Winter midges, the serendipity, the $3 dip and Ross Merigold

For a long time I didn't bother with fishing the winter midges that typically occur in December. They were too small – and I didn't know much about them.

That changed on those winter days when it was comfortable to be out fishing and I'd see a pod of trout rising incessantly in a foam eddy, and I couldn't catch them.

I learned that there are over fifty species of midges active in trout streams. That was intimidating.

Because they're so little they're difficult to see clearly, much less capture. It was impossible for me to do what I usually did with other flies during warmer weather: get a good look at one or capture one, and tie on a fly about the same size and color.

If I got serious enough, and it is still a big part of the fun, I'd try to design a fly that would do a better job of fooling the trout than the standard patterns.

To simplify the game with winter midges: The adults are all black. And regardless their color when they're on the stream bottom, all midges turn red before they hatch. Black dries, red pupae. Simple.

They're between 4 and 7 centimeters or 64th of an inch long, which means #18 to #22 flies. I tie my #22 equivalent flies on short-shanked #18 hooks, and they work.

When you see that batch of fish eating like there's no tomorrow and you can't see what they're on, tie on a #20 back midge and start casting. You can use a bigger indicator fly above the midge as a spotter. Strike any rise close to the pink-winged #16 parachute about two feet up from the midge that you can actually see.

If they're not rising, fish a red #18 or #20 Serendipity, $3 Dip, or if you must, a Perdigon.

The Perdigon is successful because it gets deep – fast. It's simple but expensive to tie.

Perdigons are slim, practically no bulk to them at all, and they get down. But they look deformed, like emaciated little bugs with a real bad case of encephalitis with those oversized, swollen jig-bead heads.

For aesthetic reasons I'd rather fish a fly that looks more like a healthy bug. And I don't feel compelled to spend $75 on glue, goop, slotted jig heads, special hooks, thread, and Coq d' Leon feathers just to tie my first Perdigon.

Pass.

The $3 Dip is based on my old friend Ross Merigold's Serendipity. The $3 Bridge section of the Madison was Ross' favorite water.

That fly was the first to bring widespread attention to the importance of fishing midges in fast water. The $3 Dip fly pattern is a successor to Ross' fly.

Ross was flyfishing's answer to Santa Claus. He was big and burly, and had thinning white hair and a short white beard surrounding a perpetual smile. I can't think of a time when I didn't see him in Levis and a red shirt.

One afternoon Ross was fishing that $3 Bridge stretch upstream from another friend of mine, Gerry Bliss, who first introduced me to Ross Merigold. Jerry was slightly built – around 5'9´ and 145 or so, in comparison to Ross, who was around 100 pounds heavier and several inches taller. They made quite a pair.

Jerry told me later that the worst experience of his life was seeing Ross' body, floating face down under that red shirt at the edge of the Madison's heavy current.. He knew what had a happened, was immediately shocked and grief-stricken, and faced with the near- impossible task of dragging Ross' body out of that heavy water. He managed, somehow; it took a long time and he sat there on the bank of the Madison, too exhausted to move, and wept.

Before that they had both done well. Jerry would look upstream every now and then and see Ross's rod bent, and when he'd hook up he'd get a fist-up wave from Ross.

I don't know if they were fishing Ross' Serendipities. As Jerry was telling me the story, I didn't want to ask.

If I fish underwater midges this winter, I think I'd use a Serendipity or a $3 Dip. I might find I'd have done better with Perdigons, but I don't care. It wouldn't be so rich with memories nor nearly as much fun when I hooked up if I did.