Not so! At least not in the sleepy town of Dutch John, UT. Take a glass globe, fill it with white grains and a hodgepodge of buildings, such as, cabins, gas stations, trailers, boats, houses, and a church. Now, add the liquid component. Flip the globe upside down, shake gently for 10 secs. Congratulations, you created the current conditions in Dutch John. The only item missing is the Vince Guaraldi soundtrack.
Given the conditions, then, you understand why I initially didn't want to go. I found the wood stove to be strongly persuasive. Perfect weather for a hot beverage and a good book. But the bugs! The hatch would arrive on cue and I would be guaranteed a blank if I remained in the warmth. Discomfort is only temporary.
Photo credit: Darren Bowcutt
The temperature peaked at 32 degrees as I backed the boat on the ramp located below the dam. Fresh snow clung to the canyon walls and trees as more snow began to fall. The air was silent, not even the slightest breeze.
Midges scurried about on the water's surface without the slightest concern for the danger lurking beneath. Some newly hatched midges waited for their wings to harden, while others began the task of looking for a mate. An appetizer, if you will, for the nearby birds and trout. The main course would arrive a bit later in the form of a larger bug: a mayfly, more specifically, a blue-wing olive. Even with the size of a pea for a brain, trout keyed in on the opportunities to feast and began to look up. We could actually see their noses break the surface of the water. Gentle surps could be seen as well as the more violent takes similar to a shark breaching the water sending a seal cartwheeling to it's immanent demise.
On this particular day, the trout had their heads up earlier on the river than in previous days. Within a mile of the put-in, the first fish arrived in the boat courtesy of an aerial take. This pattern continued throughout the day increasing with intensity as we traveled downstream. At one point, both lines were dancing with fish: a double.
Photo credit: Ryan Kelly
Despite the larger snow flakes that began to fall or the tinier ice that came in waves, the bugs continued to hatch and the fish continued to take advantage. We, therefore, continued to fish. It was the only logical solution. We ignored or, perhaps, tolerated the unpleasant absence of sunlight and the consequences associated to remain surrounded by pools of rising fish. A 16 year-old scotch provided some motivation as well.
The maiden voyage was a success. Great company, beautiful views, and healthy, rising fish. Life on the Green.
Photo credit: Brad Lovejoy
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