Boulder Creek and Blue River

I fished Boulder Creek again on the way over to Breckenridge, where we stayed with some friends from Kansas City.  I arrived before 6:30 and started at Roger's Park area but found it to be not real productive, so I moved upstream to where I fished a few days ago.  It was a little better here, though the fish were not nearly as aggressive as last time.   I picked up a few small browns and rainbows.  Very small grey caddis were swarming, and a handful of green drakes were coming off. 

I took the Peak to Peak Highway from Nederland to I-70 over to Breckenridge.  Shortly after arriving and saying hello to Nadya, Stefan and our friends we had a nice lunch together.   Afterward, Kevin and I went on a recon mission.  We stopped in the flyshop in Breck and then hit the Blue River near the Colorado Mountain College.   A storm had just moved out, and the skies were grey with some intermittent sprinkles.  I caught two nice browns - one smashed a Trude dry fly in the margin of the near  bank, and the other I saw flash at the #16 bead head pheasant tail dropper as it quickly slid under some overhanging willows on the far side. 

We fished down stream to the beaver ponds where Kevin was standing below the dam, casting up into the pond.  I could see some blue wing olive duns sitting on the surface across the pond, and fish were rising to them.  Kevin hooked one and I netted it as it slid over the dam's falls.

Just upstream from the dam the stream widened with a long riffled run.  I saw a few fish rising in 3 ft wide eddy on the far bank that was partially covered by an overhanging willow.  A good sized head slowly and repeatedly popped itself up out of the water far enough that I could see its eye.  I missed the takes after many futile drifts.

On the stream side of the eddy,  I later saw another fish rising to emergers in the current, sticking its nose out of the water that was clear enough to see that it was a large rainbow.   I tied on a #18 BWO emerger and after a few drifts I had the pleasure of seeing him rise up to it, open its mouth, and retreat down as I set the hook into the 20" fish - one of those fish that had a mouth that looked too big for its body.

Kevin was working some fish downstream from me.  One was a nice rainbow that was cruising the shallows near him,  slowly feeding on midges.   Kevin's dry was sucked under on one of the passes, and quickly pulled out of its mouth without stinging the fish.  A few minutes later we watched the fish come back and move up to the fly, suck it in, and Kevin put the hook into flesh.  A few minutes later I netted the 22" rainbow for him.

That afternoon, we took the kids out to the upper part of Dillon Reservoir where the Blue River entered.   Us, the kids, and the wives walked a good quarter mile through a willow thicket that paralleled the river and then opened up into a cool little beach.   As the kids played on the beach Kevin hooked a rainbow on Powerbait hung under a bobber, and walked to shore with it so Piper could reel it in.  After that, we drove around for a bit looking for another place to fish, only to end up back at the reservoir but at another spot.   The kids were entertained on the beach and rocks, and I hooked up with a nice rainbow that I caught on a sunk Powerbait that Stefan soon reeled in.  Kevin landed another.   Piper was a trooper, rolling up her pants, wading barefoot into the lake with us and casting quite well for a long while.  

Later that evening, Kevin and I went back to the Blue River, and I caught two more fish in the willow lined run - a small one on the BHPT dropper, and a nice strong rainbow on a Royal Humpy dry.   We fished until dusk, at which time there were fish rising all over the place in the beaver pond, yet we failed to get a strike.  I did have a hit, though, as I dragged a big mouse pattern across the pond just after sunrise.    

Trout in the Classroom - Phase 1

I am leading the effort for a Trout in the Classroom project through the Trout Unlimited club here in Boulder.   We will be setting up this aquarium, getting trout eggs from the Dept of Wildlife, and having the students watch them grow.  At the end of the school year they will release them.  Over 200 middle school science and engineering students will be exposed to the program this year which teaches science and engineering fundamentals through this real life example.  The equipment, below, has finally arrived and I will be setting it up in the next few weeks.

Boulder Creek Triple Play - July 31 2010

After checking the stream flows at breakfast this morning, I changed my original plans of going to South Boulder Creek.   Flows at 200cfs are a bit high for that stream, and I didn't want to waste a 2 mile hike in for nothing.  So I quickly changed course and set out for Mid-Boulder Creek instead.   I drove about 12 miles up the canyon, to mile marker 32 or so, and pulled off a dirt frontage road of sorts that paralleled the river.   It was a cool upper 50's morning until the sun popped around through the canyon walls.

Water was quick and tumbly through this part of the canyon, but a bit more relaxed than other parts seemed on the drive up.   Almost immediately I was into my first fish, a small rainbow.   I worked my way up stream for a few hours picking off fish behind most likely looking places - behind boulders, along seams, under small plunge pools.  As I worked up stream, the rainbows changed into browns, and I also got a small brook trout.  As I climbed higher, the number and size of boulders also increased, creating swift channels and lots of pocket water.   High sticking techniques were in order here.

The trick of the day seemed to be a dry-dropper rig with a green Royal Humpy trailed by an amber caddis pupa.   Most of the fish were on the caddis.  Total count was about 12 fish. Flows were about 120cfs.  Moderate insect activity - mostly caddis and midges, a random green drake looking fly.  Home by 11:15am.

Natural Creativity

A future engineer inspired by being and creating outdoors?  Better then being in front of a TV or computer screen all day.  Check http://www.childrenandnature.org

The Kids

Spent a few hours with Nephew Alex and Niece Anna  yesterday at the Boulder kids Ponds, which are stocked with rainbows.  After a long while of no action, we finally found the fish stacked up at the cool water inlet. 

Sunday Morning on Boulder Creek

Last Sunday the 18th I awoke at 5:00 and decided to go fishing for a few hours.  I went to the garage and opened the door, letting the warm upper 70s air in as the morning light gently pushed itself awake, and prepped my gear.  Ten minutes later I was in downtown boulder and walked downstream behind the high school.  I politely nodded as I dodged a good handful of homeless folks at different places along the way and got in the water just above a footbridge upstream of 17th street.

Water dropped quickly over 2ft of rocks, creating eddies and a nice long slot on the far bank with very clear water in which to watch the fish.  I tried a few different flies before figuring out the ticket - small caddis, Griffiths gnats, and tricos all brought fish up for looks and sometimes gentle strikes but I did not hook any.  The working fly of the day was a size 14 elk hair caddis with a green caddis pupa training behind it.  I caught a few little browns before casting across stream to a corner pocket that was just below the falls and just upstream of a snaggy looking tree.  The caddis sunk and immediately I saw a fish move.  Before realizing what was going on I had set the hook and was in to a nice brown.   After a nice battle on my 1wt rod, a few minutes later I had a 14" brown in the net.

Another time I cast and watched the caddis skate sideways on the surface while a smaller brown took the trailing fly for a ride before I realized I needed to strike.  Late.

 A few fish, a lot of action, and a nice 14inch brownie before heading home a few short hours later.  Not a bad morning on this little tree lined city stream.

Backpacking for Cutthroat - Dream Lake (RMNP) CO - July 11, 2010

Today I crossed off one of those things from my list of things that I once thought would be cool to do.  A long time ago, when I started really getting into flyfishing, in Randall Kaufman's Tying Nymphs I looked at pictures of guys hiking into high Rocky Mountain lakes to fish for Cutthroat trout.  Backpacks on, above the treeline, and easy fish on the surface was the message in the picture.   Someday, I thought, I want to do that.

Well, today was that day.  With Nadya, Stefan and friends Russ and Terri, we drove up into Rocky Mountain National Park and parked at Bear Lake trailhead for the one mile hike up the mountain to Dream Lake.   I shouldered my backpack, full of waders, boots and fishing gear and we started in, first passing by a beautiful lake called Nymph Lake.  It was glass clear, with lilly pads on it and a great view of Long's Peak in the background.

After reaching Dream Lake, standing at the outlet of the lake with Russ, I saw a few fish rising in the shallow clear water.  Good sized cutthroat for this lake, about 12 inches.  I slipped below the outlet, put my backpack down on a rock beside the stream, and geared up.  Once ready, I slipped upstream and crawled onto some logs that laid across the outflow of the lake like a makeshift beaver dam and cast to the feeding fish.  It was challenging with a breeze in my face, the log pile in front of me grabbing my leader, and a narrow channel between tall pines behind me in which to cast.   None the less, I managed to cast my Griffith's Knat to the fish and soon had on my first cutthroat.

I called out for Stefan, who had been eager for me to catch a cutthroat for a while, and we met downstream for the pictures and release.  It was a nice fish, brilliant red spilling from its throat to his belly and black spots on gold.  A few more takes by other fish but they got off, but it was fun even so since I could see the fish cruise over to my fly, inspect it, often reject it, and sometimes suck it in.

And then I looked up.  Wow!  Across the lake, towering above, was a giant shear stone cliff of a mountain called Hallett's Peak.  I couldn't believe that I had been so focused on the fish that I didn't see this thing staring me in the face.

A few storm clouds were rolling in so we headed out.  Before doing so, though, in a wide pool of the stream below, I saw a few more fish so had to try for them.   One rejected me flatly.  Another was more eager and after taking him, Stefan was by my side to help net it.

Although not above the treeline and not as much solitude as those early pictures had me envision (this lake gets a lot of foot traffic from hikers), I am glad to have had the opportunity to take my first cutthroat with Stefan there, and to hike in with Nadya, Stefan and our friends.

Fall River, Rocky Mountain National Park, CO, July 5

Took my in-laws up to the continental divide, driving up Trail Ridge Road.  Snow at the top was almost melted.  On the way home we stopped in the Park for a picnic under a huge Ponderosa Pine.  Oh, and it happened to be walking distance to the river.

It was bright and windy, the water clear, and I was in a hurry to get in about 45 minutes of fishing before we had to go.  A bad equation.   I saw a few fish feeding just under the surface and was able to trick them into rising, but I failed to set the hook into flesh.

High Water July 2

Took Friday off to hit the Big Thompson.  After checking the stream flows at 5:30 am during breakfast, the chart said about 200 cfs, which is still a little high but had been steady and the reports claimed it to be very fishable.  After entering the canyon on Route 34 around 6:45 I saw a sign about bighorn sheep in the area.   Almost on cue, a few seconds later I saw a young ram clinging to the steep rocky ledges eating his breakfast.  Further up the road there were three rams on the side of the road.

The stream itself seemed very rough and tumbling - a lot of white water.  Hmmm, interesting I thought.   I decided to drive upstream of where the tributaries came together and found a wide run that looked a lot more calm.  After getting in the river and trying to cross, the water felt very strong even though I was only in knee deep.  There was no way I could make it to the other side.  Strange, I thought.  Something seemed wrong.

So I went further upstream to where the dam is.  Still a strong current with a little spilling over the banks.   I did catch one very small brown by casting to the far side while standing on the bank. Enough was enough.  I was not having fun and the fishing was not productive so I decided to drive up into Rocky Mtn National Park. 

On the way up I stopped at Kirk's Flyshop to see what's up.   He promptly informed me that there was a storm last night and the river shot up form 200cfs to over 500cfs.  After returning home and checking the water charts, indeed I saw the spike.  But it occurred after I left home and before I got to the river - in about an hour!  Two thoughts crossed my mind.  First, I was right in my earlier hunches that something did not make sense.  Second, good thing I was not on the other side of the river as the river rose!

In the Park, I was going to hike into Dream Lake which is a bit over a mile uphill from the nearest trail head.   On the drive up, I saw a nice stream so parked and fished it a bit.  No go, as that river, though wadeable, had been on the rise and the fish were weird.  I almost stepped on a snake, and saw some PMD dries coming off around 1:30 once it got cloudy. 

Western Fishing with Dad - June 4, 2010

My parents were visiting recently and my dad and I took a few days to explore a new river system.  We headed south from Boulder toward the South Platte River on Friday 4th of June.  After stopping in a local fly shop for a reco on a hotel, we checked into the FireRanch Motel and quickly headed up into Eleven Mile Canyon.

The afternoon was clear and mild as we drove up a five mile dusty road that had a significant washboard effect to it (all four tires were low in air when I got home).  We drove slowly, windows open when there was no other car pushing dust into ours,  and snaked up the canyon peering down into the river, stopping at the odd bridge or tunnel to look into the river and watch the fish.   Once we found a spot, over the steep hill we went and geared up stream side.   So my dad left his glasses up at thr truck and I volunteered to get them.  Although it was a short distance, it was nearly vertical up to the road and I was winded at the top.  It was slow going on the water, but there were a lot of fish in the river.  Dad caught a good rainbow at the tail end of a riffle on an ant pattern, and toward evening a slight caddis hatch started which brought the fish to the top.  I caught a few on the surface using Royal Humpy dries with a emerging caddis trailer.  For one of them,  I looked across the fast water to the far edge where there was a small pocket of calm water bordered by a log, a rock, the shore, and the fast water.  It just looked like a fish had to live there.  I shot a quick cast into the pocket and almost immediately a nice brown slashed the surface and ran into the fast water.  I was amazed at how extremely strong the fish were.

Sometime between the drive back and a late night dinner at McDonald's we changed plans for the next day.  Instead of returining to Eleven Mile, we decided to go up above the reservor to what is called The Dream Stream.

After a stop at a Starbucks which we did not expect to find, we drove through the early morning light up and over the front range mountains.  As we crested the front range we saw the broad valley below bathed in early morning yellow, with the snow capped continental divide mountains behind them.   A beautiful site.

As we drove to the stream, we spotted an antelope and some mule deer and had to wait for the cows, horses and mules to cross the road.  We quickly headed  to the river to gear up before the stream got too crowded.  We started at a deep pool in which I was very surprised we did not have a strike.  As the wind picked up my frustrations grew as well.  I had tangled leaders, tried two fly combos, single flies under indicators, and even my old stand by Black Wooly Bugger.   My BWB let me down and I think I ended the day with not even a strike.  I did see, I mean spook, some large fish though.   Dad caught one on a white sculpin that is a reliable pattern out east.   "When in doubt try what others are not", is often Dad's approach.  And it worked on this tough stream.  

So, although not a lot of fish, I think it was a great few days.   My dad and I finally got to fish a true  western stream that I used to read and dream about as a boy in Field and Stream, and it was great to be out with him again.