winter’s glaze

Ah, the off-season. The most glorious time of the year (*most of the time).

For western fish bums, this is a 5-ish month period of time where one experiences refreshing sanity, utter boredom and varying forms of, “oh shit, I’m running out of money.”

For some, enduring winter requires channeling your focus into a new, seasonally available hobby. For others, it’s laying low - tying flies, chiefing exorbitant amounts of pot and waiting for the sun to shine again. And for the weak, it’s simply migrating to warmer waters (just kidding, kinda). These over-simplified categories are not mutually exclusive either. I am at some points, a combination of all three.

Winter is a mind game. There are the highest of highs and the lowest of lows. When it gets dark at 4:30 and the wind has been blowing for a week straight, you begin to lose your mind. For some, it straight up gets lonely. The energy from your surrounding environment seems to deflate as winter progresses. It can gradually take a toll on a man. But it sure can be relaxing after a busy year.

So, go pick your buddy up and buy him a beer. Tie some flies with friends. Go skiing. Go hunt. Go ice fishing. Stay connected with your fishing amigos because you aren’t the only one battling the highs and lows of winter. Embrace winter for what it is, because it’s super rad with the right mindset.

They’re just built different.

They’re tough. They’re dumb (*sometimes).

I get all giggly & shakey knee’d when the undeniable wake of a school is headed your direction.

And watching them open up & breathe your fly in… That’s the stuff.

When you feel the hook set on the right one, it feels like they’re about to pull the rod out of your hand.

My love for lowcountry redfish is truly a guised affair with the lowcountry itself. It’s the sticky pluff mud and tea-stained water. It’s the finite window of tides and weather conditions aligning. It’s the best damned brisket you’ve ever had after fishing all morning.

The marsh is full of promising opportunity & hopeless abundance. There are more bays, creeks, banks and edges than you could explore in a lifetime. Throw in a 6-7 foot tidal swing and you’ve got the world’s largest maze with hidden oyster rakes, sandbars and the oddly placed crab trap just waiting to bust your prop or strand you for hours.

Fish are seemingly everywhere and nowhere. You could catch a daymaker right off the dock then proceed to pole the wrong bank for hours without sniffing a fish. When you do find them, they don’t go far.

Coming from a drought year in the west with low water and vulnerable trout, it’s refreshing to be greeted by the resilient redfish. Still doing their thing. Clumsily batting at gurglers. Busting down creeks at low tide. Refreshing resiliency. They’re just built different.

Internal dialogue from the road

Freedom. The open road. Guided by the northern star of fishing. This is going to be awesome. We are going to get on ‘em.

Gah, Billings is such a shithole.

I bet there‘s some big deer over there.

More caffeine? More caffeine.

*In limbo between Metallica, Waylon Jennings and Rihanna*

Hmm, Sioux Falls might be a bigger shithole than Billings.

Is this motel going to gift me bedbugs?

Woooo, en route to Arkansas. There is a light at the end of this tunnel that leads to glorious fishing.

Where the fuck is Waze taking me?

Sweet baby Jesus, southern BBQ. Hallelujah.

Ok, first night below freezing all year. Maybe the fishing will still be alright for us !

Shit, we might not even see a fish today.

Got one - my first smallmouth!! 6 inches of bronze piss and vinegar.

Sweet baby Jesus, southern BBQ. Hallelujah.

*Meat sweats*

Southbound to Bama. 70 degrees & sunshine ahead of us. Must jam Skynyrd & Alabama.

Ok Mr. friendly concierge , it’s 11:30PM, we appreciate the hospitality & room but let’s please wrap this seemingly endless conversation up so I can get some sleep.

Janky jon boat. Untouched farm pond. Sunshine… this is what heaven must be like.