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.

Watch out

So this was interesting.  We were hiking Green Mountain, which peaks at about 8000 ft.  About 3/4th of the way there I stopped to looked back on Stefan who was behind us on the trail.   Saw that a large snake, at the time thought to be a rattlesnake, was 2ft beside him, just off the trail, and Stefan was moving toward it.  In a split second I thought a) do I run down there and grab Stefan away or would that scare the snake, b) do I tell him to freeze, or c) do I tell him to move up to me now.   Option C worked, and at least Stefan listened this time.  I made sure not to scare him in my tone because I did not want to freak him out forever on snakes.  When all was safe I got the camera from Nadya and we went back down to have a "relaxed" look (he was not coiled).  You will note that Nadya and I were above Stefan on the trail, which meant we passed right by the snake without even noticing.  Funny thing, fear never crept in even after the event was over.

Future Fly Tier

Birthday Fishing

May 21 was my birthday, and after the celebration Nadya and Stefan and I went back to the ponds for a few hours in the evening.  It was a calm, clear evening with another nice sunset over the Rockies.   I caught about 10 bluegills that Stefan reeled in for me.

Stefan tried to teach Nadya to cast the rod.  He showed her all the things in the tackle box.  He walked her around the pond.  He was one happy clam.

 

It was interesting watching the transition that took place.   The first few fish he reeled in fast like he always has, and then I showed him how to point the rod tip up, stop reeling when the fish was pulling, and to reel in when the fish was resting.  After he practiced that technique, I showed him how to angle the fish from one side to another - if the fish was going right to point the rod left, etc. 

At first, when he reeled them in I took the line above the fish's mouth and showed him how to hold the fish, smoothing down the dorsal fin with my hand so as not to get poked by the spines, and then how to take the hook out.   At first I did all of this, and then I had him grab the line above the fish's mouth while I grabbed the fish to take the hook out.   For the last fish of the evening that I hooked, I gave the rod to him and stood back.  Nadya and I watched him pull it in using all of the techniques I showed him earlier.  When the fish was out of the water, hanging from the tip of the rod, he looked at me but I did not jump to help out.  Instead I asked him what he was going to do with the fish.   So he grabbed the line, then the fish, smoothing out the dorsal fin, and held it as I took the hook out.  He did a good job....and then the fish jumped around and fell to the ground surprising us both.  A quick toss into the pond and the fish was set free to go forward. 

Evening Pond Fishing

So after dinner, I got permission to keep Stefan up a tiny bit past his bedtime, and we drove to some nearby ponds.   After we parked, we walked back about 500 yards on an old tractor trail that cut through some open space.   It was a nice cool evening with clear skies, and we had a nice backdrop of the Rockies in front of a setting sun.  The ponds were glass still.  A few belly boaters were coming in, and one fisherman told us that there were a bunch of small fish where he was just standing and we could give it a go.  Stefan boldly said "thank you", and "we'll let you know if we catch any."  A few women were later standing on the other side of the pond and Stefan yelled out "hi" to them, and then proceeded to tell them we were fishing and caught one crappie.  He mostly played in the tackle box, and when I caught a fish he would run over and reel it in.  When they jumped, he called them "tricky fish".  On the way back to the truck, Stefan was singing the whole way home at the top of his lungs a song he heard on the kids radio station earlier.  On the way home, we saw a huge buck mule deer cross the road in front of us.

Spin Fishing Again

This morning after our routine of getting coffee and cupcakes at the local shop downtown, Stefan and I stopped by Boulder Creek, just over the hill from the University of Colorado football field.  Well, I just happened to have a spinning rod in my truck, and it just happend to be set up.  This was my old spinning rod combo from when I was a kid, a 4.5 ft Diawa complete with a blue foam handle.  I tied on a gold 00 Mepps and, as we walked to the stream, I saw a few trout rising.

Yesterday after work I scoped out the stream, which is running a bit high due to snowpack run off.  I saw this spot, water falling about three feet rapidly over some boulders, forming eddies on both sides and a long swift run downstream.  It had nice flat rocks next to the falling water which made for some easy casting to bring the spinners back through the eddies.

Soon after we got there, I was into a fish and let Stefan reel him in.  A little 8 inch brown that Stefan threw back in.  Had a few more strikes and some fish that got off.   We tried upstream a bit, where I cast down and across a long run, let the spinner drift back across the stream, and pulled it back up along the near bank.  We caught another this way, and again I had a few get off.

It was nice throwing the spinning rod again.  Not sure if it was due to the fact that it was much easier to catch the fish than with flies, or the feel of the blade vibrating in the current, or watching it flash as it drifted across stream, or feeling the tug of the fish as it moved closer.

Later, Stefan and I went swimming at the rec center.  We looked out the window and there was a pond behind it.  When we left, we walked over for 20 minutes or so and caught a few small bass before going home.