Take a Kid Outside

Suburbia USA - Sometimes its just too easy to grant the kid his wish of staying inside to play Legos. Too easy to use that as a convenient excuse to tap a few more emails back to HQ, to aimlessly check the stream flows again (yep, still as blown out as they were a few hours ago, Einstein), or to piddle around the house trying to shorten that honey-do list. Sure, its better than staring at the tube, but its also too easy to get the kid outside for an exploration.

This morning I took Stefan for a 500 yard walk down to the park, where some distant fork of a remote branch of Four Mile Creek struggles to find its way through a wetland woods. Usually dry, but recently with a bit of moisture to it, massive cottonwoods, thick cattail marshes and scrappy willows try to protect it. We donned Wellingtons (or galloshas, as my grandmother would have said), a camera and a bug box and and headed over the concrete bike paths through the neighborhood in our shorts.

At the bridge where most folks zip over on their bikes, we swung off over the bank onto a thick muddy bulldozed path. Oooh, that smell - mud, humidity, decaying wood. Much better than plastic bricks. The trail was maybe 300 yards long but filled with wonder. We saw deer, coyote and raccoon

tracks in the mud. We noticed oil slicked puddles and talked about how water contamination starts. We looked at the marsh and talked about its evolution - once a pond, now a marsh, someday terra-firma. So good, that after exiting Stefan wanted to do it again. So we did. This time we took a turn at the rock and crossed over the log and, low and behold, found a swing hanging from a tree limb. Swinging and twisting. Laughing and joking. Amazing how a small parcel of wilderness opens up the mind. And as we sat there, a coyote walked past (Stefan's first), looked at us, and continued on its own exploration.

And an hour later we were back home. See, easy peasy. Go ahead, take a kid out, even if its in Suburbia.

S Platte Dream Stream

Fished long and hard with my Dad today. 150cfs, 15mph wind, no fish. This pic was from the evening before when we were on a recon mission - so quiet and wide open.

Sylvan Dale May 6 2011

Fished Sylvan Dale last Saturday withthe TU club. The water in Big Thompson was rushing by very fast and high and no-one wanted to fish it. We hit the ponds instead and took a few football steelhead - surface feeders on tiny #18 midges and also stripping in black wooly bugger on an intermediate line. The ponds were actually slow - started ok in the morning and then at lunch it was starting to heat up with blue duns (size 12) and midges on the surface. After lunch it was quiet due to the bright light putting the fish deep. Fish I took were 24" and fat and strong.

Blue River early May 2011

Cold water. No fish. Saw a few very large rainbows porpusing below the last car park before Green Mtn Res. 28 inchers. Seemed like salmon fishing. Should have fished the mouth of the res for migrating fish since the water was low there.

63rd St Ponds

Stefan and I hit the local ponds for a few hours. Had quite a few hits of panfish and bass on a small black rooster tail. Fish were not yet in the shallows for the spawn. We landed two largemouth, including a 14 incher. Stefan learned to hold the fish by the bottom jaw and release it,

Arkansas River

My friend Tommy and I finally had been able to synch our schedules together, and Monday found us headed down I25 to the Arkansas river looking for the famous Mother's Day Caddis hatch. We arrived to the local fly shop who told us the hatch was on, but in town and not yet up the canyon where we wanted to fish. We headed upstream into Bighorn Canyon and I immediately fell in love with this river. The scenery is different than any I had fished in -"stone" would be the adjective of choice. "Big" would be another one to describe the river and the surrounding walls.

I started with a golden stonefly nymph trailed 20" by a #18 pheasant tail nymph as Tommy and I started working a likely looking hole. He was first into the fish with a huge 8" brown, the size of which he told me he never caught in this river. Working upstream we both got into larger fish. I nailed a 16" brown on the PT in a deep channel against the bank and several more on the way up. One beautiful run, about 100yds long, shoved up against a steep stony bank below a wide riffle, provided me with a half dozen or so fish of the same size, but now they started taking the stonefly. I'd cast up and across and take some fish on the dead drift and some on the downstream swing, and then walk a few steps and repeat.

Next, around 12:30, we drove upstream to look for BWO. We soon saw the duns on the surface, being blown over by the wind, but fish were not very active on top. We pulled a few fish out of this stretch, with Tommy catching a very pretty brown of about 18".

We headed down into Canyon City and fished the Riverwalk area from 2:30 until 4:30. Caddis were in the air - not extremely thick but for sure a key event. There were enough bugs in the air that we had them crawling on our necks and the fish were slashing the surface with frequency. I was working across stream and having trouble seeing the fly and setting the hook into meat when I could see it. A bit of panic set in, as I figured this was the end of the hatch and it could be over any minute. I change flies several times but never really got into it well. Had many strikes, especially when I added a little action to the flies. Tommy was doing much better than I, especially with a pod of fish immediately upstream to him. We both pulled fish out, mostly on a black bodied tan winged elk hair caddis.

After a beer at the truck, we checked in with the flyhshop who said the hatch happened early, at 12:00, due to the warm night they had. Checking the websites today, 5 days later, the main shops are saying the hatch has not yet made its way above Texas Creek.

Blue River

Sunday, I arrived above Green Mtn Reservor at 8:30 to a river flowing at 200cfs, with air temps and grey windy skies that would cause snow to fly later in the day. After crossing the swift river to a likely looking slower area along the far margins, I cast a black woolly bugger up and across from my 4 wt a few times. Letting the fly swing down and across over a small depression in the riverbed, just as it started to swing out the indicator paused and I slowly lifted the rod. On the end was a nice 20" cutthroat shaped like a football.

After I released him, I saw two large fish swim upstream in front of me. After looking for a while I spotted one of them tucked up under a tangle of overhanging branches along the bank. No way I could get a fly in there I thought, and considered not even trying. Then, after a few minutes of studying the situation I saw an opportunity to cast upstream, mend over a large exposed boulder and swing the fly under the branches. After a few tries I nailed the cast and waited as the indicator floated in line toward the fish and then stopped.

As soon as I set the hook I knew the chance of landing him were very small - 4 wt rod, 5x tippet and a swift river don't usually add up. This was one of those fish that don't move when you put the hook in the corner of its mouth but, after a few seconds slowly drift toward you and thrashed their head wildly out of the water. This nearly 30" rainbow, with bright red cheeks and sides, was ready to give me a wild ride. And then he stopped. And then he ran down stream. But he was still in the slower water so I thought, foolishly for a moment, that I had a chance. Then he went into the current and downstream behind a boulder, positioning himself, using all the exposed boulders like squares on a chess board. I knew what was about to begin. This was not a time to hold the rod up in the air with one hand and grip the cork lightly against the fat thumb cushion. This was going to be a tuck your elbow in and pull back on the rod fight about to unleash. I chased him a bit, stumbling over rocks. And then he pushed out into the stream behind the next boulder down. I angled him a bit, and he paused, and I made some progress pulling in line on him. Then the reel screamed, and screamed taking me nearly into my backing. Snap. Broke off and kept four feet of leader, my indicator and wooly bugger. I returned to the scene of the crime and sat on a boulder.

Later I landed a 18" brown on another WB and then returned back to where I hooked the huge rainbow. There, dangling in the current, was my indicator. He was back!!! I quickly tied on a golden stonefly. Thunder crashed over the mountains. Sleet started and I pulled my hood over my head. Game on, I thought.

I few casts later and he took it. Again, no response for a few seconds until I put some side pressure on him. He moved away, thrashed, and was gone again. The fly slipped out this time. I could still see him there and tried a third fly. This time he didn't bother.

Big Thompson

Fished the Big Thompson from 9:00-3:00 today in low clear water of 20cfs. It was a weather day for sure. When I arrived it was clear and 24F with the river still in the shadow of the surrounding mountains. I stood in the water with very cold fingers tying an improved clinch knot through the eye of a size 20 red biot midge pupa. I anticipated warmth as the sun poked over the mountain top, forcing its gold down the far hillside to the river. Slowly it inched its way down, then into the water, then over to me where it immediately warmed me up. About noon the clouds started to fill in and the wind kicked up. Later in the afternoon, when it was downright grey, a wall of wind rushed down the valley. Snowflakes started...very few at first and then into a near whiteout. I cast tiny blue winged olives into the teeth of it. And then, the sun reappeared and I left the water with the air temps at 44F. The trick of the day, a small red boit midge pupe with bit of white and peacock wrapped at the head, landed at least eight browns and rainbows.

Fishless in the Snow

I left early Saturday in no particular hurry headed toward Parshall to fish the Williams Fork.

I struggled picking a river to fish this weekend, but after hearing this little tail water has been fishing well I left with thoughts of egg sucking leaches tempting a few strong rainbows. As I drove up over Berthoud Pass I began calculating the benefits of hitting the Yampa River instead. Back and forth, pros and cons, time on the water vs time in the truck. Tick tock. Parshall was at 19F, I kept driving.

As I drove along the Colorado River in the early morning sunlit fog I, for the first time since moving here, began to feel part of this place. Not sure if it was the fact that I had no solid plans on where to fish or where to stay, or if it was the wide open landscape stretched in front of me, but something was working on me. I drove on. I listened to the Classic station playing BTO, The Allman Brothers and Janis Joplin. My mind opened up and I thought of new ways to spend quality time with Stefan and Nadya. A bit of Pirsig. Landscape changes from beetle infested pine forests to dry clay rock structures to low sagebrush mountains.

Up and over Rabbit Ears pass and down into the Yampa valley and I was soon in Steamboat looking for the local flyshop. By noon I was hiking upstream in 40F air, snowshoes keeping me above the thigh deep snow and 40F water. I fished for a few hours with no hits at all but enjoyed the solitude and wide open space. I even fished in town, where the locals said it was "hot" and I did not have a hit. About 4:00 I went back to the flyshop and they said the river shuts off around 11:30 these days due to snow melt off. Should have been there at 9:00. Didn't know that. New rules. I found a Holiday Inn and checked in for the night, comfortably exhausted.

Next morning I was up before the sun and drove out of town as the full moon set over the westerly mountains. 90 minutes later I was at the trailhead to the Williams Fork.

I strapped on snowshoes and hiked in for a mile and a half over a mesa, down and up a ravine and then, finally, down over the hill to the Fork. Sitting stream side sweating, waiting for the chill to set in, I basked in the solitude. A bald eagle flew up stream. I fished for 4 hours and did not move a fish, again. Midges everywhere. I hiked back out and drove home, thinking of the western fishing experience I had, the bighorn sheep, elk and mule deer I saw. With a trip like this, I'm fine not catching fish every once in a while.

Baetis - 2

So I am hours away from hitting the road.  The forecast is not ideal for a surface feeding frenzy - sunny and warm- and reports are indicating that sometime next week the bugs will pop.  Should be enough nymphs in the water column to get some action, though.

I am reminded of one of the better BWO hatches I have experienced.  I was on Wisconsin's Spring Creek, about 45 minutes north of Madison, in the early season. Cold, grey and windy.  Typical mid-western day when winter just isn't ready to give up.  About 11:00 I saw some aggressive rises and soon discovered the fish were keyed in on BWO duns that were being knocked over by the wind.  As they struggled to right themselves from the surface film the fish would whack them.   I caught a few and then, just as quickly, the hatch was over.

Or maybe the better hatch was that day on Timber Coulee....