It still feels like winter in Eleven Mile Canyon. Deep snow still covers the north facing wall of the Canyon. Parts of the road are covered in ice. Cold wind whips down the canyon from South Park carrying snow. Huge slabs of ice and snow cover large sections of the river. But, up closer to the dam, in the open waters, life stirs.
Midges: Some fly fishers call them "snow flies." I don't care much for proper entomology. All I know is that while I guiding three gentlemen, as the snow was falling, the fish were rising to these tiny creatures as vigorous as a trico hatch on a July morning. With cold, feeble hands, we cast and caught fish after fish.
The midges were tiny. Perhaps a size 30. We did not have to fish flies that small as they were willing to take our 24's and 26's. Midges, midges, midges. Red ones, black, tan or gray. With beads and with out. It did not matter. Dry flies, nymphs, emergers. A variation of a Rojo red midge size 24 and our old standby gray sparkle wing RS2 worked as well as anything.
We stood as out of place as a snow storm in the middle of summer. This winter snow fly hatch continued most of the afternoon. The snow fell and blew all around. Or were they bugs? It did not matter. The fish rose, even as something also rose up inside of us. Awakened from our winter slumber
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