Drapeau

One Last Time…

November 16, 2016 by n.taylor Leave a Comment

I believe this will mark the end of my 2016 campaign. The weather up until this point has been surreal, highs routinely into the 60’s even in the mountains. All reports say this weather will not hold, and this was perhaps the last few days of it.

Despite the unseasonably warm weather it is still cold in the morning. As in 23 degrees cold.

Cold at Rancho

Rigging up Some Eggs

We slowly made our way down the river, eagerly watching the sunlight creep down the canyon wall. It took until about 10am for that light to reach us, and when it did we cracked a beer and took off our jackets.

Warmth at Last

We did do some fishing, mainly under an indicator when we found a riffle, and big streamers when we were on the run. Neither technique was “lights out” but few days have been that way for me lately. Every angler knows that come this time of year you can always find a few rainbows that will take an egg, and today was no exception.

Eggs for Him

Eggs Again

As much fun as you can have dredging eggs for 14” trout well…we had it. We came upon some areas with fish rising to small baetis duns in some softer water. After an extensive investigation we determined that many of those fish didn’t top 8”…because we caught most of them. We enjoyed a day in the mid 60’s in November and as we rounded the last bend we picked up one last fish on an olive Circus Peanut.

Last Fish of 2016?

For now the boat is being put away for the winter, and probably won’t come back out until April again. The snow will come, and when it does I will be ready with a new machine for what I hope will be an amazing winter. I can’t wait to ride my new Boondocker turbo…

VOHK Sidekick Turbo

Solitude on the Colorado

September 7, 2016 by n.taylor Leave a Comment

Boating traffic diminishes significantly after Two Bridges and I had rarely been below there myself. Packed for an overnight I saw a huge portion of the middle river that I had never seen before.

From Two Bridges to Spencers Cabin the river is docile and meanders through geography similar to the 8 miles above Two Bridges. A handful of storm clouds rolled through bringing periods of brief rain showers throughout the day, and the fish were receptive to streamers thrown from both ends of the boat.

First Fish of the Trip

Second Fish, Second Rainbow

Early afternoon saw some storms roll in and we saw the last boat we would see for the remainder of the trip.

Afternoon Brown

More Streamers

We pulled into Spencers Cabin around 730 with a wind storm directly behind us. Food was prepared hurriedly as night feel not long after we arrived. We slept on yoga mats and next to uninsulated walls as the storm raged on outside. It was the best sleep I might have ever had.

Breakfast was started early, coffee was warmed with a blow torch, and food prepared over an open fire.

The Rules

Coffee Warming

View from the Kitchen

Breakfast Stove

Chef’s Table

Morning on the Front Porch

Day 2 was complete solitude, we didn’t see another soul other than a few cars driving up and down the desolate dirt road.

Half Light of the Canyon

Our Only Visitors

Rodeo Rapid Ahead

Another Streamer Victim

Then came the rain…

Da Rain

Fish in the Rain

Turk’s Tarantula…in the Rain

The clouds eventually parted as we rowed the last few miles. Streamers were thrown and the bigger the bug the more interest we received.

Black Circus Peanut

First Mate Taking the Ship into Port

Last Moments at the Take Out

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.