Hanging homes and lotsa browns.

Fishing Tommy

 after 

His 9/2013 Flood 

 Mike Hobbs and I fished the Big Thompson last tuesday April 22, 2014. The inlet to Estes Park lake was off color and high, and the stretch below the dam was a nice color, low, but wall-to-wall fly anglers. We headed down RT 34 toward Drake. The water was clear at what Mike calls the "Sign Hole", but both the Department of Parks and Wildlife as well as the Hole had been washed away or moved out of sight. There were however lots of fish of a nice size which I spooked and which Mike caught on a parachute Adams and a Barrs Emerger. 

    

 The river valley is quite surreal looking with the lack of vegetation along the banks, polished boulders and gravel along the water line, and houses with inspection and condemnation stickers scattered along the stream. Many are hanging by a thread to a small ledge of bank.

     We traveled downstream past a stream and road bank stabilization site where a huge tracked backhoe was in the river working the bank. We pulled off a couple of miles downstream and fished to some more nice browns before the muddy water stirred up by the backhoe reached us. It is ironic that Denver Trout Unlimited's home stream aquatic improvement project has been reduced because of sky rocketing construction costs due to competition with reconstruction work on the Big Thompson.

What makes it ironic is that according to Brian Peterson, of ECI Construction, the firm doing the River Vision Implementation Plan on the Denver South Platte, is that the cost on the South Platte is enormously high because them have to build a sheet wall the length of the project to divert the river, so that their construction equipment will NOT stir up this muddy water. There must be something I don't understand.

     About 12:30 PM and then again at 2:30 PM there was a very nice baetis hatch and the browns and rainbows just gobbled up our parachute adams and caddis emerges. A fine time was had by all.The fish looked really healthy both before and after their encounter with our dry flies. Here's a release lapse series to prove my point.

Don't use your dog for bait.

Don't use your dog for bait.

Heard a story yesterday from an angler at Bluequill Anglers shop in Evergreen, CO about a mountain lion moving in for the kill on a small dog that his master had brought along to fish Cheesman Canyon, near Deckers Colorado on 12/2/2013. He heard another angler shouting and waving his arms below him near the water at the Lower Narrows

Sign along S. Boulder Canyon near Eldora State Park. There should be one in Cheesman also. 

and went to investigate. He saw the angler, his small dog, and a mountain lion crouched about 20 yards away. We all fish there often and have seen footprints but this is the only recent case where any of us have actually seen a lion in daytime. The ignored rule is that dogs must be leashed at all times on this section of Pike National Forest. The second angler threw some branches at the lion but this did not move it off. The two and the dog then backed away (no running is a rule that they did obey) to a higher trail back to the parking lot. The lion followed them part way. Dogs are great, but don't make them bait.

Red Drum - Black Drum.. It's not just about the oysters.

Acme Oyster House - $1.35 local.

New Orleans for fresh oysters is reason enough. But a focus on food must change to an intense eye straining focus on the marsh water as three well dressed Denver Trout Unlimited fly casters take on the Mississippi Delta where the Denver South Platte river water mingles at last with salt water.

Peche and Cochon two more reason for New Orleans.

Acme Oyster House - Grilled Oysters w/Parmesan

The real reason for New Orleans is powering out into the delta to find Redfish preying on mullet.

After a two hour ride in Capt'n Greg's new pickup to the Cypress Cove Marina, Fred gets the first solo shot with Greg while Nick "volunteers" to guide newbie John and experience Redfish hunter Ned out into the West Bay.

 I'm fishing an eight weight Orvis rod and a weight forward saltwater line, although wisdom on the boat thinks my drag is not strong enough.

Capt'n Nick has tied on a bright chartreuse streamer to help counteract the overcast weather and lack of sun.

 We head out into the West Bay looking for birds, chasing bait fish, and surely the Redfish will be nearby.

 Oil and gas deposits lie under the marshes. The delta has been extensively exploited but the pumping and processing activities are largely unheard and invisible except for the occasional christmas tree valve cluster, loading depot, and gas burn off stack.

After a half hour or so we cruise into a marsh and Capt'n Nick kills the outboard, drops in the trolling motor and mounts the lookout/poling pulpit to spot Redfish and complain about the overcast sky.

Fred's as concentrated on the water in Capt'n Greg's boat, miles away, doing the same thing. The two boats are in constant cell phone contact. "I actually don't know where the hell I am."

Fred's ready.

Who can keep tight loops all the time.

Put it there. THERE. DROP IT. DROP IT. aww shit.

From the fresh perspective only available to someone who has never fished in the delta before this is what Redfish fishing seemed to be:

1. A harrowing, bone crushing, fiberglass stressing pounding through light chop at 38 mph in an open boat to a salt marsh cove that looks exactly like the 34 coves we passed on our 40 minute trip.

2. Silent drifting along the marsh reeds while standing on the bow pulpit or sitting down in the cockpit praying not to get hooked during your partner's cast.

3. After 30 minutes of missed opportunities and constructive criticism, powering for another 1/2 hour to another identical spot and doing it all over.

4. Panic on the pulpit as you try to overcome the excitement generated by the Capt'n as he spots a Redfish coming right at you but can't seem to scream the direction, distance or speed in a way you can understand. Finally you just cast and hope for the best which of course turns out to be the worst; in the wrong direction, "NO YOUR OTHER RIGHT",  wrong distance, "10 YARDS, NOT 10 FEET", and stripped with the wrong speed, "AHEAD OF HIM, NOT BEHIND HIM!"

Missed it. Move on past an oil dock.

Move on. 

New fly. This time put it on his nose. 

They're in here somewhere.

Will Fred's immaculate new shoes impact his chances? Only if they're standing on his free loops.

But finally, as they say, even a blind monkey will find the banana.

 FISH ON. 

As I concentrate on keeping tension on the line after the strip strike, I notice that free line is wrapped around the reel seat, so I trap the fly line to the rod with my gloved finger while I feverishly try to unwrap it. 

SNAP. 

The Redfish has turned and started his run, just as I've trapped the line. "Well DAMN." After two of these ballets, Capt'n Greg pulls out a leader spool, hold it up for me to see and says, "Can you read this?"

"50 lbs," I ask? 

"Right. Let's see if you can snap this."

 We are into a huge pod of Redfish and mullet. And it is not long before I get all the acts together and 

Fish ON!

20 minutes later.

 After a dozen runs pulling line past my splice of extra backing, I work the Redfish closer to the boat.

Almost in.

When he decides to give up, Capt'n Greg just reaches over the side, loops his finger around his tail, cradles him under the chin with his other hand in lifts him into the boat. Miraculously, he stops moving and just freezes. What could be going through that Red Fish mind? These fish could be 15 or 20 years old. They are in healthy condition and spectacularly colorful.

Hello Redfish. Nice to have you aboard.

Small forward teeth but massive grinder teeth down his throat for crushing mollusks.

John's Red.

Fred's Red.

Ned's Red.

John's Black Drum.

When the skies clear and the sun comes out, it's obvious why these marshes have such allure. There seem to be possibilities everywhere.

Miles and miles of marsh.

Fishing your home stream over and over.

Fishing your home stream over and over and over.

Just do it   or Just stop it ?

     Is fishing the same stream over and over a sign of senility, lack of imagination, fear of the unknown, or laziness? Or have you found a great place that does not cease to surprise you? Or are you just doing it until you get it right?

     Here's my confession. My home stream used to be the Yellow Breeches, Central Pennsylvania limestone stream.

 No it was Clarks Creek, a spring creek in Central Pennsylvania.

     But now it's Clear Creek, a freestone stream flowing through Clear Creek Canyon. 

    In the last couple weeks I've fished Clear Creek probably 6 or 7 times and I'm starting to feel guilty about it. But friends call and want to fish so I go through the list in my mind eliminating places that are currently impossible to reach. Following the September Storm, which strangely doesn't have a reference name yet, the Big Thompson, South Boulder Creek, and the St Vrain are impossible to reach since the roads have been destroyed. During the SHUTDOWN, which does have a name which I'm hopeful will be remembered the next time these yahoos run for office, all the National Parks, National Forests, and BLM property are closed. No one seems to know what that means except for some occasional road closures, gate closures, and closure announcements. Fishing within these areas is probably doable unless you need assistance for some reason or unless you want to record a state record catch and then being in a "closed area" might close out some of your options. 

    Andrew Todd, sadly with lots of time on his hands as a "fur-lowed" US Coast and Geodetic Survey fish biologist, and I fished Clear Creek again at Mayhem Gulch. Although Clear Creek is now my home stream it is 14 mile long through the Canyon and I'd never actually fished this section because it looked boring.

    It got me to thinking why I fish it. Since I always fish upstream, wading which ever bank gives me the best sun angle to see into the water, I've noticed that I get deja-vue often. A corner or a shelf near Mayhem Gulch looks almost identical to one at Huntsman Gulch, but it's not. And with just a slight change in water flow the underwater stream currents will be completely different, meaning that what worked at Huntsman Gulch may not work in Mayhem. The fish and insect populations must be similar so the same flies should work, but they don't, because the temperature of the air and water, the cloud cover and air pressure are all different from the last time I fished my home stream. 

     My Uncle Red told me that I wasn't learning anything by playing golf on many different courses and told me to stick to my home course until I learned how to play. Ask any fly fisher and they'll tell you they learn something every time they go out. Might as well go to the same class room.

Andrew shares the stream with some gold panners.

Fall Concentration

Size 14 stimulator and a size 18 caddis emerger thanks:http://midcurrent.com/videos/how-to-tie-a-caddis-emerger/

This spot had a deep drop off a few feet off the bank.

Some browns took the stimulator some the emerger. I stopped counting after 20.