Why it's sometimes better to move waterways than persist
SNOWY MOUNTAINS | October 2026
If you have been out there doing the kilometers with fly rod in hand, you will have come across those days where the river feels void of any fish. No rises, no follows, no eats. In this situation you have probably considered whether to keep persisting, or make the big call to move to a different part of the river, or to a new system all together.
There is a certain safety in persisting, you are on the river, things might change, might just look at a few more runs. But there is opportunity in moving, because a stream close by might be a whole different story.
A RECENT EXAMPLE
I was recently out on a river for season opening weekend here in New South Wales, fishing a new section of a place that’s well known to me in the Snowy Mountains. I’d been waiting three or so months to get out again, and the anticipation was understandably high.
On arrival, early‑season conditions were in full swing. The water was a little high and still a little colder, but with Spring arriving earlier this year than usual, I had hopes for reasonable fish movement and some hatches. The river was running beautifully clear. Large Caddis and Mayflies were hatching in smaller numbers and the weather was building into an afternoon storm, all the ingredients were there.
I started fishing around 10am, after a long drive, and settled in to make my way well up this stunning river, hoping to find some willing early‑season trout that were remote enough to see less pressure. Instead, things were incredibly quiet. Pool after pool of really good‑looking water without a sign of any trout. After a couple of hours of trying different tactics including dry droppers, deep nymphing under indicators, even swinging some streamers, I didn’t catch a glimpse of any fish and I wondered why.
Another hour went by. I made my way through several more new, good‑looking runs, but it was still very quiet. I sat down to eat lunch with a decision to make. I decided to fish for one more hour, just to make sure things weren’t still waking up. I worked through three more great runs, trying different tactics, and still had no results and no signs.
I made my last cast and my decision to leave and find somewhere new. Luckily, in this area another stream wasn’t far away, so I put my nymph into one of my rod guides, tightened the slack around my reel, and walked back out to the car hoping for better results.
A FRESH START
I didn’t have to travel far before finding myself on a smaller stream that feeds into the river I’d been fishing earlier. It was in immaculate early‑season condition as well, but much narrower and tighter — almost twig water, but not quite.
I set up my gear to take the photograph above, and as I was packing away to get ready to fish, the rain began. Just then I noticed two fish rising in the pool above the rapids, jumping clear out of the water. It was the first sign of life I’d seen all day, and for the new season. I tied on the same dry fly I’d been using earlier, a Patch Adams with a light grey body and pink post, and cast through the nice, generally just‑under‑knee‑deep pool.
On my second cast a smaller brown, about 35 centimeters by my estimate, drifted up off the bottom and sipped in the dry. I could see every detail, and as I struck and felt the weight I knew I was onto my first fish of the season. I didn’t quite get it to the net though; it came off at the last second. I stood there wondering what that meant, or if it meant anything at all, given the first half of the day. I grabbed my dry, drowned it in the fly shaker to soak out the moisture, and put another cast through the same run but on the left side. Another trout grabbed the fly, a much smaller fish this time but it was a clear sign this waterway was far more active, and I felt relieved.
I moved slowly up the stream for the rest of the afternoon. On most of my first, second, and sometimes third casts, the dry fly was getting attention from fish of varying sizes in very nice water. Many trout were small, but some were good fish for a stream of this size, around that 30 to 40 centimeter mark.
As it started to get darker I made my way back to the car and thought about the day. In the past I’ve been in this situation with very quiet fishing, persisting, and ending up skunked. Being out there is enough most of the time, but it’s good to see signs of fish life, for the health of the river and for my own sanity. I also thought about the decision I’d made to move, and how it shaped the day on this occasion. It could easily have been a mistake, and this stream could have been quiet too.
A LESSON LEARNED & REMEMBERED
About a year ago I was at a fly‑fishing event in my home city, and I was fortunate enough to spend some time with one of Australia’s top female fly fishers, someone who has competed around the world. We talked about this very subject — those poor days in the Snowy Mountains when you don’t see much life at all.
I distinctly remember her saying, “It’s not you. There just aren’t any fish around in these situations, or they simply aren’t feeding. You’re better off moving and finding new water to start again. Australian trout populations are low compared to say America, you might have to find the fish on certain days”
That stuck with me, and on this occasion I put it into practice to turn the day around.
OUR KEY REASONS WHY IT'S SOMETIMES BETTER TO MOVE WATERWAYS THAN PERSIST
No signs of fish for at least half a day
If the river hasn’t shown you anything by early afternoon, it might be time to consider something different, and perhaps come back for a late afternoon hatch if the conditions are conducive.
Evidence of recent pressure
If you are seeing footprints, major paths worn in the long grass, or rubbish the chances are the river has seen plenty of angler pressure and the fish might just need a break.
High, dirty water
If you have persisted through tough high water conditions with no luck, it might be worth a move higher up into the system to find less flow and possibly cleaner water.
There is a viable alternative nearby
Moving only works if you’re not burning the rest of the day to do it.
FINAL THOUGHT
Days like this remind me that fly fishing isn’t just about persistence — it’s about making honest calls. If the river is quiet, pressured, dirty, or simply not offering anything, there’s no shame in packing up and trying somewhere new. It’s a small decision, but it can turn a slow day into a memorable one.
