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One fine day in Colorado that is. After a week in Denver for work I took a day for myself. The convention was good but nowhere near as fun as the Friday I spent fishing. I was watching the flows all week and the night before the river seemed to be edging up a little bit. But I wanted to fish a freestone river as opposed to a flow-controlled tailwater so despite the threat of rising water I got up at 4:45 and pointed the rental Corolla up into the mountains toward the Arkansas River. It was about a 2.5 hour drive to Buena Vista (that's pronounced "byoona vista"). The roads were clear and it was a beautiful drive with lots of wildlife. I fished in Brown's Canyon most of the day. The setting was strikingly pretty with a nice mix of flat water, pockets, and a couple riffles. The water seemed to maybe be a little high but it was plenty clear with a tinge of green. The day was below freezing off and on until about 1 pm, despite patchy sunshine, and until I ate my turkey sandwich from the diner where I had breakfast in BV I was dealing with icy line guides.
^Antelope
^Elk...lots of 'em
^Hmm...where'd I get the idea for this image?
Regardless of the predictions of a BWO hatch from the fly shop in Buena Vista, only a few came off late in the afternoon, along with a Mother's Day caddis or two on the streamside rocks, and I never saw a single fish head, or even a swirl. So I experimented with different double-nymph rigs until landing on the size 10 Kaufmann's rubber leg mini stone and a size 14 flashback pheasant tail. It took a while to find the right combo. I landed two browns (about 14") on the stonefly and three (around 11 or 12") on the PT by covering quite a bit of water. I lost one other fish that pulled just a bit harder than the others, of course. At one point, from the railroad tracks above the river, I saw a fish hovering in a pocket so I crept down and then lazily chucked my heavy nymph rig up there and spooked him. Then I fished a woolly bugger for about 5 minutes at a spot on the way out and got another little brownie that just inhaled the fly when he slammed it. I put in a long day for those 6 fish but it was a lot of fun in a unique and beautiful setting.
I stopped at the shop in BV on the way out and gave the report; the guy said I had the best report he had heard all day, which was kinda gratifying. Earlier that morning he had mentioned an upstream access where the river had meadow stream features. I've always wanted to fish a stream like that so I headed up there, despite the fact that it was getting late and the weather seemed to be turning. It was a freakin' blizzard up there. But I came to fish by God, so I fished. One problem though: it was so snowy that I couldn't see where the river was. I managed to find the river, kinda stumbling around and using my intuition, and fished the woolly bugger that I still had tied on from before. I could stand in the middle of the stream and cast to the bank, swinging and stripping it out and walking downstream. It was fun and my hands were freezing. After not five minutes, I got a savage hit at the end of the swing, and a brief hookup with a big splash that was loud enough to startle the flock of small wading birds that were hunkered on the nearby river bar. I continued fishing, covering water quickly until I found a nice deep hole that didn't produce anything so I switched to a seriously heavy dumbbell-eyed yellow bunny leech. Immediately, I got a nice tug that felt like a short strike on the fly's probably too-long tail. About that time I decided I had had enough for the day and wanted to get out of that weather and get the little rental car safely down the valley. The roads weren't too bad on the way out and I stopped in BV again for a burger from a place that called out for Jimmy Buffet when my order was ready.
^Antelope
^Elk...lots of 'em
^Hmm...where'd I get the idea for this image?
Regardless of the predictions of a BWO hatch from the fly shop in Buena Vista, only a few came off late in the afternoon, along with a Mother's Day caddis or two on the streamside rocks, and I never saw a single fish head, or even a swirl. So I experimented with different double-nymph rigs until landing on the size 10 Kaufmann's rubber leg mini stone and a size 14 flashback pheasant tail. It took a while to find the right combo. I landed two browns (about 14") on the stonefly and three (around 11 or 12") on the PT by covering quite a bit of water. I lost one other fish that pulled just a bit harder than the others, of course. At one point, from the railroad tracks above the river, I saw a fish hovering in a pocket so I crept down and then lazily chucked my heavy nymph rig up there and spooked him. Then I fished a woolly bugger for about 5 minutes at a spot on the way out and got another little brownie that just inhaled the fly when he slammed it. I put in a long day for those 6 fish but it was a lot of fun in a unique and beautiful setting.
I stopped at the shop in BV on the way out and gave the report; the guy said I had the best report he had heard all day, which was kinda gratifying. Earlier that morning he had mentioned an upstream access where the river had meadow stream features. I've always wanted to fish a stream like that so I headed up there, despite the fact that it was getting late and the weather seemed to be turning. It was a freakin' blizzard up there. But I came to fish by God, so I fished. One problem though: it was so snowy that I couldn't see where the river was. I managed to find the river, kinda stumbling around and using my intuition, and fished the woolly bugger that I still had tied on from before. I could stand in the middle of the stream and cast to the bank, swinging and stripping it out and walking downstream. It was fun and my hands were freezing. After not five minutes, I got a savage hit at the end of the swing, and a brief hookup with a big splash that was loud enough to startle the flock of small wading birds that were hunkered on the nearby river bar. I continued fishing, covering water quickly until I found a nice deep hole that didn't produce anything so I switched to a seriously heavy dumbbell-eyed yellow bunny leech. Immediately, I got a nice tug that felt like a short strike on the fly's probably too-long tail. About that time I decided I had had enough for the day and wanted to get out of that weather and get the little rental car safely down the valley. The roads weren't too bad on the way out and I stopped in BV again for a burger from a place that called out for Jimmy Buffet when my order was ready.
