Spinners or Flies

 Carrie and Patrick both have hand fly rods I made them last year for Christmas. They both tied flies with me at least once. But getting the fly rods, the flies, me, and the grand kids all near the water at the same time is not all that easy. On June 22 the stars aligned on Lake Osawa at Tris and Garry's house. I was hoping at least one of them would get hooked on the tug.

Carrie was first with a monster sun fish on an Adams. Why the furrowed brow?

The classic, "I caught it myself" pose. So much better than "Grip and Grin."

Patrick will not be out done by his sister.

Yes, He's into one with Carrie on hand to help with the landing.

He's hooked! On his own he tried night fishing with a spinner from the dock.  He's into it now with the black bass.

While rigging him up, Patrick confessed, "Grand Peré? I'll probably only use this fly rod when I'm fishing with you."

"Patrick," I said. "That's OK with me. I hope you get to use it a lot."

Early quest for high mountain cutthroats, boletus edulis mushrooms and exotic brook trout.

     I know, I know. It's still early in the year above 8,000 feet. But I have these 4 tents to test for Field and Stream magazine and a vision in my head of finding little pockets and slow water along the banks of the St. Vrain near my campsite where a pot of coffee is warming, just like John Gerach.
    Am I blessed or cursed with these fly fishing visions of high mountain streams and camping near them. When I read the Rocky Mountain National Park backcountry camping guide, the vision gets a little murky. Those wilderness camping sites are in specific numbered spots arrayed between 30 minutes and a couple hours of hiking. The 1.5 hour forced march, hauling a backpack with boots, waders, lunch, water and a fly rod to Spruce Lake was just marginally doable. Hiking even that distance with the additional tent, bear proof container w/food, sleeping bag and pad, and water filtration equipment would ruin my fishing day. I now have to modify my dream to camp in a driveup camp ground, get early booking on the camp site closest to the trail head, or lease some pack animals. Just like all dreams, reality has a way of mucking it up.
    Here's what happened. Bottom line.. no boletus yet. Middle St Vrain was too high to find the nice soft spots behind rocks and along banks. Only unknown creek out of Rainbow Lakes was charming with a couple of nice brook trout on a dry tricho. There's an interesting story about a lost and then found 12 year old to go with that adventure for a later blog post.