When most lake fishers think of spring, I believe they dream of ice melting away and wonder which chironomid pattern will work best on opening day. They’ve been dusting off their float tubes and checking their waders for holes. Their rods have been out for weeks, every fly line cleaned and every reel oiled to perfection. The long drought, also known as winter, is finally coming to an end and it’s time to get back on the water.
Not for me, though. My mind is elsewhere. I’m dreaming of high summer and wet-wading the rivers and streams of glacial tributaries, where I can leave civilization behind. I’ll be getting up early to start the trek to a spot I’ve been eyeing on Google Earth all winter long, wondering if it’s everything I thought it would be.
I can envision it now. A hungry trout lurks under a cutbank, waiting for my fly that may be comically large. I know where to place my cast so the fly will drift as perfectly as possible. I keep my eye on the fly as it makes its landing across the river. I then watch it dance on the surface, spiralling in the current. I steady myself to set the hook at just the right moment but not a second too soon. This is what I think about when springtime arrives. My heart can barely take it.
No flies suit summer better than big foam bugs. Over the years I have either tried or tied a large number of these flies. Some I’ve had great success with and others just seemed like a fad. Some were created with very specific imitations in mind, while others looked like they would never work, yet somehow did.
