Tag: Salida Colorado

Few things are more quintessential to the Colorado fly fishing experience than a remote alpine meadow, a meandering stream, and a dry fly. Take a look through a copy of the Colorado Gazetteer or similar publication, and there are literally hundreds, if not thousands, of small streams and high lakes just waiting for an angler with a back pack, a fly rod, and the willingness to expend a little time and energy.

We live in an age of the drive thru, drive up and drive in. In the name of convenience, we have allowed ourselves to become sedentary to the point where for some the thought of walking to the mail box, or on anything other than pavement, is an anathema. Consequently, many anglers seldom stray out of sight of their vehicle or the highway. Personally, I think this is great – it leaves plenty of space for those willing to burn a few calories. We are social creatures, after all, so for many fishermen, the presence of others close by can seem comforting. There is a sense of security in numbers, plus the reassurance that if there are others in the same spot casting a line out, then I must be fishing in a likely place also.

So it is fun to be able to step outside of your comfort zone every now and then, leave the crowd and the truck behind, and experience the call of a place that at least has the impression of being wild and remote. Encountering fresh bear poop on the trail serves as a reminder that we are not always top of the food chain. The sight if a fox, scampering through the sage brush, the cry of a red tail hawk as it surfs the thermals, remind an interloper such as myself that I am a guest only in someone else’s domain. This is the time of the year the wild flowers are starting to bloom, the meadows cloaked in a veritable rainbow of different hues.

Of all the different types of trout I fish for, the ones that inhabit these high alpine streams, lakes and beaver ponds are the ones I admire the most. A short growing season, limited food source and long, harsh winters are testament to their resilience. Their ability to conceal themselves from predation never ceases to amaze me, materializing from the rocky stream bed or under cut bank to quickly snatch a passing morsel and dissolving, phantom like, back into their surroundings. Their very presence is witness to the universal push of all living things to survive and procreate.

Late spring and early summer, with the larger rivers swollen and high, is the perfect time to escape to the high country for a little solitude, and with it the opportunity to gain a wider appreciation of the world we live in, and the creatures we share it with.

The last few weeks, it has been great to see another side of the Arkansas River’s character to the fore – that of a raging, snow melt fed cataract. Certainly in my days as a white water guide, this was the time of the year I, and most guides, lived for. High water, heart-in-the-mouth thrills, nervous energy and tension at the beginning of the day, boat house bravado at the end.

For the fisherman, this is the time of the year to leave the river well alone, and head to the hills in search of a lake just iced off, or some beaver ponds up high where the beaver’s industry and ingenuity have combined to create a haven of slow water amongst the fast moving, swollen streams. Right now in the river, the fish are for the most part hunkered down, riding out the storm, and like most fishermen, waiting for the river to drop and clear.

By the end of the month, we should be back into some great dry fly action, but for a poor sap like me who has been too busy to take a trip up into the mountains, a look back at a great day of spring fishing will have to suffice. Certainly, it is hard to imagine we are looking at the same river, but I guess a ten fold increase in volume will change the complexion of most rivers.

On this particular day, I had the pleasure of floating the river with a couple of gents from back east. While this is normally my cue to hide my wallet and car keys, and lock away the silverware, on this occasion I knew I would be in good, civilized company. One of the great things about guiding, in fact probably the only thing that keeps you going, is the opportunity to meet new people and make new friends. Having fished with Cliff before, I had a feeling whoever he brought along with him was going to be fun, and so it proved to be. Hopefully, this ill be the first of many trips out this way for Joe also. Any man who ties on his own flies, and brings cold Modelo, is welcome on my boat anytime.

We had a great day on the river, not the heavy dry fly action we had been hoping for, but a terrific day with the fish hitting bead heads throughout. Once the river clears up, hopefully right after FIBark, we should start to see some great stone fly action. Already I have noticed both golden and yellow sallie adults around on the bushes near the river, and with the pmd’s getting ready to hatch also, we are on the cusp of what for me is the best time of the year to be a fisherman living in the Arkansas Valley.

It sure has been a funny old spring. Pretty dry, but cold and windy. We’ve watched over the last couple of months as the snow pack has shrunk from around 100 per cent of average to around 80 per cent. And yet, very little, if any, of that precious moisture has made its way down the river. Rather, it has been blown to the heavens, hopefully seeding clouds somewhere that needs precipitation more than we do.

The cooler temperatures had been keeping what snow we do have up there from melting into the river. These same cooler temperatures had also prevented the water temperatures from warming up to a place where the caddis can hatch. Until recently that is. Finally things have warmed up and settled down to where we are enjoying some spectacular fishing. Normally, by well into the third week in May, the river is starting to rise and murk up, but the delayed melt is providing fishermen with a bonus couple of weeks of great dry fly activity. Although blanket hatches have been few and far between, there are enough bugs on the water and in the air to have the fish looking up and feeding actively.

And did I mention that it has been windy? The last few weeks have been some of the windiest I can recall in twenty years of spring time floating. Some days you come off the water feeling like your shoulders have been stretched out of their sockets from standing on the oars trying to slow the boat down and avoid high siding on rocks in a tail wind, or else pushing grimly into the teeth of a gale like you are using a bench press machine for seven hours straight. The trick for the fisherman has been to get the flies to where the fish are, that is along the banks in the slower water where they always hang out.

And when you can get them there, the fishing has been great. Fish have been feeding consistently on baetis and caddis patterns, until recently mainly below the surface, taking pheasant tails, hare’s ears, hot wire princes, RS2’s throughout the day. Now they are looking up consistently, taking caddis dries, royal stimulators, wulffs and blue wings. This particular day on the video, floating from Trading Post to Texas Creek,the afternoon in particular was spectacular, with the fish feeding off the surface, actively chasing anything that came their way. And it looks like we might get another week or so of great conditions before run off begins in earnest, so take advantage of it while you can.

To date, it has been a funny old spring, fishing-wise. Generally, this time of the year, fishing conditions are relatively stable, and water levels are as unlikely to move as is a frenchman living next to a brothel. However, this spring weather patterns have seen more ups and downs than is normal. Late season low level snow melt combined with heavy, much needed rain murked up the river and saw it for a time flowing at summer time levels. All of this has combined to keep the water temperatures below the level required for a consistent caddis hatch. The Mother’s Day hatch, as it is called in these parts, is one of the red letter events on the western fishing calendar, drawing hopeful fishermen from near and far and injecting dollars into the local economy.

Those fishermen turning up with the expectation of balmy spring days and casting dry flies to eager, brainless fish have been offered a reminder that in fishing, as in life, things don’t always go according to plan. Bhuddism teaches us that attachment is the source of unhappiness, and consequently expectation the mother of disappointment. On the other hand, being grateful for what is, is the first step to appreciation of how much you really have.

In his highly readable and perceptive book, Pavlov’s Trout, author, psychologist and fisherman Paul Quinnett posits the theory that when ranking the reasons why men and women go fishing, actually catching a fish figures way down the list. They call steelhead “the fish of a thousand casts” on account of their elusiveness, and Quinnett, a North West steelhead fisherman, sat down one day to do some rough mental calculations. No doubt at the suggestion of his wife, he began to figure out the amount of time, money and resources he spent chasing steelhead relevant to the amount of time he spent with one actually on the line.

It rapidly became obvious to Quinnet that economically speaking at least, for a pastime he would be better off taking up bowling and tossing twenty dollar bills out of his car window as he drove around town. The same could be said for fisherman of any persuasion, be they Bubba with his bass boat, Bahamas bone fishermen, or the humble Arkansas River fly fisherman. If fishing is ever reduced to it’s economic components, it ceases to make sense. If catching a fish is the be all and end all of the endeavor, then ultimately the fisherman will be left empty handed, both literally and spiritually.

Now don’t get me wrong – I am no saint. If I didn’t catch a few every now and then, I would probably give it up pretty quickly, but sometimes, you need to go looking for the real point of the day. If you get too wound up in equating success with numbers, you often fail to realize that that vaguely irritating feeling in your nether regions was actually a good time biting you in the butt. You were just a little too wound up in the process to notice. As a guide, my heart sinks a little when I encounter the competitive fisherman, the fish counter and the “why aren’t they biting?” worrier.

Just being able, physically, geographically and materially, to spend time on the river for pure recreation puts you ahead of the vast majority of the world’s inhabitants. Sure, we all want to catch a bunch of fish, but making that the measure of success or failure is only setting yourself up for disappointment more often than not. Fortunately, on this trip, I was with kindred spirits. Spinning yarns and having a laugh were the order of the day, especially as the fish didn’t keep us, particularly me, very busy. We caught a few fish, and at least on my part, managed to botch a fair few opportunities, while some great drifts went unnoticed and unappreciated by the fish. But how bad could it be? A lovely spring afternoon, a couple of brewskis, friends and a river to float.

The current volcanic activity in Iceland is reminder to the human race about who is really in charge here. We might like to think we are in control, but every now and then Mother Nature has a way of effortlessly reasserting herself. A little closer to home, rain and low level snow melt are lately having as much of an impact on the humble fisherman as volcanic ash is on international travel and commerce.

Fishing at springtime is generally fraught with variables. Wind, fluctuating water temperatures and changeable weather can combine to make even the most sagacious of anglers eat humble pie. This year, heavy rain and a belated melt of low level snow have produced a greater degree of unpredictability than usual. Below Salida, Badger Creek has been busy emptying murky water into the Arkansas, giving the river the color of late May runoff , while a recent heavy and much welcome overnight rain brought a nice slug of murky water all the way  downstream from Granite.

Consequently, hatches have been sporadic, fishing a little unpredictable, and you have to make sure you bring your own fun along with you. Fortunately, with Mort and Will as fishing buddies, fun is seldom in short supply, even if I spend more time snagging sticks, hooking rocks and tangling in trees than catching fish. Right now, with the variable conditions, it is more important than ever to: 1) have an adequate supply of beer on board, and 2) keep an eye on water temperature as it changes throughout the day. Cooler temps in the morning mean more midge activity, with blue wings and caddis becoming more active as the day advances and the sun warms the water.

Of course, hatching bugs and feeding fish don’t necessarily go together. I have yet to see consistent dry fly activity, with the fish still preferring to take their food sub surface when they are in the mood. For me lately, pheasant tails and olive caddis pupae have been the best producers, with micro olive mayflies worth a cast or two also.

If you can believe the ten day weather forecast, this warming trend should continue, with hopefully more consistent hatches and predictable feeding patterns. Nevertheless, in the meantime take along a sense of humor, keep changing your flies around, and be thankful you are not stranded in an airport departure lounge somewhere.

For up to the minute fishing conditions, click here.