A common saying these days is “no pain – no gain”, and still to this day I find myself asking whether that adage applies to fly fishing for trout on Blue River. My belief is “no pain – no gain” doesn’t have to apply, and that whoever coined the no pain thing never fished for trout on Blue River during season. A belief I formed years ago but as the years have passed I must admit I may very well be wrong in my theory.

For the most part, those of us who fish for trout during season at Blue have quite tolerable and mild weather. However, as it is with trout fishing, seasons change, as does the weather.

Yes, the mild fifty-degree days we are accustomed to begin fading, giving way to the artic blast, usually around January. It’s called January pain.

But again, the changing weather in the form of frigid temperatures does not dissuade us…. for we are fly fishers!

If you’re a fly fisher then certainly there will be a day during January you will rise at 6 a.m. to catch the morning weather, which reports artic like temperatures. The forecaster tells you, right then and there, the temperature is twenty-nine degrees and that the wind chill factor has become the wind kill factor and furthermore the real feel temperature will be only ten degrees today. But, the call is too strong, the gear goes in the SUV, you grab an extra cup of Joe and off you are.

You get to the river and quickly gear up while your vehicle, and the heater, is still running. You jump back in the vehicle for one final warm-up and then to the river’s edge you go. The wade to your destination is slow and methodical because you very well know taking the polar bear plunge would end your trip abruptly.

Ten minutes into the river your hands are already numb. Fingers coiled around rod and cupped around line are by now fairly static because they are also numb. Numb, except for the burning tingling sensation in the very tips.

By now, the ole olfactory has kicked in high gear and is running like the river herself. You snort, sniff, and suck, but the olfactory keeps on producing and the production trickles down your face. If you have a moustache then your agony is only compounded for surely the product will definitely freeze within your grooming.

Twenty minutes now have passed and suddenly you wonder if your ears are still attached or have they actually fallen into the river. If there is another part of the human body that is affected more by cold temperatures than the ear it is most likely an extremity that is usually covered, unless you’re a nudist.

With you ears aching and throbbing like there is no tomorrow you find yourself looking over both shoulders because out there somewhere you know there is another fly fisher, a clown at heart, that is dying to thump you on your aching extremity.

The pain of such an act is not your only concern. Yes you are concerned, equally as well, for the life of the fellow that would thump your frozen ear. For you see such an action would certainly be basis for murder that would occur in quick short order fashion right there in the river. But fear not my friends for once the jury heard the details… you would be set free. Yes indeed, the jury would vindicate your actions and the judge would quickly apologize to you for being yanked into court on such a frivolous charge. The judge would even go as far to say that yours was the purest form of self-defense he had ever heard.

A half hour has now passed and you no longer can feel your legs or your feet. The thought runs through your mind whether or not your toes have turned blue and black yet. You need to move but out of fear of not being able to, you stand rigid. Yes you fear that moving is beyond reality at this point and you indeed have become a fixture of the river, at least until the spring thaw.

The Gods of the north are tormenting you with their icy breath but you stand in defiance of their omnipotence. The Gods blow another blast and you turn your collar up a bit more while under your breath saying, “Bring it on you dark northern devils.” Two minutes later they deliver another blast and again under your breath you say, “Okay, okay, I take back the devil thing”, but stay you do. To you it is a man versus nature thing and “by God” this time the outcome is going to be different. Yeah, right.

Besides that…the word wimp is not in your vocabulary, you’re a fly fisher remember?

You begin to wonder if you’re the biggest idiot in the world but with a simple look upstream or downstream you see that you have plenty of company. However, the big difference is most of your company is sitting on the bank and they have a fire going in front of them. The warm flickering flames are inviting, but you steadfastly resist the temptation of the warm red glow.

One hour in the river and again your attention turns to your legs that are now frozen stumps. The rheumatoid arthritis, usually pinpointed in your joints, is traveling straight to your central nervous system, which unfortunately is not yet frozen, and dissipating pain throughout your tortured body.

The trout are not cooperating because they are smarter than you and are holding in deep pockets letting metabolism become the nature of things. These brilliant un-cooperating creatures look up at you through the water column and in their language say simply, “dumb-butted fly fisher”.

You haven’t had so much as a bump on your fly, and if you did you couldn’t feel it because you’re frozen. Your eyes are watering so much you couldn’t see the twitch in the tippet and even more your arms are rigid to the point you couldn’t get a hook set to save your life.

One hour and fifteen minutes has now passed and the three cups of coffee you had earlier are ringing the doorbell of your bladder. You reach down deep within yourself, and through self-talk try and convince yourself that you do not have to pee. But you do have to pee, quite badly, but you’re thermally challenged beyond the ability of squirming. It’s crunch time and you know it, so you begin to meditate and it works for the time being.

No, the fish are not biting and you really don’t care because it would mean you’d have to get your hands wet to remove the hook. Your very well convinced getting your hands wet at this point would result in a digit snapping off and falling into the river.

You make a decision to call it. The image of your fly tying vise in a warm cozy room with the refrigerator full of beer just around the corner is dancing in your head. You start to spool up and as you do a trout attacks. You bring the trout to hand, forgetting about the possible loss of digits, and return the creature to the water.

You tell yourself what a fine fly fisher you are.

It took you less than two minutes to wade into the river but a good five to wade out because you cannot feel a single footstep along the way. You make it to the bank where you proceed up the hill waddling like a duck that just had a prostrate examination.

You make it to your SUV and jump in not even taking the time to break down your rod. This is survival so you quickly start the vehicle and turn on that blast furnace of a heater therein. Your day is done… you are toast. No…. you are frozen toast.

Perhaps I stand corrected; yes I admit it here and now. Maybe the “no pain no gain” thing is right on and the coiner of that phrase did indeed fish for trout only during cold weather season. For sure, January pain can bring pleasure to many of us and that pleasure lies in chasing Rainbows on Blue River.