Floating

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

A Day with Dad

June 7, 2016 by n.taylor Leave a Comment

Rock Creek sits just outside of Missoula and is renowned for its incredible hatches and unbridled access throughout the valley that it runs through. In May the Salmonflies start moving up the river, followed by the Golden Stoneflies, Green Drakes, & Caddisflies just to name a few. We stopped at the Mercantile, where as a boy I remembered the late Doug Persico smoking a cigar on the front porch, pontificating his thoughts to all those who would listen. Doug could tie a hell of a fly pattern, and if you are in the area you should read his rants before you stop by the shop.

A Shop Recommendation

The Put In

My father insisted that I take the helm to start the day and it didn’t take long for a few fish to look up toward our dries. Salmonflies were everywhere, a quick look to the sky and thousands of them were flying through the air, and millions more were hanging from the bushes. With the water clarity at mid summer quality the fish were feverishly attacking our dry fly offerings.

Salmonflies

Give Me a Double Dry

After a few decades of having my father row me down the rivers of Western Montana I was able to repay part of the favor, and row him down the river on one of the best days we have ever had together.

Brown

Cutthroat

The War Zone is an area of the river that can act as a dividing line on the river during certain years. This year there is a particularly nasty log jam that discouraged many people from passing through it. The strainer appeared to be river wide and the consequences looked to be life threatening. We portaged the boat up and over a few logs and after a brief rest with a beer we could continue on our journey.

The War Zone

We arrived at the takeout and while our vehicle was there, the trailer that was to be attached to it was not. Lying on the ground was the hitch, the ball disconnected and a note on the dashboard.

Your Trailer is Broken

Turns out years of wear had taken its toll and the unforgiving road of Rock Creek had finally defeated the hardened steel of the hitch. My father left the take out with the note and a few tools to repair the trailer. The journey was nearly 15 miles in each direction on a road that was advisable to approach at speeds less than 10 mph. I sat at the takeout talking with an old timer, a retired guide who told me stories of great fish on the legendary rivers of Montana. Despite his age he recalled days 30 years ago like they were the fresh memories of a young man. We waited together for nearly an hour as his group was running their own shuttle. They arrived just ahead of my dad and loaded their raft on a true Montana fishing vehicle.

Montana Fishing Vehicle

I will always come back, but rarely am I fortunate enough to time my arrival with the migration of the bugs. It may be years before it happens again but for now I am glad that I was able to do it this year with my father in tow.

The Last Floats of Spring

May 16, 2016 by n.taylor Leave a Comment

The rains and cooler weather delayed the inevitable just long enough to get a few more days on the water before the push began. Finding participants wasn’t hard, and one of them even provided me with an excuse to get a free hall pass from work. The Arkansas River was holding well, while the Colorado was proving to be much more impatient than her easterly flowing partner. Day one had weather whose intentions looked nefarious to say the least, and eventually we would fall victim to those intentions. Before all of that, the streamer fishing would take center stage, and specifically those streamers of the olive variety.

Olive

Not long after this wonderful moment a massive storm front came sweeping over the Collegiate Peaks. We turned around in time to see the whitecaps racing downstream towards us. We got to shore just as the winds picked up, snapping a mature tree in half across the river from our location.

You Have to Be “This Far” Away to Avoid the Lightning.

Nick was clearly the more experienced outdoorsmen of my two companions, as he found refuge away from the sleet and hail to finish his beer.

A More Experienced Participant

We floated into town as I wanted to show my guests the best sandwich on Colorado which is served exclusively at the Boathouse Cantina. It is known as the Green Chili Cheddar BLT, but the red sauce they finish the sandwich with gives it real depth of flavor. Sorry, I was too hungry to take a picture but rest assured you have to get one if you’re there.

The second day we floated further downstream, requiring Nick to hitchhike and me to rig the boat all by myself. Mission Accomplished. Before I had even finished stringing the rods I saw him walking down the boat ramp, grinning from ear to ear. He hadn’t been gone 20 minutes but he had used his incredible personality to score a ride from the first person he saw.

Complete with the Bud Light Lime

Fishing was even better on this stretch and to slow ourselves down we even nymphed a few holes to up our catch rates for our friends at home. Streamers still ruled the day and quite frankly I’d rather see fish trying to eat my streamer than see my indicator go under.

White For This One

As we neared the end of our journey an unfortunate gust of wind took the fly into the front anglers tricep muscle. I hurriedly captained us to shore where I was able to come up with the solution for my friends ailment. With the barb intact I assured him that a quick jerk would free the hook from his arm and pain would not have to be a consideration. Counting to the number “3” I pulled the hook from his arm after the number 2. Screams were heard all around Cotapaxi as my friend writhed in anguish from the delicate hook that was artfully removed from his arm.

The Hook Drew Blood

Just two days removed from our time on the river and it appears the levels are rising considerably. They will, by most estimations, continue that trend for the next several weeks until the high level snowpack is reduced. I’ll be waiting it out and catching the river again on the down swing.