Sunday
After packing up the truck we left the
house around noon and stopped at Rocky Mountain Anglers on the way out of
Boulder to pick up a license for Dad.
After a pleasant four hour drive filled with good chatting and nice
scenery we arrived at Roaring Fork Anglers fly shop in Glenwood Springs to
gather some intel, and then we were off to Frying Pan Anglers in Basalt for the
same. Before checking in to the
cabin we went back down river and stopped at the Whole Foods and City Market
for some food. Stefan and I talked on the phone here and reminded me he wanted
to come with us. The last few weeks he’s realized it would be nice for him to
come along, and he’s been asking if it will happen when he’s 8 or next year,
which are both the same. In the evening in the cabn we rigged up to fish the
Toilet Bowl pool the next morning and I tied up some newly invented mysis
shrimp patterns.
Monday
We started at the Toilet Bowl very early
and were surprised to see a camping van next to the river, with the camper
already fishing the hole. It was a
cold morning with no luck though I did have some big fish look at my fly in the
run right below the hole. We drove
down to the Big Bend pool by 8:45 and I walked from the truck through the
willow trees to riverside and saw fish rising. We waded across this wide, shallow section and fished
the far bank. Big fish were 3ft
downstream of us feeding off of the bugs we kicked up. Activity picked up around 10:30-11:30
with the fish feeding on small emergers, and we could see the fish rise up
vertically in the water column before sipping them in. I caught two here after
many rejections and many more casts.
We went back to the cabin for lunch and fished the cabin’s private water
across the road in the afternoon, but had no luck for the hard work we put into
it. We drove up over Ruedi
Reservoir in the afternoon and then fished the Gauging Station pool in the
evening. Right when the sun went
off the water there were fish rising until 7:30. I caught two more and dad had several hits on dries. It was a lot of fun watching the
activity even though we missed quite a few of the strikes.
Tuesday
We started back at the Big Bend pool at
8:30. Fish followed the same
pattern as yesterday – they were on emergers and very small stuff and very
picky. One hit my blood
knot. They refused most
offerings due to micro-drag. In
the evening, just as a heavy rain let up, we had several hits at the Gauging
Station pool with Wooly Buggers and Grey Ghost streamers. I had one hard strike on a black Wooly
Bugger in some rapid pocket water.
I had decided to fish the Brooks method (heavy sunk fly, short amount of
line out, guiding the fly in the water around close boulders) and immediately
had a hit. A big brown tore down
stream, leaped out of the water, and then was off. I had another similar hit a bit further across the
stream but this time the fish broke me off.
Wednesday
It was a grey, cool, 50 degree morning with
a few left over sprinkles and low hanging clouds filling in the crevices of the
peaks above us. The first
two days were slow going, since we had started on what is undoubtedly the most
challenging part of the river – it gets tons of pressure every day of the year,
there is a lot of insect activity so the fish can be selective, and the
currents are the type that would cause excessive drag unless you were constantly on
your A-game. After thinking about
it overnight I decided to return us to the Gauging Station hole today and swing
streamers since this is what was giving us the most consistent action and
played to dad’s preferred style of fishing long, deep runs down and
across. As we were crossing Baetis
bridge I looked down stream and made a spur of the moment decision to turn
downstream instead of up, away from the Gauging Station hole, to check out the
water below. It looked good and no
one was there so we parked along the stream and rigged up. Dad suggested we first try above Baetis
bridge before anyone gets there so we walked up and fished from the right
bank. I had rigged Dad up with a
sinking leader, shot, black wooly bugger and a pheasant tail nymph. He caught two from this hole. At 10:00 Dad went back down to
the truck and I crossed the bridge to fish the left bank. I got into a really nice hatch of
Baetis and Pale Morning Duns.
Many fish were poking their noses out, rolling up out of the water all
around. I caught four nice
fish on #18 parachute Adam’s and PMD dries and missed many more. It was a classic episode with a lot of
activity and where I could target a particular rising fish. After a while I returned to the truck
and learned from Dad that he caught a few more there. Throughout the day fish rose sporatically in this
water where we had parked, which was called the Slide Pool. At 2:00, under classic cool air and
overcast skies, Baetis started popping off and fish followed. I had seen this
begin – the fish started about fifteen minutes earlier chasing emergers rising
in the water column. I caught
several nice fish on the surface and then, 15 minutes later, clumsy PMDs
started coming off. I tied a
2 fly rig of Adams with a PMD dry trailing it and caught several more. At 3:00 the sun came out and under blue
skies everything stopped. We
went back the the cabin and made dinner before heading back out. Once we returned to Slide Pool I
just sat on the river’s edge watching the stream breathe. I was reminded of my favorite English
chalk stream, the River Coln, and its quiet elegance. Only a few flies were active now – a few midges, a couple of
caddis, a BWO or two. I sat and
watched the colors evolve on the hillside across stream, which reached high up
into the sky and became our constant companion throughout the week. I thought Mom would love to paint this
hillside as it changed its colors.
Dad caught a few more fish including two right at dark on a dry spinner
rig we made the night prior. The
Slide Pool would become our favorite part of the stream, one that we wouldn’t
have found if not for that spur of the moment decision to turn downstream
instead of upstream. It’s often
those unplanned events that lead you to great experiences
Thursday
Today we floated the Roaring Fork River
form Carbondale downstream seven miles.
We met up with the guide at Frying Pan Anglers in the morning before
following him down to the boat launch.
We were originally planning on floating the Colorado but, after a day of
rain, the guide informed us the ‘Raddy was too discolored to fish. He suggested the Roaring Fork, though
he had not floated it in several months and the water was very low. This fact, plus a bluebird sky
did not make me feel confident that it would be a productive day but we decided
to forge ahead anyway. Not
soon after we got in the boat we pulled to the right bank edge to re-rig and
were greeted by a young lady and her black lab playing a banjo on the bank of
the river. By the end of the day dad had put three in the boat, lost two large
fish and had may strikes. The
magic ticket was either a two-streamer combo stripped in fast, or a tandem rig
of Ice Breakers and Pheasant Tails. One of the things that we were constantly
reminded of is how small the flies can be, as we were having luck on size 20
and smaller. Dad hooked into
a large rainbow that took him down stream almost into the backing. We chased him with the boat for several
hundred yards and anchored up, but the guide could not get out to net the fish
as we were in a no-trespassing part of the river and eventually the fish broke
loose. The other fish was a 20”
brown who stayed deep came off after a long fight, right at the boat as I tried
to net him while untangling it on the anchor rope at the stern. I caught about 12 fish including a big
rainbow and two big browns. We
then checked into our new cabins at Snowmass and made bacon and eggs for
dinner. We smelled gas when we
walked into the cabin and called the owners over to inspect it. When making dinner, I tried to light
the stove and couldn’t get it to work until I realized it was an electric
stove.
Friday
We decided at breakfast, on the spur of the
moment, to drive up through Aspen to Independence Pass. We stopped at Starbucks
in Aspen and later joked how we were underdressed for that event. It was a
beautiful sunny autumn morning and the aspens were in golden bloom and the
sunlight sliced though them in classic fashion. When we arrived at the pass, above those aspens, we
walked to the lookout point and I took a few pictures, with many cameras, of a
leather clad biker troop who were traveling from Louisiana. We then hiked up to Linkins Lake, which
is above tree-line. It was a very
cool experience, and fishing in a lake above tree-line had been on my bucket
list. I caught a nice 10” brook
trout in full spawning colors and my dad caught a small one. We walked up the tiny stream feeding
the lake, over a cushion of soft peat-like earth, and Dad spotted some brookies
in a small pool. We crawled on our
bellies and hands & knees to the very edge of the pool and peered over the
edge to see about five nice sized trout.
I slowly inched my rod over the pool, keeping only a foot of line out of
the water, but the fish saw the shadow of the rod on the floor of the pool and
immediately spooked. We both really liked the lake and the hike up to it, and
talked about how it reminded us of a time we were in France with Nadya and Mom
and, at spur of the moment, decided to take the train into Paris for a few
hours. It’s often those unplanned
events that lead you to great experiences. That evening we fished the Slide
Pool on the Frying Pan again where Dad caught one and lost one at twilight on
Rusty Spinners.
Saturday
We woke up and drove down to the Colorado
River at New Castle by 9:00. A
Trico fall was in progress but no fish were active on it. The water was discolored. Dad caught a fat rainbow and I had on a
few that got off. I did land a nice
brown and a rainbow but they were foul hooked. All were caught within 3 feet of the shore in fast water on
a brown wooly bugger or a small nymph trailer. At 3:00 we decided to leave. We stopped at a c-store for candy, chips and a soda before
returning to the Slide Pool on the Pan one last time. It was an idyllic evening as the sun set. A few fish were moving and Dad landed
one. At dusk, and after dark, we
fished Rusty Spinners to fish that suddenly began podding up right along the
edge. I had many follows
where the fish would put its nose up to the fly and then retreat without taking
it. I ended up landing a few
on a #22 Trico spinner and a #10 Green Drake dry at dark, and Dad landed two at
dark. When we left we looked up
between then canyon walls that surrounded us and saw a field of black
brilliantly dotted with stars.
