Pre-dawn light spreads slowly over steel-colored waters. You’re up early, greeting the frigid morning air with aspirations of hefty fish. As the first flakes begin to fall, you wonder what type of fishing sickness you must have to brave this kind of weather. Granted, you only get so many days off, but still… You move into the water and wade out into the current. The pressure around your legs is somehow comforting against the black silence of the river. You pick out a likely drift-line in a run that has held fish before, you make your cast.
Post-dawn light spreads over the same water. You take one last look at the water, and step up to the bank. Today was a good day. There weren’t as many fish as you had hoped for, but the two you hooked were strong and beautiful. As you approach the security of your car, you look forward to changing out of your gear. Now it’s time to go back home and relax in front of the fire. Rolling out of the parking area, you take a moment to reflect on your surroundings. “No matter what the temperature,” you decide, “there are few things as good as fishing in a snowstorm.”