by Miles Nolte
Over the past 35 years, I’ve spent a lot of time in waders. These days, I love wearing my waders. I look forward to wader season, because the waders I wear are comfortable, functional, durable, and dependable, but that wasn’t always the case. My relationship to, and feelings about, waders have evolved over the decades in direct correlation to their quality and fit. As a much younger angler, I wish someone had sat me down and told me a story like the one I’m about to tell you. It might have saved me a lot of aggravation, discomfort, and money.
At first, they seemed unnecessary. I came to fly fishing in the heat of Midwestern summers, flipping foam spiders off wooden docks for bluegill. My uncle owned a pair of Red Ball neoprene boot-foots that he wore exactly twice a year—putting the dock in after ice out and taking it down before the lake froze. Otherwise, they hung—heavy, limp, and unused—from a pair of nails in the musty basement.
In college, I would escape the heat and crush of Los Angeles whenever friends offered rides to the mountains. A pair of battered tennis shoes stood in for dedicated fishing footwear. Even on longer trips to famous trout rivers like the McCloud, Upper Sacramento, and Pitt, I would slip and smash my way through the streambeds, ending each day numb from the knees down, toenails bruised. Two or three beers, kept cold in a green nylon mesh net tucked under a cut bank, provided sufficient succor through the pins and needles of streamside re-acclimation.
In my 20s, I moved to Montana—for the trout, mostly. Arriving in August, I fished the Gallatin daily, as ashes from nearby wildfires settled like dirty snow on my truck’s windshield. I’d upgraded to a pair of second-hand wading boots and spent the first few weeks basking in the newfound luxury of felt soles and ankle support. Waders did not cross my mind. Besides, cold weather was still months away, I assumed (incorrectly).
Autumn brought problems. Wet wading on warm days is bracing. Wet wading on a Rocky Mountain fall morning is dangerous. To keep fishing, I needed waders. A wiser angler would’ve started saving for a quality pair, but I was shortsighted.
For the next five years, I got by on whatever I could find and afford. Hand-me-downs that may or may not have been used as porcupine bedding; heavy neoprenes that left me clammy and breathless walking from the truck to the riverbank; one memorable pair of discount breathables that didn’t leak but also didn’t fit and earned me the nickname “mooseknuckle.” Those years still swirl nostalgic with fish, friends, exploration, good ideas, terrible ideas, catastrophic failures, and a lot of learning. My discomfort while wearing waders, however, held constant. They were necessary but always uncomfortable. I didn’t know what I was missing.
Eventually, a guiding job in Alaska forced me to buy high-end waders in the appropriate size. That season we enjoyed three whole days without rain between June first and September first, so I lived in those waders (and corresponding jacket). The experience changed my relationship to outerwear. Those waders became a sanctuary, my most reliable and trusted gear. Outboards died, rods snapped, hats soaked through, hooks straightened, but those waders always offered warm, dry comfort and solace.
Most fly anglers have their own story of this evolution; you probably do too. Quality waders change your relationship to fishing. Sure, you can gut out discomfort: leaks, frigid feet, overheating, poor fit, and for a while that might even feel like a badge of honor, but masochism has its limitations. These days, I enjoy wader season (though I also love summer wet wading, especially at high elevation).
If you’re a cynic, you might be thinking, “Of course you’d say that; you work for a company that sells waders.” That’s true, but I’ve been a fly angler far longer than I’ve worked at Skwala. And while I will tell you (and genuinely believe) that Skwala makes the most comfortable fishing gear I’ve ever worn, my message is broader than that.
Waders should be a treat not a penance. If you detest pulling yours on and spend much of your day looking forward to the moment you get to slide out of them, you need better waders. Try out all the options (Skwala included) and see what you like best. Talk to a trusted fly shop about what you want, how you fish, and what’s most important to you. Instead of buying multiple substandard pairs, spend that money on one good pair and see how it changes your fishing.
.
Check out our waders: