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Fly Fishing

> Snow!!!

I bet you could have the river all to yourself this weekend!!

I bet you could have the river all to yourself this weekend!!

All the more reason to give it a go. I just discovered that without too much finagling I can fit my snowshoes to my wading boots.

I pulled off the main road and set virgin tracks to the depth of the belly pan hoping to establish my return route from my parking spot, knowing that it might be required in reverse. I exited the vehicle relishing the first breath of exhilaration from on high, and listened to the profound quietness that was left to the canyon breeze. From the rear swinging doors of the Tahoe I swung the heavy vest onto my shoulders as the clanging hemostats, clippers, and plastic flyboxes sang their familiar song. With shirtsleeve cuffs tucked between fingertips and palm, I slid my arms into the sleeves of my wading jacket and zipped up against the late morning cold. The wool hat was pulled over my head and down around my ears, and the fingerless wool gloves were forced into the intersections of thumb and fingers as I intertwined both hands into a tight clasp. From the case I extracted my polarized spectacles, with the light enhancing yellow lens, and I slid the bows into a snug fit behind the ears. Today they would double as goggles. I pulled the hood over my hat and drew just enough string to secure it from the wind but not so much as to become a hindrance. Grabbing the cork handle of the assembled nine foot four weight Scott I back stepped just enough to clear the tip from the door frame and closed the doors, free at last.

Gaining ground to the riverbank, through the knee-deep snow, I keep a close eye on the water surface. The large heavy snowflakes appeared to be hitting the water with such force as to leave rippling dimples, but the closer I got the more the optical illusion started to reveal itself. I wasn’t struck with the reality of the situation like it was a sudden revelation; it was more of a slow building manifestation that increased with each repeating heartbeat. My ticker rate, anxiety and forward progress peaked at the moment the reality dawned on me. They say that only fools rush in, and like a fool my hurried pace had me stumbling to my knees in an attempt to get to the water faster. The trout had the surface covered with dimples from bank to bank, as they slurped the shuck hindered adult midges from their watery bonds.