Cabin fever sets up its final blow. It’s been cold, snowy, and rainy for two months. The fisherman that holds the reins in my brain is facing impending implosion, when, for a brief spell, the clouds lift. 30s turn into 60s—70s, even—and the resulting breeze turns the air crisp and comfortable. It seems as if spring is right around the corner, and, to those residents of the underwater world, that means calorie-packing for the approaching spawn. Every year the same pattern is r

Starting a little over a week ago, southwest Virginia has received over five inches of rain, and it's predicted we'll get about two more in the next week. The rivers are swollen, and most busted their banks, but right now we're seeing a light but steady pattern of precipitation, which is keeping the mountain streams a little high, but fishable. The wild rainbows, in particular, have been particularly active, heading into the pre-spawn period. Conditions like these can make fi

The rapid was still in sight. Its white symphony took first chair to the wind, and the cold followed third—silent and subtle, but heard. I made another cast to a piece of rocky structure. It was labored, with many false casts. Fly line doesn’t shoot through guides when it’s frozen the way it does on a temperate spring morning, smooth and sailing. When it landed, I counted the sinking line down in the water column and began to retrieve the fly. Harmonious applause shoved the r

My eyes snapped open mid-morning. The previous night found me restless—scouring charts, tables; interpreting the forecasts; weighing my options. Tides were slight; the weather, poor. “Cold spell” complaints were being tossed about Southwest Florida tackle shops like lies since the day I arrived. At 86 degrees and breezy, I found no quarrel with Florida’s sunny disposition. Had I met the coast with an inkling of prior knowledge of fly fishing saltwater or the area, I might hav