Seasons of Fly Fishing: Volume 2 — Spring

The water pressing against my waders is cold — genuinely cold — the kind that reminds you winter hasn't fully let go. But the air above is telling a different story. It's warm and dry, carrying something I haven't smelled in months: the bright, sweet scent of new growth. Bugs are already coming off the surface in lazy drifts, and somewhere nearby a bird breaks into song as if it's been waiting all winter for this exact moment.

I scan a boulder midstream and find what I was looking for — stoneflies, clinging to the rock face, pulling themselves free of the current toward open air. Ants and grasshoppers have started appearing in the streamside grass. Everything is waking up at once, filling the valley with a hum and a chorus that was completely absent just a few weeks ago. I glance at the riffle ahead and watch a trout emerge, eating something off the surface. Then another. Then two more.

The famine is over.

There is something almost indescribable about stepping onto a river in spring after a long winter. It isn't just the fish — though they're hungry and showing it — and it isn't just the weather, or the bugs, or the color returning to the hills. It's the contrast. Winter fishing has its own quiet rewards, but it demands something of you. It's cold, it's slow, and the fish are deliberate and selective. Spring washes all of that away and replaces it with abundance. You feel it the moment you wade in.

Spring is also a season of transition and discovery. I find myself using it as a reset — trying new flies, experimenting with different rigs, shaking off the habits I settled into over winter. There are so many insects in the system that trout are rarely locked in on just one thing. That openness makes spring one of the best times of year to be a versatile angler. You can push your game, and the fish will often meet you there. For me, it's my second favorite season to fish, and every year it manages to feel brand new.

The Season of Contrast

Spring in the mountain west is not a polite season. It doesn't ease in gently. One morning you're breaking ice off your guides; by afternoon you're unzipping layers and looking for shade. A storm can roll in from nowhere and turn a bluebird day into a sideways sleet situation in under an hour. The river itself reflects that chaos — snowmelt pushes flows higher by the week, water temperatures swing through a wide range, and the insects seem to follow a schedule only they know about.

What makes spring special — and what makes it challenging — is that same volatility.

The bugs seem to get bigger as the weeks progress. In March, you're fishing midges and small nymphs in cold, clear water, presenting tiny flies to fish that are still a little sluggish. By May, stoneflies are crawling out of the river and you're throwing Pat's Rubber Legs into deep runs during runoff and watching big trout move for them. The season practically takes you by the hand and walks you through the full range of fly fishing in a matter of weeks.

That progression is part of what I love about it. Spring rewards anglers who stay curious, who adjust as the river changes, and who resist the urge to fish the same way they did last week. The angler who shows up in April with the same rig they ran in March is going to struggle. The angler who pays attention to what's happening — what bugs are out, where the water is running, what temperature the river is sitting at — is going to have some of the best days of the year.

Dressing for the Day: Spring Layering

If there's one thing that will cut a spring day short before it should end, it's being dressed wrong. I've seen it happen more times than I can count — an angler leaves the truck underprepared on a cold morning, battles through the first few hours, and by early afternoon they're done. Not because the fishing died. Because they're miserable.

Spring layering is more complex than any other season. In winter, you bundle up and stay bundled. In summer, you wear the least you can. Spring asks you to be dynamic — to manage a 30-degree morning that turns into a 70-degree afternoon, all while standing in 45-degree water. Getting this right is genuinely important if you want to fish long days comfortably.

Base Layer: Wool

Start with a thin merino wool base layer. I can't overstate how much this matters. Wool naturally thermoregulates — it pulls moisture away from your skin when you're hot and traps warmth when you're cold. A 150-weight merino is the sweet spot for spring: light enough for warm afternoons, warm enough for cold mornings. I run First Lite's merino base layers and have for years. They've held up better than anything else I've tried, and the thermoregulation is real and noticeable. The key thing a wool base layer does is prevent that cold, clammy feeling that builds when moisture sits against your skin — which, when you're working a section of stream for hours at a time, can turn into a real problem fast.

Mid Layer: Active Insulation

This is where spring layering gets interesting. Because you're standing in cold water while the air around you may be quite warm, you need a mid layer that can adapt — one that dumps heat when you're moving and retains it when you're standing still in a deep run. That's the definition of active insulation, and it earns its place in spring more than any other season.

On the bottom, First Lite's Navigator pant has been a game-changer for me as an under-wader layer. It's built to do exactly what spring fishing demands — move with you, regulate temperature, and keep you comfortable whether you're wading deep or standing in the sun on a gravel bar. Above the knee you're mostly in waders anyway, but that lower leg warmth makes a real difference on cold mornings. On top, I love a full-zip fleece — I wear a Patagonia better sweater, though sometimes I trade it out for first lite suppressor soft shell — the full zip is key for me because I can take it off and stuff it in a pack in seconds when the afternoon heats up without breaking the rhythm of the day.

Outer Layer: Wind and Rain Protection

Spring storms don't always give you a warning. A packable, waterproof outer layer is non-negotiable — not because you'll wear it all day, but because the one time you don't have it, you'll wish you did. I alternate between a softshell hunting jacket for windier days (the soft shell gives you a fuzzy interior and light water resistance in one packable piece) and a dedicated rain shell when the forecast actually looks wet. The important thing is that it packs down small enough to ride comfortably in a day pack or fishing pack. You want it accessible, not buried at the bottom of the truck.

Don't Forget Your Feet

Cold feet end days early and nobody talks about it enough. Wading in spring water — especially in March and April — will drain warmth from your feet faster than almost anything else. One pair of thin socks under your wading boots is not going to cut it. My system is two layers: a thin merino athletic sock next to the skin (Darn Tough makes a great one) to pull moisture away, topped with a thicker wool sock for insulation. I've been fishing with Holo socks as the outer layer this season and they've been exceptional for keeping my feet comfortable even on the coldest mornings. It sounds like a small thing until the day your feet go numb at 10am and even though the fish are biting the diner at the last turnoff - the one with hot coffee and cheap pancakes starts to sound better and better.

How to Fish Spring Successfully

Spring rewards versatility more than any other season. The river is constantly changing — flows rise and drop with snowmelt, water temperatures shift week to week, and the bugs evolve from tiny midges in early March to large stoneflies by late May. The anglers who have a good day in spring are the ones who pay attention to what the river is doing right now — not what it was doing last week, or this time last year — and adjust accordingly.

Early season (March into early April) is a slower, more deliberate game. Water is cold, fish are feeding but not recklessly, and your best approach is small and subtle. Fish the slower runs, seams along current edges, and deeper pools where trout hold to conserve energy. As the season progresses and temperatures climb, fish become more active and spread through the river system. By May, you'll find them in riffles, runs, and actively feeding in shallower water — especially during hatch activity.

Reading water in spring also means accounting for higher flows. Runoff pushes trout out of the main current and into the edges — soft pockets behind boulders, slack water along cut banks, and the margins of deeper pools. These are the places trout can hold without burning energy fighting heavy flow, and where food gets funneled to them by the current. Fish the edges and the seams where fast water meets slow. That's where spring trout will be.

Flies of Choice

One of the things I love most about spring is how the fly box evolves through the season. You start March fishing small and subtle, and by the time May rolls around you're throwing big rubber-legged stones and watching the kind of takes that make you forget how cold the water was six weeks ago. Here's what I'm reaching for through the season.

Nymphs (the backbone of spring)

• Walt's Worm variation (curve hook, bead head, wire body, dubbed in olive, rust, or tan) — one of my most reliable early-season nymphs. I tie mine on a curve hook and it's produced fish on almost every spring river I've fished.

• Purple Zebra Midge — don't ask me why the purple works so well, but it does. On days when nothing else is producing, this fly has saved my skin more than once.

• Pat's Rubber Legs — once stoneflies enter the system, this is my anchor fly. It's heavy enough to get down even in higher runoff flows, and big fish respond to it aggressively. I'll typically trail a size 18–20 Pheasant Tail off the back — bead head or non-bead depending on the day.

• Pheasant Tail Nymph (size 14–20) — a reliable trailing fly all season. Simple, classic, and trout eat it confidently.

• Prince Nymph — when I'm struggling, I reach for this. It doesn't perfectly imitate anything, but it has a presence in the water that triggers fish. A great fly to have when you need to turn a slow day around.

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Dry Flies (when they start looking up)

As water temperatures climb into the 50s, dry fly fishing becomes increasingly productive. The bug activity is explosive by late spring, and trout that have been feeding subsurface all winter begin looking up.

• RS2 Foam Wing — a killer transitional fly. Small enough to match early-season midges but buoyant enough to be seen. A great choice for pulling fish to the surface during that window between winter and full spring hatches.

• Stimulator / Chubby Chernobyl / Stubby Chubby — once stoneflies are moving, these attractor patterns are just flat-out fun to fish. High floating, easy to see, and trout come out of nowhere for them.

• Parachute Adams / BWO Parachute — for the mayfly hatches working alongside stonefly season. Keep a range of sizes. When trout are rising selectively, matching the hatch matters.

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Streamers (flash and movement)

Spring streamers are a different game than fall streamers. When runoff colors the water, you need flash — not subtle, not muted. I want a streamer that grabs attention from a distance: flashy Zonkers, bright Woolly Buggers in white or chartreuse, anything with a profile that cuts through discolored water. Strip it into the seams along the bank, give it life, and be ready. High water brings big fish into places they wouldn't normally hold, and streamers find them.

Trials of the Season: Overcoming Spring's Challenges

Spring fishing is generous, but it asks things of you in return. The two biggest challenges — temperature swings and runoff — can both shorten days or shut them down entirely if you're not prepared for them. But like everything in fly fishing, understanding the challenge is half the battle.

Temperature Swings

A lot of anglers underestimate how much temperature variation spring throws at you, especially in the mountain west. Mornings in the 30s, afternoons pushing 70 — sometimes on the same day. The angler who doesn't think this through ends up roasting by noon or shivering through the early hatch window. Neither is a great way to fish.

The answer is a layering system you can actually manage on the water — not layers you have to hike back to the truck to remove. Full zips over the mid layer, packable shells, and a day pack that can carry what you take off are all practical moves. The goal is to stay in the water, not on the bank adjusting clothes. When you're comfortable, you fish better. It's as simple as that.

Runoff

Runoff is the defining challenge of spring fishing in the mountain west, and it's one that separates experienced anglers from everyone else. As snowmelt pushes into river systems, flows rise, water discolors, and wading becomes genuinely dangerous in places that felt perfectly safe a few weeks prior. Knowing when to get in the water and when to stay out is the most important skill you can have during this window.

My approach during runoff has evolved over time. I moved up to a 6-weight rod this season for longer casts and better line control in heavy current — it lets me fish from farther away and avoid wading into water I shouldn't be in. I also started carrying a wading staff this year, and I genuinely cannot believe I waited this long. The added stability in pushing water is enormous, and it gives you confidence to wade just a little deeper than you otherwise would without taking stupid risks. But the most important thing is simply knowing your rivers. Know which ones are wadeable during runoff and which ones aren't. You can catch more fish— but you don't get another life.

When the water is colored and high, the solution on the fly side is simple: go bigger, go brighter, go heavier. Larger hooks and beads get your fly down faster in heavy flows. White wings, hot spots, and flashy materials catch the eye of a fish that's looking through several feet of turbid water. You're not presenting a delicate imitation — you're throwing a signal. The fish will find it.

Making the Most of Spring

Spring is the season that sets the tone for everything that follows. The habits you build, the flies you learn to trust, the rivers you figure out — all of it carries forward into summer and fall. Treat it that way. Use the abundance of spring to experiment. Try a fly you've never tied on. Work a stretch of water differently than you normally would. Chase a hatch you've never matched before.

There's also something to be said for just slowing down and soaking it in. Spring is the season when the outdoors comes back to life all at once — color, sound, movement, warmth — and if you're too focused on your drift you might miss it. Let the longer days work in your favor. Pack the tent. Fish until you lose the light. Sit on a bank for a few minutes and watch the stoneflies hatch.

The trout are going to eat. That much is almost guaranteed in spring. So take the pressure off yourself a little and let the season do what it does best — remind you why you started fly fishing in the first place.

The river is full, the bugs are moving, and somewhere out in those riffles there's a trout with your name on it. All you have to do is show up.

See you out there…