Yep, it’s still pretty chilly in the mornings, and you may even have ice forming in your guides when you hit those little high elevation streams for wild trout before everyone else gets there in April. But March trout fishing has been very good to me over the years and that old adage about “in like a lion, out like a lamb” is pretty dead on for the weather most years, so I adjust accordingly. Nymphs and Woolly Buggers in the morning until the water temperature hits at least 40° when I switch over to a dry dropper rig.
Between rigs, I’ll likely find a nice sunlit patch of moss to take a break on while I eat a pack of crackers and close my eyes for just a moment. The warmth of the sun on my old body is just too much, and I drift off into a semi-consciousness that even the best mattress couldn’t give me. Among friends, I’m known for having napped on some of the most famous trout streams in North and South America. By golly, I’m proud of it, too!
My favorite rod for these trips is usually an old 7 ft. 4 weight Sage Light Line or a more recent 7 ft. 6” Orvis Superfine Glass rod in 4 weight. They both handle easily in the rhododendron thickets, they roll cast beautifully and have just enough backbone to land the occasional “trophy” 12 inches. Short leaders of 7 or 7 ½ feet mostly tapered down to 5X but sometimes 4X if I’m throwing a heavily weighted leech pattern. If I decide to use a strike indicator, it’s most likely going to be one of the smaller football types with a piece of surgical tubing in the middle to hold it in place. I used to think they may spook the fish, but over the years I’ve had so many trout come up and strike the indicator, even when it’s chartreuse or pink, that I don’t put much credence in that anymore.
One of my favorite things on the face of this Earth is to slowly work my way up a small mountain stream, methodically picking the pockets as I go. I don’t care if I fish for 2 miles or 200 feet, it’s all about the experience and enjoying the moment. At these times, even getting tangled in the rhododendron doesn’t get me down. If you happen to see an older gentleman alone on a remote stream, struggling to pull down the limb on a holly tree and free up his fly, just give him a polite nod of your head. He’s not crazy, he’s just loving life, even life in the rhododendron and holly bushes. To him, life doesn’t get much better.
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