adrift_fly_fishing_labor_graphic_design_minneapolis_andy_weaverling_sorry_folks_01 adrift_fly_fishing_labor_graphic_design_minneapolis_andy_weaverling_sorry_folks_04 adrift_fly_fishing_labor_graphic_design_minneapolis_andy_weaverling_sorry_folks_06Adrift Greatest Hits Vol. 1? No not really. I pride myself on offering up fresh content (as opposed to regurgitating yesterday’s news), but I stumbled across the first couple of pics recently when my kids were scouring the depths of my iphone’s photo library. These older images epitomize what I love about early March fishing. Even though you are often trudging though a wintery mix (and the bite can be hit or miss), you can feel mother nature shaking off the rust. There is an innate sense that it’s all gravy from here on out. In a wild display of mood swings, she’s elected to really turn up the heat. In like a lion out like a lamb? The remaining snowpack and shelf ice is not long for this world. From a photography standpoint, dawn and dusk can provide you either the best or worst light to capture the moment. The fish may not have come easily that morning, but the photos were flowing freely in the dawn’s early light.




adrift_fly_fishing_labor_graphic_design_minneapolis_andy_weaverling_driftless_trout_winter_01adrift_fly_fishing_labor_graphic_design_minneapolis_andy_weaverling_driftless_fly_tying_03adrift_fly_fishing_labor_graphic_design_minneapolis_andy_weaverling_driftless_trout_winter_07adrift_fly_fishing_labor_graphic_design_minneapolis_andy_weaverling_driftless_trout_winter_05As much as I’d like to tell you that I’ve been unraveling life’s mysteries at the crack of dawn, like two years ago, this just hasn’t been the case. Midday meddling has been more my speed. I’ve been eyeballing a Brook trout specific run, but spent more time on Brown dominated water. Countless hours pouring over options in the offseason ultimately paid dividends by supplying me with a quality fish on a new beat. Deep and slow was the way to go. This was a prototypical sluggish winter take that I classify as the “moving snag.” There’s no finer moment in fishing than the instant that you realize your “snag” actually fights back. It’s not like I set the world on fire, but I’m perfectly happy to simply have put one in the win column. There would be no Monet masterworks in this set. A few poorly constructed workmen-like pics of the beast and I sent her on her way.

The shortest distance between two points might be a line, but ultimately the shortcut will leave you high and dry. The Ides of March are upon us, and there’s no glory in easy. Inch by inch, mile by mile, I’m once again taking my baby steps.