The river was around 40 yards wide. The fog was so thick that halfway across it was impossible to make out the opposite bank. Which means, halfway across, it was impossible to see either bank. The cold water from the bottom of the deep reservoir usually elicited a mist over the water on warm summer mornings and evenings. This morning’s weather added an additional haze that hemmed the entire river in a blanket of cloud.

Wading slowly, further towards the far bank, the streamside vegetation finally came into view. Over the course of the next few hours I pulled trout after trout from along the deep edge of the river. The fish rose with reckless abandon to large emergers drifted along a seam I didn’t see until I was right on top of it.

Waking up to a morning of wind, rain, or dense fog can cause all but the most intense anglers to roll over for a few more hours in a warm, dry bed. I have neglected these opportunities plenty of times. Although it doesn’t help me in those pre-dawn moments, I can also say that I have had plenty of success on the water in ugly days; perhaps a higher percentage of good days fishing on bad weather days than not.

While I can’t prove any of it empirically, there were three things that I feel contributed to my success that day. Each was directly linked to the foul weather.

I moved slowly.

It could be hunching to avoid the rain, cautious steps in low visibility, or just  the sluggish steps of a cold body; we move more deliberately when we’re in bad weather. The truth is that slow, intentional movement is exactly how fly fishers should always be navigating the water we’re about to fish. We know that. But sometimes it takes being forced to do it in order to actually do it. We make less of a disturbance and have an opportunity to perceive more of what is around us.  Add this to the cover created by precipitation and darkness, and there is an extra level of concealment in bad weather.

I fished closer.

My casts were shorter because if I was further away I couldn’t see  my fly. This necessity was brought on by fog. But by moving slowly and carefully in order to make a reasonable presentation, I was actually in a much better place. I could make the casts I needed to make. I could mend, detect strikes, and set the hook with greater effectiveness because of my proximity to the feeding lanes. Paying attention to the conditions lowered my inhibitions of being some arbitrary (and probably conservative) distance away from trout.

I was alone.

If you detest crowds, or even the prospect of just one other car at your favorite put-in, bad weather might be your best recipe for solace. Bad weather Saturday mornings in May or September are a blessing. Even dedicated fly fishers will hesitate to use a hall pass on a sub-par weather day. That’s fair. But it is also an opportunity if you want a famous and productive hole to yourself. There are very few conditions that will turn fish off. Conversely, many weather anomalies will trigger insect or fish activity.  You have a chance to be there to see that happen – maybe you’ll be a little damp, but you’ll also be all by yourself.