There is always a way to get in some fly fishing before you have to fly back home, back to work, back from vacation, or out of the country. The more of us that do it, the more eyes we have watching the quality of our precious streams. Catching and releasing is important but getting in some fishing is the goal.
eBooks to help: http://www.amazon.com/author/john-h-davenport
John Davenport - Denver - Let's fish Colorado
It seem like a good plan. Rather than 2 hours risking life and traffic jams on I-70, we'd drive 1 hour to Waterton Canyon and walk in an hour on a dirt road to fish the South Platte near Littleton rather than the Blue River near Silverthorne. Air temperature was predicted to go from 45F to 67F so we could leave the fleece in the car on the walk in. Flow was 120 cfs.
About a mile in some Rocky Mountain big horn sheep joined us. The shelf ice had disappeared but the water temperature was only 27F and there was no sign of trout activity or hatches. We walked past the Marston Diversion where Denver Water sucks from the South Platte. Above the dam water temperature rose to 32F but still no sign of any fish. This area above the dam according to fishing reports held many more fish. Not for us. By 1:30PM we'd had it and started the trek out. Once below the dam the whole flock joined us, the air temp was now 67F and the water temperature a surprising 42F.
We could now see fish all over the place. Other fly anglers were having a great time and soon both Brad and I had landed half a dozen on an egg pattern.
We both knew not to expect anything at water temperatures below 42F but you have fish the water you're wading. We never expected the water temperature to rise 15 degrees in 4 hours as the air temperature rose 22 degrees, but of course we're happy it did.
Verde Lake - 6.42 miles as the eagle flies SE of Silverton, CO
Treking into the Weminuche Wilderness to fly fish high alpine lakes for cutthroat trout.
It seemed like a totally reasonable thing to do. I bought a kindly donated llama lease for two llamas for three days from Redwood Llamas at the Colorado Trout Unlimited Gala and invited my 18 year old Eagle Scout - distance swimmer grandson Adam to hike into a pristine lake in the Weminuche Wilderness to fish for cutthroats and take some amazing photographs.
He'd hiked Philmont Scout Ranch in the Rockies last year on a twelve day back country trek at an altitude only 2-3,000 feet lower.
I know Adam would enjoy driving through world famous South Park on the way to Silverton and he did. After 2 hours of "his music" while I drove, we switched to "my music" while he drove. I'm not sure North Jersey has many two lane highways stretching to the horizon. I'm positive that they don't pass other cars by pulling into oncoming traffic approaching at a legal speed of 75 and an actual speed of 85mph. (That's a closing speed of 170 mph.) After the first squeeze in Adam said in a calm voice, "Well, that was terrifying." I just love that kid. I knew we were in for a great time.
The 20 mile drive up 2,000 feet on the Million Dollar Highway from Ouray to Silverton was almost as exciting with the lack of guardrails, blind curves, and bottomless drop offs to the right.
We were so well prepared that Adam only need a hat and a couple of knives to be totally outfitted.
We found dinner on a back street near the train station.
Maybe next time we'd come via the Durango-Silverton steam train.
Grey Hawk
We got briefed by Bill Redwood who suggested that our trek to Highland Mary Lakes should take the gentle switchbacks up to the Continental Divide Trail because we were not that familiar with llama trekking. The other choice was a shorter path but would require negotiating a couple steep chutes in the early part of the trail. What's a chute? We of course took his advice. I mean, they're his llamas. We signed off on waivers and acknowledged their value at $4,000 for Grey Hawk and $2,000 for 5302.
We started up; Adam and Grey Hawk leading the way with 60 lbs of camping gear.
It did not take long to discover that hiking from 10,000 feet was different than any hiking we had known, even with a llama carrying the heavy stuff. My advantage of living at 5,280 ft and my disadvantage of a number of decades in age quickly disappeared and we were doing identical huffing as we trudged toward 12,700 feet on the Continental divide. The switchbacks kept us from seeing the summit and our minds started telling us this trek must be endless. We weren't lost although trail markings were non-existent. We knew we had to go up. It wasn't just a matter of being out of breath. Muscles and legs would just refuse to go further without a stop every 50 yards.
Finally after 4 hours we were above the tree line and on the Continental Divide. But where were these lakes?
It was at this point that Adam said, "Why did I ever agree to do this? It is gorgeous, however."
Bill told us to go down this valley and take the trail up the mountain on the right. "The trail isn't marked all that well but you'll find it."
I was sure my mind was slowing down. We were making the right decisions but it would have been nice if we could actually see a lake in the distance.
Finally after 6 hours Verde Lake appeared. "This looks like a good camping spot," I said. "Everything looks like a good camping spot," Adam said.
I see fish rising.
"I'll go down to the lake to catch some brook trout for dinner, you build a camp fire to cook it," I told him.
"Build a campfire with what?" Adam said. "There is no firewood above the tree line."
Hmmm. Item one of what they don't tell you, "No trees, no firewood."
So, I cleaned a couple brook trout and discovered, I hate killing fish. Even exotic brook trout that shouldn't even be in this lake. It didn't feel like us vs them or survivor or top chef. It just felt gory, slimy, smelly. It couldn't possible taste that good.
Item two of what they don't tell you, "Catching and cooking your own food at 12,000 feet takes a lot of effort."
Without a nice campfire there was no chance to use the grill rack for the trout. I'd have to make the quinoa (quite authentic, thank-you very much. Llamas, quinoa, 12,000 ft- get it?) over the tiny backpack stove, put it in a snap together bowl, then reheat the pan, wrap the brookies in bacon (I guess I forgot the lemon), put them in the pan and hope for the best. Making the quinoa had 6 steps, including rinsing the seeds, and cutting up sun dried tomatoes, that all of a sudden seemed to be insurmountably complex.
Item three of what they don't tell you, "You mind works slower with less oxygen."
The quinoa was actually quite good. I also added come dried cranberries and cherries but skipped the rinsing entirely. We were low on water and taking the filter to the lake at 6:30PM just seemed to be an impossibly hard task. The trout however were a real challenge. The 8 inch frying pan could not accommodate the 10 inch brook trout, even hanging their heads and tails out the sides. I gave Adam the one I thought was cooked the best but item three above must have interfered and he actually got the sushi version. He gave it a noble effort but when I saw the red flesh, I grabbed it back and re-fired it.
Item four of what they don't tell you, "Despite what else may go wrong, sipping bourbon with your grandson as the sun goes down at 12,000 feet is actually really sweet."
Item five of what they don't tell you, "It is cold at 12,000 feet when the sun goes down." Well maybe they do tell you this but because of item three you don't remember until your nose is so cold you think it might break off.
Item six of what they don't tell you, "You might wake up gasping for breath during the night."
Item seven of what they don't tell you, "You might not sleep a wink."
Item eight of what they don't tell you, "Greeting dawn with a wolf calling close-by is a thrilling experience."
Gaucho shepherd in the morning sun.
The way out.
At this point we made a high level (12,000 ft) decision that we had learned all we needed to know about camping at 12,000 feet and it might be fun to trek on out and hit the hot tub at home. So we did. But not first without encountering a herd of sheep and their guardian shepherd dogs which the llamas did not like one bit.
Sheep dog in the center foreground brings my llama to a stonewall stop.
The sheep dogs and the shepherd on horseback work a large flock near Verde Lake.
Hmm. We may just make it out of here.
But before we could congratulate ourselves, the down hill trek became a precipitous down hill leap for the llamas. The dreaded chutes turned out to be narrow clefs in the rock walls of the canyon with 4 or 5 landing spots every 6 feet or so. The llama would take a quick look and then leap from one to the other in a controlled fall, like a snow leopard chasing a big horned sheep down the walls of a Himalayan cliff. To hang on to our $6,000 worth of llama, we had to beat the falling llama through the chute by getting ahead of it before it started its leap. On the last chute, Grey Hawk managed to beat Adam to the bottom of the chute and Adam let go of the lead rope rather than be pulled to his certain death by the cascading llama.
"Good choice," I said as I grabbed the rope when Grey Hawk skidded to a stop beside my llama.
"That llama almost killed me THREE TIMES," he shouted.
But the adventure was not over. With less than a quarter mile to go we encountered a string of pack horse coming up the canyon. Bill Redwood told us that llamas and horses do not particularly like each other and that if we met up with any we should take the down hill side of the trail and let them pass. Unfortunately, where we encountered the horses we were on the edge of a road that fell percipitously off to a deep ravine. There was no downhill side to take. So we stood our ground with firmly rooted, very observant, and aloof llamas and watched as the horses went crazy.
After some tricky negotiations, we borrowed the llama trailer and delivered Grey Hawk and 5302 to their llama corral. We actually pulled this off. About 12 miles, 12,000 feet, two llamas, two brook trout, and two terrifying experiences. Not bad.
Weminuche Wilderness via Cunningham Gulch trail head.
We'll do it differently next time and stay below the tree line. The llamas were actually a dream. We followed the rules that Bill gave us:
They are herd animals, they like to be together. If one gets loose it will stay near the other.
They are aloof animals and do NOT like to be looked at directly in the eye, like pro football players or Ameraucana chickens (notice the Andean reference again.)
They love to work out with a balanced load and can travel for days without water like their cousins the camels.
They will let you know when something is wrong. You just have to figure it out.
They only spit when they are upset and it is usually at another llama with whom they are having a pecking order problem.
Great quinoa and great llamas. I'd say those Inca's knew what they were doing.
San Diego is a favorite conference spot and no wonder. It has great facilities, restaurants, beaches, weather, airport, and museums. But it also has a chance for some fly fishing before you get back to the grind.
Crystal Pier in Pacific Beach, a short hop north on I-5 has a bait and tackle that makes it easy.
You'll be fishing with a spinning rod but Jimmy Barrick, 858-568-3025 will fix you up with a pre-rigged set of 6 of these flies for the ever present Walleye Surfperch.
I tied the rig to the swivel with a good old Duncan knot.
And what do you know, Jimmy was right. For a complete breakdown, get the $1 iGuidepro.com guide for San Diego - Crystal Pier from the iTunes store.
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.
