Deckers: A Triple A Day

Triple A: Alan and Andy and Anthony were on the river at Deckers. Alan is the Dad, and Andy is his son, and Anthony is the guide. And we gave the South Platte river an "A" rating. We had a fun time talking and hooking a good number of fish on San Juan Worms (brown) and small black beauties.

Looking for Pattern Discrepancies on the South Platte River:

Rick described strike detection to his son Tim and son-in-law Nate, as a looking for pattern discrepancies on the river.  

Something just feels out of place, “not right,” or different.  The tiny strike indicator or the tip of the fly line or any section of the leader that you can spot, suddenly breaks the pattern of drifting along, and slightly hesitates. That is when you strike.

All three of them were good at recognizing these pattern discrepancies on the South Platte and hooked many fish.  The strikes were subtle and with the skies overcast and gray limiting visibility, they learned to rely on other clues;  clues revealing a discrepancy in the normal pattern.  

There were changes in the weather patterns also. Cold overcast, with spitting snow would give way to the warmth of the sun. We could briefly warm our hands.  Fish would rise heavy to BWO’s, but then they would stop, only to start up again. Were they rising more when the air warmed up or while overcast?   

What patterns were the BWO’s and the fish following?  What variables changed the pattern? Were the bugs suddenly hatching in greater numbers or were the fish rising in greater numbers?  Did the cooler moist air prevent the duns from drying their wings and therefore they were on the surface longer drawing fish up from below? Was the wind blowing the bugs around too much for the fish to track?  Were our repeated casts putting the fish down? Did we need to just rest the hole?  It was difficult to identify the patterns.  And how do you find the discrepancies when the patterns seem random?

I remain largely ignorant of the creation and its mysteries.

Yet, like many mysteries that come to us, they often occur by breaking through the normal patterns. Windows of opportunity that appear momentarily and then vanish like a clear slick spot on the surface of the currents that allows us to see the large fish hiding in the seam lines.

While we made our casts, connecting to fish, sometimes seemingly “some-thing” of God broke through the discrepancies of our overly patterned lives. And, like the strikes, all very subtle and easy to miss.  Even the discrepancies with their deeper meanings can easily pass through our nets and drift on down the river to be contemplated another day.     

Father and Son Team: Enjoyable Day Fly Fishing at Deckers

Fishing at Deckers was consistent all day for "Dan and Dan," a father and son from Pa. Fish took San Juan Worms, Black Beauties, Blind Side midges, Miracle midges, and various small emergers. Blue wing olives were emerging but most of the fish seem to be laying low preferring the nymphs. Dan and Dan learned the techniques quickly, made perfect drifts, and had a great time fly fishing for trout for the first time.

How many did they catch?  Enough.

Nice Bow On South Platte

My client Dan caught this wonderful rainbow on the South Platte River this morning. First time fishing in Colorado. Great fish Dan. The rainbow took a size 24 black beauty.

Snow Storm: A Pure Event

There is something about a snow storm that is pure. It has no motive. It does not want anything from us. It is a pure event.

It just falls and blankets everything. It covers the trees and hillsides.  It covers and quiets our messes and dramas. For a moment, the storm dominates and all is silent.  A pure silence.  A pure event.

I remember as a child being in that pure silence under the snow in the early morning. I remember my disdain when the plow trucks came and disrupted my world. Then the snow became dirty and noise entered my once quiet and pure world.  TV’s and radios blaring. Voices complaining about the snow.

But for now, the storm continues to drop snow on us. The city is frozen. Everything shuts down.  We are suspended above all our work and responsibilities. We can float, just like the snowflakes into a pure event; the pure existence of  simply being.

Cheesman Canyon Trout Picky All Day

The trout in Cheesman Canyon are of an abstemious nature.  They were picky all day.  There was no magic fly. A fish here and a fish there. One on a egg, three on a brown worm, a few on a black beauty and one or two on a zebra midge. But what a beautiful place. And what great company to be with friends trying to entice the wary fish.

These fish teach me about life. They teach me about my life. Perhaps I am the one who is picky and ultra selective. I often complain about not being able to connect well to people. Perhaps, like the fish, this is just my nature. However when I do connect with fish and others, it is a wonderful experience deeply appreciated.

I try not to blame others when I do not connect just as I try not to blame the fish. But of course I still do. Rather than pointing the finger at the fish or people in my life I think I should make adjustments within myself.  I can change my rig. I can change flies, use lighter tippet and make better presentations. But I can only change so much. At some point I need to accept that this is the nature of these fish.  I need to personally realize who I am.  In my own relationships, I need to accept the nature of others and not try to change them. In the end, perhaps I need to learn to accept others and myself at a deeper level and learn that the fish that was not caught was no one's fault. I can just be who I am and let the fish be who they are and let others be how they are.   

I guess there are many people who relate and connect well to large numbers of  different kinds of people. Business minded individuals should be this way. Guides, in all their different forms should be this way. However, I am not so sure about myself and how I relate regardless of what might seem to be common sense.

While I do not consider myself a poet I do have a poetic personality type which most often does not help matters. Often idealistic, melancholy and deep, I tend to be disappointed. I relate better with people who think and feel life deeply and know something of the sadness of life. It is not easy for me to sit around and drink merrily discussing the superficial. Those who are honest with me will tell me, that I am, "Too deep, too heavy and too intense," and that I need to lighten up.  

But once in a while a fish takes the fly and I connect. Once in a while I deeply connect to others as I did this day in Cheesman Canyon.

The fish are selective and so am I. As Emily Dickinson says,

"The soul selects her own Society-
Then- shuts the Door-
To her divine Majority-
Present no more-"