Colorado River

Like Clockwork, there was Orange…

June 3, 2016 by n.taylor Leave a Comment

Rarely does it fail that Memorial Day triggers the Salmonfly hatch on the upper Colorado River up through Gore Canyon. Water temperatures need to hit the lower 50’s sure, but for whatever reason it just always seems that Memorial Day is most often the weekend that they start to come out. The sterotypical conversation happened which goes along the lines of’

“Hey, its happening and you should be here”

“Love your enthusiasm, I’ll see you tomorrow”

Then I went home, packed my things and got out of the door.

Ready to Launch

“We Should Fish That”

The fish wanted some salmonfly in their diet, but there were also fish looking for the caddis that were flying around. At first we overlooked them because they seemed insignificant compared to the larger insects that were available, but we soon discovered that many of the fish were keyed in on caddisflies.

This one ate Caddis

We slapped the big dries against the banks and pulled over and fished good looking runs. Success was evenly divided amongst the two tactics for the first 6 miles of our journey.

From the Boat

Not From the Boat

The lower few miles of our float slowed down as the salmonflies disappeared from the river and we were exhausted from the morning activities. A few more were to hand before we rowed the last mile down the river to the takeout. We made it just as the sun was setting so that we could drive home in darkness. I came home to a sleeping house and no one to tell my stories to, but I suppose that is what we will talk about tomorrow…

Farewell Until after Runoff

The Maiden Voyage(s)

July 21, 2015 by n.taylor Leave a Comment

You can argue length, tube size, rocker, and obviously brand, but for me the choice was easy. An Aire 130R fit the bill for what we needed in a boat.

130R

Her maiden voyages included the Eagle, Colorado, Gunnison, and the Arkansas. While rain haunted us most evenings, only the Colorado was threatening but clear as dusk approached.

Evening on the Colorado

The Eagle’s evening storm was relentless. Pounding the crew with rain and hail with strong gusts of wind pushing us back to the put in. As the sun disappeared and the rain subsided, the clouds of mosquitos engulfed the swarms of baetis and caddis. Armed with headlamps to get us home, we stayed out late, getting every fish that would rise during the celebrated “magic hour” on the Eagle.

Lightning on the Eagle

Evening Dry Flies

After an early morning and a late night few restaurants are open past midnight, and even fewer in the mountains. One such restaurant exists in the town of Minturn boasting a famous Reuben sandwich. Legendary they told us it was, and it was indeed the best any of us had ever eaten. Magusto’s Reuben sandwich was simply fantastic.

Magustos Reuben

While most trips are judged by the amount of large fish put in front of a lens, the fact is every trip is full of less than desirable specimens. Those on board the red boat are humble enough to showcase some of our more modest accomplishments.

An Angler’s Average

One thing learned over time is that fishing from a boat is different than working a bank on foot. Our crew had neither the patience nor the desire to throw an indicator and instead opted for streamers and topwater. Few methods of fishing are as rewarding or exciting as throwing streamers along a bank from a casting platform. Repeatedly thrashing tandem streamers against a bank will eventually reward the angler with that perfectly aggressive predatory response.

Predatory Eater

A Shore Stalker

Boufaces

As night fell for the last time we gave homage to the Angling Gods for their generosity on our adventure. Until we meet again…

Tribute to the Gods

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.