A couple of recent trips have got me thinking about a seemingly simple question: what to wear flyfishing, and in particular, what to bring as backup?
A few days ago, a cool spell encouraged me to check in on a little-known local stream to see how it was weathering an otherwise hot, dry summer. I left home in the morning under leaden skies, with light mizzle irritating the auto wiper setting on my car, and the temperature in the low teens. The forecast of 30C and sunny seemed fanciful. However, as I was packing the car, including with waders and wading boots, I threw in a pair of wading socks – just in case.
By the time I parked on the high, rocky ridge which offered the closest access to the stream, it was still cool, but the sky had lightened and the air was dry. I went to put on my waders… and hesitated. It was a steep walk down to the stream, and more to the point, it would be a steep walk back up once I’d finished fishing. I was already wearing my quick-dry pants, so it was simple to swap the waders and boots, for neoprene wading socks and boots.
A steep climb up and down.
My fleece jacket? Off. And although the sun was yet to appear, I put my buff on standby around my neck, and added my slightly Benny Hill-esque yet effective floppy hat. Finally, I applied sunscreen. (No, I don’t like the stuff, but I like being burnt even less.)
Within half an hour, the sun was out and it was a different day. Wet wading in a light shirt quickly proved to be the right choice. Waders, let alone fleece and waders, would have been a mistake.
In case you’re wondering, the actual fishing was nothing special – one modest-sized brown caught, one missed. At least the walk back up the now sunbaked ridge to the car wasn’t any hotter than it needed to be.
A week earlier, I returned from 8 days in Tasmania’s highlands. Preparing for that trip in Victoria’s midsummer heat, it seemed absurd to be packing thermal layers, gloves, beanies and a heavy-duty fleece. I almost needed to stand in front of the air-conditioner at full blast to put myself in the right frame of mind to pack properly.
Don’t let the blue sky fool you – this late January morning in the highlands started at zero degrees, and didn’t warm up much after that.
Sure enough though, 34C at Melbourne Airport was replaced by 12C and a strong south-westerly at Penstock Lagoon later the same day. It seemed incongruous to change out of my flight civies in front of the shack heater, and into full highlands dress. The merino gloves were to prove especially useful – as was that same buff mentioned earlier, this time pulled up over my generous but sensitive ears for warmth.
It’s a well-worn saying in flyfishing circles that there’s no such thing as the wrong weather, just the wrong clothing. These last two very different trips have reminded me of exactly that.
