Eddie Olwell
Winter fly fishing has become quite popular in recent years. This month I have seen folks out on the river, trailers at boat ramps, and fish pictures on social media.
While I don’t mind cold weather, I’d rather be out skiing or bird hunting this time of year. Frozen guides and numb fingertips really aren’t my thing. Besides, I’ve fished in some horrendous weather in March and April, but at least then there is the opportunity to catch fish on a large dry fly.
I know of several local fly fishers who attempt to catch a trout every month of the year. I’m not sure if it has a name, but I call it the Bitterroot Fly Fishing Challenge. I’ve never attempted the challenge but it’s doable and I know a few people who’ve accomplished this goal.
A greater challenge to me would be to catch a trout on a dry fly every month. I’ve thought about trying this for years but never got around to it. Before I gave it a thought January would be gone.
This year would be different. I was quarantined for most of December and taught a wilderness first responder class at the university for two weeks in January. The only outdoor recreation I’ve had in six weeks was short dog walks. 2021 brought new hope and I decided to take on the challenge. I knew it would be tough and the weather would be a big factor. I checked the 10-day forecast and saw that Tuesday would be sunny and 40 degrees with cold weather returning at week's end.
When Tuesday arrived I dug out my gear and figured the best time to fish would be the warmest part of the day, between 1 and 4 pm. I got ready and put on several layers of clothes that seemed more appropriate for skiing than fishing.
As I pulled my waders over the layers of Capilene and fleece my thoughts drifted to summer when all one needs is a pair of shorts and river sandals.
If I was to catch a fish on a dry, my best chance would be on a midge. Midges are very small aquatic bugs that emerge throughout the year, including the winter months. I loaded my vest with a box of olive and black midges size #18 & #20, some nymphs, and a bobber.
I thought I could at least catch fish on a nymph if nothing was rising. I picked a spot where the river braided and I knew some springs bubbled up from the bottom. As I approached the river I saw a lone fisherman.
When I got closer I recognized him, a young man who lives near my house. We exchanged pleasantries and he asked if we could fish together. He is a nice kid but I politely explained I’d like to fish alone today. I wanted some solitude and needed to clear my head. He smiled as if he understood.
I walked about a half mile before I began to fish. Picking a nice spot to start I decided to go with a nymph rig. I’m not much of a nymph fisherman and prefer to catch my fish on dries. There are many ways to catch trout and I don’t begrudge anyone for using other methods.
I looked in my box of nymphs and thought of a fishing report I read from the local fly fishing club. The members had been having success fishing a stonefly nymph and San Juan worm, what they call a turd and a worm. Being somewhat of a purist, I didn’t feel comfortable fishing this so-called rig. Maybe the Latin translation would sound more scientific and I could justify fishing it: “excrementis et vermis,” wow, that sounds worse.
I decided on a zebra midge and pheasant tail nymph. I got started fishing a nice run with no luck. Moving upstream I found a nice riffle with a slow run below it. Every time my indicator paused I lifted the rod to set the hook on what was usually the bottom.
Eventually, I set and felt the tug of something alive at the end of my line. After a short battle, an 11” inch rainbow came to hand. I breathed a sigh of relief having finally caught a fish. It was at that moment I realized how tightly wound I’d been.
I was so obsessed with catching a January fish. I forgot to enjoy myself. It was nice to just be out and away from the noise and tumult of society. Who cares if I catch a trout in January. I stopped took a deep breath and took in my surroundings.
The sun was shining brightly and felt warm on my face. Even though I’d forgotten gloves my hands weren’t cold. The sky was a deep blue which made a perfect background for the snow-capped peaks of the Bitterroot mountains. I continued to work upstream hitting likely runs where I’d caught fish in summer.
Suddenly I heard a loud splash and saw someone crossing upstream. I felt surprise and frustration at the lack of solitude. Once I looked a bit closer the fisherman turned into a lone bull elk. I laughed as I watched him disappear into the adjacent field.
At this point, I decided to just walk and enjoy the river and the gift of this warm day in mid-January. As the sun dropped toward the mountains and temperatures cooled, I worked my way home. I never did catch another fish or see one rise. The day’s success was measured in other ways.
Eddie Olwell of Stevensville's Fishs Eddy O has been fishing the waters of western Montana since 1977 and guiding since 1999. Olwell writes a regular column for the Ravalli Republic called Fish Tales.
January 23, 2021 at 05:57AM
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Fish tales: The Bitterroot Fly Fishing Challenge - Ravalli Republic
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