Colorado And A Missed Opportunity

[ozark trout fisher]

Well, the (hopefully) annual late summer fly-fishing/camping vacation is over for another year, and this one was a highlight. The first three days of the trip were spent in Mesa Verde NP, a beautiful, stunning, historic national park with exactly zero relevance to fishing. So I'll start a photography thread for that portion of the adventure, but for now we'll skip straight to the fishing.

And what a fishing trip this was. July 30th saw us headed over a couple of high mountain passes on a beautiful (to say the least) stretch of highway 145 (and a quick jog on highway 62) betwen Cortez and Ridgway. Stunning, stunning country that got us fully in the mood to chase after some trout. I arrived at Rigs Fly Shop in Ridgway to get some last minute tackle (lots of splitshot and heavy tippet as it happened) and to talk over the half-day guided trip I'd be taking the next day on the Uncompahgre River.

Then camp was set up in the Pa-Co-Chu-Puk campground in Ridgway State Park. Afterwards, I set out to get a feel for the river (and get back into the rhythm of fly-fishing) before the half day of guided fishing the next morning. As soon as I got to the stream, I saw how different it was than I had expected. I'd been expecting a small, delicate tailwater fishery, the type of "highly technical" water that you read about in the outdoor magazines. Dead wrong. A tailwater it was (you could easily see the dam looming upstream) but it was a big, brawling western stream, complete with man-made rock dams and never-ending pocket water. Massive sandstone cliffs towered above on one side, with a lush river valley extended far in the other direction. The high peaks of the San Juans towered up above the dam, with Cimarrons looming as well. Postcard scenery.

I tied on a Hare's Ear nymph, #14, because if you don't have a clue, that's just kind of what you start with. The fourth or fifth cast produced a little rainbow of maybe 10 inches, the skunk having been broken almost too easy. The fishing was solid, if unspecatacular, the rest of the night.

I met my guide a bit before 8 AM the next morning for a few hours of learning how to fish this western stream. Before I go any further, I have to say that I recommend Rigs very highly to anyone finding their way into SW Colorado. Very professional bunch there, pretty darned good rates, the whole package.

Anyway, there wasn't anything rising at first so we started off dredging with tiny midge imitations. I was told about the minor, but important details you can find on any river, but that might take longer than you have alloted to your trip. Stuff like that's invaluable on a tricky tailwater like the Unc. Nymphing produced, but we agreed we should try the dry fly before our time was up. A little light cahill with an elk hair caddis as a second fly drew plenty of strikes, though I only netted one on the dry fly. The action may not have been non-stop, but the valuable info I'd need for the rest of the trip had been successfully gleaned. I felt ready to go out on my own and have a good chance at success.

That afternoon, I put that info to good use. The main takeaway was the need to get deep when fishing this river. As in, so much lead that even a twenty foot cast feels like a bit of a stretch. While fishing on my own, I finally setttled on a Beadhead olive woolly bugger with a tiny pheasant as a dropper, with a BB splitshot or two in between. 3 pound tippet. Unwieldy stuff, but the little rainbows liked the PT while the bigger ones went after the woolly. The ideal balance.

But I wasn't counting on what happened that evening. While fishing a pool in a gentle, braided part of the river, I had a strike just like any other. The indicator goes down, my rod goes up, and I prepare to drag the fish in quickly with my (relatively) heavy tippet.

Nope.

I feel a big head shake, the kind of vibration and pull that fly fisherman dream of, but rarely get to experience. I fight this fish awhile, not moving him, not seeing him in the depths. Then I decide to make a move, to try to bring him in before he really knows what hit him. It works. A brown of not less than 10 pounds allows himself, more or less placidly, to be pulled within a couple feet of my outstretched net.

Then he goes nuts. Heads down the river to a small rock dam, jumps it. I follow him along the bank to the next pool, also held back by a small rock dam. He heads for that one, goes over it too. By now, this fight is in its third pool, we're a few minutes in, and this is getting serious. He heads for the next rock dam. The river is deep below. I won't be able to follow, so a stand must be made here. He swims for the middle of the river, so close to that rock dam, and stops. I follow to the middle of the river, forgetting about my own safety in the process. Waders overtop. Fish jumps rock dam. I'm holding myself against the rock dam (which to avoid being overdramatic, is not more frightening than those at, say Maramec Spring, but still wouldn't be fun to go over in full waders.) I'm momentarily stable here, standing still against a boulder, not knowing whether I cared more about this massive trout or just getting out of the river.

Then the line went slack. Didn't break, just came loose. I don't know happened, or even which fly I hooked him on. I pushed myself off the boulder, into a slack eddy along the bank, and then up onto dry land where a couple of folks were laughing heartily at the whole incident.

The next morning I picked up the pieces, went out, and caught a few more rainbows, both out of the river and out of a couple of little ponds alongside the stream. But it's that brown I won't be able to get out of my head. Not now, probably not ever. I doubt I'll ever catch anything that large, perhaps, never will have the opportunity for a sustained fight with something like that again. But it was kinda cool just to have the chance.

Pictures coming.

[ness]

Nice write up oft. Felt like I was there with you.

[Quillback]

Yes, good job of story telling. Heckuva fish, looks like you did all that could be done to bring it to hand, just did not work out.

[ozark trout fisher]

The Uncompahgre looking up at the dam

The public reach of the Unc below Ridgway Lake is catch and release only

Looking up from the river valley into the high country

[Quillback]

Nice...

[ozark trout fisher]

Cliffs rising above a trout-filled pond in Ridgway State Park

The scene along the tailwater stretch of the Unc. Look close in the streamside pond, and you can see the rise-forms.

A small rainbow from the pond pictured above

A typical Uncompahgre rainbow

[Tim Smith]

Great stuff! Condolences on losing the "big one", but it was a noble chase.

[Ham]

I remember and think about the BIG fish I've lost more than the ones I've caught. That fish will live in your mind forever. You did a great job fighting him; he just got lucky.

[ColdWaterFshr]

Darn it, a 10 lb'er? Yes, that one will be etched in your memory forever.

Love the San Juans. Hwy 145 is spectacular. Mt. Wilson, that whole area is amazing. Want to get out there again. Many years ago I was lucky to fish a small creek that ran through an old abandoned mining town called Dunton. Now it looks like a Ralph Lauren spa and is $1000 per night.

Thanks for the report and the pictures.

[Terrierman]

Awesome.