With an unusually warm winter settling in, I found myself craving time on the river. A 60-degree day in December may not do much for skiing, but it makes for a perfect excuse to go fly fishing. The Pecos was calling.
I left the house around 9:30 a.m., stopping in Pecos for one of my favorite breakfast burritos at Pancho’s before heading up the canyon. As I drove, it was immediately noticeable how empty everything was. Dalton, Windy Bridge, Terrero—each spot passed without another truck in sight. In the end, I pushed on to the quality waters above the Rio Mora, a stretch I’ve always enjoyed, especially in winter when solitude is almost guaranteed.
I was on the water by about 10:30 a.m. The day started chilly, with shaded sections of the canyon still frozen over, but once the sun climbed higher, things warmed up quickly. Any stretch that caught the sunlight had fully thawed, creating that rare and welcome winter contrast of cold air and warm hands.
Fishing wasn’t easy. Chunks of ice drifted downstream, knocking flies off course and sometimes convincing me I’d hooked a fish—only to reel in a floating slab of ice instead. Interesting, sure, but not quite what I was hoping for.
The trout were picky, too. I worked through a handful of flies before finally dialing things in with a black perdigon paired with an egg pattern. That combo did the trick. Over about two and a half hours, I landed ten solid rainbow trout and two feisty little brown trout—more than enough to make the day feel like a success.
By the time I headed back to the truck, I realized it wasn’t just another fishing trip. It felt like a small winter adventure—quiet, unexpected, and deeply rewarding.
Tight lines.
