Slumps

Fly fishing slumps baffle me. I'm currently in one, and if I were to liken it to baseball, the trees would be booing me off the river. The thing is, in spectator sports it seems like the player in the slump can make an adjustment or practice harder in order to get out of it. In my case, I haven't a freaking clue as to what to do differently. I honestly don't think I can do anything.

Of course, in this sport there are other factors involved, like (as stated in my previous post) conditions. But is it just easier for me to blame high, off-color water, or is it, in fact the reason for my struggles? Well, this slump has had its grasp on me for almost a month and a half, which actually only turns out to be about 12 trips to the river. And I can't cite weather and water conditions to be the problem each of those times. Plus, if the fish aren't biting then they're not biting, and there's pretty much nothing you can do about that.

I've had stretches like this before, and have always broken out of them. But how I have accomplished this, I don't know. Again, baffled. A fishing buddy of mine started out last year with the worst slump I have ever seen. He even talked of giving up the sport, something he would obviously never do, but it can be that frustrating. He eventually got out of it and proceeded to out-fish me on several occasions since. If I were to ask him how he broke it I'm sure he would not have an answer. At the time I probably liked to think that I might have had something to do with it, but now, look at me.

My somewhat recent foray into the world of steelheading - and especially winter steelheading - isn't likely to help matters. After all, winter steelheading has been known to be something like chasing ghosts. So if my next few trips involve swinging flies with a two-handed rod, this may be something that I don't get out of for quite some time. And I can tell myself every time I walk away from the river for the day that 'it's just good to get out,' and 'it beats the hell out of work,' both of which are true. But at some point doesn't it get close to insanity?

Regardless of whether I'm crazy, stupid or just plain suck at this thing, I will inevitably break this slump. More than likely when it happens I will forget that it even existed, and once again think that I am some kind of fishing genius. Walking up and down rivers confidently, like I know it all. Until I string together the next batch of poor outings and fall back down to the reality of being just another schmuck in a goofy suit with an expensive stick in his hand.

The Downside of Being a "Winter Fisherman"

Today was supposed to be my first day on the water of the brand new year. I spent yesterday preparing - getting a new license and tags, tying flies, cleaning fly line, tying new leaders, and finally getting the vehicle legal. I even stayed up late consuming several of my favorite ales, and psyching myself up with bluegrass music and reading - online and in print - about fishing.

Yesterday was also supposed to be the end of the week-long wind that is a fisherman's nightmare. Last time out, on New Year's Eve, the conditions on the Metolius River were not on our side and I was seeking redemption. The wind was blowing, the river was high with a lot of debris. And even though the truck's thermometer read 40 degrees, the windchill felt like zero. Needless to say, my fishing partner and I were skunked. The river robbed six flies of mine, as well. The wind tied knots in our leaders that I only dream about being able to tie with my hands.

It was not to be. No end of the year Bull Trout. Not even a Whitefish would grace us with a bite. All we could do was mumble cliche fisherman lines to each other about how we at least got out there and fished. And set our hopes on the new year. Not that the change in the number of the year would bring us fortune. After all, it is winter, and the conditions can keep you down for days, even weeks on end.

Which brings me back to today. Today was supposed to be my first day on the water this year. Yet I sit here typing, hoping that the weatherman was truthful in saying that today would be the end of the wind. Hoping that the river gages will show friendly numbers in the morning. Hoping that tomorrow I will see the strike indicator dip below the surface and my rod tip shaking with the head of a big fish.

Until then I will continue to perch above the vise with a tasty beverage by my side and think optimistically about the next day. Sometimes that's all a winter fisherman can do, and if he doesn't he might lose it. This way, I can at least be happy that I didn't lose a single fly today...