A Breath Of Fresh Water Part 1

 

Photo by Kristen Patrocky

 The South Platte River is an amazing fishery with great variety and abundant challenges that keep anglers coming back.  One particular stretch of this river was devastated by a massive fire in 2002.  The Hayman fire was the largest and most destructive fire ever recorded in Colorado history. The debris and sediment from the fire that washed into the South Platte from Cheesman Reservoir down past the town of Deckers laid waste to what was once a healthy trout population that called this stretch home.  After the fire came flooding which added insult to injury by spilling tons more sediment into the river from Deckers down stream and fishermen of all types began to wonder if the once legendary fishing in this region would ever recover. 

 

Ask anybody fortunate enough to fish Deckers before all that destruction and they will tell you about the glory days when abundant plant life produced great beatis and trico hatches and the fishing was epic. Most experienced guides and fishermen like Colorado Springs resident and professional guide Rick Murphy who has seen Deckers in its prime agree that quote "it will never be the same river".  Anglers Covey shop manager Steve Gossage told me that he talked to a fishery biologist that said it would take at least 25 years for Decker's to make a complete recovery.  



Photo by Kristen Patrocky

 Every single person that said Deckers will never be the same is still right.  Years later it isn't the same river but It has made some semblance of a recovery.  The water is a lot cleaner than it used to be and a lot of the vegetation and bug life that was prevalent before the Hayman fire has been replaced by gravel and wood debris.  The same gravel and wood debris that several different caddis flies use to make cases. 

In-fact the caddis hatch has become so thick above the town of Deckers in the spring that it rivals the famous "Mother's Day" hatch on the Arkansas River.  If your fishing a nymph rig and you hit bottom you have my 100 percent guarantee that you will come up with a caddis case every time... Just kidding.  Never trust a fishermen that claims he is good with numbers.  Especially when it comes to the measurement of inches and pounds.   You will notice that a good portion of the times your rig scrapes bottom you'll have either an empty or full caddis case attached to your hook.  In other words there is still great dry fly fishing to be had here if you fish in the spring or during a calm late summer/fall evening.

There are still sparse beatis hatches as well, however I haven't seen a single trico hatch anywhere lower than the family hole in lower Cheesman Canyon which is a few miles up river from Deckers past the Wigwam club.  The Wigwam club owns a private stretch of the S. Platte which is located between Decker's and Cheesman and is known for holding large browns and rainbows that will occasionally stray down or up river where there is public access.  Fish like this lit up rainbow landed is a common occurrence!



Photo by Jon Kleis



 



Jon Easdon owner of Blindside Ski and
Snowboards taking a break from the
Slopes to play in slightly less frozen
water.

I recently went on a winter trip to Deckers and found beatis and midges with eager and respectable trout.  It was a gorgeous 45 degree day with no wind and lots of sun.  The kind of day most winter warriors dream of.  We put in at the first parking area above the bridge and worked our way up stream while throwing a combination of either a red SanJuan worm or an apricot Bling Bug followed by small red midges or a gray RS-2. 

Jon E. and I are not the only people aware of the fact that this place is still fishing great and due to it's close proximity to Denver Deckers receives a lot of pressure from anglers, and even though there is a lot of fishable water most of these trout have first and last names and zip codes.  One of the things I have never minded as long as other anglers demonstrate proper fishing etiquette is the crowds.  Pressure on the fish means they will be tougher to catch and I enjoy the challenge.  As Jon Easdon said when I met up with him soon after he released a fish "I forgot how much fricken fun this is!".

A client of mine with a nice rainbow that fell for a red midge.

It is common practice by guides and fishermen that live within reasonable driving distance during the peak of summer to not take trips or fish in the area if flows are low and water temps are high so as to give the trout the best possible chance for survival.  If the flows and temps are adequate casting a nymph rig with some form of PMD (like a pheasant tail nymph) with a midge dropper behind it (such as Murphy's Bubbleback midge) in faster pocket water can be deadly.  If your one of those guys that just wants to throw big beefy streamers looking for bigger fish then the summer months can be a great time for that as well.

Murphy's Bubbleback Midge

To be continued...

Jon Kleis Tying the Bling Bug Egg

My latest story in the Colorado Springs gazette newspaper about winter fly fishing!

http://www.outtherecolorado.com/blogs/winter-doesnt-keep-die-hard-anglers-out-of-the-water.html

The above link is a story I did about winter flyfishing while spending a day on the water with Springs reporters.  It made it as the main and only story on the outthere section of the paper!

The Lion Hair Caddis

Predators in the wild provide an interesting dynamic in the sport of fly fishing because they can change the role of an angler for one obvious reason: You become the bait! Crazy thought isn't it? One minute you're hunting for fishy lips to bruise and the next you could potentially be bruised or worse by a hungry man eater's lips.


My good buddy Chris Holman and I were fishing a stretch of our favorite river in Colorado when we had such an experience. This particular spot on the river is surrounded by nothing but hills and fields as far as the eye can see and is known for producing giant trout in the spring and fall when the rainbow's and brown's migrate for the spawn. This is a place where an angler can find total solitude and let his mind and imagination wonder.


That afternoon we got our butt's handed to us. Between the two of us we landed maybe three small trout, but as the sun started to set we began to see signs of large feeding fish; and it seemed for a brief moment that there were goliath fish rising everywhere. What they were rising to Im not sure which wouldn't matter because we would soon get a rise ourselves.



Photo by Daniel Zimmerman

With barely enough light to see my fishing partner pointed down stream to a bush, "Do you see that?" he said. Of course I could only see rising fish. Ironically these trout were feeding on the surface next to muddy banks covered with giant cat prints that my subconscious chose to ignore. It's funny how easy it is to stamp out the voice of that little guy sitting on your shoulder when fish are on the rise. Chris repeats what he said with more urgency and as I follow the tip of his rod to see what he's pointing at, I see the head of a mountain lion the size of my chest eagerly peeking over some bushes some twenty feet down stream from where we were standing.


You know those surreal moments when time seems to stand still and everything becomes a blur like you are in some twisted dream? This was that and a pair of crap filled waders all rolled into one. For the first time in my life my fight-or-flight instincts kicked in. Leaning towards flight myself, my buddy stopped me and told my 6'5" petrified boney frame to try to look really big and start waving my fly rod around while making as much noise as possible. After a few seconds the predator realized he was made and walked slowly out from behind his point of ambush. It was then that I could see that this lion was truly a man eater in size. We were nothing more than really loud flies drifting on spaceship Earth ignorantly going about our lives much like a caddis fly before its own life comes to an abrupt end at the fins of another kind of opportunistic freshwater predator.

Photo by Kristen Patrocky

This fierce king of Colorado's wilderness walked ten feet in the opposite direction and in the nights coming darkness I could still see the definition in the cats muscles as he stopped and turned to look. Not just any look, but the look of death is what he cast in our direction. Behind those blood-thirsty eyes a blind person could see that he was deciding whether or not to eat us. Eat us like his cousins in Africa would eat a giraffe. I was the giraffe and my fishing partner the faster and more graceful gazelle.

                                                                                          
                                                                          



It was then that I felt a feeling of helplessness that only a skydiver with a chute that won't open could feel. Screaming as loud and as fiercely as possible we managed to throw a wrench in the carnivore's mind. Lucky for us he turned around and jogged up the hill where it's assumed he lives. Using mostly moonlight we high-tailed it in the direction of the car which was now easily 5 football fields length in distance. Armed with a headlamp and rocks we took the straightest path we could all while continuing to scream fiercly for fear of a return visit, or a visit from one of the lions friends. "We made it!" said the extremely relieved giraffe, and the first thing the gazelle did was turn on the car's head lights and blast the stereo.


Under the warm glow of a machine that reminded us of mans so-called dominion over this planet and drenched in a nervous sweat we shed our gear. It is only after such experienecs when your safe that your mind switches from flight to rational thought. Thoughts like "I wonder how long the lion was stalking us before we spotted him?" Even worse the death and chaos that surely would have erupted if we blindly kept walking towards the lion like we were.


Fly fishers are elusive, often showing brief signs of intelligence followed by hours of repetition displaying a lack thereof. Needless to say the lessons learned that night only needed to be taught once, and every return visit to this magic spot by "Lion Hill" I bring a spotter (and I don't mean for the fish), a glock 40 caliber S&W, and a healthy respect for daylight. I can honestly tell you that with all the talk of fear and death I love that lion, and not just because he didn't make a meal of me, but because he gave us an adventure. I'm greatful for the outdoor's and for fly fishing without which I would not have these amazing experiences. These are the things that keep us coming back and thankfully for once, I can be happy to tell a believable fishing story about the one that got away.

Like a Fish Out of Ice Water

It was an especially cold and windy spring day on one of Colorado’s famous and productive tail water fisheries known as the South Platte River in Elevenmile Canyon. This was the type of day when even the most committed angler would stay at home with his cup of hot tea spending quality time at the tying bench preparing for more comfortable days to fish. Steady thirty to forty mile per hour winds and freezing temperatures make it all but impossible to tie on a fly or fix knots in your leader.

The river was typically low and clear with ice on its banks, and we could see fish in their feeding lanes fattening up for the spawn. My fishing partner who was risking life and limb with me that day is a grizzly bear of a man whom I call the Dizzle, but has recently been dubbed the sucker man because of his uncanny ability to locate the only sucker in a trout river thats willing to be landed on a fly rod. As I predicted we did great. After only a few hours fishing we landed roughly 15 respectable rainbows, and one sucker.

As we were breaking down for the day we came across two other fishermen walking towards a beautiful Porche Cayenne SUV. Instead of asking the typical questions like how did you do? or what were you using? The first question the tallest of the two men asked me in a snobbish tone was, “Did you measure the water temperature?” to which I said the water temp was cold. Its 27 degrees outside the man said. Upon taking a closer look at him I noticed he had on over a thousand dollars worth of gear to keep him warm not including his rod and reel, and a thermometer used for taking the air temp. hanging from his jacket zipper.

Now the question the man asked was a completely unexpected and off putting though valid question, but approaching another peace and quiet seeking angler is like stalking a large crafty trout. Presentation is everything and I was'nt biting. Mostly because I am the stereotypical trout bum with my three year old leaky waders, and the felt sole missing from my left wading boot. I have always had a sense of pride in being one of the only guys on the water catching fish while others relentlessly swat the water all day. Not to say that I wouldn’t love to have all the high end gear I could get my hands on, or that Porche Cayenne for that matter. So I sat back quietly while Dizzle and the other two fisherman went back and forth for a couple of minutes with more typical fishing banter.

While we were leaving with me being totally jealous of the other anglers gorgeous SUV, and high end and very cozy looking gear, I started cracking jokes in the truck with the half frozen river creeping along the side of the road and the fierce wind howling. In the best impression I could muster, “hey Diz what do you think the water temp is right there?”, and both of us began laughing hysterically which of course had nothing to do with spending all day in a mind numbing wind whipped stupor complete with blue tinted feet.

That same day we also spent some time chatting about a website we had heard of called extreme fly fishing. The concept behind it being that this group of anglers go around the world fishing in often times harsh conditions for the biggest fish they can find. Dizzle knowing full well how cold it was outside would say, “now this is extreme fly fishing!”, to which I would laugh and agree. In spite of the freezing conditions we made plans to be on the water for a second day in winter… I mean “spring” paradise.

The next morning I called Diz to try and weasel out of the trip for fear of what a second day of extreme cold would do to my still frostbitten digits. “Dizzle” I said, “how do you feel?”, and with a tone that suggested he was thinking the same thing he said, “I feel 50/50, but the first thing the wife said to me when I got up this morning was you don’t feel extreme now do you?”. My response? “Ill be there in an hour!”. Thus began one of the craziest day’s of fishing I have ever experienced.

In order to try and “hide” from the extreme weather in Elevenmile Canyon we decided to try out another tail water fishery that has been gaining popularity which is the Arkansas River below Pueblo Reservoir. The Arkansas in this particular stretch of the river is lower in elevation and therefore the climate is suppose to be warmer, and reports suggested decent midge and bwo hatches with the average trout landed being about 14 inches. This time instead of freezing winds we came across a light breeze and light snow which can be ideal conditions for both hatches.

As is our luck the hatch could have been a whole lot better, and for a while we were starting to feel like fish out of water trying to find some success on a part of the river that was mostly new to us. Finally I was getting takes and even had the rod bent a few times on what felt like really solid fish before they escaped, but with so much foam on the waters surface I was having trouble spotting my very small white colored yarn strike indicator so I asked Dizzle if I could borrow one of his in a larger variety. After I put on the very large and wind resistant indicator I started to struggle with my cast, and with all the distraction and excitement on a back cast I heard a loud pop followed by an even louder scream.

I looked back to see Dizzle had been standing 10 feet behind me while setting up his rig, “you got me!” he said, and panicked I asked if he was ok. He turned to look at me while holding the side of his head and said, “I think you pierced my ear?“. Approaching to see what damage had been done I saw that he had my size 18 tan scud nestled in his right ear like a scud hearing aid. Fearing the worst, like getting my trout bum kicked by Dizzle who is a stout six foot, two hundred forty pound man I immediately did the right thing and apologized. Thankfully he started laughing, which was a huge relief because I almost couldn’t contain myself.

So there we were two trout extremist standing in the middle of the Arkansas River with the snow flying laughing beyond the point of tears. Me with my leaky waders, and Dizzle with the flyfishing version of a CIA operative style ear piece and my size 24 red midge dropper hanging not far off. When we regained control I came to the stark realization that I was going to have to take my hemostats and unhook one of my friend like so many trout before him. After a quick release Dizzle went up river as far away from me as possible and who could blame him?

I stayed and managed to land a few nice rainbows before deciding to set the rod down and go help my very forgiving friend who was still new to fly fishing and struggling. After a quick lesson on mending I let him be and walked about 40 yards up river. Just minutes later with his rod bent Dizzle yelled in my direction, “GOT ONE!”. “How big?” I said while excited for my buddy who had started his day off with some miserable luck no thanks to me. Dizzle played the fish for a while and said, “you’ll never guess what?”, I exploaded into a roar of laughter knowing what he was going to say, and after again having to regain control of myself I asked anyway, “it’s a sucker!” Dizzle yelled, “I got him with a scud!”.

After such an eventful start to our day we decided that it was time to head back to the car to warm up as we fill our stomachs. While we were walking back with me on one side of the river, and the sucker man walking along the opposite bank my pace began to quicken. As I said I was sporting the leaky waders, and had already acquired some of the before mentioned icy cold water which after exiting the river settles right to my feet sending a chilly shockwave up my spine. I gained about a 20 yard lead and turned to see that my friend decided to cross at a deeper spot in the river. I continue further and as I turn again to see where he was at I saw nothing but a half submerged rod and the very top of his head.

Every inch of Dizzles body completely submerged underwater I threw my gear down and made a mad dash to save him. Once he regained his footing and was able to stand the first question I asked was are you ready to leave yet? “I shouldn’t have called in from work today” he said, but I knew that was just the possible hypothermia talking, because we are extreme fly fishers right? Extreme fly fishing would have been staying after everything that had conspired on this fateful day, and it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to guess what Diz was still contemplating doing with a few gallons of ice water in his waders and a fresh hole in his ear but I insisted we leave. During the long drive home with a half frozen, half asleep, and totally soaked fishing buddy warming up in the passenger seat I couldn’t help myself so I turned and smiled, “hey Diz what was the water temperature?”, he said, “about 27 degrees”.

Indian Summer and Kokanee Salmon

Im a Colorado Springs native and this has been one of the craziest most drawn out summers and warm falls I've ever seen. Now that we have had some consistently cooler temps (especially during night fall) word is out that the kokanee salmon have finally moved up from 11mile reservoir and into the South Platte river below Spinney Reservoir as far up as right below the dam. These fish fight hard and are incredible fun when they first enter a river system, and they are what I call “fresh”. Fresh meaning that they are just starting to spawn and they are still energetic and havent been in the river system long enough to be harrassed by anglers.

However the regulations for the South Platte river below Spinney are flies and lures catch and release only. Flies of choice are streamers such as Slumpbusters and Meatwhistles in black, purple or red. Apricot egg patterns and red sanjuan worms and red Copper Johns will work great as well, and don't be surprised if you pull a few fish on trout flies that match the hatch such as pheasant tails and small black midge emergers. Use 4x-5x tippet because as I said before these fish put up an insane acrobatic fight the first 2-3 weeks they are in the river. After that they start to slow down from a combination of fighting anglers and each other while spawning.

The current flows are sitting around 90 cubic feet per second which is a great flow for this time of the year below Spinney. At these flow rates you want to set your indicator around 4-5 feet for fishing the deeper pools. A good rule of thumb is to fish close to the bottom so that your fly rig is rolling off the bottom without actually dragging on the bottom. The salmon aren't feeding during the spawn which means that any strikes you get are out of sheer aggression.

When the salmon have made their mind up they have seen enough of whatever it is your throwing at them and they strike typically they hit hard, and because they aren't leader shy they tend to hold on to your flies longer. Wait for you indicator to pull under and then do a down stream and up lift set and then hold on tight. Most of your hookups should be in the mouth not anywhere else on the fishes body. They do die after they spawn but since your releasing the fish its still the proper thing to do by hooking the fish fair and not playing it to complete exhaustion. Granted the fish do school up in big numbers in the deeper runs which makes it hard to work a run without foul hooking a fish or two but if 85 percent or more of your hookups are not fair and square in the jaw then you should rethink your strategy.

One thing that I like to do even when Im sight fishing which is what your doing most of the time is to still wait for the indicator to dip even if I think I got a strike. Its important to play with your indicator and split shot depth because the sink rate or your flies and your presentation will determine if you are going to get that reaction strike your looking for from the fish. Remember your staying close to the bottom where the fish spawn without dragging on it. If you have any more questions or need to pick up some flies or anything else listed above to have a blast hooking into tail walking salmon on the Dream Stream stop by Anglers Covey fly shop or check us out online at www.anglerscovey.com. Tight Lines!

Dream Stream Brown