Archive for colorado fly fishing

Vail

Posted in Travel with tags , , , on October 21, 2012 by David McInerny

Vail is a different kind of Colorado town. Or maybe it’s the trend toward which the state has been evolving for awhile. I mean, there’s still the mountains and the improbably blue skies, organic diapers and walnut barley muffins. The local coffee-slash-book store still brews only free trade coffee from Politicallycorrectistan, and you can find the works of Maya Angelou in the Classic Books section. But if you look a little more closely, there next to Mother Earth News in the magazine rack is…really…the Financial Times. It’s then that you look around the coffee shop and see more earnest looking types than you used to, people who look like they have something more to do than just drink coffee.

You see eyes like those in Philadelphia and Dallas – the eyes of the businessmen and women trying to see around the next enterprising corner. Conversations are quiet and sincere, possibly revolving more around the raising of capital than shooshing through powder. Vail is becoming more than a ski resort town. Business names infer the infusion of software expertise, electrical engineering, and the global economy. And if the preponderance of the challenger’s political signs over the incumbent’s means anything at all, Vail is on the verge of another boom.

I’m passing through, however, and have embarked upon a much-ballyhooed fly fishing weekend. How many shades of green and brown comprise a Colorado autumn? Deep green of Aspens, dusty green of sagebrush-in-training for the dusty brown of tumbleweed. Copper plumes of rock spew from the openings of long defunct mines. Dead, pale grass merges with the soft yellow of maple leaves, all accentuated with the stark white of the frequent stand of birches. Rolling in an old pick-up through the towns of Rifle, No Name, and Buford. I’m in search of the right section of the White River that will reveal shin-deep water swirling around rocks and boulders smoothed by its relentless passing. A place to set up camp and a fire to cook a slab of trout or a bit of pork I’ve brought if my skills fail me, as they very often do.

No matter, though. I love Colorado and how its inhabitants and wildness welcome visitors. It’s going to be a cold night – in the 20’s – and I’m depending on a new sleeping bag, but first the rod will be strung and the ugly waders pulled on, and my eternal optimism shall be brought to bear upon the little pool beyond that riffle of water over there…

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Late Season Trout

Posted in Travel with tags , , , on October 2, 2012 by David McInerny

The thing about tent camping, especially in Colorado at higher altitudes in October, is to not forget anything that’s really necessary for comfort or, dare I say, survival if the weather turns quickly. Planning should be done from the personal level outward, meaning it’s essential to pack enough warm clothing, hand and foot warmers, and implements to build and keep a fire going before packing the truck with every conceivable assortment of fishing flies the river might hatch. I’m a visual person, so I literally pull out my gear onto the driveway and think of the camp in stages: I need to sleep…tent, mattress pad, 0-degree sleeping bag, fleece hat, fleece blanket, pillow…then I think about an iPod, a lantern and a book. Similarly, I think about eating…camp stove, matches, fry pan, water bag, dehydrated meals…then I worry about how many rods and reels to bring to catch a nice rainbow trout for dinner.

Certain must-haves are always in my truck – emergency clothing, including winter gear, a tarp for shelter, several knives, a rope and a first aid kit. I’ve never needed them, but that’s of course because they are there. The moment I remove them and embark on a long drive, you know what will happen.

The supreme upside about late season fishing is that most Colorado camp sites close at the end of October, so the summer crowds are long gone. The fish aren’t getting pounded every day with artificial flies and people in waders sloshing through their habitat, so relative fly-fishing rookies like me have a better chance to fool a rainbow on a less than perfect drift with a not quite perfect match to the hatch. The best part, of course, is spending a weekend with my cousin away from jobs to enjoy something we both love – being outdoors in Rocky Mountain solitude.

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Closing the Loop

Posted in Travel with tags , , on September 11, 2012 by David McInerny

I had a moment of panic this week when I realized, a) I haven’t been fly fishing in Colorado for four years and, b) I committed myself to getting out there this Fall, and my calendar is filling up with non-fishing activities. My panic was exascerbated by the joy I’m having reading John Gierach’s latest book on fly fishing in – you guessed it – Colorado. With trembling hands, I frantically opened my Colorado map and pulled up the Colorado Department of Wildlife website.

My goal is the area around Vail. I found a few sites where I can camp, because camping for me is part of the gig, but there are a few challenges. First, the only weekend I have open between now and Thanksgiving is a bit later than I originally wanted. Looking at average low temperatures for that week, 25 degrees F, I made a note to get a new sleeping bag that will allow me to truly sleep in the chill. Second, in an effort to avoid crowds, I’m looking at skinny water which will require me to cast accurately if I’m earnest about actually catching trout. It’s time to get into the back yard and work on tightening my casting loop. Oh, and the truck needs a tune-up. I really want to make the trip happen this year. The excitement is palpable.

There’s nothing like the bite of even a small trout on a dry fly. Or morning coffee in the dark amid the aspens, 5,000 feet above sea level. And eating the sandwich you made after breakfast while sitting on the bank at noon, planning strategy for the afternoon. And zipping up the tent at the end of the day, having made a spartan dinner by the fire, knowing you get to pull on the waders again in the morning. It makes climbing into the sleeping bag, opening a book, and giving up after ten minutes in bone-deep fatigue, worth hauling my aging butt out to Colorado with hopes for a single fish on the fire.

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