I got the phone call late Sunday evening. It was my wife and she was advising me to cut my fishing trip short by a day and make tracks for home. There was a major snowstorm set to hit Wyoming and Colorado sometime Monday afternoon and my son and I were right in the drop zone, the North Platte River near Casper Wyoming. Up until then the fishing hadn’t been great. Between the wind, the cold temps, and the general lack of interest from the fish, my catch numbers were low. I really wanted this last day to redeem myself. Unfortunately my wife and I didn’t see eye to eye, so a compromise was in order. After some back and forth I agreed to be off the river and on the road by noon. That was the plan anyway.

The next day dawned overcast with light flurries. After a quick breakfast and pack-up we were on the river by 9:00. I took my first couple of trout with a purple mayhem, both being rainbows. My son Jake went with a streamer setup and got a nice 19 inch rainbow to net. Noon came and went and snow flurries had now become serious snowfall. It was time to head home. But not so fast… Walking the river back to the truck I decided to take one last water temperature reading for my journal. The air temps had dropped so I wanted to see what kind of impact this may have had on the water. I told Jake I would only be a couple of minutes and would meet him up at the truck. He opted to join me. After a quick temperature check I stuffed my thermometer back into my pack and waded toward shore. It was then something caught my eye. A lone fin had broken the surface of the water just several feet upstream from me, then a tail, then another fin. A hatch was coming off! I didn’t see any bugs in the air so at first glance I thought these trout may have been taking midge pupa from just under the surface. After further investigation though I noticed what looked like tiny sailboats sitting on top of the water. Could it be a blue winged olive hatch? I had always heard about BWOs hatching in a snowstorm, but had never experienced it. With water temps hovering just over 39 degrees the conditions were within range. What a way to end the trip!

With frozen fingers I hurriedly clipped off my nymph rig and tied on the smallest blue wing imitation I had in my box, a size 24 Adams. After a couple drops of floatant I began making my way upstream. With a quick cast I laid out my fly at the head of the run and watched it drift downstream atop the snow dimpled water… nothing. After several more drifts I noticed the silhouette of my fly against the other bugs in the film and mine looked giant in comparison. I needed something smaller. Digging through my box I found some midges in size 26, but no blue wings. In desperation I decided to go ahead and tie on one of these tiny midges along with my Adams and go with a double dry. I would then be covering both insect families and if my midge trailer submerged a bit, no problem, it would second as a pupa. I should be good to go.

Just as I tucked my box away I saw a large tail break the water’s surface on the far side of the river. I quickly cast across stream. At this distance and with the low visibility it was nearly impossible for me to see my flies so I just watched for any movement in their vicinity. A couple more drifts and I saw his tail break the surface again only this time it was right next to my flies. Instinctively I lifted my rod tip. We were in business. After a solid fight I was fortunate enough to finally land this big boy and remove the Adams from his jaw. To my surprise he had gone for the big meal, and like usual, I had gone way too far past my planned time of departure. Needless to say I was in big trouble.

The drive ahead would be brutal. Eight plus hours of blizzard like conditions going 40 mph and pulling a drift boat nonetheless. The tongue lashing I got from my wife when I got home was no better. The question is, knowing what I know now would I do it again? I’ve since learned never to answer such silly questions.