Mid-July 2023

With the big runoff of 2023 here in Colorado finally abating, I took a week in the backcountry to explore some new creeks for articles in American Fly Fishing. I set up my mobile fish camp in the excellent Woods and River RV Park on the banks of the Rio Grande River in Del Norte. Then it was off for three days of recon on some remote, beautiful waters. Aside from some dicey moments on several rugged 4wd tracks that threatened to dislodge my dental work, the exploratory trips could not have gone better. The weather was beautiful, the scenery spectacular, the waters fishable, and the fish famished. You can read about these adventures, including a little-known water with rare Rio Grande Cutthroats, in upcoming issues of my favorite magazine.

Figuring I had earned a few lazy days, I rose late the next morning and decided to fish some waters closer by with easier access. Boy, glad I did. The first two I took a look at were still too high and muddy from the runoff, but the third was eminently fishable albeit a tad cloudy. I rigged up my 4-weight TFO wand with a #16 Royal Stimulator that my aging eyes could easily follow in the foam and dropped a #16 red and pink beadhead San Juan Worm a couple of feet below it. I find that color combo surprisingly effective during runoff. Go figure.

On my first cast at the bottom of a good-looking pool, a Lilliputian 8-inch brookie nailed the worm. At least I wouldn’t get skunked. Several casts later further up in the depths of the pool, the Stimi was yanked under uncermoniously, and when I set the hook a big fish rolled on the surface and dived. He tore upstream, then reversed and headed for a big snag on the other bank. My rod bent perilously as I winched him back into the hole. The fight lasted several minutes including one mad rush the fish made to get downstream below me into some fast water that would have likely snapped my leader. With some fancy footwork, I managed to cut him off and finally netted the leviathan–a gorgeous rainbow that pushed 20-inches! It took several minutes for my blood pressure to settle down. I would catch another dozen or so brookies over the next hour, but my day was made.

Next day I did some touring and sight-seeing with my favorite photographer, Ms. Jodi Bol who had captured the big rainbow in that gorgeous photo. But when I spied an alluring meadow stretch of a wild and wooly canyon creek I had fished years ago, she was kind enough to grant me dispensation to make a few casts. While the water was high and flowing fast, it was clear. I opted to drop a beadhead sparkle caddis larva beneath the Royal Stimulator to imitate the numerous fat cased caddis larva I spied under streambed rocks. In the first pool, I fooled several brownies which is all I caught my last time on this water. But in the next pool I nice rainbow surprised me by inhaling the Stimi as it careened downstream in a fast run. Another rainbow followed, loving that fast water.

In the next pool, much shallower, something smacked the dropper and took off in a frantic run upstream. Imaging my surprise when it turned out to be a feisty, colorful little brook trout. A couple of his buddies followed suit. Now it dawned on me that I have a surprise Slam–three different kinds of trout from the same stream. With my wading staff assisting, I danced a little jig on the slippery rocks, not a mean feat for a septuagenarian. Fortunately, Ms. Bol was out photographing wildflowers so the event was not memorialized.

But the real celebration soon followed when I was shocked to hook and land a handsome cuttbow, an orange slash under his mouth certifying I had a Grand Slam–four different kinds of trout. Now I have had several slams over the course of my angling career, but none more surprising or unexpected. And to top the day off, my last fish of the day a few minutes laters was a handsome, hard-fighting brownie, an exclamation point on a fine two hours of fishing.

Here’s a video recounting the two days and to prove they actually took place. We all know how anglers tend to exaggerate and even prevericate, present company partially excepted:

I am calling it my magical mystery tour–can anyone out there guess which stream yielded the Grand Slam?? What about the the water inhabited by that Brobingnagian rainbow?