We
met at the house at ten till six and loaded the truck. It was full of gas
and ready for a road trip. Jack and Ed were ready to go, and so was I. The
plan was to drive to Bailey and meet my old buddy John Hagen for breakfast,
then head upstream to Boxwood Gulch
and see how the fishing would be.
As
we headed east on 119 into the rising sun a bird soared off to the north.
"What kind of bird is that, Dale," asked Eddie. All three of us looked. It
was a bald eagle heading out for breakfast. What a way to start the day.
Our discussion along the way was eclectic, as one would hope on the way to
fishing. Family. Business. Life. Hopes. Dreams. Fishing.
John had called on Christmas Day to let me know the ice was off the river;
at least for the most part. This section of the North Fork of the South
Platte had not been fished for some time and we speculated the fish might be
eating flies.
Our meeting point was the Cutthroat Cafe, a good name for a
breakfast
place along the river. John's lovely wife, Cindy, joined us. We talked, ate
and left for fishing.
Boxwood Gulch is the brainchild of Dan and he's done a wonderful job of
making this stretch of water an excellent fishery. Fishing is limited and
expensive here, but large fish cruise the depths and often come to the
surface to eat bugs. Dan loves seeing people hook fish and enjoy his
beautiful property; a smile is always on his face when he talks about the
fish, the folks and the angling fun.
After we walked around and looked at the water and the fish, we geared up,
tie on fresh leaders and tippet and two flies each. Eddie had some flies
he'd tied after one of the Midge Tying Classes and Jack just asked me to tie
two on that would work.
Jack and I scrambled down a snowbound bank into the water to fish a couple
of troughs that held fish. Eddie would fish upstream and below the bridge to
lots of large fish. We didn't know if they'd be eating yet or not, but there
were fish there and that was good enough.
The sky was clear and the sun warm on our backs. The water was
very cold, and fish lethargic. Still, it was beautiful. Jack and I worked on
making the right drifts and sometimes struggled with seeing where our fly
was. Then a very large rainbow rose along a bank! "Did you see that!" I
asked?
"No. I was looking somewhere else." that was fine.
"Just cast up along the snow bank and that overhanging bush; there are
several fish in there and one of them just ate something off the surface."
A
few minutes and several casts later Jack hooked a lovely rainbow. While we
were landing the fish in one of Boxwood's big rubber-bagged nets Eddie let
out a hoot. He was into a fish, too. After we landed Jack's fish I put the
digital zoom on the camera and took a picture of Eddie with his fish. It's
not the best picture, but his smile tells all.
around
here with colors, life, warmth and hope.
on a trout stream. I thought it was great for them to share this day
together and was pleased to be part of it. At one point I looked upstream
and thought that this was the third Christmas I'd celebrated without my dad.
The girls miss and mention him every year as he usually celebrated at our
house when they were growing up. Ah, the passage of time and rites of
passage. My focus quickly returned to Jack and the fishing.
