It was New Year’s Eve and instead of the redundant dinner parties and Yule tide cheer, I was nestled in close to my tying vise and up to my eyebrows in marabou and glo bug yarn. December had been rough on the main stem of a local river my buddy and I fish. We decided that our resolution would be to grab the topo map and venture North to some tributaries that we had never fished. It was a long shot but we had nothing better to do and so what if the mercury was only forecasted to hit eight degrees for the afternoon high. After a two hour journey we reached our destination and the prospects did not look very promising. Posted signs adorned the small nursery waters every fifty feet along both sides of the bank. There was a small farm house in the distance so we took the chance, headed up the drive and knocked on the door. An old disheveled man answered “can I help you?” he said. We asked the million dollar question “can we access your land to do some fly fishing? “ To our surprise and great satisfaction the old bearded man replied, “don’t leave no mess and be careful!” So we did and what a day we were about to experience.The stream in question was no more than two rod lengths across and waist deep in the largest pools. It was a long shot that there were any fish present at all. The only thing we knew, according to the topo map, was that it emptied into Lake Ontario about six to eight river miles from where we were. After the recent thaw and increased flows the odds were in our favor.We approached the water quietly. I have been too excited in the past on these tiny streams and spooked pods of five to fifteen fish nearly back to the lake. After covering a decent amount of water and not having any luck we felt a little deflated. I walked around the next bend and saw a beautiful channel about sixty yards in length. I knew that the time was now and this was the place. On my fourth or fifth drift the fish broke the surface before I even knew she was hooked. There was a fallen tree at the tailout of the run and of course she had to shoot straight underneath it and down stream. After feeding my rod and reel under water below the log the drag froze within seconds. It was just me the rod and the line for the remainder of the fight. The battle lasted a couple of minutes. The fish was photographed and released. She was the only one we got to play with that New Years Day but I can certainly tell you it was way better than nursing a hangover.