Luyen’s Reel-Time FLog

After our Monday outing, the three of us were determined to get in some extra innings; so Wednesday evening we hit the road again as soon as the conference ended. We managed to reach Mike at the fly shop just before he walked out the door and locked up the shop; this time, he advised that we hit the Elevenmile Canyon section. Apparently, the water had gone up by 50cfs overnight at Spinney, but the water was perfectly fishable at Elevenmile (apparently, it had been very high the last time Greg and Jonathan had fished it a few weeks prior), and there was an excellent evening caddis hatch coming off. It’s hard to believe the Elevenmile section is part of the same watershed as the “Dream Stream”.

This section, which looks like a deep gash cut through Colorado granite, feels much more like a freestone stream than its upstream sibling. It fished more like a western freestoner as well – we walked through clouds of caddis flies happily buzzing around the bushes, but you could tell these guys wouldn’t begin their bouncy little dance on the water’s surface until just before dusk. The four of us (for this outing, we picked up Greg’s father-in-law) hiked down a ravine from the road staked out our spots. The section in front of us was fast moving, technical pocket water, and I brambled my way downstream to find some water that was slightly more conducive to spotting rises and fishing dry flies.

Sure enough, as the sun descended below the canyon wall, I began to notice telltale rises – for the most part in the swift water of the main current, but also alongside big pieces of structure (for the most part, big boulders). At one point, I worked a small run where I could spot numerous fish rising happily to take emerging caddis flies. I caught several fish, the first on a dropper, but the rest on the dries. Jonathan came down to fish near me, and I moved downstream to let him fish the “honey hole”, but still managed to catch a number of fish standing on a boulder in the middle of the main current.

We fished until we couldn’t see anymore, sated and hungry. We reunited with Greg and his father-in-law around 9PM, and debriefed over beers. Apparently, they had driven upstream to find better dry fly water, and had fished a slower flow, where they had been able to target a number of risers, all of whom had proven to be warier than the happy fish Jonathan and I had fished.

Of course, by the time we returned to Woodland Park, the fly shop was long closed, so we pulled up to Mike’s house, where we found him playing darts and drinking beers with his roommate, Kyle (an ex-banker-turned-PHP-programmer-qua-trout-bum). We hung out with Mike and Kyle until the wee hours, comparing fishing notes and shooting darts. What a great night. Sometimes, it’s nice to remember what it’s like to live the life we took for granted back in the day!

Thanks Greg, Mike, and Kyle for an incredible experience.

One of several trout taken during a wonderful evening caddis fly hatch on the Elevenmile stretch of the South Platte.

The unsavory threesome that put a serious hurting on some unsuspecting Colorado salmonids.

Please be advised that these fishermen are armed and dangerous. Any fish that comes in contact with one of these bad-ass long-rodders should grow legs and run for the hills….

Our annual EduStat conference was held in Colorado Springs this summer, and it gave me an opportunity to fish with Jonathan and Greg Wilborn on Greg’s home waters on the North Fork of the South Platte. We headed out to The Peak Fly Shop in Woodland Park Monday morning to get outfitted by Mike Keith. Though our original plans were to hit the Elevenmile Canyon section below Elevenmile Reservoir, Mike encouraged us to fish the “Miracle Mile” or “Dream Stream” section between Spinney Reservoir and the Elevenmile Reservoir. This section is a meandering meadow creek that flows clear and cold from the bottom of Spinney Reservoir. Apparently, the flows had diminished to a very fishable level (roughly 300cfs), and there was a good morning caddis hatch (Mike thought it was early for good trico activity, and that the PMD’s had subsided , but the fish would be focused on these #18 grey Trichopteras).

As we arrived at the stream, a fair number of tricos did mistake our windshield for the water; in fact, there were few of these bugs as we made our way to the stream itself. Though we were itching to get on the water, and I was personally feeling a bit like a slacker for due to our 8AM arrival, there was little activity for the first half-an-hour. As I worked likely holding water with an elk hair caddis and a fluorescent green pupa dropper, I gradually started to notice infrequent, subtle rises. I fooled my first fish on the dropper – a small brown that took my fly as it dangled suspended at the head of a downstream riffle. I took my next fish directly upstream on the dry. This one was working the inside edge of a bend between a rock and the main current. After hooking a couple more fish at this spot, I moved around the corner and fished a long, broad pool. Almost immediately, I spotted a bigger fish porpoising in the middle of the pool. Five or six casts later, and I was fastened to an 18” ‘bow that eventually came unbuttoned as he played tug-of-war with me from the main current. That got the adrenaline going! Soon afterwards, Jonathan, who had been fishing a narrow run across the creek from me, yelled for me to come over, and I found him locked in a similar tug-of-war. This time, Jonathan won the battle, and hauled a beautiful 18” ‘bow out of the water. We had several more wonderful hours of this sort of fishing – battling big, strong, smart fish that preferred dries to nymphs and tested our 5X tippets and blood knots. Jonathan lost a big 20+” brown after fighting it downstream for several hundred feet. Greg lost a big brown that took off downstream as well, darting between boulders and under deadfall. We left the stream around 3, oblivious to the hummingbird-sized Rocky Mountain mosquitoes, grueling sun, and dry heat. What an incredible outing!

Jonathan’s nice rainbow.

I arrived to moderate trico activity on a cool, grey July morning along the heritage section of the Little Lehigh. Fish rose steadily from around 8AM until 10:30, feeding very selectively. I had many refusals, and had to change flies often, but the good ol’ Griffith’s Gnat seemed to be the favorite fly yet again. I missed a good number of fish, but managed to land a few nice ones before having to pack it in to drive back home.

I fished the Monocacy on a cloudy, muggy Saturday after Independence Day. Air temperature was in the low 80’s, and the sun did its best to peak out between intermittent downpours. Having just tied a brace of snow shoe rabbit tinsel-tail emergers and Griffith Gnats, I headed to the first pool loaded for bear. To my surprise, I spotted a lame doe hiding along the bank. More than an hour later, I was told by the Bethlehem police that there was nothing to do but let the injured deer “die a natural death”. Later, I called the southeast PA game commission, which obliged by sending an officer out to put the poor doe down.

I didn’t fish the first pool, as a measure of respect for the injured deer. And I wasn’t able to raise any fish on the rabbit fly, but I did fool a couple on a #20 beadhead nymph dropper and a #16 black ant. I fished up to the outflow pipe, finding a number of fish upstream of the second pool (and catching a nice brown in the pocket water below the outflow). I also had a big fish lunge at my indicator in the left-hand eddy below the outflow.