The promise of spring could spring.... at any minute, please.

Well the grip of winters’ icy hand seems to have loosened up a bit across the northern plains…. for now, at least.  This seems to be the time of year that gives us fits as fly fishers, the roller coaster of mother nature feels at times like stop and go city traffic on the way home after a long day and a big meal.

We get anxious at the speed of the thaw and then frustratingly come to a freezing halt.  Take this past week as an example, afternoons of bright sky and the feel of warm sun on the face and then waking up the next morning to a world covered in hoarfrost and a chill in the air that I feel deep into my arthritic hip.  

The healing effect of that warm late winter sun has on the body is no myth, there’s times I’d wager we all have just stood out there basking in it, not knowing whether to start that project, go find some fishing, or just take it in for what it is. I’ll admit I’ve done all of those to take advantage of the blessing but, I know…… we all know…..  the fickle fleeting warmth is an illusion that disappears as fast as plans can be made and likely faster in the short afternoon window of winters reprieve.

The yearning to get out has been tough to ignore, and in some respects, we did manage to take a quasi-fishing outing already.  Taking advantage of the on again off again warm weather led a friend and I to explore the open yet frigid waters of the tailrace in what we justified to ourselves was  “a purely experimental testing of prototype streamer patterns, that in no way would be looked at as a fishing outing and would hold no feelings of success or failure by the number of fish landed”…  probably need to work on a better title to that outing but it was what it was… until of course I had a short strike and missed a fish.  There’s no level of predetermined expectation setting that can withstand the disappointment of missing a fish. The sun can be warm, the prototype can be a winner, and the day can still be a success, but….. I missed that fish, and it’s still eat’n at me.  They tend to do that though, and a guy can start a collection of those small failures that can pile up in the corner of one’s mind like all that laundry in the corner of the bedroom, or bunches of hair and fur in the corner of the tying room. Not a great strategy for the fly fisher and handling that pile of regret on the mind is as important as just doing the darn laundry. That process probably calls for its own article all together, maybe even a book.

There are other ways we can take advantage of the warm spells, a few times already I’ve taken the drive around locally looking for open water from shore to cast a line and a few flys from the test bench.  Only to find most all the available water still locked from shore to shore.  We did get enough of a warm and calm day to even hold some casting lessons in the backyard in the back half of February. Was even able to witness the famous February Mayfly hatch.  Of course, there is no mayfly hatch in February on the Dakota plains, and it certainly would not be famous. But that warm February day, as we waved lines through the either I saw a fluttering distraction in the air and was shocked to see what looked like a mayfly or six dancing through the leafless twigs of the cottonwood. Upon further scientific scrutiny, and with the glorious technological marvel of the smartphone camera it was determined I was not crazy (in this respect) and in fact there was a hatch of lacewing flies. In February. In North Dakota. In my backyard. This should not have been reality.
The little aphid eating insects’ appearance kind of threw me off the focus of the lesson and made my mind race with all the projects that still stood in the way of being able to totally declare oneself “ready for spring fishing”,

The “pre-spring spring” as call it can have the effect of adding a hurried pace to the preparations, a sense there’s no way I’ll have it all set and prepared, I never do, but the angst of the process is juxtaposed by the skewed timeline of teasing warmth and the result can be a crippling fret of potentially missing an opportunity I’ve waited so long for, slipping away before a fly can be tied on.

By now the goal was to have all the lines cleaned and respooled and If I squint just right and conjure up my best politician PR spin voice, I can almost say those are all done and ready… well the ones to start the year with at least.   I’d also like to say all the winter tying has been completed but there’s still holes in more than a few boxes and a couple orders still sitting on the to-do list waiting for materials.  These days the volatile availability of specific tying materials changes as fast as the weather.  The main gear is ready to go and the rods and reels are set. What we need now is either consistency or the ability to take advantage of the windows we are given.

Spring fishing on the prairie is governed by four letter words like snow and more so wind… and they bring up more four letter words I won’t list or print.  This past week we had a beautiful day into the near sixties with almost no wind, of course I couldn’t get away to take advantage of it, so I looked at the forecast and see the weekend will bring even warmer weather… but wind. The cruel truth of mistiming the window of opportunity strikes again.

Enter the analogy of the city traffic… sudden acceleration towards the fishing season ahead and the then the grinding stop at the red... or white light of frost, snow and a return to highs in the low 20s. The ditches seem to start running and the promise of voracious spring pike to the dejected reality of maybe getting the auger out and trying to actually get out ice fishing this year. It’s been a few years but one of these cold snaps I’m going to drill a hole and fish the boring way, if nothing else… to scientifically explore potential spring fishing areas of activity and gauge ice depth for open water predictions. 

Sometimes it’s like that, inventing ways to justify the frustrating delays of the promised thaw.  That is as true for fishing as it is the mind this time of year. In and as much as that can cause some issues of anxious preparation, we need to find ourselves taking a moment, realizing that the warmth will return, and doing what we can to prepare for it. Its not like we can change God’s timeline on these things. So, we do what we can to bide our time, tune up the gear, finish those flys for spring fish, maybe attend a fly-fishing film festival, or one more night of fly-tying group socializing. Fear not the thaw is coming, and with-it opportunity to take advantage of the great gifts we have been afforded across the prairie and on the water …. out here in Fishkota Country.