Today was one of those typical days in early March; squally but with sunny interludes. The sort of day which brings out my indecisive nature. I dithered until lunchtime and finally grabbed the 9ft 4wt and headed to the river.
The river was running high and coloured from all the rain and sleet the night before but was fishable, the main impediment being the gusting breeze sweeping upriver. I hoofed over to Buttermilk Bridge where a few olives were making an appearance, but as nothing was rising to them I decided to go with wets doing my best to cast under the wind and fishing across and down. Things were brisk for the first half hour or so with seven or eight trout making it to the net. A Black Magic spider was doing the trick with less success from a Flashback Pheasant Tail nymph and a Grouse and Orange soft hackle.
It was too good to last of course as a quick glance to the western horizon revealed an ominous band of dark, rapidly approaching cloud. Then it got cold; real cold and the hail storm hit. My hands suffer in these cold, wet conditions and before long the hail had scoured them numb. If anyone out there knows of gloves which keep you warm and dry whilst allowing you to fish effectively let me know!
The trout didn't seem to appreciate the weather either as I hardly got a tap after that and the lure of hot, strong coffee back home decided the issue for me.
Ah well; as a wise man once said ( I think it might have been me actually ), "The best time to fish is the time that you have, and if you wait for the perfect day you may never fish at all."
Stick that on your bedroom wall.
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