a fair number of trout, including a pair of cutthroats (now the Official Trout of the Dave Roberts Web Site).

My biggest was a 14 incher, and Dave hooked something large that immediately ran deep and wrapped him up on the bottom.

Clouds kept moving in, shielding the sun and reminding us we were still in the deep of winter, and once the hatch ended, the river acquired the steely glint that suggested the bite was finished.

Turns out it was, but we weren’t far from the take-out ramp and a truck heater.

 
Elk looking for a little snow-free forage.

For the gear-minded among you, Roberts fished a Raine Upper Sac Special (8′ 5wt), and I — feeling kinda basic — went with an 8.5′ Thramer PX (similar to a Granger/Phillipson 8.5′ rod) and an old Heddon reel (a copy of the Hardy Lightweights).

In keeping with the unhurried pace of the day, I think I changed flies exactly once (yes, Dave’s March Brown patterns do work).

Of course, that’s my take on the day. Now that Dave is posting his own fishing reports, you can compare the two entries and decide for yourself. It’s interesting to read his take on the same day (even if he is an unevolved, knuckle-dragging, right-hand-reeling ape).

See you some Winter day, Tom Chandler.