High Country Lakes

I met up with Jamie (slowdown), Jacob (lostlure), Jim (Silent_Light) and Jim's son, Sam, to head out to the high country for some cutthroats. The high country above Boulder (Indian Peaks) is still covered in snow and its lakes are still iced over, so we headed West in order to access some Southern facing lakes.

This was my first trip to lakes above tree line so I was psyched. The lakes that are 12,000 ft. and higher tend to have bigger cutts and this place was no exception. The upper lake was filled with brightly colored cruising bruisers (why Cameron, what an elegant alliteration) that incidentally had very little interest in eating our flies. Out of the five of us there was only a single cutty landed in the roughly 6 hours we were there, and there was no shortage of experience among us.

However, the beauty of the location trumped the fishing by a long shot and made the experience one I will never forget. I found myself repeatedly gawking at the panoramic vista surrounding the lake. The beauty was overwhelming at times and left me trying to convince myself that I was, in fact, really there.

I accidentally left my camera in the truck when I jumped into Jamie's ride. Luckily, Jamie and Jim brought their cameras and took some awesome photos. Some of the photos are not full quality due to file size optimization for sending through email.

The group making our way through the mountains

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Jamie and I broke ahead and took this photo of Jim and Jacob from way above. They are the specs in the grass just below the snow and scree.
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Some scenery(click to zoom)

A quiet moment of fishing(click to zoom)

Some critters:
Yellow Bellied Marmot

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Rocky Mountain Chipmunk(click to zoom)

Pika

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The sole cutty (duped by Jamie).(click to zoom)

After leaving the lakes we pulled over on a small creek and took our pent-up angler anguish out on some innocent brookies. Catching the 4-6 inch babies felt a lot better than it should have. Jamie and I both agreed that the creek evoked some nostalgia of fishing the tight runs in Virginia.

Jim and Jamie, thanks for the great job with the photos!

Bushwacking For Mountain Lakes

Arrived at Brainard Lake (just to park, not to fish Brainard) around 07:00 with Nick and Henderson and set out with the topo map/compass for a set of unnamed lakes that I had been fantasizing about all week. This was my first "off the path" lake hunt.(click photo to enlarge)

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There were 3 foot snow drifts all throughout the woods to climb over, and lots of pooling snow melt, but just fine for hiking with waterproof boots (which Nick didn't have - more on this later).

We followed a trail for roughly 2 miles, and then turned off the path to get to the first lake. Right about the time that I was beginning to second guess exactly where I was leading these trusting companions, the first lake revealed itself through the dense pine forest.

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The lake proved to be a bit shallow and, subsequently, devoid of trout. If these high mountain lakes are too shallow they will freeze all the way through over the winter - killing any potential fish population. It sure was beautiful though, and it bore the gift of a new species of bird.

We got to see a pair of Lesser Scaup ducks quietly swimming in their private paradise. The photo came out a bit blurry, but the male had an amazing blue bill.

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After setting our bearings with the compass for a minute we set out for the backup destination. This lake had and inlet and an outlet which is always a good indicator for the likelihood of trout to be present. Sure enough, it had some depth in the middle and rising trout creating smoothly expanding rings of ripples.

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The brookies were ego-boostingly willing. It was a one-fly day with a #14 gray Adams. I don't think it really mattered what fly was on the end of the line. As long as the presentation was acceptable the little guys bit.

We got a #20 black midge hatch to my delight which kicked up the action for about an hour. You can see the blurry outline of the midges in the bottom of the following picture along with all the rise forms on the water.

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Midges mating in the trees by the shore. (click photo to enlarge)

During, and after, the mating ritual some of the bugs will fall, exhausted, into the water. This is the "spinner" phase and this is what the trout were feasting on.

I went over to the inlet of the lake which was a steady flow of collected snow melt. This brookie was under the impression that he was a river trout as he coasted in the easy current in no more than 4 inches of water.(click photo to enlarge)

On the way back I was feeling very chipper about my navigational skills so I decided to take a short cut through the woods back to the trail instead of following the outlet stream like we did on the way in. It's the way the stories of people getting lost, mutinying and separating, and then curling up and dieing alone in the woods always start.

So we get to this field that I knew the trail was on the other side of and start to cross. However, the field is a low-land and is flooded with runoff and, guess what?, Nick doesn't have waterproof boots.

We decide to just walk along the edge of the field to "get around it". After about 45 min. the field ceased to be a field and graduated into the realm of endless wetland. It had this magical way of arching inward so that the alleged "end" could never be spotted. We finally got to a section that was manageable and crossed.

On the back side there was no trail, lots more pools of melting snow, and lots less waterproof boots on Nick's feet!

We had a good idea of where we were. The worst case scenario wasn't becoming lost, it was the prospect of a much longer hike than necessary. After about another half hour of slow bushwhacking the distinct track of the trail formalized with a blue blaze on a tree to boot. I boasted about how I knew exactly where we were the entire time and then started walking in the wrong direction on the trail.

Trip to VA

This post is long overdue, but it's just a quickie. I made my way home for my cousin's wedding which was held on a farm right next to Grey's Mountain Lodge in Virginia. The farm had the rose river running through it and was a highly maintained, stocked stream loaded with rainbows and some brookies.

It was pretty much fish in a barrel, but it was still fun to see these bows charge out of the water to swallow a big hopper.

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The landowner charges $75 a day to fish this stretch. I suppose if you have the $ and don't get to fish very much it's worth it.

Singin' River Ranch

Boy did I hit the jackpot over memorial day weekend! A co-worker of Henderson's had mentioned that her family possesses 150 acres in Evergreen, CO. Oh, and by the way, upper bear creek runs directly through it and cycles water through 4 ponds. It's called The Singin' River Ranch. It's All. Private. Water.

BOOYAH!

Henderson, Claudio (Henderson's roomate), Steph, Caitlin (her Ranch), Nate (Caitlin's BF), Mark (Henderson/Caitlin's co-worker), Michael's daughter, Rufus (150lb. great dane) and I head to the property on Sunday with the intentions of grilling and riding Claudio's 2 brand new Yahama quads (one of which is a YFZ-450 *drool*) all day.

As a deduction sheerly from the name of this blog one should be confident that I also brought along a not-so-secret agenda of fishing the hell out of those ponds.

I roll up about 11:00 right as they are unloading the quads, do a crude recon of the drainage basin section of the property on said quads, and then get down to business and wet a line.

There were spaced out, lazy risers. I recall chuckling to myself under the belief that the fishing was going to be a cake walk. After casting some dries 'just to see' I quickly broke down and strayed to the dark side of fishing streamers.

I tie on a purple woolly bugger that I've been eager to bust out. It's a variation I've recently started tying.

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Fun fact:

This same pattern put Nick into his personal best trout back in October at Gross Reservoir on its inaugural appearance. The video of that can be seen here.

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There are three ponds in a row on Eastern side of the ranch. The water comes out of bear creek, into the first pond, which drains into the second, which drains into the third, which in turn drains back into bear creek. This keeps the ponds cool and allows the cold water fish to survive.

I immediately spot a healthy brown down on the bed of pond 2. I creep up, cast ahead of him, and wait as the fly and line begin to sink. Just a moment after the fly descends out of sight into the deeper murk I feel a tap on the line. I tighten the line; it's heavy and rapidly pulsating.

This guy just sulked in the depths of the pond in an outright objection to his current situation. Then he took a few deep runs just spooling my line off. After weathering those initial surges, I'm able to work him into the still and clear water up closer to the surface.

He would open his mouth and display rigorous fits of head-shakes in which I could see the bright white of the inner mouth and throat. I was starting to get nervous because his technique looked very efficient and I mash all my barbs on my hooks.

I finally get him close and scoop him up in the net. He was still full of fight!

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This guy is a wild brown through and through. I later talked to a fellow who was a friend of the ranch's care-taker who said that the ponds went about 10 years with no one fishing them.

The rest of the day I got no action at all except for a cliche "big one that got away". It's true though! He was double the size of the other one I caught, TRIPPLE I tell you! He scooped up my fly from the deepest hole there, bolted to the surface, rolled, and snapped my line all before my jaw had enough time to drop at the sight of the big gold flash underwater. That brown lifted my spirits and then crushed my soul all within the blink of an eye. I just kind of bent over and made a pathetic groaning noise for a while.

The worst thing about it wasn't that I didn't have the reaction time to roll with the punch; I was actually proud that such a nice fish took an experimental crayfish design that I had tied. The worst thing was that it made the brown that I landed earlier all of a sudden feel small.

I took a few breaks from fishing to ride the quads up the sheer mountain trails. That 450 YFZ is sick! I have a whole new respect for quads now. I'll post pictures of us blowing through streams and hitting jumps once I get them from Henderson.

After the long day and a camp fire we all decided we wanted to stay overnight. Caitlin had offered for everyone to stay at her Grandparent's house just up the road. They were out of town and there were beds for everyone. She's one cool and gracious chick. She even hooked Henderson, Claudio and me up with "Singin' River Ranch" tee shirts for the next day!

Unfortunately, it rained on memorial day. The bright side was that the drizzle made riding the quads much better. There were no more dust clouds streaming off the rear wheels, and they got much better balance and traction in the softer ground.

On the fishing front for Monday - I lipped and lost one brown.

I would have stayed there all day despite the rain but most everyone was cold, muddy, and soaked from riding so it was time to go. I had such a good time and can't wait to go back. I'll bring my waders and fish the creek section up to the 4th pond at the west edge of the property next time. I'll be camping on the property and night fishing next time as well.

I'll post all the pics as soon as I get them. Tight lines.

South Platte / Spinney add-ons

The intense and exhausting day at Spinney was a day to remember. The fabulous fishing overshadowed the mention of all the small details that I enjoy so much while being outdoors. I barely mustered the patience to post the pictures of antelope and the bluebird.

Lets get right to it. While Saturday was a poor day for angling, I got to see TWO new species of bird.

Darting every which way over the water flashing their iridescent black backs and contrastingly white bellies were Tree Swallows. It was hard to get a very close look at them because they were changing direction and zipping by so rapidly. These little guys kept drawing my eye off the water just to see them flip and dance through the sky.

Next to make an appearance was a White-Faced Ibis. It was a really cool wading bird that didn't let us get very close to it without taking off. Grey body with a burgundy belly and a long curved down, thin bill.

At Spinney on Monday there were White Pelicans flying around with smaller trout hanging out of their mouths. Pelicans in Colorado? Sure, why not.