Time: 9:30AM – 2:00PM

Location: Eleven Mile Canyon

South Platte River 10/03/2016 Photo Album

Monday October 3, 2016 qualifies as one of my worst days of fly fishing since I adopted this addictive pastime over thirty years ago. The source of my discontent is a four letter word. The four letter word is wind.

I arrived at the parking area along the South Platte River at nine o’clock, and when I attempted to get out of the car, the wind repeatedly forced the hinged door back to a closed position. Only after applying my full body weight and both hands was I able to swing the door to a fully open position. I should have accepted this as nature’s way of warning me to change my plans, but I foolishly pursued my scheduled day of fishing.

The air temperature on the dashboard was 53 degrees, and I knew from past experience that this was very tolerable if dressed appropriately. I swapped my high tech short sleeve shirt for an Under Armour long sleeve undershirt, that I wear while skiing. Over this base layer I added my fishing shirt and an insulating fleece cardigan. I elected to wear my brimmed New Zealand hat with ear flaps for additional comfort. I felt reasonably warm as I assembled my Sage four weight rod and then ambled to the edge of the river downstream from my parking spot.

I tied a beige pool toy hopper to my line, and beneath the foam imitation I added a hares ear nymph. The area in front of me contained numerous attractive deep runs and pockets, but it was enveloped by shadows, and this made following even the large foam attractor difficult. I persisted and stationed myself in a manner that enabled me to get the best lighting, so I could follow the drift. After ten minutes of prospecting with the two flies and no signs of trout, I added a salvation nymph as the third bottom fly.

I am embarrassed to report that after an hour of empty casting, I landed my first fish, a small brown trout. I was wading across the river to a new position closer to the far bank, and as the flies dangled behind me, the aggressive brown trout latched on to the salvation nymph. Who was I to reject this good fortune?

Zoomed and Better Lighting

By 11:30 I moved around the bend and slightly above the Santa Fe, so I decided to return to the car for an early lunch. During the morning session the wind continued to howl, and this made casting a very difficult endeavor. Sporadic side gusts played havoc with my accuracy, and I executed numerous casts to obtain the desired drift, when normally I can place my flies very close to the target on the first attempt. Head winds were the worst, and I cannot even remember how often my cast was blown back to my feet. I reacted to the strong wind by overpowering the forward cast, and the rod tip actually touched the surface of the river on many occasions.

After lunch the wind velocity actually increased. I prospected a couple juicy runs, and then I approached a deep pocket, and I spotted three or four decent fish clustered in the deepest section near the tail. As I looked on, the fish demonstrated no reaction to my flies, and I concluded that the dry/dropper method was ineffective because my flies were not drifting along the bottom. I clipped off the pool toy and nymphs and converted to a strike indicator nymphing set up. I began with a beadhead hares ear and a soft hackle emerger, and this approach was moderately successful.

Best Fish of the Day

Between noon and two o’clock I landed three additional small brown trout. In addition I experienced several temporary hook ups, so the change in tactics seemed to pay off. Unfortunately the wind continued to gust, and I actually endured numerous periods when I was unable to cast. In fact I could barely hold my stance in an upright position, as the wind attempted to undermine my balance. Even with the splt shot and strike indicator adding weight to my line, casting continued to be a difficult chore, and the only way I could combat the head wind was to cast toward two o’clock. The angled cast allowed me to shoot line, but mending upstream was very challenging and drag was impossible to prevent.

Productive Pool

Several two minute periods elapsed when I was forced to turn my back to the wind, and the most forceful gusts lifted spray from the surface of the river and hurled it toward my face. By two o’clock I was sufficiently frustrated to call it quits. I hoped for a blue winged olive hatch, but such a fortuitous occurrence would have been wasted, since the tiny mayflies would have been whisked toward land before the trout were even aware of their presence. The wind showed no signs of abating, and I decided to save my arm and back muscles for more advantageous conditions. Hopefully this is a day that will quickly fade from my memory.

Fish Landed: 4