Time: 10:00AM – 4:00PM

Location: Pool across from large parking area .3 miles above MM12

Fish Landed: 29

Frying Pan River 09/06/2013 Photo Album

What did the Frying Pan River have in store for me on Friday September 6? Would it be another hot bright sunny day? Would I have to battle for prime space on the upper public water? Should I perhaps retreat to the water near the spring between mile markers 10 and 11 where I had a great day during my previous visit in August? The Frying Pan continues to amaze me, and Friday was certainly another different experience. How would Friday stack up against my other days on the Frying Pan River?

Thursday evening yielded several rain showers, one during my dinner, and then I retreated to the Santa Fe and listened to the first half of the Ravens vs. Broncos game. With the Broncos losing at halftime 17-14, I snuggled in my sleeping bag and fell asleep to the sound of the pitter patter of rain on the tent roof. I find this sound very relaxing and in a brief amount of time I was sound asleep. When I awoke on Friday morning the sky was blue and once the sun peeked over the hill to east of the campground, the moisture from the previous night’s rain burned off quickly. As I ate my breakfast and prepared my lunch I discovered that my ice supply was quite low, so this required a trip to Basalt to purchase more.

I loaded the car with my lunch and fishing gear and made the 14 mile drive to Basalt where I bought a 10 pound bag of ice at the liquor store and then stopped at Taylor Creek Fly Shop where I purchased five PMD imitations. My standby light gray comparadun did not seem to be producing as on previous occasions, so I decided to experiment with some locally recommended store bought flies. Next I called Jane to check in with her while in cell range, and she asked me to buy some M&M’s at the supermarket. Jane packed her car and drove to work and planned to make her departure from downtown Denver in the early afternoon.

By the time I returned to the upper Frying Pan it was 9:45AM but this was still earlier than my Thursday arrival so I decided to cruise the upper 2.5 miles in case there was prime open water. Sure enough the wide pullout just above mile marker 12 was totally open so I stopped there and prepared to fish. When I approached the water I discovered another fisherman on the opposite side who must have parked further upstream and crossed and waded down the south bank. The river is quite wide at this spot, so I began to fish next to the parking lot in the beautiful deep run and riffle with a Chernobyl ant trailing a salvation nymph and beadhead RS2. Other than a few refusals to the Chernobyl, I was unable to attract any fish in this attractive area, so I began wading up along the left bank.

In a short amount of time I arrived at another favorite spot where a large rectangular rock juts out into the river and creates a fifteen foot long eddy. I’ve fished this numerous times in the past by going above the rock and then casting downstream and allowing the eddy to bring the fly back toward the rock. I replicated this manuever, but initially I didn’t spot any fish facing downstream as is usually the case. However, as I observed I noted the huge nose of a rainbow sip a tiny insect very tight to the rock that I was kneeling on. I continued to watch the water and recognized another decent but smaller rainbow along the current seam four feet downstream of the large rock. I tried the three fly combo including some lifting action, but this didn’t attract any interest. Next I clipped off the flies and tried a parachute green drake and again no sign of recognition by the two rainbows. How about a light gray comparadun? Once again my strategy was thwarted. Finally having seen some tiny mayflies in the air, I tied on a CDC BWO, but the two target trout were apparently tuned into something different and I couldn’t unlock the code.

I tipped my hat to the fish and moved on upstream where I encountered two young men fishing the edge of the river in the stair step riffle area. The river was fairly wide here so I carefully waded across the bottom of the wide shallow riffles and began working my way up along the shadows from the branches on the south bank. I switched back to the Chernobyl plus salvation plus RS2, but after a brief time I swapped the RS2 for a BWO emerger. The emerger finally produced two fish; one as the flies began to swing at the end of the drift and the second as I lifted to recast at the tail of a pool. In spite of these two fish the action was quite slow so at 11:30 I decided to wade back to the road above the two fishermen working the edge, and I walked back to the car for my lunch.

Before making the walk, however, I noted that there was only one car in the large lot that is usually filled with at least six automobiles, so I decided to drive the .3 miles upstream and park in the “guide” lot. As I walked down to the river, two guides with clients did in fact pull into the lot and began preparing their customers to fish. I wolfed down my sandwich and the remainder of my lunch and practically sprinted back to the car to exchange my lunch bag for my rod and fishing gear. I made a bee line for the spot where I ate lunch and waded out into the river, and observed the two young men that I encountered before lunch thirty yards below me and another fisherman twenty yards above, but directly across from me was a very desirable pool that was open and beckoning my flies. I waded to the middle of the river where I was midway through the pool and standing in a 2-3 foot deep riffle that comprised the larger current of the river.

The river above me split with two thirds of the flow tumbling between the north bank and where I was standing. The other one third struck a current break and deflected toward the far side where it ran in a deep eight foot wide run along the south bank. In between these major flows was a sweet pool that was 25 feet wide at its maximum point near the top and then narrowed slowly until it tailed out below my position. The total length of the pool was probably 30 to 40 feet. This appeared to be one of the nicest spots on the river, but I was concerned that I was hemmed in by fishermen above and below me. I resolved that I would fish this attractive pool as long as I could see fish and then possibly retreat to the spring area for more space to wade and cover water.

The Chernobyl, salvation and BWO emerger remained on my line and in fact I now began to notice more of the tiny mayflies occasionally floating up from the surface. I tried dead drifting and then imparted motion to the emerger in hopes that this would imitate the small emerging mayflies, but the fish were having nothing of my overanalyzing ways. After a half hour or so of futility, however, I began to see a few fish break the surface and in short order I noticed some yellowish colored mayflies cruising on the surface. Meanwhile some larger clouds glided overhead and blocked the intense rays of the sun periodically causing the hatch to intensify during the low light periods and then wane a bit when the sun reappeared.

I clipped off the three fly combination and replaced with one of the store bought flies, a fly that had an olive quill body and a white poly tuft on top as an indicator. This didn’t draw interest so I tied on another store bought version with a light yellow body and again the fish told me my fly was a joke. What should I do now? Maybe my tried and true light gray comparadun would work on these educated fish today so I gave it a try. I moved up a bit toward the top of the pool and began relying on downstream drifts more and as I did this noticed several rainbows rising on a more regular basis along the current seam no more than six feet out and five feet below my position. I flicked some short casts to the seam up and across from me and then slowly raised my rod to take all the line off the water and then lowered the rod as the fly drifted below me. Smash! One of the rainbows tipped up and inhaled my comparadun and the fight was on. I quickly worked the rainbow back and forth and elevated it over my outstretched net and then carefully waded across the swift riffle to photograph on the bank while keeping an eye on the fishermen above and below me.

It was now after 1PM and I was at the point of no return. Should I continue fishing from this hemmed in position or quickly adjourn to the spring area. Fortunately I’d just landed a nice rainbow, so I decided to give the jewel pool more time. I waded back to my same position in the riffle and observed more and more fish rising. In fact the scene morphed into one of those electric experiences where it was total mayhem. The clouds got larger, the light dimmer, the wind kicked up a bit, and the mayflies began to emerge and flutter and skip across the water. Trout noses appeared everywhere and I could spot at least twenty fish rising in the pool at any point in time. There were nice rainbows along the seam near me as well as several decent rainbows working the upper center area of the pool where the current created a small eddy. These fish were cruisers that worked in a small circle so it was difficult to judge where to place my fly. Meanwhile some browns were working from the midsection of the pool down to the tailout. Several fish rose along the current seam on the far side of the pool and a fine fish rose at the very top of the pool where the angled current fanned out toward the opposite bank. I would estimate that the jewel pool contained at least 50 fish if not more!

For the next two and a half hours I cast relentlessly to these feasting fish and landed twenty-two more beyond the initial rainbow described above. I was making perhaps ten casts and drifts for each landed fish, but there were so many flies on the water that I wasn’t surprised that my fly was often ignored. It was a matter of targeting a fish and making enough casts to finally match the feeding rhythm of the fish. I managed to land one of the cruisers in the eddy but never pricked the big feeder at the tail of the angled current at the top of the pool. Quite a few of my fish resulted from downstream drifts, and this was actually a suggestion from the sales clerk in the fly shop, although I normally use this approach on my own.

As this was going on two guides with clients moved in below me and another fisherman was fifteen yards above me. These fishermen landed a few fish, but I seemed to be eclipsing their productivity and couldn’t help feeling a bit smug after my guide encounter on Thursday. As this was transpiring my feet grew so cold that I lost feeling, and I felt like I was balancing on stumps. I tried to move only a step or two and almost lost my balance before leaning on my wading staff for support. When the sun was bright and adding solar energy to my body, I could tolerate the icy cold flows of the tailwater, but now the clouds were dark gray and the rumble of distant thunder rolled through the air.

The hatch continued but did wane a bit and the gaps between fish now extended so I decided to take a break and give up the jewel pool. I waded to the bank and placed my worn comparadun in the hook keep and returned to the car. I didn’t bother to look back to see how quickly the guides swooped into the prime pool. The wind picked up and some light rain began to fall as I stashed my gear in the car. I decided to  drive downstream to the area I fished on Thursday, but work upstream where the river splits around a long island. There were a few cars parked in the two pullouts but I found a space in the upper area and as I put on my backpacks, another white SUV pulled in front of me. Most of the fishermen seemed to be downstream in the area where I fished the previous day so I walked upstream along the shoulder to a path that angles down the bank and meets the smaller north braid between the island and the road. I added a fleece layer and raincoat to my attire and it was raining very lightly as I resumed fishing at the bottom of the long shallow smooth pool with my light gray comparadun.

I spotted a few dimples in the water and made some long casts and may have aroused a refusal, but experienced no success in the lower half of the north braid. When I reached the top area where the river narrowed and the velocity of the current increased I flicked my fly to the center of a small pool and a long rainbow sipped my comparadun. The sky was now quite dark and the rain was intensifying as I played and landed the surprise 16 inch fish to my net. I couldn’t end on this note even though some closer streaks of lightning lit up the sky, so I popped a cast to the left side and again at the lip a nice brown nosed up and engulfed my fly. Another brief fight ensued and I gently landed and released a nice 13-14 inch brown. The weather was now getting a bit scary as the wind kicked up but I managed to dry my fly and flick a cast to the right of the main center current and, wham, another brown mauled the money fly. I landed three beautiful fish within a span of 10 minutes in a fairly nondescript area near the top of the small left channel. Unfortunately the rain began to come down in sheets at this point so I retreated to the Santa Fe and jumped in the car, started the engine, turned on the heater and warmed my frozen feet. This all took place just before 4PM.

Meanwhile unbeknownst to me, Jane was able to depart Denver by 12:30PM and was approaching Basalt. She later told me that it was hot and 92 degrees as she entered the small town at the junction of the Frying Pan and Roaring Fork; however, as she drove east along the river she approached dark clouds with streaks of lighting and thunder and the temperature reading on her Forte plunged to 56 degrees. She scanned the parked cars along the river and when she passed mile marker 11, she located the Santa Fe in the pullout. This was just before 4PM and she claims it was raining hard with lighting and thunder everywhere and yet I was not in the Santa Fe. She became concerned and got out of her car in the pouring rain to look for me. As she did this, another fisherman emerged from the white SUV so she approached him and asked if he’d seen me. He responded that, “Yes, he’d seen me and thought I went upstream”. Jane then asked, “Why is my husband fishing in this terrible storm?”, to which the fisherman smiled and replied, “Because he has the DISEASE!”.

I must have just missed Jane as I sat in the car and waited out the worst of the storm probably for 30 minutes or so. Eventually the rain slowed to a drizzle so I climbed out and geared up and returned to the top end of the left channel next to the island. At the tail of the nice run just above the point where the river splits, I landed a bright and colorful rainbow on the money fly to reach 29 fish on the day, and then had a shot at number 30 when I hooked a medium sized brown in the angled pocket ten feet further upstream, but the feisty fish managed to shed my hook.

I had now run out of decent water and it continued to rain lightly so I decided to call it a day and returned to the car and removed my waders and began to drive back to the campground, but as I approached mile marker 12 I spotted Jane in the oncoming lane. I pulled into the pullout at mile marker 12 and waited for her to U-turn, and then we caravaned back to the campsite where I was chastized for fishing in a thunderstorm. What a day it was on the Frying Pan River!