Don't listen to your mother about the Arkansas River Mothers Day Caddis Fly Hatch.

Does Mother know best about fishing the Arkansas River Mothers Day Caddis Hatch?  Does anyone know?

     The Mothers Day caddis fly hatch on the Arkansas river from Cañon City upstream to Salida is legendary.

     But just like the explanation of the birds and bees, why Aunt Greta has a mustache, why Uncle Bert wears a dress, and why Grandma Porche won't talk about her "husband" there is more to the story than momma is telling you. 

     I now have 5 days experience fishing this hatch, spread over ten years and will share with you what I've been told, what I've found, and what I just can't figure out. 

     First the object of our affection, a caddis fly. Some time around Mothers Day when the river temperature, flow, phase of the moon, atmospheric pressure and no one knows what else, is just right the caddis will start to hatch around Cañon City, en masse. Conventional wisdom is that the hatch will move upstream as water temperatures rise during this period before the major snow melt from the Collegiate Peaks begins to runoff. 

     Brenda and I had made reservations for a couple of days in Salida at the renovated old time Palace Hotel and it looked like the caddis hatch would hit town just as we would, a week before Mothers Day on May 4th. I tied some caddis emerges in the Lafontaine style according to the Midcurrents video. I also tied some goddard caddis dries to use on rising trout or as a strike indicator for the dropped emergers as well as some barrs emerges that were working well the last time I hit the Ark a week or so ago. 

     The Arkansas was flowing at a healthy 800-900 cfs due to releases from upstream reservoirs trying to make room for the above average snow pack. Our room was only a hundred yards from the river. I fished the afternoon we arrived from 3:00 to 5:00 PM downstream in town and saw none else fishing. Who would come all the way to Salida and then fish in town? Ha. Don't tell the fish that. I landed 5 or 6 on the barrs emerger but didn't see anything rising to the sparse caddis hatch. A local fly shop reported that the fabled hatch from Cotopaxi to Coaldale in Big Sheep Canyon. Water temperature was a surprising 55 degrees.

     The next morning (7:00AM to 9:00AM) I scouted a spot upstream to fish with Brenda and landed a couple nice browns on the caddis emerger. I was driven to stick with the three flies I tied for this outing. From 10:00 to Noon there was a nice hatch of both blue wing olives and caddis along the bank that Brenda got into with fish jumping at her feet. Brenda tied into a nice brown that gave her a good run.

     Fred, the owner of the Palace and obsessed fly fisher advised against trying to get right in the middle of the hatch that was reported to have moved upstream to Howard on May 5th, Cinco de Mayo. We fished above Howard at the Stockyard Bridge in the evening hoping to get into the hatch and sure enough, a carpet hatch started about 5:00 PM. But for some reason, the fish were not rising.

     The flow was now over 900. There not many places to fish the edges without risking a dunking. Brenda said, "This river is just too big for me." I landed a couple more nice fish on the bead head barrs emergers.

     Ten years ago in the same area, the hatch was 10 times the size with caddis covering the bushes, crawling into our ears, and driving feeding fish crazy. It could very well be that the same thing is happening somewhere just down stream from where we were but intelligence from flyshops, locals, and other fly anglers, was very sparse. To find the peak spot ten years ago, Terry Stegehuis, would not stop his truck on the hour ride from Cañon City until he saw the peak. I guess that's how you have to do it. 

     Although all the fishing reports advised staying below Salida, we decided to go back to Denver through Leadville and check out Hayden Meadows. Much to my surprise, it was snow free and above the magic 42F in temperature. I landed a nice brown in this gorgeous area.   

     No fishing trip is complete with a stop in great gritty Colorado bar, like the iconic Silver Dollar Saloon in Leadville. When we walked in the place had the ambiance of a funeral parlor. The Rockies game was on flat screen in the corner playing with the volume off, the juke box was silent, and none of the other patrons had anything to say to each other. Finally, a guy at the bar went to the internet connected jukebox and announce, "Well what does everyone want to hear? This place is like a funeral parlor." That cracked the ice, the music and conversation started to flow and the Fat Tire kicked in.

     Three days later, I returned with Fred and Ned to fish the Cotopaxi to Coaldale stretch, thinking that the hatch certainly had moved upstream but Taylor, at the Royal Gorge Flyshop, told us the hatch had stalled at Howard for the last week and his guides were fishing up river. We fished at the Trading Post, just downstream from Coaldale and it seemed to me that the fish were gorged and very uninterested in whatever I was throwing. I landed a couple on caddis emerges and barrs emergers again but only after a lot of work. How can a hatch "stall?" Where are the pupa coming from for the stalled hatch? Does anyone understand this massive static hatch? I guess if ten times the bugs could hatch in a short period of time, a smaller but still blanket hatch could go on for a longer period of time in one place. 

Fred. WTF is going on.

     After all the experience with this hatch, it appears that even something as predictable as the yearly coming of Mothers Day, still has too many variables to figure out. Just like mothers and fishing.

Blown Away - Fishing in South Park Colorado

Blown Away fishing South Park, Colorado

We scheduled a late April date with Reid Baker, Freestone Outfitters, assuming balmy pre-run off, blue bird sky, spring in Colorado conditions. Reid, suggested we postpone due to an early and extraordinary run off, a winter that was hanging on, and blown out private water that he'd planned to fish.

     But we already had it on the calendar and having fished with Reid a number of times, we knew he'd figure it out. I believe that Fred and I were the only fools in the entire state to believe a 20 degree day with gusting 40 mph winds was a fishable day.

Don't they look cozy and toasty. This is April 29th!!

     Reid decided not to setup the folding chairs, carpet, and hot coffee for us to use while putting on our waders because they'd be blown to New Mexico before our butts hit the canvas. As Reid opened the back door of the SUV, the wind tunnel effect, nearly pushed Fred and me out of the car.

     I rigged up my rod but Fred decided to wait. I think he wanted to confirm that this water was indeed fishable. After a long, long, trek downwind thankfully, to our starting position, Reid tied on a pegged egg with a juju baetis dropper, pointed out the redds we must avoid, and put me on the far bank in the above photo. He then started to set up Fred's rod. Fred and Reid both had brought wool fold over mittens to keep their finger tips warm. I had assumed we were past that and only had my cotton half finger gloves. I knew my finger tips where still there, I just could not tell exactly where they were. I bunched them inside my gloves and gripped my rod between my thumb and palm and attempted to control my free line for a cast with the claw left on my left hand. I managed to get a roll cast into the wind and let it drift. Not bad. 

     WHAM, the indicator disappear and DAMN, I'm hung up already. But wait, the hang up is moving. A huge rainbow rolled on the surface and started a run pulling line from my reel. Luckily, I didn't have much line out and I'd adjusted the drag so I could keep tension on the fish without fancy finger work. I brought him in quickly and even though I hate doing it, we got a quick "grip and grin" photo before releasing the 19 in fat, healthy, lake run, already spawned rainbow hen.  

     

This never happens. Best fish of the day on the first cast of the day.

     While I attempted to get circulation back into my fingers and cower out of the wind, I passed my rod to Fred while he was waiting to have his rod rigged by Reid.  He made about a half dozen casts to the same run. When Reid was finished, Fred handed my rod back to me in mid-drift. I fished out the rest of the drift and WHAM, another nice fish. I'd only cast once and already had landed two fish. If it wasn't a 45 minute hike against the 40 mph gusts of 20F wind, I would've loved to just call it a day and drink coffee, have lunch, stop for some bourbon, and mosey home. But honor among obsessed fly anglers, and dedication among guides dictated that we had to consider that Fred had not yet had a hook-up.

     It was another couple hours of leap frogging upstream under Reid's guidance before Fred starting pulling out two fish per hole on eggs and nymphs. His beloved streamers were not getting any love at all.

Reid came through:

•  putting us on public water new to us, (we have 60 years of cumulative experience in Colorado waters), 
• keeping us safe, 
• lugging our lunch, 
• untangling Fred's wind knots, 

• scouting ahead of us for the best water, 
• choosing the right flies, 
• and getting us into some GREAT fishing.  

     There were moments when the wind gusts nearly toppled us into the water, when a little roll cast down wind would carry my line 80 feet perfectly into a stream seam, where all the guides on the rod were frozen shut but the guide on the ground miraculously was still tying blood knots in our 4x, and where the wind was so strong that the stream appeared to be moving in the opposite direction. And we were still catching fish. We caught, released, and hooked up to at least 20 fish between us.

     Mark Twain said that it's not really an adventure unless half way there you wish you were home. Well Mark, this blown away adventure will certainly qualify in my top 10.   

Willie during a Tweek

Fishing the Willie

 during

 a Tweek

Sometime you hit it just right. The Williams Fork 4/24/2014.

 Fred Miller and I decided against the Colorado because at 1,200 cfs not even Fred's legs are long enough to reach the bottom. That left the Williams Fork which the dam powers-that-be had been running at a consistent high 6x normal, probably in anticipation of the big runoff starting soon. But when we looked at it on Monday night, they'd dropped the release to about 180 cfs. Hmm. If I was a nice healthy brown trout this could be nice and comfortable after the chaos of 380 cfs for many night. For the baetis, they were probably thinking, "Whew. Finally. The surface is not so far away. Time to spread my wings and get a little sex. "

We had discussed, ad nauseaum the night before via email, how we were going to get to the Willie. Would we walk 1.2 miles in from the Breeze Unit parking lot and then across the bridge over the roaring Colorado? Fred insisted the bridge was not there although Google Earth photos showed that it was there. (Anyone know if that's open to public use without gunfire?)  Or, would we take the parking lot just off RT 3 in Parshall and walk 1.0 miles to the Willie near the mouth.

We chose the latter.  Fred said, "It's just over that hill...." Then, "Damn. They've moved the river."

We did eventually arrive at the river to find it crystal clear under bright blue skies and running about 80 CFS at 42F. Perfect. It wasn't long before I had a nice brown (about 14in) on a pegged egg. Fred went on to the confluence with the Colorado just in case he could throw his streamer. 

     We leap frogged up the stream. Fred finally switching to dries when fish started to rise about 12:15 PM. I found a really nice looking spot that unfortunately seemed to have a dead brown lying in state off to the side. Damn. I hate to see that. Then I noticed that the clump of logs and brush it was lying against was actually a huge submerged elk, lying on its side with its rib cage torn open. Hmm. I'll bet that was an interesting story. Neither seemed to me to have been dead very long.

     There was a brown feeding just off the far bank which fell to my powers of persuasion on a size 18 caddis emerger.

     Just upstream of this rock was another brown taking blue winged olives from the surface. This one launched a monster take of my size 16 parachute adams which I was using as an indicator fly. Scared the s..t out of me.

     I stopped to eat my ham and cheese tortilla wrap and a couple malted milk balls and then snuck up on a likely looking pool behind a big rock. I was concentrating on my drift when WHOOSH! What sounded like a 2,000 pound moose hit the water just to my left. 

     "JEEZE!!!" I gasped and fell backwards a couple steps. I looked to the left and a 50 pound adult beaver was madly clawing at the bank from which he must have slipped when I broke his concentration. He frantically started swimming around the edges of the pool toward me and passed about 3 feet as he disappeared under an overhanding rock. My heart rate was 180, which if you know me, is clearly impossible. 

      Later I recounted it to Fred who was only mildly impressed since I didn't actually have a hookup with the beaver. 

      I asked Fred about the dead trout and he said he'd pulled it out and put it on the bank. 

      I asked him what he thought of the dead elk next to it and he said, "What dead elk?" 

     That's the wondrous thing about fly fishing in these wild places. Something unusual always happens and we all experience it differently. 

      Here's another release sequence. Doesn't it make you just feel good all over?