Early August 2023

For my earlier trips to Tomichi Creek, see: http://hooknfly.com/2016/07/17/daley-gulch-double-on-tomichi-creek-near-gunnison-colorado/; http://hooknfly.com/2018/06/24/day-2-of-the-tomichi-creek-trifecta-near-gunnison-co-the-lower-canyon-stretch/

When you have lived three-quarters of a century, your mind often wanders back to friends and colleagues that have enriched your life.  A couple of times a month I find myself getting on the phone (a cell phone, not a rotary dial model) and calling old buddies, former business partners, and the like, just to see how they are doing.  Or when I am making my annual migrations back and forth between the Everglades in Florida and the high country of Colorado, I stop in to see the old gang and reminisce about the good times we had.  In the back of my mind is always the question, will this be the last time our paths will cross.  These aren’t sad affairs, far from it.  They warm my heart and fill me with gratitude.

River and creeks are the same way. I now find myself wanting to revisit waters that I haven’t called on for a while, those that treated me to a memorable day of fly fishing along with a needed dose of nature and solitude. Some require a hike into a rugged canyon that my old knees may not allow in the future. Others are tricky wading with fast currents that my once cat-like reflexes could easily handle but now may result in a cold dunking…and maybe worse, like a broken hip.

This year several of this genre are on my dance card—Chavez Creek near Upper Dome Lake, the headwaters of Saguache and Cochetopa Creeks in the La Garita Wilderness, and Grape Creek in a remote canyon come to mind. All take some doing to get to. Another closer to home, Tomichi Creek, I find from my fishing journal I haven’t visited in almost four years despite its being only 45 minutes away from my cabin near Salida. She’s different than the others in that access and wading are easy. But she is one that I feel I must look after to make sure she’s still doing OK. If not, I may have to raise a little ruckus about the situation with the proper authorities.

For many years I would whiz by Tomichi Creek when traveling busy US Highway 50 on my way from my cabin to fish the fabled waters of the Gunnison River and its tributaries like the East River.  Then in 2016, as I hustled down Monarch Pass just above the village of Sargents, I happened to see an official looking sign on a fence separating the stream from the highway, so I turned around to take a look.  I was pleasantly surprised to find that that the Colorado State Land Board owns a full section of land along the road called Daley Gulch that is open to fishing. 

I made a mental note, and a few months later sampled her waters.  I had a delightful day, catching some hard-fighting brown trout, several of which hit the 14-inch mark, not bad for a little creek less that 20 feet wide.  The wildflowers along the stream were a bonus as was not seeing many boot marks.  Later I would find another public stretch in a canyon just below Sargents and again had a banner day chasing brown trout.

Now five years have passed, and I am anxious to see how my friendly neighborhood creek has fared.  Over this period, most of Colorado has been locked in a deep drought that has resulted in streams like Tomichi Creek and the Conejos River in southern Colorado being subjected to periodic closures in the summer due to low water flows and high temperatures that can be deadly to trout.  Indeed, last summer when I was making my annual trip to the headwaters of Saguache Creek high in the La Garita Wilderness, I winced when passed by Tomichi Creek and saw it was barely a trickle. Further down towards Gunnison where water is sucked out for irrigation, the situation was even worse. It was like seeing an old friend on life support. 

Like many waters in this part of Colorado, Tomichi Creek has a fascinating and often troubling history intertwined with mining.  The creek was reportedly named along with a nearby peak from a Ute word for “dome-shaped rock.”  Once silver was discovered in its watershed in the late 1800s, the creek had a rough go of it.  The town of Tomichi, originally called Argenta, the derivative of the Latin word for silver, was by 1882 a booming mining camp with its own post office and bank, with a population of over 1,000.  But it didn’t last long as the silver had to be transported over a very rough road 12 miles to the railhead in Sargents and periodic avalanches tore up the road and obliterated the mines.  Even today, the damage from the mining can still be seen in the headwaters around White Pine where the U.S. Forest Service has undertaken major reclamation efforts. 

But in the meantime, in the lower reaches in the valley below, while the native cutthroat are gone, a substantial population of spunky brown trout have made the creek their home.  Amazing what nature can do when given time to recover.

Fortunately, this past winter the snows in the rugged mountains above the Tomichi were deep, and spring rains added to the flows.  When I checked the Colorado Division Of Water Resources streamflow  site (dwr.state.co.us) in early August I was happy to see the creek flowing at 40 cfs at Sargents, a near perfect angling level.  It was time to visit my old friend and make sure she was doing OK.

I’m on the road at 7:30 a.m. winding my way over Monarch Pass.  It’s a short drive to the public stretch of the creek upstream of Sargents, so I’m soon at the gate below a big CDOT work site and then walking through the marshy terrain to the creek. I’ve rigged up my 8 ½ foot, 4 wt rod with a #16 gold body Chubby Chernobyl to imitate the scads of yellow hoppers in the meadow teamed with a #18 beadhead sparkle caddis larva.  Caddis and mayflies love the Tomichi. 

I walk downstream to a wide bend in the creek and start working up.  Surprisingly, in the first few good-looking pools where I have fooled trout before, today I draw a goose egg.  I am already worrying that the creek isn’t doing so well since the last time I was here, which seems like just yesterday but was back in the summer of 2018.  Then I come to a big bend in the creek that’s created a deep pool.  The shoreline is covered with a profusion of gorgeous wildflowers—shooting stars, marsh buttercups, sunflowers, and daisies.  I christen it the Wildflower Power Pool—and it delivers. 

On the very first cast a spry little brownie nails the Chubby and puts up a good tussle before coming in for a quick photo and release. He’s followed quickly by another half dozen, one topping 13-inches. 

The action is steady as I work upstream. Soon I come to what I call the Leaning Tower Of Trout that shelters a short rapid which feeds into a deep pool. 

It never disappoints, and this time not only treats me with a couple of nice brownies but also surprises with the first and only brook trout of the day. 

That’s followed by some action at  the old reliable irrigation diversion pool that harbors some big fish.  It produces a couple of good browns, one on the dry and one on the dropper. 

The second fish that took the Chubby is himself a tad chubby, a sure candidate for Weight Watchers.

Now I start to see a few boot marks as I get closer to the CDOT work site.  The creek here is easier to access via the official parking area close to the CDOT facility and gets more pressure.  However, as it has in the past, a big bend pool in this stretch produces a fine 14-inch brown that will be the biggest fish of the morning.

I sit on the bank reflecting as I release the handsome fish.  It appears my old friend Tomichi is just peachy!  Now I wonder about the nearby canyon stretch just downstream of Sargents a mile or so.  It is so close to the highway, literally a stone’s throw, that perhaps it hasn’t fared so well.  It’s lunch time, so I decide to hustle down there, grab some victuals and an RC Cola to reenergize, then do take its temperature.

I park my SUV at a wide turnout on the north side of the highway and after a leisurely lunch make my way cautiously across the highway feeling a bit like an overmatched matador in a bull ring.  I manage to avoid getting clipped by a couple of speeding pickups, then walk down a short distance and bushwhack my way through a stand of dense willows to the creek. 

My first view boosts my spirits.  The water is a clean green tint and there’s plenty of current.  In the very first pool a nice brownie smacks the Chubby as it swirls around a big rock midstream.  The good action continues on both the Chubby and the dropper as I work upstream.  Interestingly, last time when I was here and the water was low, the fish were hiding in deeper runs along undercut banks.  It took precise casts and drifts close against the shoreline to coax them out.  Today with ample water I find them out carousing for food in faster, deeper runs away from the bank.  That’s where I fool a brawling brownie that pushes 14-inches, then another sleek beauty below a rock ledge.

By now it’s almost five p.m., and I come to a deep pool that edges close to the highway, so close I can see vehicles speeding by.  I come up empty and start to see lots more boot marks along the shoreline.  Maybe time to call it a day?  No, something tells me that the heavy willow growth I can see crowding the creek downstream may have dissuaded would-be anglers from venturing further.  I have my chest waders on so can navigate to the next alluring bend pool in the creek instead of hackashacking through those pesky willows.    I think to myself, “one more fish and I’ll call it a day.” I loft a cast upstream above the bend and watch as the Chubby bounces jauntily along in the current before swirling into the enticing green water of the pool.  Then it’s disappears!  I set the hook, and a shimmering golden brownie swirls on the surface with the sparkle caddis fly in his mouth.  He cavorts back and forth before relenting. 

As I release the beauty, I think to myself, perseverance pays…nothing like catching one last fish on the last cast of the day.  I tip my hat to my old friend Tomichi Creek, pleased to know she’s still doing just fine.