30 fish in RMNP on one fly in 4 hours.

Thirty fish in 4 hours on a single fly in a National Park along a busy hiking trail. 

An Elk hair egg-laying green caddis. Looks a little beat-up, doesn't it.

John and Fred w/buffs to make us disappear in the forest. I always take a before picture to show the investigators that he wasn't coerced into this trip.

    Within two hours of Denver, there is a National Park with many small streams loaded with hungry trout. The reason they are hungry is that at the elevations in the park, insect life is difficult and the trout as a result do not grow large but are always looking for food of any kind.
    The parking lot fills up with hikers, mostly families on Rocky Mountain motor vacations. The few fly fishers spread out along the trails which follow the streams or take a feeder branch. I have very seldom run into another fly fisher on these marvelous mountain streams.
     The wading, casting, and drifts are not easy. Roll cast and bow and arrow casts are all you'll be able to use unless you are casting parallel to the stream. Even then a set will often put you in the branches. And there will be lots of sets.

An Easter Brook trout descendent. Stocking of these easterners probably can be blamed on the Railroads.  The higher you go and the further you hike the more likely you are to encounter cutthroats. 

The trail follows one side of the stream but the other side of the stream, with the fast rushing waters will give you complete silence and solitude. 

The brookies do have beautiful colors though.

     Fred does a flash back to fishing from the pier and demonstrates the cast called dappling that's been around since 1653.

Fred does a perfect release.

It's not just about the fish.

     Don't forget to take a break once in awhile at this altitude. I used a 6 1/2ft  4 weight rod and 5x tippet. Fred even devolved to streamers at one point but I wanted to see if I could do it with one fly. Somehow it lasted all day, through 30 fish brought to the net and another 15 that were hits, runs, but none left on. ( We call that a Trout Unlimited in-stream release.)

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.

Fishing Spinney from a float tube, or was it a tire chain thong?

Some times there is just no choice but to fish a high country Colorado lake.

 

Spinney Mountain Reservoir - Near Hartsel,CO

In this case,  Fred and Ned convinced me, once again, that Spinney Mountain Reservoir in South Park, 2 hours from Denver would be ON FIRE. Last year with Elbert Bivins, I have to admit, we had one of the best fly fishing days ever                         for number of fish, size of fish, action on the surface, action on nymphs, and connections using 3x.

     

Last year on Spinney - 8/9/2012

 With the water level way down in the reservoir, and it just being reopened 4 days ago, we couldn't miss. It was certain to be even better.

It is a great spot with snow capped mountains to the West and North, no traffic noise, and a nearby fly shop, Chaparral Country Store, Fly Shop, and Camp Ground.

Fred sent me a text while I was awaiting his pick up at the Tiny Town RTD lot saying they were delayed, the SUV was packed, and I should pick the one item I wanted to take along. I guess if you only load your pontoon boats once a year never quite master efficient packing. My float tube however, rolls up into a compact ball about the size of a back pack and can fit on my lap if necessary.

Ned Lynch

Fred Miller

Fred and Ned

set out to set up and inflate. With my simple float tube, I topped off my inflation with Fred's hand pump, (thanks Fred) and I beat them to the water line by a mere two hours. I had stuffed wading sandals into my flippers so that I wouldn't have to wear my heavy wading boots. Even with my zip-in life jacket, I could picture myself being pulled by my heavy studded boots when my over inflated float tube inexplicably explodes in 35 feet of water. 

I carefully stepped into the float tube with my flippers on and strapped tightly to my ankles, snapped the seat's crotch strap and tightened it up so that my thighs would just fit. Hopefully, this time after three hours on the water it would not feel like I was wearing a tire-chain thong. I velcrowed my 6 weight Redington in front of me across the tube and pulled the float tube up with the side straps, like my grandson in his first set of pull-up. I slowly with baby steps backed into the water. In two shuffles I could feel the mud sucking me toward bed rock. I shuffled faster then fell backward into Spinney Mt Reservoir soaking my arms but fortunately not turtling. I pushed off with my heels against the mud and soon could flipper kick away from Fred and Ned, who were still on the shore.

Actually, this wasn't so bad. I've had much worse entries. The wind was not blowing, the sun was out, and it was about 40F. The water temperature at 42F, perfect, according to Clint Packo, for the fish to become active. This could be OK. 

I trailed an articulated Galloups Sex Dungeon (who names these flies ?) as I kicked out toward  a weed bed Ned had shown me on his map. But the water was very murky and I saw no hatches, no jumping fish, no cruising fish, no feeding fish, no feeding ducks, and no other anglers anywhere nearby. Fred and Ned, for some reason, were still not launched. Were they missing parts? Were they bailing on the adventure? Should I kick my way back to them? 

 Finally some grebes did appear. I changed flies. I saw one fish actually jump, but neither pegged eggs nor the red chironomids I just bought at the Chaparrel fly shop worked. In fact, those half dozen flies had fallen out of the plastic container into my breast pocket and were now working at giving me nipple piercings.  

I checked google earth on my iPhone and was surprised to see that I was still a long long way from where I picture the weed bed to be. I half heartedly started casting around the float tube for another 45 minutes. I'd made a point of emptying my bladder at every opportunity and vault toilet we'd passed on the way to Spinney Mountain Reservoir. As my fishing buddy Shawn Ballinger has said, "Never pass up an opportunity to pee."  But for some reason (be it the cold water, the impossibility of relief, the boredom, or the perversity of the float tube experience,) I now had a call of nature that was resounding in my head like a 4 ton Nepalese prayer bell.

Just in the nick of time, Fred's little electric motor brought his pontoon boat along side. "You doing any good  out this deep? The guys fishing from the shore are landing fish." OMG. WTF am I doing out here. 

"I think I'm ready for a break. Can you haul me in?" "Grab on", he said which I did. I hung on for dear life as the crotch strap really dug in to my lower body. Water surged over the float tube, soaked my upper body and started running down into my chest waders. Not a good thing for a bladder ready to explode. I wasn't about to tell Fred to slow down. I tried to adjust my grip on his oar lock to pull the float tube closer to the pontoon without losing him. I had to make it to shore. I lifted my flippers for minimum drag but this just made the crotch strap cut deeper into parts of my body that were between numb and excruciating. Are we having fun yet? When his motor started to churn mud he swung back around and I let loose. With a couple kicks my heels soon hit the mud. Black goo boiled up around my immaculate yellow float tube. I forgot that running with flippers in a float tube high up against my butt  while sinking into soft mud might be unstable. Some how I made it to shore, unhooked the M.....F...... excruciating crotch strap, pulled my flippered feet out of the float tube, jettisoned the flippers and race walked over the 50 yards of sand beach to the graciously provided Division of Wildlife vault toilet. 

 Not every crawfish makes it all the way to the facilities.

Does anyone want to buy a slightly used float tube? Really. I'm serious. Brenda says I say this after every float tube experience.

I broke for lunch, and then fished from shore for a couple hours and finally landed and released this nice fat 16 inch rainbow on the pegged egg just off the black goo drift line. 

Nice rainbow 4/3/2013 - from the S.E. Shore.

Another shore angler who passed by reported he'd caught 4 all day but that 2 days ago, Wednesday, Spinney was just on fire. He'd expected today to be better, but, "It just never turned on." 

I think next time, I'll just fish from shore and then wander down to the Dream Stream 

Dream Stream cutbow 10/20/2011

where the calls of nature are all bird calls, fish slaps, or elk bugles.

Deckers in the Winter

Winter on the South Platte below Cheesman Canyon.

     I've now listened to Clint Packo, Freestone Outfitters, twice within a couple months on the topic of cold weather fishing. He wants us to fish small and slow. Randall and Terry are joining me on Thursday to try out his techniques. 

     Freestone Outfitters stream report for the recent cold weather excursions has mention miracle midges every time. So I tied up seven. Carefully strung them on my threader. And now there are six. Size 22 flies have the ability to come to life like pinocchio when ever they detect that they are free. To keep one from springing to life after it is tied, I thread it onto a piece of 3x as show above. But to get it onto a tippet on the stream it just does not work to put them in a plastic fly shop cup. The fly shop's love these cups for small flies. A size 22 midge can escape from this box before you are out the door. So my method is to carefully slide them off the 3x and onto my work surface very very slowly. Then, one at a time I carefully thread them on to my CF Design threader. The threader fits in a foam cutout in the CF fly box. Once out on the stream, I can open the fly box without dumping the the contents into the ice water, and the larger threader is easier to manipulate with cold hands than trying to extract a single size 22 fly from  a foam pad next two a dozen identical flies. The downside is that it is very easy to drop the whole threader into the ice water. That happened once, on the South Platte, in winter, fishing with Terry. Certainly it won't happen again.

     But somehow before I had them all strung, one red one managed to escape. I know it will reappear in a painful place. They always do.

Ignore the advice... Pay the Price - Browns on the Arkansas

Clint Packo, Freestone Outfitters, gave a presentation at Denver Trout Unlimited on Tuesday night about cold weather tactics fly fishing for trout in Colorado. I took careful notes.

I'm going to try this out at Stone Bridge on the Arkansas just upstream of Salida.

• Ok. Stream temperature 42F. Check.
• Pheasant tail - size 18 just above my egg pattern with dangling size 20 black hook. Check.
• White yarn indicator 5 feet above my bb shot. Check.
• Fishy looking water with a depression, that is holding big fish I just know it, just below the middle arch support of this 1908 bridge over the Arkansas. Check.

Getting the drifts the way Clint had shown in the diagrams of his slide show, uhhh, not as easy as it looks. I adjust my weights, walk upstream a ways, spook a nice fish in shallow water. Clint said there'd be fish like this. I fish some more, walk some more. The wind is blowing up stream making casting quite easy but it is blowing at about 30 mph. I change the top fly to a prince nymph and after losing the egg rig some how change to an RS2 on the bottom, about a size 18. Clint said he NEVER uses an RS2. Oh well. I've been fishing about an hour and a half now and have covered a lot of water without a strike of any kind, without any indication of a hatch and it's just past noon, and without seeing any more fish. So much for sight fishing.  I get to this place above the stream and move out from the shore through some quick-sandy looking mud that actually acts like quick sand. I've now invested 2 hours in Clint's can't fail techniques on a river that's know to have 3,000 fish per mile with the sunny conditions and water temperature just as Clint said was perfect for winter fishing.

Nothing is working so I change the bottom fly to a size 20 black beauty that I just picked up at the fly shop in Pine Junction. I seem to remember something about going small as well as going slow and going deep from Clint.

I put it over the rock and let it drift toward the back of the rock that seems to be washed out into a deep cut although I can't see it. 

WHAM, the white yard indicator is sucked under. Oh no, not another snag. But no, it actually is a fish and nice fat 18 inch brown at that. On the very first drift of the correct fly, at the correct depth, with correct drift, in the correct place, at the correct water temperature. And NOT over a redd. 

Thanks Clint. I'll try to not ignore the go small advice next time.