Richard Formato

Richard Formato is an avid catch-and-release fly-fisherman from Wytheville, Va. When not on the water, he operates a small business there. Formato loves to fly-fish in his native Southwest Virginia because of the great water and wonderful people. He also loves to fish the flats and shallows of the Gulf of Mexico and Atlantic whenever work and weather permit. He is on the Department of Conservation and Recreation's board of directors and is a trustee of the Shenandoah National Forest and Skyline Drive.

Recent columns

• What about Bob?
• Notes from the Charlotte Fly Show
• A chance meeting
• A wish for Jack

• Column archive
• Talk fly-fishing

Well, it was fun while it lasted last week: 60-degree temps, light winds, no rain.

I like to think 45 degrees is my winter threshhold for fly fishing, but the truth is I have fished below this arbitrary line many times.

My most memorable January trip was about five years ago when I a friend took me to meet Bruce Wankel.

Bruce operates The Virginia Creeper Fly Shop in Abingdon.

The man is an expert on the tailwaters, has special access to many secret spots all over southwestern Virginia. He also floats the New and James, as requested.

As a professional guide, he is a great fly-fisherman, a whip-smart entomologist, and artistic fly-tier.

Bruce is also extremely fussy. Outfitted in full expedition gear hot or cold, rain or shine, he commonly uses a 15-foot leader, uses flies you need a microscope to tie on, and has one of the coolest Southern accents you’ll ever hear.

But what I like to listen to are his behavioral theories about trout.

Bruce will tell you that when the barometric pressure is changing, the trout air bladders are adjusting, and this makes the trout a little prickly, slows their feeding and makes them, well, “unhappy.”

Anybody who has ever fished for tarpon has heard about “happy fish." When the guide says tarpon are happy, that’s a very good thing. That means they are laid up, daisy chaining, and are more likely to taking a fly.

Bruce's meaning is similar. A happy trout is one that is content, not stressed by an extreme weather change or an extreme variance in water temperature, and will move at least 4 feet to take a fly.

Anyway, back to my story of five years ago. As we set out, the local bank sign said it was 13 degrees. Uh oh.

We went to the Roger’s Steam Plant in East Tennessee to fish for what I was told would be trout and white bass.

Imagine standing on a rock and briar riverbank where this gigantic corrugated pipe ejects warmed water into the river to create a superb fish habitat. Throw in some conveyor belts, creepy industrial sounds (that necessitated ear protection) and the rumble of coal dump trucks. If you didn’t raise your eyes, it was beautiful.

After I put on an exhibition on how to consecutively back-cast clouser minnow’s into the briars, Wankel wanted to get out of there worse than I did. I wish I could have blamed this display on the cold, but I just plain made a fool of myself.

And quickly growing tired of watching me launch streamers into the woods, Bruce blasted the car heater all the way on the drive to the Watauga River near Elizabethton, Tenn.

The Watauga is heavy with wild brown and rainbow trout. Trout Unlimited rates it one of the top 100 streams in the United States.

However, on this frigid day, it was a somber place of black rushing water.

Have you ever noticed how sinister a trout stream looks in the winter in the low angle of the sun?

That same stream in June would have been breathtaking, glorious. But today, it was a gloaming of barren wood framing unseen rocks and holes that could send you back to Roanoke on Lifeguard 10.

I didn’t catch a thing. Not even a bump.

Bruce caught six or seven in 30 minutes.

How? Simple, really. He knew the fish weren't happy.

He knew in this wicked cold, they weren’t swimming for anything. He never cast more than just a few feet in front of him, and high sticked a small dry with a nymph dropper.

He knew there were plenty of fish in this stream, and knew that if he just dragged this combo in front of their open mouths, he would get a take.

Every time I looked over, he was reaching for his net.

Even though the trout weren’t happy, Bruce was happy.

What Bruce taught me was just because trout won't swim more than 4 feet for a fly in January doesn't mean they won't eat one within 3 feet.

This time of year is a great time to hone this technique.

Start with 4X leader and use tippet, then taper it down to 6 or 7X. Start with a bead head nymph, pinch on a just a little touch of soft weight (about 10 inches above the fly )and attach a strike indicator about the same depth of the water. Roll-cast into the green water runs in any trout stream you choose.

Those fish are there. They are not on the move. They are unhappy January trout, and if you can dredge a fly off the bottom, and concentrate on your strike indicator while making short casts, I guarantee you will start getting bumps, quick grabs, and start landing fish.

January fly-fishing is a more technical. The fish are more selective. They are not aggressive, and the elements are tougher to deal with.

The key is to wade in stealthily and cast just a few feet upstream and let your nymph do the work. I always advise a strike indicator, and use one you can quickly modify for stream depths.

Don’t line your fish. Do a lot of delicate roll-casts, and high sticking, and you will end up catching more fish than if you rushed from hole to hole, flinging fly line from bank to bank.

Just remember, January trout need room service. They have to be catered too. A trout’s diet is 90 percent nymphs. In January, you need to play the odds.

The pay-off is when you catch even one January trout, you have done something.

Now it’s your turn to be happy.