Persistence

Have you ever gone fishing when you just weren't really feeling it?  After spotting and successfully stalking the nice brown trout,  I began to think that my day had reached its climax early.  My plan had been to head to a nearby river where I have hooked large fish before.  In fact, the fish in this particular spot have taken me to school.  The largest rainbow I've ever hooked was on this river.  The fish threw the fly after peeling line in one continuous blistering run downstream until I was well into the backing.  Those moments happen but rarely, at least when I'm trout fishing.

This was supposed to be one of those redemption trips where you find and hook a nice fish and then don't lose it in the process of fighting it.  I just wasn't feeling it though.  Rigging up with a deep nymph system complete with midges and my favorite sow bug pattern brought a little confidence, but then the long times between even the most subtle of takes had me thinking increasingly about heading home.  Knowing that the fish were there was kind of nice but not hooking them was not helping with the feeling that the day was winding down.

Finally it was decision time.  I'll just head on out.  Then I noticed that the water had dropped a few inches and decided to try another few casts.  You know, just one more.  Of course, one became three, then four, and on cast four the indicator shot under.  Forget those gentle takes, this was undoubtedly a fish.  Pulling back, I realized that it was not just any fish but a decent trout, hopefully a brown.  The golden flash moments later verified that last bit.  The fish had succumbed to the sow bug pattern.

Yes, I was happy now.  My persistence had paid off.  Again I contemplated leaving, but again I decided on a few more casts.  Catching fish has a way of getting your mind back in the game.  The next time the indicator shot under, the ponderous head shakes that followed suggested a larger specimen.  The steady bulldogging convinced me that it was a brown.  Up and down the river I followed as the fish pretty much went wherever it wanted.  Slowly I gained line until finally I slipped the net under a beautiful male brown colored up like fall.

Likely the prettiest fish I'll catch this year, I took a moment to appreciate the reward I gained for my persistence.  Gently holding the fish in calm water, I gave the big brown the opportunity to rest from its exertions.  Only a moment was required before it shot back out into the current, but not without leaving behind a memory of the reward gained for persistence.

Runner Browns

As I discovered in the waning evening light below camp, some pools were full of both salmon and brown trout following the bounty of eggs.  Assumedly the trout would soon do their own spawning activities.  That camping trip will live on in my memory as one of the all-time great trips.  The next morning after the catching extravaganza, my goal was to scout a bit more of the stream to see if there were more runner browns in the system.  Starting early in the morning at the same pool as the evening before, I managed a few more brown trout as well as a surprise lake trout thrown in for good measure.  Some days you just never know what to expect on the other end of the line.

The cold was still of the bone-chilling variety so I kept fishing instead of stopping to eat breakfast.  A few chips and a cold bagel provided enough energy to stay focused.  Moving upstream from camp, I came across a deep pool with a nice rock ledge on the far bank near the tail out.  Wonder of wonders, a sizable brown was lying right on the rock ledge just like the browns always do back home in the Smoky Mountains.  While I was watching a much larger brown darted out from some unseen hiding place and blended into the depths until I wasn't sure if I had really seen it in the first place or if it was an early morning vision generated by my hopes of finding a big trout.

Looking up higher in the pool, I noticed a classic sandy bottom.  Fish do not often sit on these spots because they are so easy to see but when they do you can usually catch them.  Suddenly my eyes must have bugged out just a bit, because there wasn't just one or two, but a whole row of fish finning at the bottom of that deep hole.  A second examination confirmed that they were definitely not salmon moving up and were probably, in fact, brown trout.

The big streamer was soon flashing back and forth with me ducking a little on each cast for safety.  I plopped it into the water and started swimming it around and....nothing.  Maybe they are resident fish.  The runner fish seemed much more aggressive towards streamers while resident fish are much more wary, having spent their whole life avoiding predators in the stream.  Lake fish tend to have less fear, having dwelt at great depths where they are generally safe from most predators.

I quickly changed my rig to a big stonefly with an egg pattern trailed behind.  Maybe they are watching for eggs from the salmon spawning upstream.  An indicator completed my rig, and then I was back casting to the fish who were now onto me.  One trout in particular was still sitting out though. Just a little behind and across from a large boulder, I suspected that it would eat given the proper drift.

The current was tricky and definitely not conducive to an easy presentation.  However, with enough trial and error, the correct line was soon discovered.  Hitting that line was also tricky, but finally everything came together.  The big brown moved four feet to inhale one of my offerings, the indicator twitched, and I set the hook.  Immediately the fish went ballistic, running all over the pool before heading towards the faster water downstream.  Resigned to losing the fish, I gave chase but without hope.  Any minute the fly should pop free.  Then I started to gain some line.  Okay so there's a chance. The moment I slipped the net under that trout was almost a miracle.  I rarely have such pessimism about losing a trout as I did with that fish, but everything came together for one of those moments I'll always remember.

Definitely not the largest trout I've ever caught, not even close, this fish was memorable because I had worked hard, going through flies, changing tactics, until I found the one that would work on that fish.  The colors were amazing.  The flash in the picture above dull the colors but the net shot below shows the richness of the golden brown hues along the trout's sides.

Amazingly, my weekend trip was not over and would get, if possible, even better.  Stay tuned for the rest of the trip coming up soon!

Dialed In

When I planned to go fishing this past weekend, there were a few question marks surrounding the potential trip.  The biggest was the cold I had been battling for several days.  Cold weather camping is just plain miserable when you have a cold.  Instead of taking off as early as possible on Friday, I decided that I would relax and get a good night's rest Friday night.  The new plan was to leave Saturday morning for two relaxing days and one night out in the deep wilderness as far from civilization as possible.

The excitement was building to the point that, while it was nice to sleep in my own bed, the sleep part never was particularly great.  I kept waking up wondering if it was time to go.  By around 6:00 the next morning, I was ready to get up.  On the road around sunrise, I was pleasantly surprised to discover that there were very few people out at this time of day.  Instead of getting stuck in the usual slow weekend traffic, I made good time and a few hours later was cruising through one of my favorite mountain towns in America.

Pushing on to a remote tributary, I found a campsite and put in my claim by setting up the tent and leaving my camp chair up and ready.  On the way down to the campsite I was all over the road, mostly because I was staring at the beautiful stream instead of the narrow dirt road.  Someone following my car's tracks probably thought that a drunk guy had been driving and expected to find a crash around every bend.

On the drive in I had located two good pools full of Kokanee salmon with most fish podded up but a few were doing their thing on the redds.  A handful of browns were around also gobble up any stray eggs.  Never having encountered Kokanee before, I rigged up with a pair of bright nymphs and started working the pod.  My indicator dove 3 or 4 times before the line came tight.  The fish had eaten one of the nymphs!

The fish was strong and full of fight.  By the time I had netted the fish it had worked me back to the tail of the pool.  Another few feet and it would have gained the faster current below.  I was lucky on that one.  A couple of quick pictures were taken to document my first ever salmon.  The Kokanee were fun, but I think I'm ready for Alaska now.  Bring on the real salmon!

In another hour or so of fishing, I accidentally snagged a couple of salmon and fair caught one more.  Apparently snagging salmon is a big sport, but as I wasn't fishing for table fare, I tried to stick to the high road.  The sun was beginning to lower by the time I made it back down to camp.  The only other people around had left by this time, and I had the whole stream to myself.  

Walking downstream, I found several nice pools.  One in particular seemed to hold some salmon.  A streamer had been dug out of the bottom of my fishing pack and tied on so I was looking for something other than the Kokanee.  Swinging the fly, swimming the fly, stripping the fly, any method I used seemed to produce about the same...absolutely nothing.  Perhaps it was the full moon...or maybe I had the wrong color on...or maybe there were no fish.  You know how it goes.  Lots of great reasons for my lack of success were occurring to me by this time.  

Distracted by the scenery and lack of fish, I started to take a few pictures of my surroundings.  The colors in the landscape seemed more beautiful in the late evening light.  

Then I returned to the pool with the Kokanee.  Finally, like a flash of brilliance (more likely just dumb luck) I thought maybe I should fish the far side.  

One of the best things I did all day was to throw the streamer to the far side of the current.  By the second strip, I saw a huge flash as a brown rolled on the streamer.  For the next 45 minutes, nearly every cast produced at least a follow, and I was catching enough beautiful lake run browns to mostly forget that I had a camera hanging around my neck.  I was dialed in although I think it was more along the lines of stumbling into luck.  The salmon were podded up near me while the browns were almost all in the soft water on the far bank.  

The next morning I returned to the same spot and again caught some nice fish including a small lake trout.  Some fishing holes are definitely better than others, or at least that seems to be the main lesson I learned.  Later on Sunday, I would again stumble upon a great fishing hole, but more about that later.  

First Salmon

Yes, you read that correctly.  I found my first salmon right here in Colorado.  For those that don't know, we have Kokanee here in Colorado (landlocked and smaller version of Sockeye apparently).  I found those along with a lot of very nice trout in my journeys this past weekend.  I'll have many more details coming soon once I get some time.  Here is a closeup of the salmon until then.

Passing the Peak

Fall colors have mostly passed their peak, at least in the areas I've been venturing.  However, the beginning of this month was the perfect time to catch them in the act.  Finding trees in the process of passing the peak proved to be a bit difficult as heavy late season precipitation changed the way the trees would progress through their fall best.  However, with a bit of research and a LOT of driving, more than enough amazing colors were found to satisfy the inner photographer.

My parents came out to visit me during my fall break in early October.  We ended up taking several epic drives to see not only the colors but a bit of wildlife as well.  No thanks to the government here as we originally wanted to visit Rocky Mountain National Park but had to adjust at the last minute.  The adjustments were nice however, and I got to explore some new territory as well as covering some of my old stomping grounds down towards Gunnison.

The first part of the trip featured a drive up the Poudre Canyon (what beautiful water!!!) and over Cameron Pass to North Park.  We did this as a day trip.  I would like to point out that while it is definitely a feasible day trip, it is much better as an overnighter.  We took the next day to relax and hike close to home before embarking on another long drive.

Here are a few pictures from State Forest State Park and also along highway 14 between Fort Collins and Walden. As you can see below, a storm was moving in by the end of the day and provided some dramatic skies as the clouds began to lower.  Next up, hiking the Flatirons during the first snow of the year!!!

Oh yeah, to keep the fishing theme going here, I will mention that I stopped at a small stream in the State Park and found some willing fish.  Here is the nicest fish that I caught in about 20 minutes of fishing...

Way Behind

I'm behind in a lot of important things I need to get done such as blogging.  I have a few fishing reports, lots of shots of the fall colors, and even some pictures of the early season snow we have started to get out here.  I'll slowly get caught up but until then, here's a shot I took last week.  Several pictures were taken and each has its own merits, but this one is interesting because my reflection shows up in each little water droplet.

In addition, I'm always a big fan of different perspectives.  The "looking straight down" shot is pretty easy.  Getting this next one took a couple more tries as I had to hold and aim the camera close to the ground without getting a good look through the viewfinder.  The texture of the leaf is being refracted through the drop leaving the drop with the some textured appearance as the leaf.  

I'll be sharing a lot more pictures and stories soon.  In the meantime, I'm off to catch up on more important things like grading...ah the life of a teacher.  

Nature's Canvass

This year, fall has been a bit of an anomaly.  Rumors suggest that the late season rain has prevented the best colors from showing themselves.  Regardless, I have still found some amazing fall colors around the state.  Here is a stand of Aspen as viewed from I-70 near Frisco.

While driving past some of the states best trout water, I had a hard time not drooling all over the steering wheel.  However, with friends and family along for the drive, I mostly stayed focused on the scenery and camaraderie and not on fishing.  The Roaring Fork beckoned as did the Gunnison and Taylor and Frying Pan.  I'll be back, hopefully soon, to at least some of these great streams.  Early snows are already flying up high.  It will not be too long before we are in a tailwater phase.  Until then, I'll enjoy the colors, and maybe get away to chase some fall trout.

Fall Scouting

Having lived in Colorado for just over a year, I'm still learning the rhythms of my favorite trout streams.  One of my favorite aspects of learning new water is scouting.  These may just be the perfect fishing trips since there are no high expectations that can result in disappointment, at least not usually.  Often, I find the stream more generous when I don't expect too much.

One favorite river system has a fairly well-known fall run of brown trout.  Last year I pulled a nice 20 inch brown out along with some other beautifully colored browns.  The best time is while they are running to their spawning grounds.  Their aggression is general and directed at just about anything they see.  Once the spawn starts, these fish are focused and should be left to reproduce.  Most fish that are "caught" during actual spawning activity are snagged and this is not sporting.

Fall is my favorite season and what better way to bring it in than a scouting trip?  Last year, I knew the big fish showed up in early October.  I also knew that on my last trip a few weeks ago, there were only a handful of larger resident fish in the system and no runner fish.  Would the fish be there?

The weather was threatening Sunday morning, but that is how I like it for fall fishing.  Packing a fleece and raincoat along with the regular fishing gear guaranteed I would still be comfortable.  The drive was long but scenic which makes any length of trip a bit more enjoyable.  The highlight of the day was finding fall colors at higher elevations.  The aspen were incredible and not just the standard yellow gold either.  No, many trees had rich orange and even red colors as well which is something I'm not really used to finding here in Colorado.  One clump of trees was close enough to a pullout for me to stop and shoot a couple of pictures.  The threatening sky muted the light, creating perfect conditions for photography.

Driving further, I was soon along the stream I hoped to fish.  The very first access point was wide open with no one in sight.  Taking my time, I pulled on waders and topped everything with my raincoat.  The rain was coming.  Large nymphs and streamers would be my weapon of choice for what I hoped would be large migratory brown trout.

Working my way downstream, I quickly found my first fish in a deep but small run with an undercut bank nearby.  It was a pretty brown with lighter colors indicating it had moved up from the lake.

Then things slowed to a crawl.  Naturally, the stream teased me until I was nearly ready to quit before giving up another gem.  As is normally the case, the lake-run fish were spread out and hard to pinpoint. Things started to improve though as I stumbled upon some deeper runs and pools.  There were even a few redds showing up in the backs of the best holes.

By the time I got another nice fish, the rain was pouring.  Thankfully I had stowed my old point and shoot Pentax and again I blessed its waterproof capabilities.

Eventually the rain passed on, leaving clouds behind to remind me that the rain could come again.

The stream proved to be quite inspirational.  Sweeping grassy banks had me contemplating how good the hopper fishing could be if the nice browns were here throughout the summer months.  I know that there are at least a few nice resident fish although the brookies definitely seem to have an edge in terms of numbers.

Finally, in a series of impressive bend pools, I found some nice fish.  Not every fish I found would eat, but enough nice fish were coming to hand to keep my forgetting my growing hunger.

Finally, with thunder rumbling in the distance, I noticed the rumbling in my belly and decided it was time to eat.  I headed back to the car and drove to a nice spot where I planned to fish after eating.  I heated up some delicious chili and then added some Fritos.  Chili and chips have become one of my favorite stream-side meals when I feel like something hot and filling.  This day was no different.  The thunderstorm skirted off to the south but a few stray drops kept things damp while I ate.

While I was cooking, a gentleman from Kansas came by and asked if I had found a fly box.  Unfortunately I had not fished yet so had not found a lost box.  He looked for a while and was unable to locate his box.  I took his name and email in case I could find it but luck was not with me on this day when it came to finding lost stuff.

I was lucky as a fisherman however.  Working up the stream, I found one particular deep spot where trees had fallen across the stream.  Having spotted nice trout here in the past, I always toss a fly in when I am in the area.  On today, I carefully maneuvered into position and tossed my fly in between the two logs.

When a brown shot out to slam the fly, I was glad that I had 2x tippet on.  The fish tried to run upstream and down, but the stout 5 weight rod kept the pressure on, and soon I was slipping the big net under the fish.

Based on where this fish lived and its coloration, I believe that it was a resident fish instead of a lake-run fish.  I'm also pretty sure I spotted it last spring on one of my early trips to this stream.

At this point, thunder was threatening again.  The sky was ominously dark and the wind was picking up.  I decided to call it a day.  Not long after starting the drive home, the storm broke in its full fury, pounding the landscape with sleet.  The temperature dropped into the low forties.  Further south, I escaped the storm and noted white up high on the mountains above.  The first high country snow of the year had fallen and would continue into the night.  Fall is definitely here!!!

Hopper Banks

Have you ever found a piece of water that just begs for a particular fly or presentation?  Of course you have.  We all have a particular log jam that we always toss a streamer at or a dry fly slick where a trout is normally poking its nose out of the water to the prevailing hatch.  We probably even have a favorite run that we prefer to nymph.  Back in Tennessee, I had a section of bank on a tailwater that had a bunch of overhanging trees.  Terrestrials were the ticket in the summer on that section.

Here in Colorado, I've been blessed to find more than my share of good terrestrial water.  My favorite banks are those slightly undercut banks with plenty of grass hanging down into the water.  Hopper banks...  I fly smacked down with authority can result in a major adrenaline rush, even when the fish doesn't end up committing.  Here's a nice piece of hopper water I came across today.  When you get bored at work and need a short daydream about fishing, think about the surprise that might be waiting here...

Getting Drenched

I was there when the floods started.  At the time it was not clear that floods were on the way.  Where I was fishing, I got a firsthand look at what a Colorado cloudburst could do, not in the same way that we would see destruction over the next few days of course but still pretty impressive.  The forecast called for a chance of rain, but as the day wore on the clouds thinned.  As a good fisherman I hoped that the clouds would return.  When I arrived at South Boulder Creek at Walker Ranch, the sky was again starting to lower.  Off to the south it was darker and more threatening.  Perfect fishing weather.  It was Tuesday evening, September 10, 2013.

On the creek, I was surprised when streamers did not give me any results.  We are quickly approaching fall and the brown trout should be aggressive now or soon.  Fish were rising though.  It started to drizzle.  Quickly I changed leaders and added some 6x tippet. BWO weather.  I dug out my box of dries and scrounged around in the one compartment where I keep my small patterns.  A few #20 BWO Sparkle Duns were there from my tying spree last fall that came as a result of a fantastic experience fishing the little dries on Clear Creek.  By now the drizzle was falling harder.  Adding floatant was a challenge.  I leaned forward to protect the dry fly with my hat brim and body as I rubbed the Aquel into the body of the little fly.  Pulling out a bottle of Frogs Fanny, I put it conveniently into my pocket.  I would need a lot to keep that fly afloat.

Finding one of the best pools empty, I quickly moved in.  Rain was steady and my camera bag was getting wet.  Looking around, I noticed a small boulder with an overhang under a bush.  I shoved the camera bag underneath the overhang and hoped it would stay dry enough.  Fish were almost causing the water to boil with rises by now.  Every once in a while a larger mayfly would make an appearance as it labored upstream just above the water, all the while getting pelted with raindrops...or was it dodging them?

I settled into a nice rhythm. Cast, cast, set, land fish, release, repeat.  Some nicer rainbows started mixing into the catch.  The little rainbows looked a lot like the little 'bows I used to catch in the Smoky Mountains of Tennessee.  It was raining, making it feel even more like home.  I could get used to this.

A gully washer moved in, pelting the water so hard that every 3 or 4 casts I was applying Frogs Fanny with the same procedure as the original floatant.  Still the fish were eating.  A guy from somewhere back east came down the canyon as he headed for the bridge and a quick hike out.  We chatted in the pouring rain and then he continued on his soggy way.  Even with my rain coat on I was getting drenched.  What a day to wet wade.  Yet another wallet drying experience loomed in my immediate future.  I checked under the rock to see how my camera was doing.  The bag was pretty damp.  Maybe it's time to hike out.  Fish were still rising though so I kept fishing.

The runoff hit the stream pretty hard just a couple of fish later.  I noticed the murky torrent along the edge of the clear water.  With the dam just upstream, I felt fairly safe from flash floods.  The road was another story though.  I've been bogged down in mud before and didn't want a repeat performance.  Hiking upstream, the real mud hit. I had left at just the right time.  The fish were still biting but the clarity would have changed that inside of 2 minutes.

Despite the wet conditions, the rain nearly stopped as I hiked out.  I was still soaking in the experience, literally and figuratively I might add.  The fishing experience was one of the best I've had since moving to Colorado, and it had been too wet to photograph any of it.  Apparently leaving your camera safely under a rock to keep dry is as good as leaving it at home to guarantee a great time of fishing.

That night, I reflected on the amazing trip I had just had.  With growing concern I noted that the rain was continuing and forecast to become heavy the next day.  I still had no idea what that would actually mean though.

Now I have no clue when I'll fish some of my favorite streams here on the Front Range.  Thus, it seems fitting that my last and best memory might just be of getting drenched...