Like most of us, it has been too long since I’ve prowled the banks of a trout stream but finally after a summer of back to back to back workshops and meetings along with endless days in the triple digits, I finally was able to find the time. Following a weeklong workshop in Colorado Springs, my wife and I headed to the high country.
We arrived at our campsite just after dark in much needed rain. This campsite is the last campground near the headwaters of one of those famous Colorado rivers. I like to go as high as I can to get to the small part of the river and to get as far as I can from the crowds. In the past I’ve only had to share the campground with one or two other parties. Unfortunately, the Forest Service decided to make this campground a volunteer payment. This time there were several parties—mostly ATV’ers. There was one couple who were flyfishing. So much for complete solitude.
I woke to clear skies and a wonderful vista of tall peaks surrounding a high mountain valley.
Two of the ATV parties packed up and left so the day was looking up. In my experience high country trout don’t really seem to get going until things warm up a bit so I took my time and savored the early morning. About 9:30 I rigged up and walked about a mile downstream in order to fish back upstream towards camp. The other party went upstream for camp so I never encountered another flyfisher.
I saw no surface action so I started with a nymph with a strike indicator. On about the third cast, I had a strike on the indicator. That was all the hint I needed. I switched to an Elk Hair Caddis and didn’t look back. The water was down from past years and warm. I didn’t need the waders at all. In fact, they were a nuisance and hot. The fish were moderately cooperative. I had to work to catch fish—not like earlier visits to the stream. The low, clear water made this meadow stream much more difficult to fish.
Some of the browns were spectacularly colorful.
At one point, fishing the spillway of a beaver dam I hung up my EHC on a branch just over the run. I broke off and to my good fortune the fly dropped into the water and stared drifting towards me. I reached to recover the fly but a trout got there first. Irony.
I stumbled on two species of orchid and got reacquainted with other familiar wildflowers.
Prime Colorado real estate—a beaver lodge with a view.
A great start to two weeks of Colorado fishing.
We broke camp, caught lunch in Crested Butte and then headed over Kiebler pass to our next destination.
