The mission of the day was to teach my friend Trevor the basics of fly fishing, and hopefully get him into a few fish at one of my favorite spots. So, we arose from the mess of left over pizza, blankets, and video game controllers from the previous night, and bundled up in our warmest clothing. As we downed our cinnamon rolls at the kitchen table, I couldn't help but think about the day, and the events that it would bring. Trout have a way of indirectly forcing you to pursue them, no matter what the conditions; something Trevor was having a hard time understanding.
As we geared up and jumped in the truck, the thermometer read 17 degrees Fahrenheit. Hopeful that the sun would soon show its face after a long night of hide (and seek), I stepped away from the car, and grabbed the rods from the back. Two minuscule thread midges were selected from the warm, homely rows of my fly box, and a few feet of 6x fluorocarbon were peeled off of the spool. My fingers shook violently as I clumsily tightened the clinch knots on the chosen meal course of the day. After repeating the process with the second rod, both Trevor and I were ready to go, and trudged through the light, fluffy snow to the river's edge.
We watched as fish leisurely moved about a particular riffle, slowly munching on the tiny snacks adrift in the current. With carefully placed presentations, and a lot of luck, we managed to trick a few small rainbows.
As the temperatures continued to drop, I removed the last midge on my rig from the hook keeper that sat firmly fastened to my rod. The wind howled, and I placed one last cast into a low, clear moving run. Intently, I watched as a glint of white showed up in the water, and I set to the feeling of a long, slow tug at the end of my line. As trevor sat shivering on the bank, I netted the fish, and set him free to his home in the frigid waters.
|The picture doesn't demonstrate how cld it really was...|
We reeled in the rods, and returned to the truck, frozen to the bone. As the digital temperature gauge glowed with life, the temperature read 13 degrees fahrenheit, even lower than when we started.
After removing our frozen waders and boots, we returned to the basement of his house, and munched on left over pizza as we played a few rounds of Call of Duty. About the time my Dad arrived to pick me up, the feeling had returned to my toes. Upon entering the car, I couldn't help but laugh to myself as I glanced over at the thermometer.