Fall 2024

For Day 1 of the Quest, see: http://hooknfly.com/2024/10/22/the-quest-for-a-wet-mountain-valley-trout-grand-slam-day-1/

After a long, successful day yesterday on my holy quest, I decide to stick closer to camp on Day 2.  After all, I am halfway to a coveted grand slam—browns and rainbows already accounted for– and can relax a bit and chase some eager brookies just a few minutes from my camp.

I am roughing it in gentleman’s style, ensconced in my Keystone travel trailer at the outstanding Grape Creek RV park just south of Westcliffe, Colorado, a quiet campground with great views. 

An added attraction is that a stretch of upper Grape Creek above DeWeese Reservoir runs right through the RV park.  It’s only a few hundred yards down a slope from my camp site, and even better, it’s private water.  I have fished here a couple of times in past years and know it harbors feisty, but skittish brookies.  Grape Creek here is only a dozen feet wide and shallow in most stretches. 

So after a leisurely breakfast and some lounging in the morning sun reading John Gierach’s Even Brook Trout Get The Blues, I saunter down to do some reconnaissance.  After sizing things up creekside, I plan to drive the short distance into Westcliffe to scope out its shops and historic landmarks plus have lunch at one of my favorite establishments, Bootlegger’s Bistro. 

It’s only a 10-minute stroll to the water.  As I amble down the slope, I immediately spook some healthy, fine-looking deer—a mama and her yearling—hiding in the tall grass and bushes in a field to the north. 

I snap a couple of photos before they prance away, then continue on down to check in with some equine buddies that expect some grassy cuisine for allowing me to pass through their corral to the creek. 

I emerge from the corral just downstream of a big beaver dam to find the water low and clear with small fish skedaddling to safety in a pool below the dam.  I mount the dam carefully and continue upstream along the west shoreline, trudging through shallow water.  I spot fish hiding under thick mats of aquatic vegetation and in small shady areas created by overhanging trees in a few scattered spots along the banks.  This is going to be more challenging than I expected.  I also pause to overturn some rocks on the creek bottom and find them crawling with caddis larva, which I expected, but not the cream-colored variety that I find. 

Usually caddis larva on Grape Creek are the normal bright green variety which I imitate with my Dirk’s Delight green hotwire CDC beadhead concoction.  That was certainly the ticket on lower Grape Creek yesterday.  Fortunately when I get back to the trailer I confirm I have some reasonable facsimiles of the cream ones—Caddis Poobah Cream Beadheads–tucked in a big plastic box containing hundreds of spare flies, most of which I rarely use. Then it’s off to town.

Westcliffe has a fascinating history, and a good place to start exploring is at the Custer County Welcome Center in the bustling downtown just one block south of the intersection of Main Street and Highway 69. 

It’s only open Thursday through Saturday, but my timing is impeccable.  I’m greeted by a friendly lady who tells me she is a summer resident/snowbird who volunteers at the center.  After some pleasantries, she hands me a copy of the handsome Wet Mountain Valley guidebook, Custer County Past & Present. 

I find it to be well-written and profusely illustrated, a veritable treasure trove of information, a Bonanza that’s free!  Historic ranches like the fabled Beckwith spread, which is open to visitors, are covered in one section while others delve into the history of Custer County’s other towns–Wetmore and nearby Silver Cliff—plus offering a walking tour of Westcliffe’s historic buildings and landmarks.   Another page chronicles the many famous western movies filmed in the valley with a closing page extolling the efforts preserve the striking night sky whose brilliant stars and constellations are astonishing.  Then I am off on the tour, seeing historic sites like the Jones Theater that began as a saloon and pool hall in the 1800s and the Westcliffe jail, a calaboose built in 1888 for the princely sum of $330. 

When my stomach starts to growl just after noon, I head for the Bootlegger’s Bistro on Main Street just around the corner from the welcome center. 

I’m in luck and get a good table on the patio in the sun.  My order is for the establishment’s famous Reuben sandwich along with a local brew from the great selection offered by the restaurant called Colorado Native Amber.  Then it’s off to catch a brook trout.

Back at camp I rig up my light weight 7.5-foot wand with a #18 cream-colored Poobah caddis larva dangling 18 inches below a #18 Royal Stimulator, then descend to the creek under a warm, sunny sky.  In that first pool below the beaver dam, a few fish dart away as I get close.  So I kneel and throw a cast just below where the creek cascades around the dam into the pool. 

Immediately the Stimi disappears, and I am onto a veritable leviathan—a 12-inch brookie erupts on the surface then cavorts around the pool, bending my three-weight rod double.  But before long the colorful beauty is sliding into my net and posing for a quick pix. 

Whew, the grand slam pressure is off—I am three quarters of the way home!  Next cast, same result.   Over the ensuing 15 minutes I catch another half dozen spunky brookies before the pool goes quiet.

Now I am ready for more hot action above in the beaver pond so I scale the dam and unfurl my line, expecting it to be lights out.  But of course, I get nothing.  Turns out the water in the pond is still with no obvious current.  So I move on upstream to the mats of green aquatic vegetation where I see some nice brookies hiding in the shadows.  But a dozen casts fail to lure them from their hiding places. 

I continue upstream above the underwater vegetation.  It is a long shallow stretch I scouted this morning punctuated by a couple of small trees that overhang the water creating shaded pools with some depth.  And right on time, I spot a couple of risers as I move carefully into position.  My first cast falls short, but the second manages to elude the clutches of the branches and settles daintily at the upper end of the pool. 

The Stimi glides gracefully down the current, under the branches, and into the shadows and deeper water.  BAM, a brookie smacks the Stimi and is soon joined by one of his buddies who can’t resist the caddis dropper zipping around the pool—a fun double.  I catch a couple more before moving up to the next shady spot against the bank.  Like the first, it is challenging to avoid the snags, but whenever I lay one in there, a brookie feasts. 

I continue upstream and hit a couple more shady spots and catch a few more, smaller brookies, then come to the fence on the upper boundary of the property.  It’s 3:30 p.m. so decide to end the day, take a shower, and grab a little nap, knowing I just need a cutthroat to complete the slam.  If I can survive the bone-jarring, teeth-rattling treacherous drive over Medano Pass tomorrow, I know my odds are good for catching a native Rio Grande Cutthroat in Medano Creek hidden deep in the reaches of the Wet Mountains at the south end of the valley.   That will give me some things to think about tonight and prepare for as I enjoy a glass of wine and watch the sunset….and the moon rise over the Wet Mountain Valley.