That time of the year has finally arrived. The stars have aligned and you actually have a few hours to spend on the water. The January weather held off and the streams that receive weekly trout stockings were stocked on schedule. Mountain roads remained passable. The monthly and bi-weekly streams will get their trout in February. Things are good and you have a little bit of time to go; tomorrow. New line is spooled on your real and you get the first whiff of your musty fishing vest. While you are going through your tackle; seeing what was lost and what is needed; you remember the black widow in the shed last fall. You turn your waders inside out, inspect your wading shoes and throw the emptied vest in the washer; just to be safe. You drive to the local tackle shop to replenish supplies. Anticipation is high for tomorrow morning and the weather forecast is good.

The sun rises as you pull into the parking area of your favorite spot. Nobody is there; nice! But, you mutter to yourself that the reason nobody is there, is because it is too cold.

You have about three hours and you convince yourself that you will make the most of it. Already cold fingers fumble to get the line through the guides. The first knot of the year is difficult to tie. Nice warm shoes are removed and replaced by your cold, clammy waders. Shouldn’t have left them in the back of the truck; last night. Off you go through the frosty, mushy bottom. You notice a few skunk cabbages, barely poking up. Then; you are at the streams’ edge. The first step into the water registers cold, you move further out into the stream. The water is a little murky; but there are no floating ice chunks. Legs become colder and colder; but you know they will adjust to the temperature, shortly.

Studying the water; you notice a slight change from last year. A hemlock has fallen and has slightly altered the flow. The water now sweeps into the underwater rock ledge from a different angle than previous years. You move downstream to adjust for the change of your upstream cast. The first cast has to be perfect; you tell yourself. You read your thermometer; 41 degrees. You know it will be slow. You think to yourself that you should have waited until later in the day for the water to warm. But, this is the only time you had to go. Deal with it. While clamping on two BB split-shots; you visualize the path that your salmon egg will take, bouncing and rolling in the current; past the outcropping.

You bait the hook with two eggs and make the cast upstream. Surprisingly; the bait enters the water, where you wanted it to. Slack comes out of the lines as your offering moves downstream, sinkers tick on the rocky bottom. Midway, through the drift, there it is. The tap, tap is transmitted through numb fingers, raising the rod, you remove slack and set the hook. You feel weight on the other end. The trout moves downstream and the fight is on. Soon, it is at your feet. If it is to be released or fried; that is up to you. Make that first cast count; you never know if there will be another.

Visit Randy at http://www.randy-bodkins.fineartamerica.com or at highvirginiaoutdoors.blogspot.com.