Brrrr..... 16 degrees - you've got to be friggin' (frigid) kidding me as I headed west from Prince William County down familiar roads enroute the Rose River in Madison on New Years' eve. I figured temps might bump up once the sun come up, but 18 wasn't the number I had in mind and the sun never did poke through the overcast skies. The beauty of the Shenandoahs along with the much anticipated thrill of jumping into a prime Virginia trout stream was met by trepidation as I made my preps. Slip on the waders and boots - jump back in the car to warm up. String up the rods - jump back in to warm already numbing fingers. What the heck - it wasn't getting any warmer so I made my way down to the river. Much of the river was frozen over. I'd say 70% ice coverage. Of the 10-12 prime holes and runs, only 3-5 were fishable. Not going to be easy today.Anyone who has fished in this kind of weather knows it's fingers and toes that really get tested. Despite foot warmers in between my socks, it didn't take long for the toes to achieve a mind-numbing state. Fingers - not much better. And then there's the icing of the guides. Every 2-3 casts (if fortunate) could be made before the guides became emergency brakes preventing line from shooting out the rod. Today was a test of the maxim - a day of fishing is always better than a day of work.
I strung two rods - an Orvis 954 rigged for nymphing and my vintage 1965 Orvis Battenkill 972 rigged with a sink tip and streamer. Changing flies streamside was kept to an absolute minimum to prevent prolonged exposure for my fingers.
All that said, I was fly fishing for trout so let's do this thing.
Morning was a bit slow as only a couple of rainbows were brought to hand. After an hour or so, I desperately needed to thaw my frozen toes so I hopped in the car, shed the boots and drove around Madison County for 30 minutes as some semblance of feeling returned. Sufficiently thawed, I headed back to the river for another go at it in the afternoon. I'm glad I did.
The key to getting takes was fishing slow - really, really s-l-o-w. While nymphing, it was tick, tick, tick along the bottom - a single drift seemed to take forever. Streamer fishing wasn't much different as a short strip, prolong pause (repeat) worked best. I locked into a decent rhythm and managed to find better success in the afternoon, landing a half dozen or so rainbows. After one particularly well-placed cast and hookup with my dad's old bamboo rod, I decided to call it a day thereby meeting my last cast, last fish mantra.
Today was ripe with some major obstacles, but I'm glad I pressed ahead. Every day on the water isn't going to be postcard perfect nor is every day going to be one where the fishing is so good you need to be dragged off the water. Fishing is work sometimes. But a day of fishing will still always be better than a day at work.
Last fish of the day.
Tight lines until next summer in northern New Hampshire!
