By Joseph St. Cyr
I wake up. It’s 5 am, still dark out. I shine my headlight outside and hear the slight pitter-patter of sleet falling on the deck. The thermometer reads a toasty 34 degrees outside. The average person would consider it a good day to stay indoors and do busy work, or even go back to bed. I consider it a perfect day to go out and try my luck down on the river. My friend thinks so as well. We are what you call “diehard fly fishing junkies,” always looking for the next possible opportunity to get out and wet a line. Weather can only slow us down, but never fully prevent us from going to the water.
Winter can be an extremely challenging season to fly fish in, as it demands quite a bit of casting proper fly choices and great dead drifts over sluggish fish. Every fisherman always says, “If you can catch a fish now you can catch them almost any time of the year.” I find this statement to be true, as I have experienced many fishless winter days only to be dedicated enough to go out and try my luck again the next day. This season also separates the men from the boys, as there are generally fewer fishermen that trudge out this time of year to the bank. It gives us few a completely different feel to the river than it would be on a warm day in June.
Back to this trip though, Mike and I managed to slide into our waders, tie up the rods with new leaders and flies and whipped up a gourmet breakfast of toasted bagels with butter. We warmed up the car and threw the rods in their holders. We drove our way to the river just as the sun started to peek its head above the horizon. The spot we were going to was a decent walk into the woods and we could already see headlamps sitting on the river waiting for the starting gun to go off. We walked down to a good section right at the head of the paradise pool and a couple of guys were already positioned in the tailout. The gun echoed through the valley and the sound of chucked split shots hitting the water began. Another morning on the upper fly zone on the Salmon River in Upstate N.Y.
We fished, changed flies, changed weight, changed positions, and lost a bunch of terminal tackle. No fish to show for it. Finally, Mike gave up his spot to me and said “Here dude, try this drift out.” I waddled over in my waders to him and changed my fly to a size 12 golden stonefly pattern. I got setup and on third drift the float jolted, fish on. I wondered how big this fish was as it was staying deep in the current using every bit of it to try and shake my hook. I fought her perfectly for 15 minutes and finally a little ways downstream of where she was hooked, her head slipped into the net. Success. The smile on my face said it all, and this was my first steelhead of the year. Something very special to hold such a magnificent creature. Their raw power alone can knock a fellow on their butt a time or two. She took off and I sat on the bank for a moment to gather myself.
Turned out to be my only fish of the day, and only until last light did Mike finally land his first steelhead. This trip was considered a great success, and it felt good after a solid 9 hours on the bank. We put the rods back on the car, in the dark again as we had done this morning and drove our way back to the cabin with happy hearts and tired bodies.
Joseph St Cyr is a Fisheries and Wildlife Sciences student at Paul Smith’s College, Class of 2018. He enjoys fly tying and is a fly fishing guide in the Adirondack Mountains.