Last week,
Frank, Ben and I had the privilege of guiding and teaching a group of
friends who met in Estes Park for a fly fishing getaway. My friend Jack,
who's taken guided trips with us in the past, said he had a group of friends
that got together several times a
year for various outings, including golf and bird hunting. He wondered if
I'd put something together if they wanted to do a fly fishing trip and I
said, "Yes." During the summer Jack contacted the set of friends and he and
five other gents decided that meeting in Estes Park during September would
be a good idea. A few of the men had fly fished a little, but all of them
wanted instruction and a good time. They made a good choice!
After flying into Denver on Wednesday
and shuttling to Estes and getting settled into their rooms, Frank, Ben and
I met them at the shop in Estes. (You'll remember that Ben was coming of the
ecstasy of the big brown he landed on the Yampa the week before. He hooked
it on a hopper pattern, by the way.) We the next three days. Then, of
course, we went to eat. Arrangements were made for breakfast the next
morning.
After a filling meal at Molly B's in
Estes we returned to the shop. Several guys geared up and we all headed to
the park for some casting instruction. We spent about an hour or so working
on the
grip, the casting stroke and several other techniques, including how to set
the hook. After a look at the water in the Big T and a discussion of how to
spot fish and where they would be holding we got in the cars and headed to
the water. Ben and Frank went to the Park and I headed to some private water
downstream on the Big T.
For George, Everette and I the day
started poorly. We left Estes under blue skies and little wind and were
greeted down the canyon by low clouds, spitting rain and breeze. Hmm. Other
than that morning neither of these men had held a fly rod. Both wanted to do
it, and before we were even on the water they were enthused about what was
coming. George had purchased a new Winston fly rod, Ross reel, Patagonia
vest, waders and boots and some goodies to go with it all. He'd made casts
on the grass but not a single one on water.
We waded to the stream and I asked who
wanted to go first? George said he would so we got into position and I
pointed out a spot he should cast.
He did. And a fish ate the fly.
This is a bad omen. A fine young man
with brand new gear hooks a fish on his very first cast. The line wasn't
wet; the waders were not wet - other than a bit - and there wasn't even any
floatant staining
the
vest. It just wasn't fair; it wasn't right. The fishing ghosts do not like
this sort of thing a bit, and let you know by spooking every other spot for
the rest of the trip. It's just not right.
Everette did hook a couple of fish on
his own. Every time I moved to help him he'd turn and say, "This is great!"
The smiles that Everette and George
wore for the rest of the day were lovely and bright and we had a great time
together on the water.
Oh well. All three of us were pretty
happy about the whole thing, but I knew, deep in my being, that this was bad
news for the rest of
the day and perhaps the rest of the trip.
Later, we found a nice hole under a
log that blocks part of the river and Everette and I found several large
fish feeding on nymphs beneath the surface. I think the fish knew we were
there, but the focus on his face as he tried to put the flies in the right
spot was pretty neat. George worked on his casting below us, and had a fish
come to the surface to take the ant pattern he was fishing.
That evening we retired to the Stage
Stop at Drake for cold beverages and chow. I played the piano, which is
still there from my jazz fests during August, and we all ate prime rib,
salmon and other goodies. Arrangements were made from breakfast the next
morning. Everyone left with the good tired that one only feels after a full
day of fishing, friends, fresh air and trout.
Day two began with chow and a long
discussion of the previous day's outing. We talked lots about casting and
what was really going on. Ben, Frank and I all promised to spend more time
working on casting and line control during the day, so after a quick stop at
the shop for a few flies and so on we headed to the stream.
I'd reserved two days on a private
stretch of Big T water, and today
Jeff,
Carroll and I headed down while Frank went for a long hike with Everette and
Jack, and Ben guided George and Mike on one of his favorite areas in the
Park.
All I can say is that the fish ghosts
were still active on my beat as the fish would not open their mouths to eat
a fly. I suppose the ghosts told them they would die and become ghosts, too,
if they ate at all that day. Who knows the whiles of fish ghosts?
Carroll and Jeff had a few sinner fish
take flies, and Jeff landed at the least the one they are looking at in the
net. However, both men were smiling all day. We covered some good water and
all of us learned important fly fishing lessons. Line mending, casting, line
control and drifting the fly were on that list. The next day, both men said
the info they'd received on Day 2 helped them hook fish on Day 3. That's a
good thing, right?
Meanwhile, the fish ghosts did not
visit Frank and Ben, and the
men with them hooked plenty of fish on dry flies and nymphs. Everette was
all smiles with his Greenback and Jack wandered off to fish on his own for
most of the day, hooking and landing plenty of beauties. Frank said he and
Everette were not sure where Jack was until after catching a whiff of his
cigar, which may be better than most GPS systems when it comes to finding a
fellow angler, depending on the wind, that is.
Mike and George came back all smiles
after their day with Ben,
too,
and overall a fine time was had by all. Day 2 was a success, and time was
fleeting. The group of friends decided they'd have a cookout at their place
and Ben, Frank and I went our own ways for the evening.
Day 3 found us at Molly B's once
again, stuffing our faces with chow. "You won't be able to stay at the table
as long this morning," the friendly waitress told me. "It's a Saturday and
we'll be busy."
I promised to be gone as soon as we
finished dining because everyone was chomping at the bit to get back on the
water to
exercise their new-found confidence and fly fishing skills. And that's just
what we did.
Again, everyone had a fine day,
hooking a few fish, learning and refining their fly fishing skills and
enjoying the loveliness of the Colorado high country and the crisp, fresh
air. Someone mentioned that everyone seemed better here than in their
cubicles, even though all six of these guys had recently retired from their
careers. I guess getting over the tyranny of the past is as good a
thing
as being on the water to escape the tyranny of the immediate.
We celebrated our time together that
evening with a fine meal at Mary's Lake Lodge. A good bottle of wine was
shared and smiles and warm camaraderie lit the room with joy. There was lots
of discussion about fish types, where they are found and how they can be
hooked. This group was very interested in environmental issues and the
future of trout. We also talked about upcoming trips to saltwater, Alaska,
back to Colorado to learn to tie flies and fish during winter, and the
possibility of a combination fly fishing and dove shooting trip to
Argentina. We'll see what happens.
After finishing we said our goodbyes
and thanks, told a few more jokes about Sven and Olga and got in the cars to
leave. Ben, Frank and I returned to the shop aglow from the lovely time we'd
had with our delightful guests.
I know I came away with a renewed love
of teaching fly fishing, which is the case after every class or session I
teach. I'm looking forward to more time with Everette, Carroll, Mike, Jeff,
George and Jack in the near future, and hope their retirements are full of
life, fun and fly fishing.
If anyone reading this has a group of
friends and would like to have a similar experience, please contact me at
angler@peakpeak.com I'd enjoy doing
this sort of thing as a team-building exercise for business folk or as an
enjoyable outing for family and friends. Please let me know.