Time: 11:30AM – 3:30PM

Location: National forest area

Lake Creek 10/04/2021 Photo Album

Monday evolved into a decent day of fishing. It was the ancillary events that transformed it into a vexing day on the stream. With highs forecast to be in the eighties in Denver, I gambled that I could sneak in another high country stream adventure in early October.

When I arrived at the parking lot across from the trailhead, the temperature on the dashboard read 46 degrees. I expected the high to reach the upper sixties, and I planned to complete a two plus mile hike to reach my intended destination, so perspiration was a given. I banked on my raincoat for added warmth and stuffed it in my backpack, as is my normal practice. The stream was relatively narrow, so I opted for my Orvis Access eight foot, four weight.

High Gradient and Many Overhanging Branches

I hiked for 2.6 miles, until I reached the farthest upstream penetration to date on the mountain creek. and here I began to fly fish. The creek was narrow and swift as a result of a steep gradient and a fair amount of rain in the previous week. Numerous overarching branches made casting a nearly impossible chore, and the narrow canyon with steep rock walls prevented the penetration of the sun. I broke for lunch after thirty minutes of very frustrating fishing with a tan pool toy hopper, hares ear nymph and salvation nymph. I managed to land a pair of small brown trout, but the snag inducing nymphs were largely ignored, as the fish concentrated on refusing the large hopper. The lack of sun and a periodic breeze created a worrisome chill, as my sweat-drenched Brooks long sleeved undershirt next to my skin induced the dreaded evaporation effect.

After lunch I resumed my upstream migration, but the stream structure remained the same, and I was uncertain whether a trail existed above the high vertical wall on the northeast side of the creek. I decided to cut my losses and reversed direction and hiked back toward the trailhead for a mile, before I resumed fishing. The gradient was more forgiving, and extra overhead space allowed for better casting situations. In order to reverse a series of refusals I downsized to a peacock hippie stomper, and the change paid off, as I began to net brown trout at a slightly faster pace. The stomper was not perfect, and it also generated its share of refusals. so after thirty minutes of fly fishing, I added a twelve inch dropper from the bend of the stomper and knotted a size 16 gray deer hair caddis to my line.

Whoa.

Hippie Stomper Getting It Done

The two dry fly combination performed in a consistent fashion, and the fish count rose in a corresponding manner, until I set the hook on a temporary bite and catapulted the flies into a large evergreen high above the creek. Retrieval was out of the question, so I applied direct pressure and popped both flies off on the branch. I could see the monofilament strand taunting me from its unreachable perch. I replaced the hippie stomper with another like version, but I traded the gray caddis for an olive-brown deer hair caddis in the same size.

Light Gray Caddis Also Effective

The stomper and caddis combination clicked, and the catch rate accelerated, as I boosted the fish count to seventeen by 3:30PM. The section that I fished in the afternoon was much more conducive to fly fishing with fewer overhead branches and more desirable targets in the form of pockets, pools and moderate depth runs. The hippie stomper delivered seventy-five percent of the landed trout and the caddis attracted the remainder.  After lunch I pulled on my raincoat, and that move along with the warming air temperatures associated with the progression of the afternoon placed this fly angler in a more comfortable state. Rarely did the brown trout rise to the first cast, but repeated efforts often extracted interest on the fourth or fifth drift.

Bruiser for Small Stream

Sleek and Shiny

I set a goal of reaching twenty fish, and just before 3:30PM I placed my wading staff on a slippery round rock and leaned on it to make a step upstream. This was a mistake I would learn to regret. The stick slid out, and I reached down with my right hand to break my fall. The move did just that, but much of my body weight landed on my right ring finger and pushed it backwards and into my first knuckle. Ouch. At the same time I dropped my fly rod so as not to break it. That goal was achieved, but dropping the rod resulted in some associated issues. I stood up, and the tip of my ring finger was numb, and burning pain emanated from the knuckle. I was able to move all the fingers on my right hand, although I felt pain in my ring finger, as I attempted to straighten it or move it backwards. I decided to call it a day and hiked back to the Santa Fe. During the 1.8 mile hike, the numbness disappeared, and the knuckle pain subsided significantly allowing me to rule out a visit to the emergency room.

Better Pool

At the end of the trail I crossed the creek and decided to toss a few casts to test my grip. The proximity of the area to the road and parking area dictated a low level of confidence, but in the pool just above the crossing area, an eleven inch brown trout found the hippie stomper to its liking. The fish count ticked up to eighteen, and I sauntered up the hill to the car thankful for a double digit day and grateful for avoiding a more serious injury to my finger.

Breaking down my rod and removing my reel were my first chores, after I opened the tailgate on the car. I unscrewed the locking mechanism on the reel seat, but when I attempted to slide the collar down off the reel foot, I discovered that It was stuck. I tugged and pulled and pushed the collar with a screwdriver, but I was unable to budge the recalcitrant mechanism. I turned my attention to breaking down the rod, and the upper two sections pulled apart with ease, but the section above the butt was as stubborn as the reel. I tugged and twisted and pulled. I found my gripper pads in my fishing bag and employed the behind the back maneuver, but all I accomplished was strained muscles, and I raised my frustration level. I tossed the two section fly rod and reel in the car and vowed to deal with it, when I returned to Denver.

Salivating

After I unloaded the car at home, I turned my attention back to the fly rod. I asked for Jane’s help, and after several unsuccessful attempts, we were able to separate the rod sections. I was very thankful for that accomplishment. Jane began to work on the reel. Our pliers were not long enough to get a good grip on the collar, so I retrieved the vise grip pliers from the garage, After some serious tugging the reel came free from the cork grip, but the end of the reel seat and collar were still in place on the reel foot. How could this happen? The threaded portion of the reel seat and the collar pulled out of the wooden reel seat cylinder. After a bit more effort we separated the threaded section from the reel, but I now had a broken fly rod. I prepared the online fly rod registration form and elected to drop the rod off at the local Orvis store to be shipped back to Orvis for repair.

Pocket Water

An eighteen fish day on Monday, October 4 was very respectable. All eighteen fish were brown trout, and the largest was in the twelve to thirteen inch range. The trout landed on Monday were on average smaller than those that I caught on my previous 2021 visit. However, the afternoon action was decent, and I enjoyed prospecting through the pocket water and deeper holes. The trip cost me a sprained finger and a fly rod repair, but I suppose adversity is part of the fly fishing equation.

Fish Landed: 18