Blue River

Weekend Ephiphany

July 30, 2017 by n.taylor Leave a Comment

A Friday off of work, and enough water to float the canyon seemed like an omen.

Lower it Down

Ready to Launch

Since we were camping we could afford to be the last boat down the river that day, take our time and have all the privacy that we could want. Drakes and stones were popping off and the fish were looking up. While we didn’t break a tape measure we certainly had our fair share of takes, breaks, and even a few fish to hand.

Lots of These

We pulled into camp and unloaded our gear, among that gear was a new piece of sleeping equipment. For years I’d read about hammocks, reluctant and skeptical I had yet to purchase one. My colleague on this adventure however felt they warranted a try and so we set up his new Warbonnet Ridgerunner bridge style hammock. Oh and Coldsmoke, always at least a single Coldsmoke for a night outdoors.

Pulled up to Camp

A Single Coldsmoke

Warbonnet Ridgerunner

For those of you who haven’t picked up on this hammock camping thing, get on it. Incredibly light, easy to set up, and most of all it was the most comfortable thing in the entire world. This has changed the way I will look at camping for the rest of my life. I will never sleep on a pad or cot again if I don’t have to. These things pack down into nothing, weigh nothing, and are incredibly comfortable to boot. This was worlds better than the thermarest, cot, and even the JPW silverback foam Paco Pad that I’ve used.

A Weekend Off

July 18, 2016 by n.taylor Leave a Comment

We start west of the divide where we battled obnoxious road construction and sweltering heat to spend the night below a run in the bowels of a canyon of the Blue River.

Not Sure About the Look

If you have never rowed a raft full of overnight gear let me tell you that you have a real treat in your future. The raft handled like you had an elephant in the back and within the first mile I already had a new found respect for drivers of Grand Canyon cargo boats. The campsite was a few short miles from the put in and was framed by two perfect runs and an elevated (and flat) campsite.

Pulled Over at Camp

Kitchen

The next morning we had leftover carnitas with corn tortillas, ibuprofen, and lukewarm water before we packed the elephant back into the back of the raft. The second day was focused on trying to fish a little bit instead of just getting the gear to the river. The run above camp held a few fish that were eager to share breakfast with their upright walking land lovers.

Breakfast Companion

We threw some streamers, polished off the rest of the beer, and enjoyed a hot summer day. Most of all I was able to listen to Wells tell me about every bend on the river and how it had changed over the last 20 years. Wells informed me that he had floated this stretch 10-15 times/year since 1996 and if you know this stretch and the logistical nightmare it poses then you will know what kind of feat that is.

Brown on the Ranch

The Master in the Canyon

Float over, boat on trailer, wheels up, over the divide we go until we end up in Salida. We now have a circus of people, some from as far away as South Carolina ready to experience the Arkansas River in all its grandeur. The day began as most days do on my boat, with a Bud Light Lime to get things started. You know that it is getting serious when you drink a beer that has to tell you it has alcohol in it.

This is Beer

Of course after “BLL” you can start to lose your coordination, potentially endangering the lives of not only your crew, but also the fish.

Grip n’ Grin

As we floated through downtown we met a very enthusiastic young man who was eager to show us his cowboy. We gave him a target, the kid just needs some more practice.

Rope Work

The Spinner Brings them In

The Hayden Pass fire had started on Saturday and by Sunday the smoke was visible from Salida. Tuesday brought even larger clouds of smoke and a faint smell of burning pine in the air. Reminded me of summers in Montana.

Hayden Pass Fire

The Death March

October 22, 2014 by n.taylor 2 Comments

Day 1: Two Rivers to New Castle (12 Miles)

Keeping our personal oath we left the bobbers at home, instead opting to fish the flies that makes fall the season that anglers dream of. Large and articulated, or small and skinny we threw them all.

Pushing Off

Eventually you always pull a few off the bank. Stretches of river would yield follows on 4, 5, or even 6 consecutive casts. While there might be silence on the water for upwards of an hour just a few bends down the river.

Quality over Quantity

Not even on the lower stretches of the Colorado can you escape the fish hatcheries of Colorado. Pictured here is a square faced, soft bellied rainbow. There are simply no similarities between a wild fish and its hatchery impostors.

A Disgusting Specimen

Day 2: Catherine’s to Two Rivers (17 Miles)

The fish on the Roaring Fork loved the black circus peanut. Vast stretches of the upper river are surrounded by private property, limiting your ability to work the various seams and riffles. Regardless, it vaguely reminded me of floating Rock Creek outside of Missoula, with substantially less hazards of course.

All Fish Love Peanuts

I’m not one to comment on art or things that are “beautiful” but in this instance there is no other way to describe the scenery. In another week I’m sure most of these leaves will be gone but for now it is fantastic.

Roaring Fork Valley

This small specimen had an unfortunate encounter with a larger predator who took off most of his dorsal fin. He took the opportunity to aggressively chase something smaller than him as we threw boufaces against the banks.

There Must be Larger Predators Around

Day 3: Lower Blue (14 Miles)

My dad always used to say, “you gotta look good doin’ it”. While looking good is open to interpretation in this instance, it nonetheless makes a statement.

Harnessing the Spirit of the Wolf

The finest apparel available at Wal-Mart is proudly displayed in the canyon stretches of the Blue River. Rarely do you find a fishing partner, and even less common is two people independently wearing the ugliest outfits imaginable (also note intentionally purchased Bud Light Lime).

Trashy as They Come

Day 4: Pumphouse to Rancho del Rio (9 Miles)

I’ve always thought that fall fishing is best from first light until noon and these four days only furthered my resolve. The steam coming off the river at first light signaled a frenzy every morning.

The Early Start

The quintessential Colorado River float on perhaps one of the last green weekends of the season. Water levels were still nearly double historical averages but the fish didn’t seem to care.

High Fall Water

Some of the final oar strokes of the Death March. At the take out employees at Rancho Del Rio were busy cleaning the whitewater rafts with anticipation for another big spring runoff.

The End of the Line

Over 4 days we logged roughly 52 river miles. To many that may sound pedestrian, but then again those people don’t know how to row.