March, as I mentioned in an earlier post is a month of waiting. Dry fly fishers wait for bugs. We (ok, I) wait(ed) for nice weather. Well, the first half of the month was pretty nice. The past couple of weeks, rather unsettled. I had the opportunity to fish, or rather, endure, a variety of conditions.
I'd always wanted to fish during a snowstorm. I did, and, let's just say that's an itch that I don't need to scratch again. I don't care if the blue-winged olive hatch rivals the plague of the locusts. For the record, it didn't. Even the olives had enough sense to stay in out of the snow.
Fishing in the rain? Did that too. Don't need to do that again either (unless I'm steelhead fishing in Alaska). Lets just say that the novelty of being miserable wore off long ago.
So, on to fairer days.....
Today was a beauty. It was dead calm when I arrived. The sun had yet to hit the valley floor. When it did, the wind kicked in. Immediately. Absolute…
I'd always wanted to fish during a snowstorm. I did, and, let's just say that's an itch that I don't need to scratch again. I don't care if the blue-winged olive hatch rivals the plague of the locusts. For the record, it didn't. Even the olives had enough sense to stay in out of the snow.
Fishing in the rain? Did that too. Don't need to do that again either (unless I'm steelhead fishing in Alaska). Lets just say that the novelty of being miserable wore off long ago.
So, on to fairer days.....
Today was a beauty. It was dead calm when I arrived. The sun had yet to hit the valley floor. When it did, the wind kicked in. Immediately. Absolute…