Category Archives: Deckers

Back to the Dream Stream and Deckers

Another weekend of fly fishing over the weekend in the books. I’m off to a decent start to 2013 and hitting close to 100 days on the water. Not too shabby to hit a number like that while working a nine to five during the week. Most people in my shoes would be jealous.

Charlotte had a good weekend on the water. Not so much in terms of Saturday’s outing to the Dream Stream. It seems that Dream Stream is either productive or the complete opposite a lot of times. We stuck to deep pools, as is customary for the winter time when the fish dig down deep. After a migraine-level headache, I was ready to be done with the day. I remembered why I no longer stay out late on Friday nights. Lesson re-learned. Of course I managed to escape a day of no fish. I pulled a small brown on our way out. Charlotte ended up with no fish on the day, but still had fun. Or so she claimed. I’ll go with she had a good time being outside. The dog finally wasn’t much of a imposition on the water. That’s rare since he’s still a year old.

Now for Sunday. Winter is fun because you can sleep in, make breakfast and still hit ‘prime time’ on the water. I knew that Deckers would be the warmest of the South Platte River areas we typically fish. It was true. By the time we arrived at around 11:00 AM, already a shade above forty degrees. With Superbowl parties and such yesterday, it was a planned two hour trip. We spent just as much time in the car traveling there and back.

With warmer temperatures comes the inevitable crowds. Mostly from Denver it always seems. Scooting through the crowded river, we landed up back the first bend in a bit more of rugged terrain. Deep pools? Yep. I was pretty sure it would be a ‘no-dice’ day. I was wrong, thankfully. I never like taking Charlotte with projections of a possible skunking. We found our hole. I set Charlotte up initially with a three fly rig. Midges and emergers. I had heard about a faint Blue Winged Olive hatch that people had been reporting. Sure enough, we saw it come off. Throwing a three fly rig for a newer person to fly fishing comes with one big issue. Tangles. Charlotte had one of those delights early on. Then it was moving to a two fly rig, a little more manageable for the newcomer.

The deep pools in the area can produce some nice fish. We found our deep pool as far as we could get up without risking a fall down below. I’m glad the guy above us gave in and moved lower. I sat back for a bit after showing Charlotte where she would want to target her casts. She’s getting better every trip on her casts. Nymphing seems to be easier for her without false casting for her.

I made sure to get some long leaders and leave the strike indicators out of the pictures. Loading up on weight to sink the rigs down in the water column. I had almost given up on the fishing. After all, besides hearing about a BWO hatch and the possibility of the Brown Trout being on the up and up, I had heard a day before that it was slow fishing. That’s to be expected in early February. I was happy to be spectating and have Charlotte hit a fish early on in that pool.

She likes to hook fish and then say, “Oh my God, what do I do now?” I respond immediately, “Well, you do what you’ve been doing. Tip up on the rod. Let him take line if he needs it. Don’t lose that fish! It could be the only one on the day!”

20130204-092631.jpgI grabbed the rod to show her what I meant. This fish meant a lot to me too. If it was the only one, I didn’t want it to slip off and bury itself back in the pool. I had told her the previous week that she’ll be ecstatic on her first brown trout. She was. A nice fish of about 12″ or so. Beautifully colored, as they always are. She missed a few more fish and got another one to net. Proud doesn’t clearly describe the feeling of getting someone into some fish. I hooked two myself and had them right up at net.

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Those two are counting, but Charlotte came out ahead at the end of the day. She’s beaten my dad on the river, my regular fishing partner Eric and me now. Hurt pride balanced with the satisfaction of having her catch fish. In all fairness, or more so to make myself feel better, I was guiding her. I told myself that.

 


Next week comes the Frostbite Fish Off. Hopefully we can get some decent sized fish.

-Justin

 

 

 

With a late start to the day on the water, I was not looking forward to what would have been the hordes of anglers over Memorial Day weekend at Deckers. Surprisingly enough, it was vacant by normal standards. We headed up there around 10:30 AM which is about three hours or so later than I normally would like to head out on a Saturday. I’m not sure where the crowds were fishing, but I’m glad we chose Deckers for our destination.

With the Subaru all loaded up with fishing gear, we cruised through the scenic highway of 24 out past Woodland Park, Colorado.

Much to my surprise, the parking lot right above the bridge were relatively empty. I would say, perhaps there were four cars. I thought it was a tad bit odd that there wasn’t more. After all, it was Memorial Day weekend. Now, to be fair about it, this can be either a good sign or bad one; often bad. When you consider that most people have off on the upcoming Monday, the stream reports must not have been an open invitation to catch fish. I did not check those prior to going, nor did I following the day of fishing.

With three hours of the occasional stalking of trout and fishing blind into deep pools, it began to appear as if the fish had moved out of reach of us. You could see the occasional shadow move quickly in and out of sight, but it was not looking too positive. A grim outlook if you rely heavily, as I do, in seeking out fish to fish to. For years I’ve left my flies in the hook keeper until I’ve found fish. I suppose this may be a stubborn endeavor of sorts.

I had, after a while, figured this may be one of those rare occurrences of coming up empty handed. Before I gave up out of frustration I managed to see something promising fifteen feet away, in front of a large rock.

Sure enough I had found my target. Forty-five minutes passed as I dangled an assortment of flies in front of what had seemed to be a healthy sized rainbow. The final fly that did the trick was a black beauty midge. I’ve become quite adept at tying this simple, yet effective, fly.

In hindsight, it pays off to stay focused and not give in to frustrations. A few times during the forty five minutes, I wanted to pack it in. I kept making excuses as to why this particular fish was not interested in anything I put in front of it. My sometimes stubborn nature won out and I brought him in. It was a good feeling of accomplishment that I had stayed the course and avoiding the skunking.

As we packed up to head back to town, it also dawned on me that I had a rather unfortunate situation on my hands, leaky waders! After two or more years with my current waders, they had finally produced a leak. Taking off the boot of the right one, I was able to turn it upside down and spill a water bottle amount out of them. Unfortunate, but fixable. A week has gone by and I’ve yet to look into this failure of my gear. What can someone expect after the frequent trips using these waders?

A backup pair are now in my arsenal and I will eventually fix my favorite pair.

First Camping Trip of 2012

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After an extremely productive week in the real world, I had an itch to disappear for a couple of nights. The idea was to go up to a campsite along Highway 67 for Friday and Saturday night. The actuality was that I spent that Friday night cutting loose a little bit after a very strict schedule. From Sunday night through Friday morning, it was in bed by 9:30 PM and up at 4:45 AM, everyday. Luckily as I write this on Monday night, I’m on pace for another one of those structured weeks that a guy like me needs in order to get things done.

I woke up Saturday with the sole intent on dragging a buddy or two into my early-season camping excursion. It wasn’t much of a trip, only one night, but it was worth every minute. I got shot down by each of them to drop everything and head up to the high country. I arrived at Platte River Campground not knowing if I truly had all of my camping gear. For car camping trips off of the mountain highways, I tend to bring my backpacking gear as well as a few additional nice to haves since I wouldn’t be hiking longer than a hundred feet to my site.

There was a lot of campsites occupied, no doubt due to the unseasonably warm weather in Colorado this past weekend. I was able to set up rather effortlessly and the eight-dollars worth of steaks I picked up went on the open fire as soon as I arrived. Next up was the three-man backpacking tent that I got last summer for a trip that needed a lot less man-age to it- It works great for car camping for me now.

These early trips by myself are great in that they make you really appreciate the beauty of the outdoors, and more importantly to me, Colorado. I cannot tell you how many times I’ve slipped away, up Highway 24, for a night or two of camping by myself. The developed sites off the road are good in early spring when your outdoor nerves have been numbed by months spent indoors during the winter. There’s at least a few other campsites typically setup and it doesn’t have the creepy essence of going solo early on in the season- At least for me. By late summer, back-country by yourself is amazing- True solitude and a primal sense to it.

After a night of writing, listening to music and sitting by the fire; I awoke to frost covering just about everything. A chilly reminder that it is, in face, still March. After failed attempts (three of them) to get up and moving, I managed to get packed up in forty-five minutes. When I’m up there in the mountains, there’s always a definite… I went fly fishing. Instead of hitting the South Platte at Deckers, or even Cheeseman Canyon; I headed all the way back to the area I had come the day prior. I went to Elevenmile Canyon, my weekend home of sorts. I knew that a great camping trip, and the first of the year, should be accompanied with guaranteed bruised lips. The Canyon did not disappoint. I managed one small brown within four casts in an area few go early in the year. After that, it was up to the top to sight fish and get after bigger trout that I could see with vivid clarity. The one thing I’ve come to love about the top of Elevenmile Canyon is that you do not have to fish without actually seeing a fish. There’s a predatory feeling while walking the shallows in search of your target. It took me all of ten minutes to find a hole that I could see the flashes of red and white in the water surfacing. A few more casts in and it was on. A large twenty-inch-plus fish got fooled. I played him a bit, taking a pleasure only a fly-fisherman could love, in the bend of the rod. With a little theatrics to my motions while playing with this little engine that could, I landed him.

Wouldn’t you guess it… I left my camera in the car. Shameful, I know better. The rest of the time, I was just as productive, but no fish caught my fancy like that one had landed. It’s funny how after years of fishing; it’s the certain fish, the certain circumstances to which we remember.

-Justin