If you've ever wondered what a modest Ohio river looks like at sub-zero temperatures…wonder no more! Here's the Cottage Riffle, which is located about thirty feet from where I now sit typing, at 8:30 or so this morning, when the rising was just varnishing the sycamores, and it was minus one degree Fahrenheit outside—but, thank God, a toasty sixty-eight here in the great room.
I used to go fishing for steelhead trout in weather this cold and colder—wading favorite Michigan rivers until my blood congealed and I had to come back to the truck or a bankside campfire for a brief interlude of thawing out. Either I'm turning into a wuss in my dotage, or I've gotten smarter, but nowadays in such weather I'm content to let the old blue heron do the wade-fishing while I watch in heated comfort from indoors.
Of course, seeing as how there are no steelhead to be angled for in these Buckeye streams, that's a pretty easy temptation to resist.
Now if there were…