I hit Boulder creek today for the first time after a family hike up a local mountain-side. Nadya and Stefan dropped me off about 1:00 near 19th street and I strung up my little Sage 1 wt with CFO reel for the fist time. The litle rod and reel combo was perfect for this tiny stream and little fish.
The water was clear and less than 12cfs today, sky was overcast, and temp in the upper thirties. I started at the tail end of a small plunge pool where I saw some risers. I had tied on a #20 red CDC emerger and soon had on the first fish of the day at hand. I worked my way up to the top of the pool and noticed some active fish nymphing so tied on a Griffiths knat dry trailed by a #22 black mercury midge I had tied a week before. I think I caught five more as the temp dropped and snow started falling. I worked down stream checking various fishy looking pools and landed about four more as the snowflakes fattened up.
By the time I was done my fingers were stinging and the temperature was in the low thirties. I walked home, about a mile, and by the time I arrived the wet snow clung to my fleece making me look like a snowman.
Ten fish in a few hours less than two miles from home. Not bad for a Feb Sunday afternoon.
Sunday, February 28, 2010
Friday, February 26, 2010
South Boulder Creek - Feb 25, 2010
Well, first let me set expectations. I caught no fish. There, I said it. It was one of those, hopefully, rare days that not one fish was caught. I did have two strikes that caught me daydreaming, one of which was a fish that I saw rising to my sunk emerger pattern.
The plan for the day was to let the water warm up in the canyon and hit South Boulder Creek about 11:00. So I called the fly shop to see if the river flow, which had risen from 9 cfs to 159 cfs earlier in the week, was too high to fish. The owner assured me that the water flow was not the concern but, rather, the 12" of snow that fell up at 8500 feet was. I would have a hard time hiking in, she said, possibly also driving in. So she convinced me to hit the in-town stream that was fishing well.
I looked at the stream, couldn't figure out where to park, so stopped in the shop to ask. Once in there, one of the shop workers convinced me to go up the mountain to hit SBC instead. The drive was not too bad, with only some slushy points around the north facing hairpin curves that had to be taken with care.
I pulled into the snowy car park and geared up, hiked down a steep snowy trail 200ft to the stream and hit the water at 12:45. It was a little late, and I was rushing a bit knowing that I had to be heading back up out of the canyon around 2:45. It was a nice day, sunny and in the thirties, so I was able to fish in a light jacket. The water was running clear and swift. 159cfs seems a bit fast for this stream, although the flyshop guy said he likes it between 120 and 180.
One interesting thing about these mountain streams is that they require some forethought as to how you are going to get your gear to stream side. These aren't like the midwestern spring creeks I love to fish, where you park the vehicle, load up a few flyboxes and maybe a little water. In those streams, if you need something, returning to the vehicle is not a big deal and really the only thing you lose is a a half hour of fishing time. Here, the hike in is usually long and a bit strenuous, and you don't want to be coming back out unless you need to. So you need to pack in enough water and snacks to hold you over, and a first aid kit and change of clothing are not a bad ideas, either. Its also difficult to hike in while wearing waders, so its wise to carry in the waders and boots in a backpack and change once you are at the stream.
The plan for the day was to let the water warm up in the canyon and hit South Boulder Creek about 11:00. So I called the fly shop to see if the river flow, which had risen from 9 cfs to 159 cfs earlier in the week, was too high to fish. The owner assured me that the water flow was not the concern but, rather, the 12" of snow that fell up at 8500 feet was. I would have a hard time hiking in, she said, possibly also driving in. So she convinced me to hit the in-town stream that was fishing well.
I looked at the stream, couldn't figure out where to park, so stopped in the shop to ask. Once in there, one of the shop workers convinced me to go up the mountain to hit SBC instead. The drive was not too bad, with only some slushy points around the north facing hairpin curves that had to be taken with care.
I pulled into the snowy car park and geared up, hiked down a steep snowy trail 200ft to the stream and hit the water at 12:45. It was a little late, and I was rushing a bit knowing that I had to be heading back up out of the canyon around 2:45. It was a nice day, sunny and in the thirties, so I was able to fish in a light jacket. The water was running clear and swift. 159cfs seems a bit fast for this stream, although the flyshop guy said he likes it between 120 and 180.
One interesting thing about these mountain streams is that they require some forethought as to how you are going to get your gear to stream side. These aren't like the midwestern spring creeks I love to fish, where you park the vehicle, load up a few flyboxes and maybe a little water. In those streams, if you need something, returning to the vehicle is not a big deal and really the only thing you lose is a a half hour of fishing time. Here, the hike in is usually long and a bit strenuous, and you don't want to be coming back out unless you need to. So you need to pack in enough water and snacks to hold you over, and a first aid kit and change of clothing are not a bad ideas, either. Its also difficult to hike in while wearing waders, so its wise to carry in the waders and boots in a backpack and change once you are at the stream.
Monday, January 18, 2010
Did you ever forget your fishing rod...twice?
South Platte River, Cheesman Canyon, Colorado
Arrived at the river at 0800 this morning. 19 degrees on its way to the upper thirties. Clear.
Since I was first in the parking lot and I knew it would take some time for the water to warm up, I drove down the canyon a bit to get my bearings to this new area. Then, I geared up and began walking the snow packed Gill Trail toward the river for about 10 minutes. The hike up the south side of the mountain got slippy in my wading boots, so I returned to the truck to put on my hiking boots. In the parking lot now was another guy and we traded small talk. After gearing up again, wading boots in hand, I started out once more and glanced over my shoulder at the other guy and noticed he was stringing his rod. Then the thought occurred to me...I had better take my rod, as well! Who knows how far I would have gotten if I had not turned around for my hiking boots.
After hiking through a pine forest up the side of Cheesman Mountain, 15 minutes later I was at the top looking down at the canyon, where I could hear the river. Over the next mile I crept along the side of the canyon, hearing the roar of the river below and catching sight of it in bits and pieces as I moved on. The dirt path took me past boulders, sage grass, and pine trees for a bit more and then I saw a nice spot from 300 feet above. Nice vantage point from which to plan the hunt.
Down over the hill, walking stream side now, I saw a nice fish in a foot of smooth water. I changed boots, sneaked in the water, and proceeded to put the fish down quite quickly after a few casts.
Around 1100, after messing around the run for a bit, getting used to the river, and straining to see my small indicator I decided to put on a larger indicator to get a better sense of my drifts. I cast into a slot that fed a deep hole and immediately hooked and landed a nice 14" brown on a #22/24 black bead head thread nymph. He fought nicely with a jump or two thrown in for special effect. He was a nice colored fish, with a bright, butter-yellow belly, sharp white fin edges, and pointed red spots on his side.
I caught a bird, too, who somehow got tangled in my leader as it fell on the rock on which he sat. After pulling him from the air I untangled and released him. A bald eagle flew over me on his way down stream. Boulders the size of large houses in the stream.
A few midges popped at 1:00 but no risers. No one seemed to be catching anything. It was as advertised...crowded. Guys we in nearly every nice looking spot and when I got back to the parking lot there were about 30 vehicles there. This is a Monday, MLK holiday....I likely will not visit it on a weekend. Clear water with flow at around 200cfs.
Pics below.
Arrived at the river at 0800 this morning. 19 degrees on its way to the upper thirties. Clear.
Since I was first in the parking lot and I knew it would take some time for the water to warm up, I drove down the canyon a bit to get my bearings to this new area. Then, I geared up and began walking the snow packed Gill Trail toward the river for about 10 minutes. The hike up the south side of the mountain got slippy in my wading boots, so I returned to the truck to put on my hiking boots. In the parking lot now was another guy and we traded small talk. After gearing up again, wading boots in hand, I started out once more and glanced over my shoulder at the other guy and noticed he was stringing his rod. Then the thought occurred to me...I had better take my rod, as well! Who knows how far I would have gotten if I had not turned around for my hiking boots.
After hiking through a pine forest up the side of Cheesman Mountain, 15 minutes later I was at the top looking down at the canyon, where I could hear the river. Over the next mile I crept along the side of the canyon, hearing the roar of the river below and catching sight of it in bits and pieces as I moved on. The dirt path took me past boulders, sage grass, and pine trees for a bit more and then I saw a nice spot from 300 feet above. Nice vantage point from which to plan the hunt.
Down over the hill, walking stream side now, I saw a nice fish in a foot of smooth water. I changed boots, sneaked in the water, and proceeded to put the fish down quite quickly after a few casts.
Around 1100, after messing around the run for a bit, getting used to the river, and straining to see my small indicator I decided to put on a larger indicator to get a better sense of my drifts. I cast into a slot that fed a deep hole and immediately hooked and landed a nice 14" brown on a #22/24 black bead head thread nymph. He fought nicely with a jump or two thrown in for special effect. He was a nice colored fish, with a bright, butter-yellow belly, sharp white fin edges, and pointed red spots on his side.
I caught a bird, too, who somehow got tangled in my leader as it fell on the rock on which he sat. After pulling him from the air I untangled and released him. A bald eagle flew over me on his way down stream. Boulders the size of large houses in the stream.
A few midges popped at 1:00 but no risers. No one seemed to be catching anything. It was as advertised...crowded. Guys we in nearly every nice looking spot and when I got back to the parking lot there were about 30 vehicles there. This is a Monday, MLK holiday....I likely will not visit it on a weekend. Clear water with flow at around 200cfs.
Pics below.
Wednesday, December 30, 2009
Cowboys Along the Freeway
Not really a fishing post, but kind of outdoors related and something to ponder over a bourbon. A little Zen & the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance for my friend Steve.
So I was driving home from work today and saw some cowboys. Real ones, not dude ranch cowboys or those from Dallas. Only for a few seconds did I see them as I zipped by at 60 mph. They were herding some Black Angus that I had been seeing in the fields for a few days now. Maybe five cowboys with black brimmed hats, leather gloves, exhaling steam with every breath, mounted proudly on beautiful chestnut brown horses.
I saw them and a few things struck me.
First, the contrast. Looking one direction, they looked perfectly in place, with the front range of the Rocky Mountains behind them in the distance, the expansive fields underneath them, forging through the elements, carrying forth at a slow but steady pace. All that romantic stuff. Looking the other way, I saw them 20 feet from a major freeway carrying the hustle and bustle of those of us commuting from our offices to suburban homes, insulated in our cars, quickly trying to accomplish one more thing before the day ended. Nightmarish stuff. Quite interesting how two different creatures are living beside one another.
So who is better off - One? the other? both? neither? How are the unique things each contribute to our society similar or different? Maybe its all in the frame of reference in which you chose to participate.
Oh yeah, the other thing that struck me? Cowboys! I really am in the west now, aren't I?
So I was driving home from work today and saw some cowboys. Real ones, not dude ranch cowboys or those from Dallas. Only for a few seconds did I see them as I zipped by at 60 mph. They were herding some Black Angus that I had been seeing in the fields for a few days now. Maybe five cowboys with black brimmed hats, leather gloves, exhaling steam with every breath, mounted proudly on beautiful chestnut brown horses.
I saw them and a few things struck me.
First, the contrast. Looking one direction, they looked perfectly in place, with the front range of the Rocky Mountains behind them in the distance, the expansive fields underneath them, forging through the elements, carrying forth at a slow but steady pace. All that romantic stuff. Looking the other way, I saw them 20 feet from a major freeway carrying the hustle and bustle of those of us commuting from our offices to suburban homes, insulated in our cars, quickly trying to accomplish one more thing before the day ended. Nightmarish stuff. Quite interesting how two different creatures are living beside one another.
So who is better off - One? the other? both? neither? How are the unique things each contribute to our society similar or different? Maybe its all in the frame of reference in which you chose to participate.
Oh yeah, the other thing that struck me? Cowboys! I really am in the west now, aren't I?
Tuesday, December 15, 2009
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