Lessons passed on....

When I was born it was expected that I would be a son, and that my name would be Robert.  However I entered this world very early, very small, and very female.  They thought of naming me Roberta, but somehow that did not fit the 4 pound little spunky female that came to lay in my fathers arms.  So they named this little baby Linda.  And she was followed by two female siblings, one and two years apart.  Those were the days when babies were never really a surprise, unless people slept in twin beds like on "I Love Lucy" and we know that did not happen.

So my father had three daughters, in various states as he was a geologist and followed the oil.   And I remember our first fishing outing, in the hills of Utah, near Sandy, with a sedan and fishing poles, and a dachshund with a short tail, my best friend.  My father took out hooks from shrubs, trees, ears, fingers, jackets, everywhere but in a fishes mouth.  We were small.  I have no idea what he did with us looking back.  I give him an A for effort.  But he was really giving us lessons.   Fishing lessons.

We came to Colorado when I was nine.  I recall a drive to Trail Ridge, in a rain storm, with my grandmother with us.  That must have just made my fathers day, three small girls and two women, and rain, steep sides of mountains, and he was a Nebraska kid and she was a California girl.  And of course to my grandmother no man would ever be quite good enough, so most likely we three little girls were his only joy that day.  We came out of thick clouds on wet roads and there it was, sunshine and a sea of fluffy pillowing clouds.  I will never forget that day, the sight, this was Colorado.

For as long as I can remember my father gave us fishing lessons.  Many times camping in tents, driving in a car that would overheat climbing bumping dusty roads, buying worms, sodas, and giving us all of his time.  Trying to smile when my mother would have a string of trout and he would come back with one little slim fish and ask her how did she get all those fish?   She would reply that she threw them on the bank in the grass.  He would just laugh.  She was not a fisherman, so we know how he felt, don't we?

One day in the late 80's my father gave me his Sage rod, said take it into the park and try it out.  I had never held a fly rod.  We were having a big family gathering in Grand Lake for July 4th.  First time on the headwaters of the Colorado River I caught my first fly rod brookie.  I was captivated.  Now I could not even think of keeping such a fish, and it was a release area, and I was totally hooked.   He did not ask for the rod back.

And the Colorado and I became best friends, for two decades.

He passed away little over two years ago.  Tomorrow is his birthday.  I thank him for the lessons, the time, the fly rod, the patience, the laughs, the support, all of it.  He never felt that he was sorry that he had no Robert.  If he did, he never said so.   He always said, "try one more time, a little over there"...

And I hear that every time I fish, one more time a little over there...

Here is to Robert, the real Robert, from his daughter, miss you and wish you could see me now.  Thank you for the lessons and teaching me the love of fishing.   My dad and I at Taylor and his, now my, Sage rod.  Fond memories.   Happy birthday Dad.

Warm waters......

This last weekend was so very warm and I so wanted to fish, but I had little gasoline money...so I had to open my mind and think of a way to blend both driving close and fishing....

And I am a big fan of Trout Bum, with John writing about catching Bluegill on April 15th, that is his day he fishes for Bluegill....tax day.

I tried last year.   We went to gravel ponds, I saw not one bluegill.  All the good spots were taken and it was a big pond, and lots of wind.   Was not a day I smiled at...

However driving home from grocery shopping on Saturday I passed ponds I have eyed for 45 years, right on Washington Street, at an old farm, that I used to think would have held some very large bass, it just had that look.   Driving by I see a name, Lambertson Lakes....  lakes, well to me they are still ponds.  Now owned by Open Space by the county, and open for fishing with a license.

I tell my husband on Sunday I am going to go to these little ponds and look for Bluegill, want to come?  We look it up on the web, it says 90% Bluegill, 2% Small mouth Bass.    I am smiling now.   Just maybe this early warm weather will make them think it is April 15th....after all Mother Nature operates by her own calendar.

I rig up what I think may work, as I am using my fly rod.   That is my whole quest, Bluegill on fly rod.  No worms or smelly stuff, but bugs that look yummy to a little fish.

Now you have to understand my thoughts, my friends at Bass Pro say their children, small children, catch Bluegill often.  Really?  And me, I have missed them all, but I have gone to bigger ponds, and also I have never spotted them.

We go to Lamberston Ponds and there are lots of fish splashing around.   But I spot no gills.   Then I start walking, and walking and walking.   Finally under branches lightly touching the water I see these tiny fish, next to three nice bass.   They are in a difficult spot.  But I start to fish around there, hope for a little drift.

Then I feel a tug, not a fight, but weight.   I bring up the line and there he is, my first Bluegill!   So pretty, fat heavy little guy, but a nice sized gill.

And three little children were watching me, which I get so very uncomfortable with, they may watch me trip, as I was on a slope that was iffy to say the least.   They said "what is she doing", and mommy said "Fishing"....and then I caught one.  I say "want to come see him?  He is so pretty!"  So they watched while I removed my green bug, and then we admired him, and we named him Willy, and we set him free, and we yelled "free Willy!"  Jump! 

The rest of the hour was Bluegill time.  

Eight minutes from home, in a neighborhood pond, I had a great day.  I am so surprised.

Let's fast forward backward

Just for a blogger friend, my youngest daughter and our wonderful guide Frank, on Glacier Creek, in a canyon that we had to bushwhack into, and the two of them catching fish...what a day and cannot wait for summer again...

But this day last summer, this view, is in my mind forever.   Her smile, priceless.  His hand on hers, his arm guiding hers, priceless.   Little brookies chasing her dry flies, priceless...

Spring fever is over.....another winter has passed, thank goodness

The deep freeze of my thoughts are thawing this last two weeks.   With the warmer temps, the longer days, the ice in the recesses of my mind is melting.   I have done more winter fishing this year than ever in the past.  That in itself is amazing for me, as it is difficult to find open stream water in the high country, and water that is not too icy to approach.   Near the dam area on the Thompson, only water I could find not iced up, I was able to land a nice 14" brown on the Big T in early March, on a tiny zebra.   Felt like I was bringing in a head of cabbage, nice boy he was...so pretty.  But it comes with a cost in March, winds.  Wind knots, not the kind from casting, oh no, ones from following up re-rigging...dang anyway.  Getting casting down with winds is a trick, not for the weary at heart.  This entire winter has been a lesson chart.

But yesterday, in the lower Big T, near Drake, the water was clear as tap water, full of fish, and some little bugs were starting to flitter around, maybe BWO's I am not sure.  I matched them up and sure enough fish on.   Rewarding.

Looking down at my boots yesterday while cleaning off my flies I see this beautiful rainbow slowly gliding between by boots, just sitting there.   Eating a bit...of something I sure I raised up earlier.  But it was only 6 inches of water....funny fish.  They know that boots mean food...smart fish.  They must see a lot of them.

I had a dry and a midge set up, and the dry took the fish.  And the fish it took really checked it out, and not far from me.   Fly stayed right in front of fish, yay, that was great for me, didn't float down with current.  Then he backed up, textbook fish, moved up, moved up more and then snapped the fly.  Fun to watch it so close up.  Made me laugh out loud.  The fish in that stream can be tricky at times.   I had on 7x though, maybe that helped.

We saw a very large fish, maybe 22" in this area, low in the water between two rocks.  Moulted look to him, not sure why some get that way.   Like camouflage.   Wondered about him.

My fish that hooked up right in front of me will never get that big being so silly...but maybe he knew the game, I catch you, you help, I free you and then give you a "free Willy" goodbye....all in fun and never will I hurt you...my favorite game.

My first time with 26 hooks, no wonder I get happy to catch fish, just finding the eyes of those hooks is not fun on the water....how tiny.   And then someone tells me a 28 is working...ok then, something new to practice.

Springtime in the Rockies!  

what to do on a snowy birthday...

My birthday was Friday.   Just like any birthday, but it snowed, and snowed and snowed.  I had taken the day off to go shoot photos, and maybe get something interesting.   Well, I did not leave the home...so much for a good plan. 

But I did get into my Photoshop guts and worked on some filters.  So the day was not lost.  I took some shots and made them in a form for a calander that I am working on.  Little project just for fun.  I am such a rookie, but one has to step out there sometimes and be bold.

Here are a few I liked, just the basis for making a project.

So I guess it was not a bad day after all!

Time slips away so fast....

To me I am impressed by those of you who can blog often.  My goodness it is a commitment.  The last time I was on this page it was before Christmas.   The time has been taken up by so many things since then.  My mother-in-law caught pneumonia and husband had to go to Texas, year-end started at work with no PTO for January allowed, New Years with hubby for three days, one weekend day of fishing the Big T, taking my Mom out of her senior home (akin to get out of jail free card for her).... and then the normal daily chores and tasks.    And then football with the Broncos.   I have not sat through a game in years...way too long for me to watch TV, but I did for these guys, I love surprises.   

So I wish I could have written down a few of my thoughts on this world we live in since then.

The short version, yes I was good girl and I have new flyrod!  RL Winston...which I was able to break-in a few weekends ago, the day after New Years.  We could only fish about an hour and a half on the Big T, but that was ok.   I put on what was suggested for a midge, then nothing.  So I had these tiny Zebra's in my bag of tricks, and buy of the week during last summer, and pushed by the Bass Pro friend I know at their shop, and doggone if that little Zebra worked like a gem, hooked into a 14" brown.   Funny as I felt an odd "caught on a rock" feel, then it released.   I thought "hmm...try that spot again" and the second hold on the line felt like I hooked up with a cabbage, ha ha, that is the only way to describe it.  Was not a quick jerk, was more like a slow pull.  I am still learning how fish take flies at different times of the year.  I have never fished in January, I hear fish are a little slower.   Do you find that true?  When a rainbow hits, I know it!  And often it is the reel stripping out or a fish sailing out of the water....maybe not with a winter Brown?

Another thought that I wanted to share was my discovery of why I am not able to find orange roughy in very many places these shopping days.   So I Googled why that may be, and was amazed to see this fish is being over fished by the industry to the point of being placed on a fish watch, where the availability is taken out of the market.   I love this fish, delicate and white, flaky.   But when I found what they look like I was just smiling, what a funny fish, orange as a sunset.  A bit unattractive.  They were once name Slimeheads, as they are that family.   The name was changed to Orange Roughy.   I wonder why?  Smile.   Maybe if they go back to Slimehead no one will buy them.   On my review of this fish, they say that the orange roughy in your freezer is most likely older than your grandmother!   They easily were catching fish over 100 years old.   Now I know that large cod can get to be 50 years old, and big ones are not around any more, but the oldest roughy caught was aged at 149 years and a hundred pounds.   At that age and size, they cannot reproduce any longer at a proper rate to compete with the fishing industry catch.  So, conclusion, no more Orange Roughy for me.   I as for Cod, I so respect that piece of fish when I get the good ones at places like the Yorkshire in Thornton.  Small little fish diner, and you would never guess that the fish would be so wonderful in such a tiny little place, but it is.   My bottom line point here is fish is going to be a big diminishing  commodity in the world going into the future, the whole idea of a plate of fish is going to change.   They are disappearing.  Literally.  Some countries rely solely on fish that we call a lesser quality.   Funny, I am seeing Talapia everywhere and not long ago that was not a fish you could find.   Easy to catch, plentiful, and cheap.   Small and reproduce fast.   Sorry for us though, little skinny on the plate.  Fancy restaurants serving Talapia?  Wow was my thought.    What would the world do without fish watch?    Read the book "Cod" sometime.  Very interesting.

And we lost a friend last weekend, passed away.   That takes ones breath away.   I always assume everyday the world won't change much.  But it did.  He was well liked, someone I could talk about those "forbidden" subjects, politics and religion, and he never made me feel defensive, but made me think out of the box.   The world is less of a great place without him. 


And last, New Year's resolutions.   Sure I make some, why not.   One was to get back to the gym as I have been out for a bit of time.  Have a little heart issue, fast beating that is not good when it goes on, has a fancy name but I cannot spell it at the moment.   The last time I went to the gym it happened there, and sent me to the ER.  That was a year ago.  Since then my heart Dr said "get back to the gym, you are ok for that"...so finally I did.   Did great.  Getting over that phobia.   I was so happy.   No, I did not push it much, just did it, and well.  Never thought at my young age I would have a heart doctor, jeez.

Also I have a new photography class coming up, excited about that, and I have been working on  my photos in PhotoShop, which I am proud of as CS5 is such a powerful program.  Sold a photo, amazing for me that it was sought after by a friend who saw it on my Facebook page.  I got a big old dead tree trunk out of this shot, whoo hoo, I was very happy, it was what you saw when shot was enlarged....off to the printer this week!

So I have been a busy girl.  

These were the winter flies to use for the Big T, have you ever used them before, any thoughts?

I have found a few quiet moments this morning to finally blog, so I am keeping up with the task.  For you who do this often, I love your blogs that I take the time to read, each of you has your own style, and I like the variety. 

Here is to a Happy New Year, lots of fishing (we need some snow or we are going to be pressed to find good water!), good health, success when needed, relax time when desired, and to America as we need a shot of something good to get us back up and going again....  this hope and change thing has me wondering where it is...(my one little glimmer of politics here).

One of my days in RMNP in the fall, this shot keeps me going....

Going fishing today, you all have a great week...

FisherGirl

Flyrods, the endless search for perfection....

During a family retreat in Grand Lake, in 1989 my father handed me his Sage graphite fly rod and said "go on over to the water and try it out..." So I went to the lake side, as it was close, but I could not get the fly very far out, the lake is so large and the wind so ever present, you need a boat really. I decided to go into the park, headwaters of the Colorado, and see if I could use it more efficiently there. I went to the edge of a nice little bend in the water and sure enough, a brookie hit this big ol' black cricket on the line. I was such a rookie, not sure I even knew about catch and release at that time, but I did release...not sure if the little guy survived, I sure hope so. And then I had little brookies racing after this fly...I kept it away from those guys...I figured it out a bit that this bug thing was attractive to fish.

So I kept this fly rod, at my father's request. And I used it a few times, but nothing to talk about. In 1994 I took a great little class in the Colorado Mountain Club, for $69, six weeks of fly fishing "school". Started out with a dozen people, ended up with four, and the three instructors stayed on the entire time. So by the third week I had my own instructor basically. It was the best six weeks of help one could get for the dollar. Classroom, to grass lessons, to Waterton Canyon for bug lesson, then three trips to the St Vrain. And they liked my Sage, said it was perfect.

Then I got distracted. I met a man with a Harley, and that led to a decade of riding motorcycles. I even bought my own, and for 45,000 miles I passed streams and rivers, with longing in my heart to be standing in water, or near water, with that rod in my hand. One can only do one thing at a time and do it well. The Sage gathered dust.

In 2008 I sold my Harley, my husband sold his Ultra Harley, and suddenly like a light switch we found empty time. In the quiet of long days, we realized that we needed something to do, and me, being the one to always say "I am thinkin'....", and that would lead us down some long road somewhere, for an adventure just about every time, I said let's look at those fly rods. My father had given me another rod along the way, and a man's vest, and we basically had the stuff to put on my husband and get him on the water for the first time. His vest by the way had NOTHING on it, no implements hanging from it, I think we had one net between us....it was baby steps at day one for him. However he was game. Not sure he felt about it as I did, as he is used to fishing with a chair, container of worms, bobbers, and beers...going no where too fast and watching for the tip of his line to start a wigglin'. That would drive me insane, sorry about that, I have to move, discover, wade, inquire around the corner, and SEE fish.

So we started heading up to the hills and standing in water. And Harley's would roar by us, and at first our hearts would break and we would say "oh well..." But then....I would take his hand down to the waters, and we would step in and I would say "look at the fish over there!...Good spot!" And he would say "ok, what do I do?" And I would go back to Colorado Mountain Club words that I was taught, and repeat it to him, and we would start the teacher and the learner bond, standing in flowing, musical waters. He started to understand.

That began new pages in our life together. The most fun was a week in Crested Butte, which was really what it takes sometimes, to immerse yourself in opportunity to fish. We had a guide for a day, and Mike finally caught some fish on the Taylor, lower section. Then we went out the next two days and did the same tasks, much easier with a guide I must say. However the Sage rod was working well enough, and Mike's Pflueger rod was ok. Would not be my choice, but it was free, and you have to "earn" your way up the fly rod ladder. If you like to fly fish, reward yourself with a nice rod, if you don't like it after all, won't hurt to hang up a beginner rod.

One day on the Gunnison by Three Rivers he caught a really nice brown, on his own, working the water his own way, I just backed off, always a time to shut up and let someone get the space to work on the skill their own way.   He was so happy.

We went to the same bend that evening, under a full moon rising, and backed the Explorer up to the river, put on some great Andean music, ate dinner on the bumper of the car of all our leftovers, as it was our last night in the Butte, and fished under the setting sun.  Life could not have been better.  Was a moment that when I think of these days, always makes my eyes water. 

He started to like fishing with me. His vest began to be a piece of clothing to hang everything sparkly under the sun on it, which I then had to say "hide some of that stuff, these are wary fish here".... Just as he gets going I change the rules on him.





And no, we had never used a Ross fly rod, just bought on their reputation.  Which is ok to a point.  This rod has landed some very nice fish, not big ones like on big water, but nice nice fish.

So now it is Christmas again.  I do not want jewelry, I don't wear it well, seems to get in the way, I do not need more clothes, just gave Goodwill clothes I will never get into again, once being a size 4 as I did not live with a person who wants dinner every night, before we were married, so I put on a size or two.  I don't want a flat screen, good with the HD that we have had, even if it is outdated a few years.   What do I want?   Well, a fly rod.  A new fly rod.....

This summer I had a guide for a day, my own guide, just for me, as I had been treating everyone else in the family to a guide, now it was my turn.  I had been following AJ with Estes Anglers, who I just have a lot of respect for, and took him on as a guide and the two of us spent a full day on the Upper Big Thompson, with a RL Winston 4-5 wt., 8'7.    I loved it.  Was a better feel than my Ross.  Surprised me.   I think before one buys a fly rod they should use one on the water first.  This RLW had such a nice way that it cast, felt solid but light when fish on, and overall I liked it....


Now what to do with the Ross, if Santa brings me the RLW....I was thinking to give my nice Ross to my husband, and then turn around and sell his on Craig's list, or somewhere, as it is a nice rod, but mine is a bit better.   Have to think about that....I have a 3 wt., a nice Ross 6-7 wt. and a Ross 4-5 wt.   I am set for about any water, little water or big water.   Some people carry two rods with them, rigged up for different water when they hike in....Lord am I that good yet?   Not sure!   To hike up a trail with one rod and waders on etc. is enough alone when one is bushwhacking!   Two going through the brush, ha ha, that would be interesting.  

So now husband is thinking about fly rods in a new light.   I came home from using the RLW and could not shut up about what a great day I had...

Hurry up Santa, I did sit on your lap at the Toy Run and I did say I wanted a new fly rod, and you did say "it's always good to want..."    What???   Really??? 

I have been such a good girl!  Would this smile lie to you.....