Fall 2024

For Days 1 and 2 of my Grand Slam quest, see: http://hooknfly.com/2024/10/22/the-quest-for-a-wet-mountain-valley-trout-grand-slam-day-1/ and http://hooknfly.com/2024/11/05/the-quest-for-a-wet-mountain-valley-trout-grand-slam-day-2/

My holy quest for a trout grand slam continues. So far so good–browns, rainbows, and brookies checked off on Days 1 and 2. Now for the toughest one—a native Rio Grande Cutthroat.  My destination today is Medano Creek, hidden in a beautiful valley between the soaring peaks of the Wet Mountain and Sangre de Cristo ranges.  Medano Creek flows south into the Great Sands Dune National Park where it disappears into the sand. 

But don’t be fooled! Before it does, it flows free and cold, high in the mountains above and is one of the best cutthroat waters in Colorado. 

Kudos go to the folks at Colorado Parks and Wildlife for this treasure.  Over a decade ago, they prepared the creek for cutthroats to survive and flourish by poisoning out invasive species like brown trout and then stocking it with Rio Grande Cutthroats, which were on the verge of being listed as endangered.  The cutts proliferated, a great success story. Fishing for the cutthroats is allowed, but catch and release is the rule.

Having fished the creek a couple of times, I know the cutts are thriving and hungry.  The question is–can I get there over the very rough Medano Pass road? In the best of conditions, it’s a teeth-jarring, bone-rattling drive, but with all the rain we have had in July and August it is likely to be in worse shape.  It doesn’t see a road grader very often that’s for sure, especially on the east side of the pass. 

For safety’s sake, it’s good to have someone with you on this trip, so I invite my fishing buddy from Salida, Mr. Tom P. to join me.  I call him Tenkara Tom.  Tenkara is a simple, traditional Japanese style that uses a very long rod, a short light line, and typically only one wet fly.  It has only become popular in the USA in the last 15 years.  It works best on small streams because of the short line that is simply flipped out with the fly without any false casting as with traditional fly casting.  Tom is a master at it, as he demonstrated by outfishing me last year on a small creek in the San Juan Mountains.  I am hoping to deliver his well-deserved comeuppance on Medano Creek. 

I meet him in Westcliffe at 7:30 a.m. on a Sunday for the two-hour drive over Medano Pass, our goal being a series of beaver ponds and open creek stretches several miles below.  Don’t be fooled by the Google Maps that portrays this as a one hour and five-minute drive.  It will take about two hours if you avoid any mishaps.  The first part of the drive is down CO 69 highway, which is a good paved road, about 25 miles to the turnoff on gravel road 559 which leads to Medano Pass.  Be sure to keep your eyes peeled for the Medano Pass turnoff sign.  Don’t follow the circuitous route suggested by Google Maps

The trip is a very scenic one that often features herds of elk or buffalo with the striking Wet Mountains framing the view. 

The first five miles or so on road 559 are decent, skirting a big lake on private property before beginning the ascent to the pass.  But from there things can get gnarlier by the mile as Tom and I soon discover.  The road clearly hasn’t seen a grader for some months as witnessed by the eroded channels coursing down the two-track carved out by recent rains. 

Every mile or so where the road splits to avoid a big boulder or stand of trees, Tom jumps out and evaluates the better route, which works well until we decide to go right to avoid a stretch to the left with some sharp rocks protruding from the roadway.  The right fork is steeper, but the roadbed looks to be in better shape.  I line up to gun up the grade as Tom steps to the side.  I am in 4-wheel drive with some new AT tires, so don’t expect what happens next.  I lurch a few feet forward, then my tires start to spin wildly getting no traction, and my SUV begins to slide backwards with the tires kicking up baseball-sized rocks.  I turn the wheel slightly hoping to avoid sliding into some big trees behind, but that maneuver results in the SUV starting to tilt on its side.  Luckily I get the vehicle stopped before I roll it.  I sit there shaking for a minute, having survived what felt like a near-death experience.  It probably wasn’t that bad, but the look on Tom’s face says it all.  We soon regroup, back up and take the rocky looking stretch which proves to not be as bad as it looked.  But you get the picture–this is a route for 4WD vehicles with high clearance only and drivers with substantial experience on rough backcountry roads.  Indeed, a better route may be through the Great Sand Dunes National Park.  While there are some challenges with that way as well, such as several deep creek crossings and the notorious Sand Pit that can swallow unsuspecting vehicles and requires you to deflate your tires before proceeding then reinflate when you hit solid roadbed, at least you are closer to civilization if you need to walk out or get help.

Once over Medano Pass, however, we breathe much easier and can enjoy the spectacular fall scenery.  The road in the National Park and Preserve proves to be much better maintained than in the national forest on the east side of Medano Pass.

The only challenges are a couple of stream crossings, but unless there has been a big rain they are easy in a high-clearance SUV.  Within a few miles down off the pass, we come to a series of beaver ponds and a hidden stretch of open creek water below where I have done well on earlier trips. 

That’s where we pull over and suit up.  I am wearing chest waders and Tom his wet-wading knee-high outfit.  Tom rigs up his 9-foot tenkara rod with a #14 soft hackled pheasant tail he will fish wet.  It’s a pattern I have seen him catch numerous fish on.  I have my short 7.5 foot 3# wand ready to go with a #18 Chubby Chernobyl dry and a #18 Dirk’s Delight green caddis larva dropper.  By 9:45 we are bushwhacking towards a nice open stretch of the creek hidden downstream of the big beaver ponds.  But as we reach our destination we find the busy beavers have been hard at work—they have built a series of small beaver dams that make casting very difficult.  The dams have backed up water into the overhanging trees and bushes, and the new ponds are too deep or mucky to wade. 

Fortunately, we can see the fish, some rising insouciantly beneath the overhanging bushes.  Tom boldly fords the creek and crashes further downstream.  Soon he is hooting and hollering that he has a good one.  “First fish of the day—a cutt over 12 inches!” he shouts.  Likely story I think!  And he never snaps a photo or produces any other evidence of the event.

We head upstream and finally come to an open stretch that was a hot spot last year.  The water is very low and clear, but with a careful approach we get within casting distance of the pool and have some fun sight fishing.  We can see a half dozen fish looking upstream waiting for their next meal to float by.  I give Tom first chance, and he immediately snaps off his pheasant tail in some bushes behind us.  I wait patiently while he searches for a replacement in his fly box, but all he comes up with is a bushy #18 caddis dry fly.   I have to stifle my chuckle, but then on his first cast he connects immediately.  A beautiful small cutthroat. 

Then it’s my turn, and on my first cast a colorful cutty nails the dry!  Grand Slam!! 

From then on, it’s non-stop action for the beautiful natives.  In a few minutes Tom manages to fool a gorgeous one, sporting a namesake bright reddish-orange slash on its throat, that goes almost a foot, one of the biggest of the day.

We continue on upstream and come to a challenging bend pool guarded by snags mid-stream.  On previous trips it has produced some good-sized, feisty fish for me. 

Being the gentleman fly fisherman, I motion for Tom to go first.  He shows off his stealthy moves by creeping up to a spot on the opposite shore where he can flip his fly out without spooking the fish and still reach the honey hole between the snags.  He sits quietly to let things settle down, then flicks a backhand cast that results in his fly alighting perfectly between the snags.  In a flash, he’s onto a good fish.  He lands that one and then fools two more from the same pool.  Good show Mr. T!!

We continue upstream and come to my favorite long, open stretch of the creek just below an old big beaver dam.  But of course, things have changed since last year.  The beaver have constructed another big dam—almost 4 feet high–that has flooded the creek all the way up to the foot of the old beaver dam, creating a long linear pond 20 or so feet across.  My heart sinks as I utter a few choice words.  But hope springs eternal, so I begin to scale the new dam, a bold move by a septuagenarian.  I manage to get near the top so I have enough clearance to cast but still keep low enough not to spook the fish….if there are any in the new pond.

I throw a long cast into the slow current, let the flies settle, then give my line a twitch.  The water explodes as a good cutt gulps down the dry.  He cavorts back and forth around the pond, then something almost jerks the rod out of my hand.  Low and behold, another trout surfaces with the caddis larva in its jaw.  He goes one way, the dry fly guy the other.  It’s a fun battle, and I beam as I lift my line out of the water with two fish wriggling wildly.  Soon they are swimming back to their pals. 

Not to be denied, Tom hikes around the dam to get into the action from the shoreline.  Together we get another couple dozen in short succession before we decide to take a lunch break around 12:30. We will hit the old beaver ponds above after feasting on the comestibles.

But the weather has other ideas.  As we lounge over lunch, some ominous looking clouds start to roll in from the west along with gusty winds.  Instead of flying the white flag, however, we decide to hustle back to the ponds and give them a try…and soon are catching more eager cutthroats in the new narrow pond where I scored the double.  Next we do a highwire act along the old dam upstream till we come to an open spot were we can cast.  Bingo, the fun continues!  Tom, sans waders, has a little trouble reaching the best spots in deeper water offshore with his short line Tenkara rig, but I boldly wade in and am able to cast to some risers out of his reach and net a couple more.  Retribution completed! 

By now, however, the clouds start to spit rain and the wind is howling, sending us scurrying back to the SUV.  It’s about 2:30 when we hit the road back to Westcliffe. 

Again we enjoy the scenery with the aspen showing off their fall colors from bright yellow to flaming orange. And now that we know the rough spots on the road from the travails of the morning, the drive back going downhill from Medano Pass is definitely easier and more pleasant, especially with the Grand Slam accomplished.  It’s been an enjoyable three days pursuing these beautiful fish in magical, remote surroundings, topped off with a good dose of camaraderie with Tenkara Tom today.  After all, that’s what fly fishing is really all about.