What's for Dinner - Two Creeks in Colorado April 5, 2018

What Trout were Eating in Vail and Denver April 5th and What I Offered Them.

4/5/2018  Gore Creek runs through the center of Vail, Colorado and has been nicely preserved as a wild stream in the center of a village. It has been screened from the highway and developments by large pines and open meadows. The freestone stream has been left quite untouched except for short stretch near the center of town. I've caught rainbows, cutthroats, browns, and brook trout in the village. 

Gore Creek Brook Trout took the Trico Dry.

This west slope stream flows to the Eagle River which joins the Colorado River to flow to the Gulf of California and the Pacific or to irrigate the produce patches of California. At an elevation of 8,100 feet a rainbow trout was eating mature mayflies, midges (adult and nymph stage) and mayfly nymphs. You may be able to identify other species.  I found a pool below a riffle that had many trout taking emergers. My three fly rig had an Elk Hair Caddis indicator fly, a Trico dry than was sometimes floating, a tiny blob of sink putty, and a foam back chocolate emerger. I caught a brook trout, brown, and a rainbow from the pool shown below drifting down the center and along both seams. Air temperature was about 40 degrees, water temperature was 39, water was crystal clear. This Gore Creek water is very near its Rocky Mountain source from the snows on Vail Pass.

A pumped rainbow was feasting on this during the "Taste of Vail"

Later in the day on Clear Creek just upstream of Golden Colorado at an elevation of 5725, and air temperature of 65 and a water temperature of about 44, and the water was clear. There was no surface activity but the same three flies caught 10 fish, including this nice brown.  Clear Creek drains to the South Platte which eventually joins the Missouri and enters to Gulf of Mexico or winds up on a crop circle of wheat or soybeans in Colorado. This water is 40 miles from its source and has traveled through one former superfund site, two small towns, and 40 miles of Interstate 70.

A Clear Creek Brown also took the trico.

My first sample of a small brown yielded just this midge and an annelida.

A small Clear Creek brown had just eaten an adult midge and a red annelida.

 My second sample of a 10 inch brown showed almost the same composition as the stomach sample 2,400 feet higher in the West Slope drainage.  The fact that the bug sample is very similar is quite amazing. The fact that the same rig of flies was attractive to fish is also amazing. The fact that there was no surface feeding on Clear Creek is puzzling to me.

A 10 inch brown had eaten these in Clear Creek.

My offerings in both stream. Three fish took the foam back chocolate emerger. Seven took the trico dry which was fished below the surface.

Gore Creek rocks provided the cover, but brookies, rainbows and browns were all hitting emergers in the center of this photo.

Fine Clear Creek habitat. Each seam held fish.

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.

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.