A bluebird morning quickly turned dark and ominous. Not coincidentally, a fish-less morning quickly turned interesting.

It seemed like perfect conditions: a warm, still, spring morning. There were bugs in the air. No one else was in the parking lot, and there weren’t any fresh boot tracks on any of the trails. The only thing missing was trout. I’m not so confident that I won’t say that a stream can get the best of me. But I know this stream. I should at least be spotting fish – spooking them even.

Then sporadic raindrops began to fall. My first thought was, “this will pass.” Sporadic turned into consistent. I thought, “shoot.” Leaving wasn’t an option. I came to fish, and I was prepared to get wet. It isn’t that I’m superior to literal fair-weather anglers, it is just that I don’t have enough opportunities to be choosy. Plus, I was getting discouraged.

I kept casting and moving, and things started to change. A few fish chased.  I  missed a few. I caught some.  All while a steady rain was coming down.

What happened?

Fish Confidence This stream is notorious for selective, spooky trout. The rain, breaking up the surface, obscures the fish’s vision. There is also inevitably the “awareness” of the relative safety in bad weather. No smart predator would be out in this, after all. Maybe I could get closer, maybe I could cast sloppier, and maybe the fish were just more willing to play ball.

Barometer With the storm coming, who knows what happened to the barometric pressure. As susceptible as humans can be to these changes, we often forget that aquatic animals can really feel it. It could have been as simple as the trout “feeling” good enough to eat after a crummy, high-pressure morning.

Patience It could have all been coincidence.  The weather and the stream conditions might have only been incidental to my angling choices. Even then, the only credit I deserve is waiting it out. I didn’t stop fishing, and my reward was trout. I got rained on, but I caught fish.

Those are some hypothetical “why?”  questions. Here is the “what” that I paid attention to as I was getting into fish.

Shorter Leader Prior to the rain coming in, I was fishing a ten-plus foot leader tapered down to 6X. With the pock-marked water, that was not only overkill – it was difficult to manage. I chopped about three feet off, leaving me with a sub-seven foot leader tipped with 4X. I had better awareness of where my fly was, and a tighter connection to the hook.

Streamer / Big Dry Finesse also went out the window with my pattern and presentation. The dead drift was exchanged for a stripped streamer. The delicate dry was boxed up in favor of a bigger, buggier fly that I skated and skittered on the surface. Both imitated what a critter will do when stuck out in a storm, and both patterns moved fish.

Don’t Get Cocky This is the most important thing I did. As soon as I heard a low rumble of thunder, I left. No ifs, ands or buts. No trout is worth getting struck by lightning.

For most of the morning the thunder and lightning did hold off, which made staying out possible. The rain, although heavy at times, wasn’t hard enough to drive me to cover or cold enough to make me uncomfortable. I had my waders on, which kept most of me dry. The rest of me? There isn’t anything wrong with actually feeling nature every once in a while. Plus, sticking it out and switching things up a bit allowed me to feel a few trout.

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Do you have  any foul-weather fly fishing tips? Let me know in the comments below: