The disappearing act.....

This last early summer Mike and I were fishing up on Glacier Creek, but way down in the gorge.  As the Bear Lake road closes at 9 a.m. this summer for inbound traffic, we had the entire gorge and outflow to ourselves.  And it was Yellow Sally time, and PMD's were everywhere one early morning as I was fishing some foam by a large flat rock bathed in sunbeams.   Hundreds of tiny bugs were over the water and rock and foam, so it would be a good place to drop a dry fly, so that is what I did.  I feel a little strike and then I lift and it is a brookie, a small one, maybe five inches.  I just laugh at his jump in the air, and see all his colors, and say "oh you are a little guy, we will just let you go now"...as I bring him across the creek, with falling water over large rocks to the right of me, a bit like a washing machine.

As I am bringing him in, I look for him and line and I cannot find him.   I said "where did you go?"  And I look down to my left and I see something on my line and say "oh there you are, and oh my, you have moss all over you!  Let's get that off..."    Then I see that the moss is moving side to side at that back end, and that it is a fish!   A fish had taken my fish.  A big fish had taken my fish, out of a little creek!    I think, as he is at my feet and not at all afraid or letting go of his brunch, what do I do here?   This has never happened to me!   Fast on my feet I say out loud "net that fish!!"

Sweeping him up I see that he is a male brown, with a top jaw line of about four inches!  He fills my 20 inch net, just missing an inch on one side, so he is near 19 inches!   And out burbs the brookie, alive an well, and both are in net side by side.   I think no one will believe this, and grab my cell phone to snap a shot.  But big Willy is not having this easily, and while in the net on the ground, flips out to of it.  I needed two hands to get him back in so I could let him go helpfully, and right side up, but getting him back in the net is like arm wrestling a big man, he was so strong!   I snapped this shot of him, with pine needles on the guy and half of him out of the net, but he was OK.

When I showed this to my angler friend at the shop he said this was an old fish, by the glassy looking eye.   He was even more golden that my photo shows.   And most likely came out of the "washing machine" water fall.

In the meantime Mr. Brookie is at my feet in the water, still on the small hook.   I have some work to do.

I get this big guy back in the water, and boy he is super strong, and easily swims away, such stamina in this fish.

The little guy is saying "hey there, remember me, hello"....and yes, he is revived to a fast motion and swims away from my fingers on his tail, back to tell his sisters "guess what happened to me today"...

I named him Jonah.

What a fish story, hey?   And there he is, just for me to remember, as I could not believe it either.

Once in a lifetime on a creek, in the Rockies....!

FisherGirl!

THE stream of choice this summer, the St Vrain....

Needless to say it has been many moons, and this last month a Blue Moon, since I had the time and space to update this blog.  Winter moved along...and spring followed, now late Summer is surrounding me...and today I have a bit of time to note that I have found a gem in Colorado, the St Vrain area at Wild Basin.

All summer I have been tracking up and down Glacier Creek in RMNP, and it has been a gem of a trek.  What has been nice is that Bear Lake road has closed after 9 a.m., and therefore very few fishermen are getting up there while the road is reconstructed.  So that means on Glacier Creek we have had very little company, except for the fish.

So that has gone along well.  But sometimes you want a change of stream, a different background you might say, and different waters.  So we took a day to the Upper Big Thompson, and lo and behold that is where all the people are, not able to get up to Sprague Lake and Bear Lake.  With their kids and rocks, their kids and dogs, their water dogs, their passion to fish even if it is right next to you, they are all there.  I shall not complain any longer, they give Colorado much needed revenue.  But really, baby stroller and three children along a fishing trail, screaming children at that, and stopping right next to a flyfisherperson?   Hmmm....

So it was time for my annual solo guide trip.   Just said, "let's change it up, take me to somewhere new, special, I am ready..."

So to Wild Basin we go....

This was taken by my trusty guide....after much bushwhacking and navigating...and what a day it was.   Lots of Brookies, lovely of all the fish in the high mountains of Colorado.  Pocket waters.  A day trip.  Few bruises on my legs, I am tiny person, so these trees are something to climb over...but we did fine.  Was terribly exciting.

Now I know what the Trout Bum was talking about.....I get it.

So that was a weekday.   The following weekend I took my husband to same trail and off we headed.  And what a day we had.  He owes me for being his guide.   These are not easy waters to navigate.  We found a falls where the Brookies were leaping out of the water....and children on a bridge were ecstatic.   Which I was too.   Those children I had not problem with.  Every fish that tried they cheered.

And I found a honey hole, my new word.  No one will find it again soon, it was just the right time of day, the right bugs on the water, a feeding lane, and the right dry fly on my line.  I could not believe how much fun this hole was, I called her the Unlimited.

Yesterday was a solo day for me, hubby wanted to stay home, I wanted to grab the fading summer one more time.   Next two weekends are all family, so no waters to my butt on those days....so take Summer in my hand for one more day....

First the Big Thompson, low water and lazy fish.  Sipping my flies.  That just send my excitement level up, just to flatten it out when they say, "nope...changed my mind..."

Then Moraine Park, after everyone has taken any Brown and Brookie home for dinner, most likely still in their freezers...those few could not be inspired to bite hard.  And then the rutt is on, off the meadow at 5:00.

On the way home thought, Wild Basin, what, it is 5:20, why not?    I am sure that moose we heard about is far away now, the one we passed on the way out as I was fishing every little spot and husband was giving me "the look", and the hole I passed up on was the one with the moose.  Bull.  Whew.   Not the way I want to end the day, well sort of do, but sort of don't.  Rutt for them too.  They will charge a paper bag this time of year.

So I find my little safe area, the one where I put in Caddis emerger and Bam, and my husband says "damn" then my name.  Is that a good thing or a bad thing?   Ha, I smile and say, want to see what is on here?

My best two words that day were "got one!"....

My little area does that same last night, in the dimming light, fish after fish take my fly.  No I did not bring any to the net, or to my hands, but it was fun just the same.  I was so nervous about it getting dark, about bear and moose, and I had taken off my waders, boots, just fishing in hiking sandals, no one was around at all, not one soul.  Not a car, not a sound.  Water can be quite noisy, causing you to not hear things near you.   Snap of a twig is about all it takes in fading sunlight to cause the face to turn around.  That to a suburban girl is intimidating!   But I love it the same.  It was so much fun.

The fish for me were not large this last three weeks, but fun and full of fight.  Few Browns I was able to get in those waters, but mostly Brookies.  When you look at the area it is a lot of work to get those guys, and I can see how it does not get fished out.

I would not want to be in this area in high winds!

Hidden gem in Colorado.   I will be back, hopefully.  I heard that it was good fishing this year as we have had low rainfall.  Under normal years this stream can kick butt.

All I know is I had a wonderful three weeks for the Wild Basin drainage area...

Inspired me to say " I am a flyfisherman, I am.  I am a good flyfisherman, I am." 

And I now have leaky waders.  My first badge.

And to reward myself, a new RLW flyrod and Lamson reel ordered and on the way, just for these type of waters, that ask for a delicate fly.

Off to Steamboat at the end of September, for more fish and maybe more moose.  I will be careful what I wish for!

Have a wonderful late summer and autumn....has been a wonderful year of fishing!

Tight knots!

FisherGirl

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!