St. Vrain Angler News & Muse July 19, 2005

Greetings!

It's another day in paradise my friends. We're communicating via the written word, sent via the who-knows-how-it works internet. I hope you are well. Thanks to all of my new friends who signed up for the weekly missive. Please remember that I'll always answer if you send me a note or question. Share any pictures or fishing stories you'd like, and I'll share a few of them with your fellow readers. There are now 3881 of you on the mailing list. Thanks for staying on board!

My heart and mind are full this week; it will be interesting to see how this issue unfolds and gets put down on paper, so to speak.

It is raining here this morning - the third day in a row of moisture and cooler temperatures, which are good things for critters, stream temps and flows, bugs and so on. You know, the stuff that interests the likes of us. I'm not sure how a break from the heat that we've had really works, but I'm cool, and that's a first. Just ask my kids.

Last week was hot! We had multiple days over 100 degrees. On Friday I did a guided trip with Dale and Tom from Oklahoma. Dale's been a college professor for forty years, and Tom a teacher of languages at a private school for many years. Somehow, they are related. Dale was out doing research for a paper he said he'd like to "put to bed" before he retires, which will be in two years or so. He was having problems walking and couldn't stay in the sun too long. We rented private water on the Big Thompson for the afternoon and had a fine time.

When we started it was hot - my arms got burnt, and still hurt a bit. That's what happens when you roll your shirt sleeves up to get some sun and get too much. Oh well. This too shall pass. I wanted to get Dale into a spot where he could both stand and fish, and Tom really wanted me to spend some time with Dale as well. We waded to a shallow spot and began by swinging a soft hackle wet fly through a riffle. Within a few drifts Dale hooked a nice healthy brown trout and was very happy. So were Tom and I. After a picture Dale said he needed to rest for a bit so Tom and walked downstream to fish some faster water. As I said, it was hot and bright and I didn't think the fish would be feeding much.

Still, Tom wanted to learn about casting, drifting, mending and bugs. We had plenty to do.

The water we fished had a combination of riffles, runs and pockets. I love fishing pockets and often think that fish will hang in roily water when it is hot because there is more oxygen in the water, which makes the fish more comfy. As we know, comfy fish are happier than those who are distressed, and happy fish who are comfy will often eat flies when the neighbors who are not happy will not eat.

I know there have been some Green Drakes hatching on the Big Thompson and always figure that even sparse hatches will bring fish to the surface. Since we're trying to fool them anyway, and at this time there were very few bugs on the water or in the air - even the bugs had the sense to get out of the sun for crying in a ditch! - I figured it would take a big bug to attract a greedy trout.

And so it was in this case. A large rainbow came to the surface an intercepted the Drake Fake we'd attached to the leader. The sad affair - and this is the bane of guiding to a certain degree - was that Tom did not see the fly, so did not see the fish take it. Ah; fly fishing. Oh well.

We continued fishing across the stream through the pocket water, then headed downstream and across to a really great looking riffle. I love spots like this one and always expect fish to be there waiting for my fly to fool them. In this case, the fish had the last laugh, albeit the temporary last laugh since we'd come back to this spot later and hook many of them. Hee, hee.

It was time to check back on Dale. Tom and I sat for a minute - both of his wading shoes had a major flat tire, so he used a pair I had in the truck - and had a drink of water and a snack. The sun was moving behind the mountains to the west and the light was dimming. A few more bugs became active.

Dale and I headed back to the river and he hooked a few more trout. After getting him into a comfortable rhythm of casting and fishing Tom and I headed upstream to some very nice looking water. A minute later Tom hooked a lovely brown on a dry fly. His smile speaks volumes concerning the happiness he felt. We fished through more water, moving a few more fish while we continued to work on casting and mending skills. It was fun.

Tom continued upstream and I headed back down to see how Dale was doing. We talked about many things. He hooked a few more fish on dries. It continued to get darker and the fish became more active. Several mallard hens argued over who's brood was who's.

Ducks are a funny bunch, and these girls were no exception. They harassed each other, swam around together, chased each other from one spot to another and so on. Dale missed a few fish that took the fly during the duck festivities and then settled down to hook a few more. Tom rejoined us. Dale said he needed another rest, so I helped him up the bank and back to the truck. Tom broke out a Dale's Pale Ale and Dale settled in to spend some time with his namesake brew.

Tom and I headed back to our riffle and he hooked several nice trout on flies. It was fun. While few fish were rising in this spot, they would come to the surface to take his fake. We missed a few more good fish but sometimes that's how it goes out on the water. Tom said he'd learned lots about the water and bugs, as well as casting and mending.

Dale was done; his waders off, another barley pop open. All of us loaded up and headed to Drake to eat, but we were late - we'd fished an hour-and-a-half beyond our finish time - and the restaurant was closed. They headed back up the hill while I drove back to Longmont. Saturday would be a busy day in the shop, after all.

The rising moon was something to behold. I didn't know it was where it was as I drove through the hog backs to the south from 34. At the sharp turn to the east, though, there she was, beginning her tour through the night sky, reminding me to stop and look for a few moments.

Little did I know the surprise that awaited me at home. It was not the surprise I'd hoped to find, that's for sure.

Earlier that day one of Brittany's friends had taken Max, the chowderhead Golden Retriever, from Drake to Longmont. He was in the house. Shan and Jess were somewhere else. My nephew William was at the house to borrow golf clubs. I was just coming around the corner, my heart full from the trip with Dale and Tom and the thoughts floating around about how much I loved my family, friends and fly fishing.

When I pulled up, William and Kate, his girlfriend, were walking along the street with a flashlight looking for something. Shan was getting out of the car and Jessica had a sad look on her face.

"What's going on?" I asked.

"Max just got hit by a car," said Shan.

Great. Just what we all needed; another dead dog.

Someone had opened the door to the house and Max had done his sneaky little move where he puts his head down and moves towards the open door, then darts out. In this case the dart across the street coincided with a car that was traveling at precisely the right speed and manner to arrive in the spot that Max was crossing the road. According to the young lady who hit him - not her fault at all, mind you; Shan heard the THUMP - all she saw was this "enormous animal slamming into the front of the my car, then legs and tail flying through the air."

The guys down the street saw him jump up and run off. We looked for him for hours, then headed to bed. He'd never not come back after running in the past.

Next morning we searched more. I had to head to the shop early, so Shan and Jess started the search; call the pound; look around the neighborhood. I fully expected to find him dead in a heap somewhere in the high grass across the road. Jess was very sad. Later, in the shop, Patrick and his daughter heard about it and said they'd go and search. They joined Jess and Shan for several hours. No Max.

I called Shan at about 3:30 and asked her to call the pound again. She did. Did they have a Golden Retriever in jail?

Yep. Seventy-one dollars later we had Max back. While he is a bit sore he seems none the worse for wear, and seems to be looking forward to hitting the fields and hunting for birds.

And why was Max at the house? As you know, he's been spending most of his summer with Rachel in Estes at the shop. And he's been pretty good, for a dog. On Friday morning Rachel left for a three day, two night hiking backpacking trip into the Park, and the other girls at the cabin decided he'd be better off back at home. Fine.

Rachel and a couple of Park fellows headed to Paradise Park. I'm still not sure where this is, but she'll tell you all about it. Here are some pictures she took of the trip that I'd like to share with you. They are lovely and remind us of the beauty we may behold if only we'll open our eyes and look.

Kid's 'n fish continues to be a charming note.

One of the reasons I enjoy being in this business is this: when folks get into fly fishing and learn to love and appreciate the outdoors in a new way they usually take on a voice of compassion and care concerning the environment.

When we see kids fishing and enjoying it - they are almost always smiling, after all - we can hope that they will also learn to speak for common sense concerning the environment, clean water and air and picking up after themselves and an idiot who left trash out there.

Our friend Bob K from Omaha, Nebraska shared this shot of his son with a lovely trout. Cool beans.

Yesterday I was out with our new friend Dale S, who took classes last weekend and decided he needed to go fishing with me yesterday to learn a bit more, when we met up with Kenny from Macon, Georgia. Kenny was with his mom and dad, sister, and grandpa and grandma on a family vacation. Kenny was wading the river while the family sat in comfy chairs watching from the bank.

I walked over and asked him to show me his rig. He had big knots and a big fly on. I repaired the leader and tied on a parachute caddis. Within a few casts Kenny hooked his first trout on a fly rod. Cool beans again.

I got yes sir-red to death! Yes sir, I did.

Speaking of Georgia, I heard from our friend Bob down that way and he shared the following pictures, which speak volumes. What type of fly shop do you prefer? Just curious. Nice fish, Bob.

While Dale and I were out yesterday, and after our fishing, which was interesting to say the least, we headed to the Forks Inn at Drake for a burger and got to talking. He mentioned that selling was not something he felt at all comfortable doing and I said something back that I've thought about for some time. This is what I said:

"If we as consumers understood more about sales we'd be better consumers."

He agreed with the statement. Well, I decided then and there that I was going to start writing a section on the web page about sales and what it is in hopes of helping all of my reader be better consumers. If this carries over to your fly fishing purchasing, that will be even better.

In addition to the stories and pictures above, here are a few more from a Guided Trip we did on Saturday in the Park. Enjoy.

Please do not miss out! The fishing is really very good at this time, and our guides await your arrival so they can share their passion for fly fishing, trout, flies and teaching you how to enjoy all of the above.

Please call 800-586-2110 for the Estes Angler or 303-651-6061 for the St. Vrain Angler to register for a guided trip! Thanks!

It's Summertime.

The fishing is fine.

It's time to get out.

Please, go soon; then again.

Well, Ryan and Chris are at it again. Here are their weekly specials for this week. They will expire on Saturday at 4PM. Thanks for taking advantage of what makes sense for you.

1. Purchase one of the following and receive a $20.00 gift certificate towards your next purchase:
   Patagonia Watermaster LT Waders
   Ross Cimarron Fly Reel
   Lamson Radius Fly Reel
   Lamson Velocity Fly Reel

2. Purchase one of the following and receive a $30.00 gift certificate towards your next purchase:
   Patagonia Watermaster Waders - now in stock!
   Ross Evolution Fly Reel
   Lamson Lightspeed Fly Reel                  Back To Top

THANKS! to everyone who's visited the shops during the past week. I genuinely appreciate your support and wish you the best as you use the flies, leaders, tippet and gear you get from the shops. Thanks to everyone who's taken a class or guided trip, too.

Well, that's about it for this week. I do hope this finds you well.

An interesting thing happened while Dale and I fished the Big T last evening. We'd hoped to hit the water earlier. It was overcast and cool and the water had cleared from the deluge that had hit the evening before, which kept Scott and I off the water and across the street eating blueberry cobbler with ice cream, whipped cream and a cherry on top. The river was pure mud.

But cooler temps and clear water combined with spitting rain ought to bring the fish out, right?

Dale and I headed up the canyon to an area I enjoy fishing. It was still raining so we put on rain jackets and waded into the water. Once again I decided to try the ubiquitous Green Drake. In the first few casts to fast water two fish tried to take it and either refused it or missed it - I don't know which. Anyway we headed downstream.

There were a few fish rising. Know what they were eating? Very small mayflies. I'll bet these bugs were size #24 and they were not tricos; at least they didn't look like them to me. A little later there were spinners for the bugs, so small as to be almost invisible. Oh well. It was tough.

We expected size #12 Green Drakes and got size #24 specks. Oh well.

We did hook a few fish - one nice rainbow was sitting on a lip current and ate the wet fly emerger we fed it. Other fish rose to our dry and missed it or we missed hooking up. Who knows.

Sometimes the greatest expectations are exceeded, and at other times they are thrown back in your face in spite of what seem to be perfect conditions. Oh well.

Live goes on, and we should all do more fishing, reading, loving and mentoring. Say something nice to someone today; make them listen by kind persistence.

I wish you the best. Talk with you again next week.

Dale Darling - the old, tall fat guy who is grey-bearded.