A Day on the River

The water engulfed our steps and swirled around our ankles as we entered at the same time. The gravel bottom, softened by mid-November’s decomposing leaves, gave way to the larger rocks, and the occasional gust of wind heralded the approach of winter. The air was warm and dry — too dry. And the water level was low from drought. We took a few looks at the water and decided on our separate paths, one upstream, one down, both working towards the deep runs where the trout were bunkering, even if there were no signs of their presence.

I was eager to try some new techniques that I had picked up in New Zealand, so after trying a streamer in the shadows, I reeled in my line to swap for a bead-head nymph paired with a dry-fly indicator. Pausing to time the wind gusts, I let out the line and repeated to myself to slow down. Being on the water does that naturally, the rhythmic coolness pushing against your legs, but for me time stops on the river and I rush my backcast. Back, pause, release. My nymph sliced through the wind and landed at the head of the run. I watched as the mended line drifted with the current, imagining the scene below the dark grey surface. In my mind, every trout became interested in my presentation. In reality, nothing. That pattern would repeat throughout the day.

Some days, the trout don’t wish to engage—but those can be the best days on the river. Standing thigh deep in water when the action is slow, watching a good friend's line make poetic arcs above the water, noticing the way the crisp autumn light warms the valley, laughing as you are buzzed by a slightly aggressive male duck curious about the two legged mammals who have invaded his feeding area, these are the moments that anchor themselves in memory, waiting to be revisited during snowed-in winter months, when the rivers are out of reach.

A morning spent on the water, a simple lunch of sausage, cheese, and cornichons while sitting on the tailgate looking at the trees, meeting fellow travelers in the afternoon — these are the days you take with you into winter. These are the moments that fuel your imagination in anticipation of the next season. These are the moments that remind you why you love the sport.

— Tight Lines