Fly Fishing El Nino

I am sure that no one, or at least most folks, aren’t griping much about the weather this late fall and winter. We are in a weather pattern known as El Nino, the boy in Spanish, and that is a pretty apropos name as this winter feels a lot like a boy, kind of a bit hyperactive of one, as I had to spend a few days, starting on Christmas Day, cleaning up a big tree that went down on my property from the big winds a couple nights prior. Either way as I sit here writing this piece on January 8^th it is raining and mid 40’s with highs today going into the lower 50’s…in January?

For some reason I was reminiscing back to the winter of 77-78, a couple of times this past week; for those of you alive and living here in the Midwest you probably have a memory or two burned into your brain…I know that I do. While it was a long time ago, the date still lives in the back of my mind as January 27 of 1978; dad and I made our way down to my grandpa’s farm in Stanford so that we could do a few things, one of which was to chop a hole for the cattle to drink. There was already a hole on the edge of our pond but all I remember was dropping down about waste deep and then popping back up on the ice like a cork. It was dark, cold, with a couple feet of snow and the wind was howling like a banshee. I knew I was in trouble as we were probably a good half mile from the farm house…I looked at dad and he told me to take off as fast as I could. My pants froze stiff but amazingly I made it back with no permanent issues; so, when I start to tell my class about having to walk 8 miles uphill to school as a kid…well, in part my story isn’t too much of a whopper!
Global weather is still a science that our meteorologists are trying to better understand, in fact they admit that the weather phenomenon of El Nino is still sort of a mystery. What they do know is reactive information…meaning if this happens way out in the Pacific Ocean, then these things will probably happen elsewhere, this year, elsewhere is here in the United States. Our pattern here in the Midwest is supposed to be warmer and drier. Not sure the drier part has yet kicked in, but for sure we have been warmer and that has meant that my outdoor activities have been extended well into the early part of winter.

My buddy Frank Terkhorn and I still fly fish at least on a monthly basis and sometimes when time isn’t an issue, it’s more like a weekly basis. In fact time isn’t such an issue anymore for Frank as he recently sold his hardware store here in Ellettsville. Now if you know Frank then you know that retirement doesn’t mean slowing down…but it means getting to do more of those things that he has wanted to do on a regular basis…and fly fishing is certainly at the top of the list.

El Nino may have impacted one of our biggest trips just recently as Frank and I were set to head west, to Missouri, the day after Christmas. I had planned a route that would have us fishing 5 or 6 streams in as many days…but just prior I started to look at the weather and could see that all of Missouri was supposed to get at least three days of heavy rain. As I have said before, when the weather guys say 100% they usually mean it. In the end I called, canceled all of our plans and we stayed here, watching the TV as an epic flood hit the Show-Me-State. I watched in shock as most of the rivers in the eastern half of the state swelled and reached record high levels. My heart ached because so many of those streams are ones that I have fished from time to time.

Sometimes it is good to be out even if you think you might not catch a fish. Such was the case this past week as Frank and I headed just south of Bloomington to one of our streams that we fish for smallmouth bass. We worked out the details the night before as Frank would park his truck about halfway down, I’d fish to that point then grab his truck and pick him up a couple miles downstream.

As I pulled up I grinned and without even asking Frank broke in, telling me about his fish story of the night…he had in fact caught and landed a creek chub of some 7 or 8 inches! I just grinned back and told him that I had kicked his butt…my creek chub was almost 10 inches? In jest we drove back upstream to my truck. Our night hadn’t been prolific, at least not from the stand point of catching fish…but we had had a good walk through nature, smelled Mother Earth and for a while the troubles and issues of daily life were gone. We had joked and talked strategies for the future…as good friends will do, and mostly we had Enjoyed the Great Outdoors.