Hello and Goodbye: The Joyful Reality of a 4 Season Angler
From when I began fishing to now, I always kept a fishing journal. Initially, I did it because my dad always insisted saying that one day we would look back and appreciate it. After a year or two of documenting almost every fishing outing in the book, it became repetitive to just record what we caught, the bugs we saw, and the stream we fished along with the conditions. In realizing this, I started to document the fishing trips in a more story like fashion, I think primarily for the purpose of being able to remember them in the event I wanted to read back and reflect on them. Days on the water blend when focusing on the results, but when you focus on something funny, or memorable that happened on the water that day you can usually recall that day when looking back even if it took place years ago.
Recently, I was at my cabin doing some late winter organizing in preparation of the spring trout season when I came across one of my older fishing journals that had been tucked away in a bookshelf. I started reading some old stories from the first few years I got serious about the sport and one thing that not only stood out on paper, but I remember to this day is how depressing late fall was on my favorite trout waters. There was a very sentimental, but mostly sad ending to the season then because I knew that I would not be picking up a fly rod in a meaningful way until next April when spring returned along with bugs and active trout. Yes, I knew then that you could fish for trout over the winter, but I was never into the winter nymphing game, and still can’t get into it unless its for a fish that is measured in pounds rather than inches (steel).
In reading my old journal that night, another thing that stood out to me is how closed minded I was at that time when it came to what I aspired to do within the sport. I was a trout fisherman, that fished dries and that was my thing. I entered the sport and within a few years assumed an identity of that of a dry fly fisherman, thought that suited me, and was content with the idea that my fishing would consist of being a northeast trout fisherman that preferred flies that floated. I liked what I knew, and kindly rejected what I didn’t know or hadn’t experienced in a subtle way by declaring it as being “not for me”. Salt water fly fishing- not for me. Streamer fishing on sink tip lines and a 7wt- not for me. Steelhead fishing- not for me. As I read my old journal, its comical now that I wrote about the final white fly hatches on the main stem of the Delaware in late October like someone was dying and would be dead in a matter of weeks.
The reality is, any angler that loves this sport owes it to themselves to try and experience as many different types of water, techniques, fish, and adventures as they possibly can. Most fish that can be taken on a fly share a common denominator -that being they can be captured in a method and manner that is enjoyable and usually entails a visual component during the pursuit that allows for an engaging and exciting experience. This epitomizes why most fly fish in the first place.
Transitioning away from my unnecessarily dark circa 2005 fishing journal to more positive and present thoughts, my gradual interest in numerous species has provided not only a year round approach to angling, but an entirely different outlook on the seasons themselves. The sentimental feeling that is fall on a trout stream will never go away, and I don’t want it to, but it’s no longer a feeling of sadness. It’s a time of reflection where the fishing becomes secondary and you think back on your season, and sometimes on things that have nothing to do with fishing, because fall on the water has a way of doing that. Now though, the turning in the leaves also has a way of making my mind turn from trout to steel, knowing a new season is just beginning. And for those that do both, the timing couldn’t be better. The first cool nights and mornings in late August or early September are the steelhead angler’s tell that their season is nearing and subconsciously the dual trout/steelhead angler’s mind begins to shift from trout- to steel. Usually though, the trout season needs to be concluded with a few proper last trips or floats on water where the bugs hold on late in the season or the fall streamer fishing warrants a final shot at the last memorable fish of the season in an attempt to end things right.
Enter steelhead, where it feels good to bust out the bigger rod, bigger flies, bigger net, and hopefully fill it with bigger fish. It’s a drastic shift from the trout season and for that reason its perfect. Its something new, different, and allows a previously burnt out trout angler to feel invigorated with the start of a new season that provides not only a legitimate excuse, but reason to be outdoors. For great lakes steelheading, that season remains highly enjoyable in my experience from give or take mid October until around the start of the New Year. Depending on the year, fall either lingers and provides a longer “prime” season of enjoyable and comfortable fishing, but usually by January the cold weather has set in and you are in the thick of winter. And for most, there are only so many winter steelheading days one can take, before the thrill wears off and the days start to feel repetitive fishing similar “winter” lies and condensed crowds as the water and fish become predictable and consolidated.
Right around the time that winter doldrums become real, steelhead fisherman or not, a fix is needed. I like to think its by no coincidence that around this same time flats fishing begins to come into its own. Some reading may roll their eyes at this thinking “would love to but I don’t have that type of time”. The thing is you do. I recently had a wedding down in the Florida Keys where I got on a plane at 6am and was in the Florida Keys by 10am. I was there for 3 days from Friday to Sunday and during that time, despite being in a wedding as the best man, was able to walk several flats and fish for 8 hours. The flight was 300 bucks and there were several hotels in the area that would easily allow for a $50/night stay. I made sure to leave late sunday night to make the time to get a day of fishing in. No harm done and a lot of enjoyment gained. Point being- you can do it. Point two being- why not do it?
For the more adventurous- flats fishing in Belize has seemingly made winter half as long in my mind. I was proud to head back during President’s Day (see you do have time unless your boss is a communist dictator and doesn’t give you that Monday off) and finally capture the permit I needed to consider this season a success. Perhaps more important though, was the essential adventure component that this trip offers time and time again. The place makes you feel alive, authentic, and for me reinforces that there are still unknown adventures to come in this life, and it can stay that way if you want it to.
Between steelheading and a couple flats fishing adventures to break up the winter-spring approaches in what now feels like a blink of an eye. In similar fashion to how I like to fish my last day for trout in the Catskills in late October by way of a waning white fly hatch, I like to now fish my last day for steelhead on the Salmon River looking for a fresh fish on the lower river in March. The black stoneflies in the snow signify that a new season is coming, and the raw, but not too raw feel to the air lets me know that warmer days are coming. If I were just a steelhead angler, I’d be sad. But I’m not. Admittedly, trout will always be first and for that reason I’m likely a little more giddy about the end of steelhead season than I am at the end of the proper trout season, and that’s fine. And the revolving cycle continues.
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