Chasing Cutts

The short season appears to be close to ending already.  A cool storm system has been affecting Colorado since yesterday.  According to the National Weather Service, snow levels may drop enough for some high elevation snow today into tomorrow.  The chances to fish high country lakes are quickly dwindling, but last weekend I explored a new area and saw some nice cutthroat while I was out and about.

The day started a lot later than intended, leaving a little after 11:00 in the morning would normally be a problem due to high country afternoon thunderstorms, but a large area of high pressure was forecast to hold on for one more day, keeping the showers and storms at bay.  The trailhead was crowded and finding parking was definitely not guaranteed.  Thankfully, after a couple of tours of the parking lot and surrounding roadside pullouts, a spot opened up and we were soon on the trail.

For those that fish the area regularly, I'm sure the pictures will give away the location.  For the rest of you, I'll just say that the trail started at around 11,000 feet above sea level and we topped out around 12,000 feet above sea level.  Our destination was a high country lake rumored to hold cutthroat.

I was not too confident since we would be arriving in the middle of the day.  Lake fish are notoriously spooky during periods of bright light, but the chance to explore still made the day worthwhile regardless of how the fishing turned out.  About a mile up the trail, we passed a lake that had several fly fishermen wading the shallows in search of trout.  Just above, the trail steepened noticeably as it climbed towards tree line.  Unaccustomed to the thin air, we finally stopped for a break to catch our breath and drink some water.  Noticing the scenery around us, the cameras came out.  No longer focused on the uphill trek, we could enjoy the incredible views opening up around us.

Continuing uphill, the trees shrank smaller and smaller yet until above us there were no more.  Every rise above us brought hope that we were approaching the end of our climb.  Finally, our final destination seemed obvious and we crested the last rise to a gorgeous alpine lake.

Lunch on the lake shore took up the next 30 minutes but then it was time for two more important tasks: fishing and exploring.  I had brought a 9' 4 weight fast action rod anticipating the possible wind.  The only line in my arsenal for this rod is a floating line, but I yearned for an intermediate or sinking line.  The fish were obviously NOT cruising the banks although one nice cutthroat spooked from the outlet as I walked by.  Finally, without even a tap on the end of my line, I switched to the second activity, exploring.  Climbing high above the lake, the views continued to open up.  The high plains stretched out far below but it was our immediate surroundings that kept us looking around with our cameras for the next interesting picture.

Closer at hand, the wild critters would occasionally make themselves known.  Can you find the marmot in these pictures?

Returning back to the level of the lake, I started casting again.  Changing to a scud and a midge with some weight to get it down, I started casting out and s - l - o - w - l - y retrieving the setup back over the shelf and through the shallows.  After several fruitless casts, I was almost to move on when a sharp tap on the end of my line reinvigorated me.  The fish were there, just not very plentiful and not close to shore.

Moving on around the lake, I started to think more about that fish in the outlet.  With the proper approach and presentation, surely I could catch the nice cutt.  Sneaking closer, I discovered that the fish had indeed returned to its observation point.  Crouching nearby, I raised the rod tip and as the flies sailed towards the fish, it ghosted slowly into the depths, clearly concerned by the movement overhead.

A few more fruitless casts convinced me that I might better spend my time hiking out before darkness came.  Heading back down the trail, I started to realize how tired I was.  Thoughts of fish started to fade as I considered the nice bed waiting for me at home.  Then, as I rounded a corner above a shallow puddle to small to even name, something caught my eye.

Rising trout?!?!?  Sure that the small pond was too shallow for fish to winter in, I had written it off earlier in the day but now, unless my eyes were deceiving me, trout were rising with abandon.  Moving quickly down the slope from the trail to the ring of willows surrounding the water, I found a narrow opening through the vegetation and was soon standing on a rock with only a good cast between me and the rising trout.  Were they brookies?  The rises sure looked like it, but then I kind of hoped that the brookies had not moved this high up the drainage.  Tiredness evaporated and all thoughts of sleep left me as I started to cast.

It only took two casts before I had my first fish on.  "Not brookies, cutthroat," I happily noted.  Small but beautiful, I almost took out the camera.  Instead, I decided to set my sights a bit higher.  "That rise over there looks like a good fish" I thought to myself.  Casting the same set up, I only managed a couple of strips before the fish hammered the fly.  Slowly fighting the fish, I decided that this one would have its picture taken.

A short time later, I released yet another beautiful cutthroat.  What a day it had been!

Midweek Excursion

Yesterday, business took me over to Boulder.  Of course, it was only another 5 minutes to the lower end of Boulder Canyon so I decided to take the fly rod along (it really was a no-brainer!!!).  Arriving streamside around 7:00, I knew the light would fast be fading.  The resident browns were at their most gullible as the low light not only made it hard for me to see my fly, but also made it harder for the fish to spot me.

In probably the second or third pocket that I fished, the first small brown struck.  I was fishing my favorite 8' 4 weight with one of my favorite nymphs for Colorado, the Mustard John.  The little guy was momentarily airborn when I set a bit harder than necessary.

Continuing up the creek, I received one half-hearted tap on the nymph and decided to try a dry.  Out came the Yellow Neversink Caddis and almost immediately I had a fish hit.  Continuing up the creek in the fading light, I pulled little brown trout out of only the deepest and darkest of pockets as the fish are all on high alert with the low water levels.  My best fish came from a very predictable deep dark hole and paused long enough for a photograph.  It was a classically beautiful little brown.  Soon I intend to venture further afield in search of some larger browns.  In the meantime, this is not a bad way to spend 45 minutes!!!

Stunning Sunset

The other evening I was out on a nearby lake, flailing away aimlessly with my fly rod.  Happy to just get outside, the fishing was almost an afterthought.  As time went on, the sky went from "nice" to "stunning" in a matter of just a few minutes.  The late afternoon sun was lighting the clouds perfectly and a high-based shower was moving across the urban corridor looking more menacing than it really was.  My camera came out and I became more engrossed in taking pictures than catching fish...

The Beginning

Warm nights are still the norm here on the plains.  High in the mountains the trees are hinting at the cool nights ahead.  Pockets of aspen in the highest elevations are turning golden yellow, splashing their brilliant colors across the slopes just below tree line.  Back in Tennessee, colors would start changing by late September, but even here on the plains I'm higher above sea level than everything except the highest elevations in the Smokies.  Winter comes earlier here, and I'm intent on enjoying the mountains before the snow flies.

The beginning of fall is here, never mind that it does not officially start for another couple of weeks.  Last Sunday I hit a high country trail.  In addition to the brook trout coloring up for the spawn and heading upstream, the trees were proclaiming the changing seasons as well.  The streams are low and clear and the late afternoon storms are definitely on the decline as the monsoon slowly winds down.  Fish are hungry, putting on as much weight as possible before ice takes over the streams and lakes.  As a fisherman, I love this time of year, likely because I feel like quite the pro when fishing for such hungry and aggressive fish.

On Sunday, I only made minimal progress up the trail before the stream was calling me.  That's one benefit of exploring a new area.  Instead of doing the smart thing and heading far upstream, you can ignorantly fish wherever there is water.  In my case, ignorance was bliss.  The brook trout were hungry and coloring up for the spawn.  Brook trout are probably not more beautiful at any other time of year.  The next two months is the time to catch them, not to mention all the other hungry fish out there.

As the trail and stream nearly merged into one, I had a front row seat and soon decided to jump in instead of carrying on as a specter.  The first thing I saw was a nice 8 inch brook trout that casually refused just about everything I tossed at it.  In faster water, a fish rose to the buggy Parachute Adams, and I was soon admiring my first fish of the day.  I snapped a picture and then remembered a fishtail picture for my buddy David Perry.

Moving up through the steep pocket water, I managed a fish from nearly every deep pocket and some of the smaller less obvious spots as well.  In one wide pool a chunky and colored up male rose from the deepest water to inhale my fly.  My excitement level shot through the roof as I saw the colors.  I dug out the camera and snapped a couple of pictures.  Another picture documented the little non-descript run that the big brookie rose from.  I suspect it had moved up from the deeper pool immediately downstream, but maybe it lives in the flat run year round.

Glancing up, I saw the beginning of fall broadcasting on the stream bank.  Eight years ago, I was in Arizona for the fall and while exploring the White Mountains, I fell in love with aspen dressed up in their fall colors.  My camera was still out, and after finishing with the aspen picture, I looked upstream and decided to continue taking pictures.  Every corner turned begged for another picture.  The beauty of this place was just incredible.

Moving upstream, I found some more willing brook trout.  The average size continued to be excellent and I found two more larger males sporting their spawning colors and some intimidating teeth.

Like a kid in a candy store, I was excited to discover what each new pocket and pool held.  The brookies seemed to just grow in size as I progressed upstream.  The lower portion of this stream follows a road and the average size of the fish I caught there was probably a couple of inches shorter than it was along the trail.  Finally, I decided to scratch my wandering itch and climbed out of the stream to hit the trail.  Looking up I spotted large patches of aspen turning gold high above.  After snapping a couple of pictures of the stream I had just left as well as the colors on the mountain, I was ready to head upstream.

Crossing the first bridge over the creek, I stopped to photograph the brook trout jumping the falls.  Another half mile up the trail I discovered a sign suggesting that I might find Greenback cutthroat nearby.  Glancing around, I saw a little pool beside the trail with a fish finning that looked different from the brookies I had been finding.  On the first cast the fish rose and I soon had my first Greenback!!!

Catherine McGrath Photograph

A nearby cascade suggested pristine Greenback water above so up the high I went.  Before long, however, I became more interested in the scenery than catching fish.  The views opened up quickly and  the cascades itself was stunning.

Absorbed in taking pictures, I didn't forget to catch another Greenback.  After following gravity back down hill, I found a few more willing cutts before deciding it was time to head back to the car for lunch.  By three in the afternoon, I get pretty hungry even when thoroughly distracted by the spectacular fishing and great scenery.

Jumping Brook Trout!!!

These brookies think they are salmon heading upstream to spawn, or at least they were doing their best salmon impersonation.  The high country brookies are starting to color up nicely for the spawn.  Today I found many willing fish, but the highlight of the day was watching several fish repeatedly trying to scale a small falls.  They appeared to be moving upstream in anticipation of the upcoming spawn.  I got several pictures as the fish hurled themselves into the air only to be swept back downstream in the fast water.

While I was definitely pleased with the pictures, the real highlight is the following video taken by my friend, Catherine McGrath.  In just a 15 second clip, you can see three different fish trying to scale the falls.  For the best video, watch this in full screen HD...

Thinking About Fall

As late summer holds on tenaciously with 90 degree plus temperatures here near Boulder, I find myself excited about the changing of the seasons that is almost here.  Before I left Tennessee, the dry weather had already started changing some of the leaves.

Here in Colorado I have found the same thing.  Long range forecasts are starting to suggest a significant cooling trend may begin by late next week.  Overnight lows in the mountains will be dipping down towards freezing which means the aspen will be turning a brilliant golden yellow, perhaps sooner instead of later.  In addition to chasing trout during my favorite season, I will also be out with my camera enjoying the beautiful transition to winter.  I can't wait!!!

Rocky Mountain High

Dries Required

Upstream and to rising fish only...well, almost anyways.  I headed out for another short adventure this afternoon.  The original goal was to head for the high country but I had lots to do at home so decided to save the longer trips for another day.  Thankfully, there are fish to be had a bit closer to home.

Another trip, some more brown trout, and dry flies!  It doesn't get much better than that if you ask me.  I tied on the same dry fly that I fished last week along with a soft hackle dropper.  After picking up only 2 fish on the dropper, I noticed someone heading up the road with a fly rod in hand.  Suspicious that I had been fishing behind them, I persevered and started moving more fish right about where they seemed to have left the creek.  As brown after brown nosed the dry, I realized that the dropper was pointless.  The fish were telling me what they wanted and only a fool would ignore the mandate:  dries or nothing.

I removed the dropper and rummaged around in my fly box for just the right fly.  A mixed hatch was on including good numbers of mayflies (duns and spinners) but I decided to show the fish something just a bit different.  A yellow Neversink Caddis found its way to the end of my tippet, and now I was ready to show these browns how we do things back in Tennessee.

A few casts later I hooked the first of several nice chunky browns.  The fish began to come with regularity, even after the poor fly had been mangled to the point of no longer floating very well.  Several of the nicer fish were caught after betraying themselves with a rise.  I never did determine what the fish were taking although they probably weren't being too selective and simply feeding on the entire range of insects available at the time.  Regardless, the Neversink Caddis must have looked like candy.
 

The last pool had some serious big fish potential.  A big fish for this creek would probably be 16 inches or so but some spots just scream big fish and this was one of them.  I never did find that big fish, but I know its in there.  One of its more reasonably sized friends was willing to play though.  This one fish rose a couple of times and by the boil I knew it was larger than some of the little fish I had caught.  I cast and finally saw the fish swirl about the time I was ready to give up.  After a brief fight, I took a couple of pictures and then watched the fish swim under an undercut rock to recover.

I'm still thinking about cutthroat.  Next week, maybe.  I have a long weekend and am ready to do some exploring...

The Canyon

My adopted home waters by virtue of proximity, Boulder Creek as well as South Boulder Creek and the various forks of the St. Vrain are a small stream fisher's paradise.  The closest for me is Boulder Creek in Boulder and up the canyon above town.  Did I mention that it holds predominantly brown trout?  Most who know me are well aware that I enjoy catching browns perhaps more than any other species.  Its always difficult to complain though when something else tugs at the end of the line.  Really I just enjoy getting out on the water and away from the hustle and bustle of life.

Two days ago, I was able to do just that.  After leaving work, I headed home for a quick supper and then it was off to Boulder.  I had heard some good things about one of the area fly shops including recommendations from friends and acquaintances.  Eventually I'll probably stop by all the area shops but I think I have already found a new "home" shop.  Rocky Mountain Anglers in Boulder is a fantastic shop.  After only one visit, I would rank it in the top 5 shops I have ever visited.  That is an obviously biased ranking so you probably want to know how I determine my list of top shops.  It is actually pretty simple and based on one question: do the shop staff treat me well regardless of whether or not I am actually buying something or look like a real fisherman?

Many shops around the country are staffed by people who won't give you the time of day unless you are looking for the newest and most expensive fly rod on the market and definitely don't want to bother talking to you if you don't look the part of the fly fisher.  Maybe I'm just rebellious but I've never been one to dress like a fisherman when I'm visiting shops.  Rocky Mountain Anglers is now towards the top of my list along with Little River Outfitters, Blue Ribbon Flies, Taylor Creek Fly Shop, and a little tiny shop called Solitude Outdoors in Cedaredge, Colorado.  At each of these shops, I was treated like royalty, and for that they have all earned my loyalty and business.

My question at Rocky Mountain Anglers was pretty simple.  I wanted a recommendation on a good guidebook to help familiarize myself with the area.  Instead of selling me a book that might only offer limited insights, the shop staff took the time to look at my Colorado Delorme, making notes and circling likely fishing spots.  That is something average shops will never even consider unless you are investing in the shop's stock or other such nonsense.  While I may not buy a brand new rod from them next week, they will definitely have my business when I need all the random gear and tying equipment that keeps me going in the sport.

After my stop at the shop it was off for Boulder Canyon.  Time was somewhat limited so after driving just a few miles to find some nice steep pocket water, I pulled into a likely looking spot and rigged up.  The only rod I had with me happened to also be my favorite: an 8' 4 weight Orvis Superfine Tight Loop (one of the old Superfine rods).  I started with a Crawbugger on inspiration from the Oak Creek Angler who often utilizes this deadly pattern with great results.  The one big pool I wanted to try this pattern in did not produce so I went to plan B.  Rusty spinners were increasing rapidly in number above the water so I dug out a Parachute Adams that I had tied in more of a rusty brown color and added a favorite soft hackle dropper.

The first little pocket I hit produced several strikes before I actually connected with a feisty little brown that found the soft hackle dropper to its liking.  I started covering water and the fish came with more and more consistency as the light began to fade.  Considering how low the water was and that this was my first time, I think I did fairly well.  I fished for probably somewhere between 1 and 2 hours and caught between 10 and 20 fish.  I know that's quite a spread, but when you're enjoying the experience, my general philosophy is that counting should be the last thing you think about.

At one point I was surprised to catch a brookie although I know they are Colorado's version of the plague....an invasive species that has adapted a little too well to the local streams and lakes.  Coming from Tennessee, it is kind of nice to see the beautiful little reminders of home although at the same time it can bring on the occasional bout of homesicknesses for the mountain streams of Tennessee.

The brookie was apparently the exception as every other fish was a brown ranging between 4 and 9-10 or so inches.  Large browns are apparently extremely rare in Boulder Creek based on the research I have done.  The last fish of the evening came out of a section where the creek was beginning to narrow into a steeper stretch.  It was a beautiful pool that almost guaranteed a better fish.  Still, I'm not sure who was more surprised, me or the fish.  I had to resort to using the flash and realized it was probably late enough to head home.  The first of what I hope will be many pleasant hours on Boulder Creek was finished.

This afternoon I made the mistake of looking over maps of National Parks, National Forests, and famous rivers here in Colorado.  Now I'm already planning trips further afield.  This weekend I'm leaning towards a trip for cutthroat somewhere in the high mountains.  As the days shorten and fall approaches, I'll be hitting the larger streams for big browns, but until then you will probably find me somewhere on a small stream in a canyon catching willing trout.

There's A Brookie In There

How would you go about catching this fish???  It was just relaxing on the bottom of this beaver pond...