St. Vrain Angler News & Muse April 18, 2006!

Greetings!

Wow. Spring is sproinging - a word that you'll know spell check does not like at all - all around the town. All of a sudden flowering trees are covered with white and red flowers; our cherry trees are just starting to bud and that means plenty of cherry cobbler and pie - yum, yum - as well as birds feeding and chirping. Every morning happy birds accompany the new day's light with singing and delight.

Wow.

Certain streams are going to come up soon. They may come up fast. I've heard that the area below Winter Park - the Frasier and Colorado - are running high already. I know the Animas is high and brown - that runoff will end sooner because they have less snow pack. We're going to have to be observant concerning water levels for stream trout fishing, especially in the northern part of the state. This is required to monitor fishing conditions and safety. Please, be careful out there.

When stream begin to rise they often become discolored with old debris that gets loosed and washed from banks. In addition to the spring cleaning bugs, worms and lots of other food organisms also get washed into the water and fish feed with vigor.

The fish are feeding. Reports are coming in from the Big T, Poudre, South Platte, Park, Arkansas and so on. Call a local shop before you go to be sure of water conditions; get flies from me! OK?

Big T: midges - including Dale's Midge Adult - and Blue Winged Olives. Basic nymphs will work, too. Water is low at this time; may change any day.

Poudre: Fish are taking a few adult mayflies; probably midges higher on the river; golden stone nymphs and caddis larva will always work up there; I like an Adams - how about you?

South Platte - depends on which stretch. Midges; small mayflies; small early brown stoneflies; a few caddis; something orange and shaped sort of in a circle, kind of like an....the name really escapes me, but they work.

Arkansas: while caddis will be the craze, late afternoon olive mayflies will also emerge. If you don't carry a golden stone nymph and probably a Royal Wulff, you could be arrested. At least Canon City is close....

Do you have a report? Want to share it with a friend? Please do so, and send pictures.

I had the privilege to guide several groups last week. We had fun. Each day was different. I got burnt to a crisp on Wednesday and Friday, and about froze on Saturday, with blowing snow and so on. Still, all of us had fun, folks hooked fish and, best of all, I'm pretty sure everyone learned about reading the water, casting, presenting the fly and hooking, playing, landing and releasing beautiful trout.

Wednesday was at Longmeadow. The day began with low, clear water. The fish were taking flies - they seemed particularly fond of red Copper John nymphs; interesting, that. Then the water started to rise. It began getting murky; there was lots of debris in the water; the fish were going nuts, eating stuff from right under the surface to near the bottom, flashing about and throwing caution to the wind.

When water starts to rise, change to a slightly larger and brighter fly. Orange is pretty darned good some of the time. If you like using a worm imitation, try one that is pink or orange; the fish will see it and they will take it. Localized waters have patterns that work best. If the hooking up is slow, change flies quickly. Never forget that presentation is very important. If the fly is not in the right spot the fish won't see if; if they don't see if, they won't eat it. Ok?

Troy, Steve and Scott all caught fish. I think they learned quite a bit. Steve us going to take his son to Boxwood this Sunday and I'm looking forward to fishing with him again. The first fish that Steve caught took at black beetle; imagine that. Plenty of fish were hooked and a find time was had by all.

The higher, off-color water was a challenge for all of us, that's for sure. The fish were tough to see; the spots we were used to casting to and so on changed shape; fish moved. Still, we kept trying, casting, changing flies and techniques and so on. More fish were hooked; a few were lost. Memories that will never fade were made.

On Friday my friend Jack brought his sons, Mike and Mark, and son-in-law, Tom, to Boxwood. After I wrote about a trip I did with another Jack and his son Eddie in December, this Jack called me and said, "Dale, I need to take the boys down there to fish. Could we go now?"

I suggested we wait, and wait we did. We met for breakfast; ate and drank some coffee, told a few lies, just to get things started on the right foot, you see, and headed to the river. Everyone was chomping at the bit.

Jack is now 79. After his recent birthday he said Mark asked him, "Well Dad, how's it feel to be 79?"

Jack said, "Better than staying on 78." Jack likes living. He likes fishing. He loves his family.

We started in a spot that's relatively easy to wade. Mark went his own way, deciding to use streamer patterns, which he loves fishing, and Tom went down the other bank with John Hagen, who was guiding with me this fine day. Mike waded in just below where Jack and I stood and we all started fishing.

Within a few minutes Tom had a fish. Then Mark had one. Then Tom had another. Then Mark. Mike was looking at me like something was wrong, and Jack was smiling, telling stories about the boys and making very good casts that were not resulting hooked fish. I don't know if he would have hooked a fish anyway, what with all the banter we shared. That's how it has been for the past 25 years with us.

"Where did we meet, anyway, Dale?"

"It was at the fly shop in Boulder about 1982," I said.

"You mean back at the old Western Angler?"

"No. It was closed by then; this was at Front Range when it first opened."

"I sure liked that Dick Reeves; what a fine gentleman he was."

And so on.

Plenty of fish were hooked by the time Jack announced, "It's time for lunch boys." He was ready for a break.

John and I told all of them to keep fishing it they wanted, and we headed back to the clubhouse to cook chow. We had a slab of salmon and chicken - funny chickens; they had three legs, three breasts and three thighs - what's up with genetics these days? - along with potato, broccoli and so on. When it was done we called the troops in and ate. Everyone was sunburned; everyone was hungry and thirsty; everyone was ready for a few cookies when the other chow was eaten. I think Jack was plenty happy with lunch as he followed it with a nap. All of his boys, including John and I, gave him a bit of a chuckle. When he opened his eyes while I was snapping pictures he had a smirk only an experience angler - and napper - could properly make. Maybe you know. If not, maybe you need more practice at both. There's always room for improvement, right?

After lunch John decided he needed some Jack time and Tom and Mike were ready to fish with me. (Mark was going fishing, regardless of what we did, or where we went.) We headed into the Oxbow, which behaves something like a cross between a spring creek and, well, an oxbow with shallow water that makes deep undercut banks and very deep holes. It holds large fish.

In the morning, Mike and I had worked on presenting the fly using some weight. The water was high and a little off color; it was also cold because it had come up so much. At first we were getting the fly to swing over the top of the fish. After a bit we got it to the bottom and the fish started taking it. Back in the Oxbow, I decide to work on the technique with Tom while Mike fished upstream about forty yards or so.

Tom was having the same problem, not quite getting the fly to the right spot and not getting the proper drift. The proper drift allows the fly to naturally drift into the front of a shoebox-shaped square that holds a hungry trout. We kept working together. When Tom made the right cast I held my breath. A fish took the fly. Tom set the hook.

"See? It works."

"It sure does," he answered.

The fish was lovely. A rainbow of about 18", I suppose.

Mike looked downstream at us; he had a minor grimace on his face.

"You hooking anything up there?" I said.

"No."

When I turned back, Tom was into another fish. There wasn't a trace of grimace on his face. As a matter of fact he was smiling.

"This really does work when you put the fly in the right spot!" He was happy.

Mike headed down to where we were. I checked his rig. We agreed it needed an adjustment. While tying something new on we both turned back to the water and Tom had another fish hooked! Mike's grimace and Tom's smile put the world in perfect balance, kind of like the frog with one foot in a boiling pot of water and the other in a glass of ice water who is, on average, comfortable, you see.

After we landed Tom's fish and took a couple of pictures Mike was ready to give it a shot. Tom, being the fine brother-in-law that he is - he married the man's sister, for crying out loud - let Mike into the hole. I don't suppose the fact the Mike could kick both of our comfortable butts had anything to do with it, but one never knows. And, would prefer to not find out.

After a couple of casts and little direction Mike hooked a good one. Then, he hooked another one. And then, another. The technique was working.

"You know what you guys?" I said. "That's it for this spot. We're going to leave the other fish here alone and see if we can find a few others somewhere else. You okay with that?"

They were. They are sportsmen who love and respect the oudoors; enough is enough.

"If we hooked too many more here we wouldn't have anything to remember other than our greed," I said. The agreed. "I don't think I'll every forget this hour of fishing. You guys were great!"

We spotted a Chukar feeding on some bugs; he was lovely to behold. Later, three deer grazed along the stream. One decided to go around Mark and cross the bridge - why did the doe cross the bridge? To get to the other side, of course - while the other two worried about it for some time, spooked themselves several times, tried to regain their majestic poses, then waded across downstream from Mark's position. I don't think Mark ever looked up.

Being busy fishing is a good invention.

I continue to ponder and pontificate within my head about this. It just bugs me. I'm going to continue to banter with you about it not so much to make anyone feel guilty or anything else, but to put new thoughts into our heads that we might consider how we shall live in this day and age.

I wonder. I've been reading a biography of Abraham Lincoln. What a man. There were lots of folks who didn't like him, thought he was too tall - I can relate to that - for his own health. He was apparently awkward. People called him homely, and ugly. One person, during the course of a campaign for a Senate position from Illinois, said something like when you look on him, after a bit he's not so much ugly as handsome, after a certain manner. I suppose that guy was a politician, too. Maybe he wanted a job; who knows.

Abe was firm in his conviction to uphold the Constitution, which he felt held hope for all mankind, and for the Declaration of Independence, which did likewise in intent.

Did you know that when Jefferson wrote the Declaration he said, .."life, liberty and the pursuit of property."? It's true. John Adams and Ben Franklin made him change it to the pursuit of happiness. It's one of the things that makes the US unique - we're the only ones who have that. Others have property, and so on, as their pursuit according to the writings of their documents.

I said all of that to say this. It is with sadness that I report the following idea, thought or question.

It strikes me that rather than exercising our right to Life we're operating out of rote, using technique - and probably technology - to make ourselves too busy to think.

It strikes me that we're after Security rather than Liberty. That one is really frightening to me. How about you? It seems that Liberty has certain dangers. When someone else's sense of liberty crosses another's there are times when temporary chaos ensues. Liberty takes chances. The most secure one can be is in prison, where there is no liberty - there might be justice, but that's for another time.

And maybe Jefferson was a prophet of sorts. He said pursuit of Property, and that seems to be what folks pursue - more stuff. And more; and then more.

Rote, Security and Property.

It just doesn't have the same ring as Life, Liberty and Happiness.

Anyone else out there have any thoughts on this one? I wonder. These ideas are convicting for me. I wonder if there's anything one can do - might say - to influence the flow of history. Abe did it; Adams, Franklin and Jefferson certainly played a role in it.

As he traveled to Washington on his way to a new job, Lincoln was harassed by folks who wanted to make compromises with the South. Congress was trying to figure out how to keep Southern states from seceding from the Union. Many options were discussed. Folks asked Lincoln which compromise he would accept. He said something like this:

It's time to thrive in Life. To experience Liberty. To pursue Happiness.

One of the ways we do this - those of us writing, and those of us reading - is by fishing.

Robert Traver said he loved to fish, "..not because it is so important, but because other endeavors or man are equally unimportant and not nearly so much fun."

When we're out there we get perspective. That's good. We realize how much we love those whom we indeed love. That's good. We realize how silly we are standing in a cold stream making hundreds of casts to try to fool a critter with a brain the size of our thumbnails. Take that one as you will. It's probably good; trout provide perspective that gives other activities meaning.

We're held hostage by fear; by the pursuit of more stuff; by habit; by media folks who want to make us more afraid while encouraging us to want more stuff, then guilty for using so much stuff while the rest of the world starves, or burns, or gets buried in rubble.

I guess I could go on; if you are still with me, thanks for reading.

I hope you will go fishing soon.

Then, go ahead and go again.

There's room in Saturday's Casting Class for you. That'll be fun.

There are open dates this week at Longmeadow and Boxwood. I'd sure like to take you fishing.

I don't philosophize out there; I just fish.