February 7, 2023February 12, 2023 hooknfly

Looking Back On 2022: The Best, The Befuddling, And The Bungled

January 2023

January 2022 dawned sunny and bright, with me salting margaritas down in the Everglades instead of sidewalks in Colorado and, better yet, wrestling snook instead of shoveling snow! Covid was finally in the rearview mirror for the most part and promises for a bountiful piscatorial year are looking good. So how did it turn out? Here’s a look back at the best of 2022 and some bungled episodes as well.

It’s hard to believe that I hadn’t fished in the Everglades–or anywhere in Florida for that matter like the Keys—in the winter for almost two years! Despite that hiatus and fewer articles about fishing in the Sunshine State being posted in 2022, I was grateful my readers stuck with me and that the number of visitors and views stayed steady at the peak levels established in 2020. Many thanks!

Fishing Buddies And Family

As I age (slowly and gracefully), the connections angling brings with fishing buddies and family become ever more important and treasured. I had some fun and productive outings in Florida with Jim Cannon (former owner of the renowned Blue Quill Anglers in Colorado), my Colorado neighbor Charlie Cain, Esq., Steve Keeble, Robert Wayne, Esq. (who lives in Naples, FL), and my old college roomie Morris Douglas Martin.

We had a lot of laughs together while we boated a lot of fish, and better yet, I learned some new tricks and tips from them. You ought to see Cannon and Keeble fly cast from a kayak—impressive! In Colorado during the summer the fish parade continued with good friends Bob Wayne and Steve Spanger as we chased trout in the Colorado wilds. I also enjoyed fishing with new friends Tom Palka, who writes the newsletter for our local Trout Unlimited Chapter, and Kim LeTourneau, an accomplished guide for my local fly shop Ark Anglers who also covers fishing for the Mountain Mail newspaper.

Whether in Florida or in the Rockies, they all had the chutzpah to outfish me!!

In March my son Matthew came down for a week to soak some rays and relax. The day we spent in the Everglades backcountry together warmed this father’s heart. It was a smorgasbord of feisty fish—snook, sea trout, ladies, jacks, and even a gafftopsail catfish that put up a great fight before sliming us when we wrestled with him to remove the hook. The video says it all.

This proud papa was thrilled when Florida Sportsman published a short article in the fall that I wrote about fishing the Tamiami Trail country around Everglades City. It featured a couple of great photos of Matthew and yours truly with some nice snook.

Come summer back in Colorado my little sweetheart granddaughter Aly showed off her casting skills while catching some nice rainbows in a high mountain lake along with her Daddy Matthew. The mile walk in and out to the lake was a great nature hike featuring beautiful wildflowers and a close encounter with a big buck mule deer.

Most Popular Posts And Published Articles

The continuing popularity of a series of five blog posts I penned in 2020 entitled “The Best Fishing Books Of All Time” is remarkable. It garnered over 3,000 views this year and on Google searches for ‘best fishing books’ has become the most popular link on that subject, even outpacing Amazon’s sponsored ads. Take that Zuckerberg!

What is really gratifying is seeing that level of interest in angling books, from serious literature to technical how-to works, remains high in this age of videos and on-line reading. Here is a link of you want to take a look: https://hooknfly.com/2020/08/01/the-best-fishing-books-of-all-time/

Another surprise was that the most popular post overall was one entitled “Taking A Hike In The Everglades…And Stumbling On A Hidden Bass Lake.” Focused mainly on hiking in the Fakahatchee Strand Preserve State Park near Everglades City, it garnered about 4,500 views. Here is a link to the post: https://hooknfly.com/2022/04/16/taking-a-hike-in-the-everglades-and-stumbling-on-a-hidden-bass-lake/

As a result, I decided to branch out a bit and write about hiking around my winter home base as well as fishing. My next effort, the first in a series about hiking the main trails in the park, appeared in December. Click on the link to read the post: https://hooknfly.com/2022/11/30/hiking-the-fab-four-trails-of-the-fakahatachee-strand-preserve-state-park-1-the-west-main/

The most read angling posts, with almost 4,000 views, were again a quartet about finding and fishing for rare Rio Grande Cutthroat trout in southern Colorado. For my latest foray on the fab forks of the Conejos with my photographer Jody Bol, see: https://hooknfly.com/2022/08/15/conejos-river-capers/

The post on kayak and wade fishing around Bahia Honda State Park in the Florida Keys again took the top spot for saltwater. See for the latest post on Bahia Honda: https://hooknfly.com/2019/06/08/bahia-honda-state-park-post-irma/

Now that I am back in Florida for the winter and spring, you can bet I will be getting out on the water and sharing new trips and tales. I have already made plans for a two-week fishing trip to the Florida Keys in late April.

When the weather was uncooperative or the winds howling, I hunkered down and continued to write articles for American Fly Fishing and Florida Sportsman. The article about fishing in South Park, Colorado, was titled “Mission Impossible: Searching For Fish And Solitude.”

Fishing The Hidden Waters Of South Park: Under The Radar

It was the lead featured piece in the July issue of American Fly Fishing and focused on finding hidden and remote creeks in the famous valley near Denver, home of the South Platte River, Dream Stream, and other popular waters and lakes that sometimes feature combat fishing. https://hooknfly.com/2022/07/21/south-park-under-the-radar/

Florida Sportsman ran two of my articles in 2022. The first was a fun one in which I discussed the very controversial gar conversion therapy. Under the heading “In Defense Of The Antediluvian Gar,” I stood up for this hard-fighting, oft-underestimated fish while documenting the successful conversion of a tarpon aficionado to gar fishing in the Everglades. https://hooknfly.com/2022/11/19/gar-conversion-therapy/

Bob Wayne Undergoing Gar Conversion Therapy

The second piece, noted above, recounted the variety of angling opportunities along the Tamiami Trail between Naples and Miami.

Most Rewarding Trips

One of my favorite streams close to home is a remote twenty mile stretch of Grape Creek between Westcliffe and Canon City, Colorado. Over the past decade I have had many memorable trips into the canyon where the creek runs, chasing plentiful and hungry browns and rainbows. But disaster struck a couple of years ago when two giant flash floods only a few weeks apart scoured the canyon and practically wiped out all insect life in the upper reaches. Without food, the fish abandoned the stretches I frequented. After a couple of fruitless trips, I decided to wait a couple of years to see if Grape Creek would recover. Thankfully, it did, and I was rewarded with my biggest trout of the year—a 19-inch brown—during a July trip.

A bonus was that some healthy foot-long rainbow trout had apparently migrated down from the tailwaters of DeWeese Reservoir and helped provide non-stop action. https://hooknfly.com/2022/08/05/grape-creek-comeback/

Another trip up the headwaters of the Conejos River high in the mountains of southern Colorado provided some unexpected and mostly pleasant surprises. Exploring the five forks of the Conejos River is on my bucket list. I have had terrific days on the Lake and Adams Fork chasing beautiful, rare Rio Grande Cutthroats. This year I had my eye on fishing the Middle and North Forks, both of which can be reached as they branch off the Upper Conejos River about two miles above Platoro Reservoir. Being remote streams, I expected a plethora of feisty fish including cutthroats that I had found on the nearby Adams Fork. But after pounding the lower reaches of each for an hour, I was beginning to have my doubts. I decided to try one last pool on the Middle Fork that looked particularly inviting and struck a bonanza. On my first cast I watched transfixed as a huge brown trout rose slowly from the depths and inhaled my fly. Then it was off to the races, trying to run down the rascal who had managed to fly by me and head downstream into a brush pile. Somehow I managed to extricate that big brownie and followed that miracle by catching his large mate on the very next cast.

Given that result, I decided I’d better retrace my steps and go up higher on the North Fork. However, I only managed a few small browns on that stretch before it disappeared into a ravine above the valley. Needless to say, I was perplexed. Why so few fish on the Middle and North Forks, albeit big ones on the Middle Fork? The revelation would come as I fished back down on the Upper Conejos below the fork to the trailhead where my SUV was parked. Here on a mile stretch I caught a passel of brown trout, most over 15-inches. The answer?? As confirmed by a local angler at the general store in Platoro, the big fish migrate out of Platoro Reservoir into the Upper Conejos and grow fat and sassy eating all the little guys. Of course, now I must return in 2023 to confirm this theory!

https://hooknfly.com/2022/10/07/prospecting-for-trout-on-the-fab-forks-of-the-conejos-river-3-and-4-the-middle-and-north-forks/

The Scary And Amusing, The Sad And The Confusing

In 2022 I thankfully avoided any scary incidents with moose, mountain lions, sharks and the like that I have had in the past. But the year’s most blood-curdling incident was self-inflicted, with an alligator playing the villain. Normally the many gators I encounter during my trips into the Everglades backcountry bolt at the first sign of my kayak or Gheenoe. Once in a great while a young gator will venture too close when I am catching lots of fish, attracted out of curiosity to all the jumping and splashing. Usually smacking a paddle on the water sends him scurrying for cover. Alligators that are aggressive down here tend to be ones fed by humans, mainly tourists.

My most memorable gator encounter for 2022 took place on a sunny day in March when I took my college buddy Morris on a trip along the historic Loop Road near Everglades City. I figured we would take a break from the serious day-long fishing trips into the backcountry and find some easier targets in the bass and cichlids in the canal along the gravel road as it winds its way through the swamp. The alligators were everywhere. Being teenage boys at heart, we couldn’t resist tossing one of the small fish we caught to a big gator lounging in the slough near a big culvert.

The fish bounced a few feet down the slope but didn’t make it to the water. All of a sudden, the docile reptile came rocketing out of the water at warp speed to gobble down the fish. His momentum carried him up the incline almost onto the road. It must have been comical to watch two old coots scrambling back towards their SUV in utter terror, but thankfully no one was there to record the incident. Lesson relearned: DO NOT FEED THE GATORS!!

The biggest bummer of the year followed in the wake of Hurricane Ian that struck southwest Florida in late September. I had dutifully rigged my Gheenoe, a motorized canoe, under my house on Chokoloskee Island near Everglades City as advised by old salts down here. Following that advice, my boat had survived in good condition a five-foot flood tide that swept over Chokoloskee during Hurricane Irma in 2017. Unfortunately, either because I didn’t insert the bilge plug or the ropes anchoring the boat and trailer to the building pillars were too tight to allow them to float, saltwater surged a couple of feet deep into the boat and destroyed the electrical system.

When I returned to Florida in early November, I took the boat to my local marina in Naples and got the bad news. A month and $5,000 later everything was put back in order, and fortunately the damage was mostly covered by my boat insurance. The big relief was that the motor was undamaged. Whew!

In the category of confusing was an exploratory trip to find brook trout and maybe some cutthroats reputedly swimming in a remote creek in the Colorado high country south of Del Norte. One of the best angling guidebooks for exploring secluded waters around my neck of the woods in Colorado is 49 Trout Streams of Southern Colorado by Williams and McPhail. They sang the praises of Torsido Creek, a tributary of La Jara Creek south of Del Norte, Colorado. I had fished La Jara Creek below La Jara Reservoir a number of times with great success, so was anxious to explore the upper La Jara and Torsido Creek. After a long and bone-jarring ride over a narrow, bumpy gravel road that hadn’t seen a grader for some time, I made it to the lake and drove to its upper reaches where La Jara Creek flows in. Trouble was, the creek was next to invisible in the expansive meadow above the reservoir, and it wasn’t clear where it was joined by Torsido Creek. To exacerbate matters, I had run off and left my detailed maps of the area in my travel trailer back in Del Norte and the GPS on my cell phone wasn’t working. No worries I thought. Torsido had to be out there somewhere. But after wandering about for almost two hours, marching through muck, dodging a big bull, and clambering over a couple of barbwire fences in my waders, I flew the white flag and turned tail back to my SUV. Fortunately, on the way back I had to cross upper La Jara Creek, and serendipitously where I did some trout were rising. That was the start of an epic afternoon of catching not only some fat, beautiful brook trout, but also some muscular, truculent tiger trout that apparently are stocked in the reservoir and run up the creek to eat. https://hooknfly.com/2022/10/24/taming-the-tigers-of-torsido-and-upper-la-jara-creek-near-del-norte-co/

Not until I got back to camp did I discover the confluence with Torsido Creek is hidden in the gap in a ridge about a quarter mile from where I stopped fishing that day. Darn, guess I will have to schedule a return engagement in 2023!

Persistence Pays Off

Like many things in life, persistence pays off in angling. Two years ago I experienced a particularly humbling experience at the hands of brook trout on the upper reaches of the Huerfano (Wear-fano) River in the wilds of the Sangre de Cristo Mountains of southern Colorado. Fishing in one of the most scenic valleys I’ve ever set foot in, I was sure this was going to be a banner day when in the first pool I came to I spied nice brook trout finning in the depths. However, three hours and 20 expletives later, I flew the white flag. I had scored nary a bite the whole time as the spawning brookies made clear amore was more important than eating. With the air redolent of skunk, I slunk back to my SUV. Now fast forward to the summer of 2022. I decided to return to the scene of the skunking for a measure of revenge. But this time things looked even worse when I hit the water after navigating the rough road to the Lily Lake trailhead. It was mid-summer, and the brook trout weren’t spawning. Indeed, none of the alluring pools seemed to hold any fish. So after two hours of flailing the water, I started back to the SUV, tail between my legs. Luckily, I had to cross a very narrow, but fast-flowing tributary of the Huerfano in the meadow to the west of the river. As I did, I happened to see what appeared to be a rise at a bend below me in the creek. What the heck, I thought, and threw my fly downstream. It floated a few feet, then was sucked in by what turned out to be a chunky brook trout. So that’s where the little devils were hiding. That was the first of more than a dozen nice brookies from what I have dubbed the West Fork of the Huerfano. You won’t see it named on a map, but believe me, it and the fish are there. Indeed, persistence pays off.

And speaking of stick-to-it-of-ness, a case of avian persistence opened my eyes. I am a confirmed amateur birdwatcher, especially at my mountain cabin in Colorado where a steady cavalcade of western tanagers, evening grosbeaks, hummingbirds, and many others at my birdfeeders provides a steady stream of pleasure. But those bird feeders have also attracted pinon jays and Clark’s Nutcrackers, drawing me into a never-ending battle with these noisy, wily, and voracious, albeit handsome, birds. Imagine their fright when I come storming out on the front porch hurling expletives till the Colorado sky turns even bluer. I did some research on-line to see if there were any better strategies to deal with these smart, raucous marauders, and in the process learned that because of habitat loss, notably destruction of pinyon trees they rely on for food, and climate change, these iconic western birds are declining precipitously.

Clark’s Nutcracker Feasting
On Pinyon Nuts

Indeed, one report estimated the pinyon jays have declined 85% of the past 50 years and that there are only 700,000 left worldwide (versus 8 billion humans)! All of this made me realize I need to focus closer to home on saving the world. That will mean nurturing the pinyon trees already growing on my land and planting new ones. It will also mean biting my tongue when the raiders come to my bird feeders and dutifully hanging another suet cake when they take their leave. My thanks to them for their persistence and opening my eyes.

On The Horizon: Looking Forward to 2023

So what’s on the agenda for 2022? First and foremost is to get back down to Florida to get my saltwater chops back. I arrived in Everglades City a couple of months ago, got the kayak and Gheenoe ready to go, and started executing that plan. A 24-inch snook on my first yak outing led the fish parade not to mention a 33-inch leviathan out in my Gheenoe with buddy Steve Keeble in the New Year!

More stories and tall tales to come from the Everglades backcountry! I also want to explore some of the remote brackish canals east of Naples, Florida, that are impossible to access except with a kayak. Big snook are rumored to hide out there along with the gators! Fishing some remote islands in the Florida Keys is also on the agenda.

On the writing front, my article on fishing the Fakahatchee Strand Preserve State Park in the Everglades is scheduled for publication soon in an issue of Florida Sportsman to be followed by a piece on the top ten tackle, gear, and techniques tips for kayak anglers in the Everglades. On the trout side, American Fly Fishing will carry an article this spring about my adventures this past summer on La Garita and Carnero Ceeks, two remote high-country streams in Colorado, to be followed later in the year by shorter pieces on upper La Jara and Tarryall Creeks, also in Colorado.

In the keep it under your hat category, I am also in initial negotiations with Kevin Kostner for a new TV series now that it looks as if he’s dropping out of “Yellowstone.” It will tentatively be called “Tales of a Zombie Fisherman” and will be based on my 2022 shenanigants on Halloween night when I went trick-or-treating with my favorite little witch Aly. Stay tuned!!

Of course, I will chase some trout with my sweetheart Aly and find Torsido Creek at long last.

January 24, 2022January 24, 2022 hooknfly

2021 Retrospective: The Best, The Botched, And The Blood-Curdling

January 2022

What can you say about 2021? It certainly was another interesting and challenging year. Despite the vicissitudes and travails that all of us went through, it was rewarding overall with plenty of delights, fun times, and frisky fish. Here goes, taking a look back at the best and some busted times as well.

An unexpected and wonderful delight was the extra time I got to spend with my little sweetheart granddaughter Aly. Because of day-care problems associated with Covid, I drove to Denver every week for 8 months starting in October 2020 to take care of her for two days, just her and me, what she called “Grandpa days.” Boy did we have fun exploring creeks, catching crawdaddies, and fooling some fish in metro Denver lakes!

I was also happy to welcome an expanding group of readers from all over the USA and internationally. It’s been a treat getting to know several better, trading fish stories and becoming friends. Thanks to Jim, Bill, Jason, Ed, Jerry, Tim, Brian and the rest of the gang. Despite Covid which led me to remain in Colorado all of 2021 and only spending two weeks in Florida with only one new post, readership stayed steady at the high level established in 2020–over 86,000 views.

In a typical year, new Florida posts account for a quarter of all views. Now that I am back in Florida for the winter and spring, you can bet I will be getting out on the water and sharing new trips and tales.

Like most senior citizens, I can’t let the opportunity pass to gripe about various aches and pains. In October 2020 I came down with a severe case of sciatica due to a couple of ill-advised back-to-back hikes into rugged canyons in search of trout. It was so bad—had me hobbling with a cane–that I began contemplating a life without the hiking, kayaking, and fishing remote backcountry areas that I love. Fortunately, I was referred to a wonderful doctor of physical therapy who correctly assessed the problem in my aging back and put together an exercise routine that has me feeling better than ever and ready for more adventures exploring this beautiful Earth.

Most Popular Posts And Published Articles

By a wide margin, the most popular articles were a quartet about fishing for rare Rio Grande Cutthroat trout in southern Colorado. The series garnered over 5,300 views, including the single most-read article —exploring Medano Creek in the Great Sand Dunes National Preserve, with 2,700 views.

Day Two Exploring The Hidden Streams of the Sangre de Cristo Mountains: Medano Creek (in the Great Sand Dunes Preserve near Alamosa, Colorado)

Perhaps the most rewarding response to any post was the continuing popularity of a five-part series I wrote in late 2020 entitled “The Best Fishing Books Of All Time.” It garnered over 1,600 views in 2021, and several times was featured in the daily Google News post as the leading article on the subject. It was particularly popular around Christmas time as people searched for gift ideas.

THE BEST FISHING BOOKS OF ALL TIME

For saltwater angling, the article I wrote several years ago on fishing around Bahia Honda State Park in the Florida Keys continues to lead the pack with almost 1,600 views. I am planning to get back down there in May for some additional piscatorial research and updating.

Bahia Honda Grab Bag: Kayak And Wade Fishing Around Bahia Honda State Park (Florida Keys)

Covid has been particularly tough on national fishing publications. One of the first angling magazines I wrote for back in the 1990s, the venerable American Angler, folded in 2020, and in 2021 one of my favorites, Southwest Fly Fishing, was consolidated with five other similar magazines by the same publisher into just one called American Fly Fishing. The new one is excellent, but the competition to get something published is tougher.

Despite all of that, I was pleased to have two articles come out in 2021. The first, in Florida Sportsman, is a bit of an oddity for me–fishing for Peacock Bass in the freshwater canals of a big residential development near Naples, Florida. I’m mainly a saltwater, backcountry fishing devotee when I come to Florida, but had a good time learning new tricks while catching in a suburban setting these big, colorful exotic fish from South America.

https://hooknfly.com/2021/07/31/golden-gate-peacocks-bass-that-is-near-naples-florida/

The second article, which I am particularly proud of tackled the looming catastrophic impact of climate change on the insects trout subsist on and what can be done about it. Entitled “Insect Armageddon,” it appeared in the May 2021 issue of American Fly Fishing.

Anglers: It Better Bug You–The Coming Insect Armageddon

Another article I wrote for American Fly Fishing, “Mission Impossible?? Searching For Fish And Solitude In South Park, Colorado,” will be coming out in early 2022.

Perhaps the biggest bummer in the realm of publishing came with my Everglades kayak fishing guide that was to be published by Wild Adventures Press in Montana. I completed a draft of the guidebook and was well into the editing process when the company ran into staffing issues as well as production problems linked to its printer in South Korea. Because the press was unlikely to be able to publish the guidebook anytime soon, I parted company with it and am searching for a new more reliable publisher. Any thoughts?

One last note, I was honored to be asked by two fishing clubs, one in Florida and one in Colorado, to make Zoom presentations to their members. The one in Florida focused on kayak fishing in the Everglades and the Colorado meeting on beaver pond fishing savvy. Give me a buzz if you’d like me to make a presentation to your club. Always fun!

Most Rewarding Trips

An expedition to explore the remote Adams Fork of the Conejos River in southern Colorado turned out to be the most rewarding trip of the year for a couple of reasons. First, I was able to successfully test my recovery from the aforementioned bout with debilitating sciatica. I hiked in about three miles then down a steep slope into the canyon below and out again with no ill effects. Better yet, the beautiful, rare Rio Grande Cutthroats, the native trout that is making a comeback in southern Colorado, were very cooperative. What a day!!

Prospecting For Trout on the Fab Five Forks Of The Conejos River: #2–The Adams Fork

Close behind was another hidden gem in the South Luis Valley of southern Colorado, La Garita Creek, that flows out of a gigantic volcano caldera. Accessed only by a rough 4-WD road, La Garita Creek is loaded with eager brown trout, but only if you can find an opening in the overgrown stream to make a decent cast. Can’t wait to return next summer.

I also had what I call ten fin-filled, fun days in late summer on two separate trips with old fishing buddies, Bob Wayne and Steve Spanger. We fished seven different rivers and streams in those ten days ranging from the South Arkansas to the Chama River including waters like Saguache Creek and the Adams Fork and the Gunnison River in between. Fortunately, the fish were sympathetic to us old geezers, and we had a blast.

Most Humbling Trip, Burst Bubbles, And The Blood-Curdling

Without a doubt, the most humbling angling experience of the year was fishing the beaver ponds of Trout Creek near Buena Vista, Colorado. I fancy myself a beaver pond maven, but in May almost lost all my mojo to the lock-jawed brownies of Trout Creek. I flailed the water for an entire day, spooking many fish and landing only three despite heroic efforts that included sloshing through beaver pond marshes in knee-deep muck, fighting willows for my flies, and scaling steep slopes to get to hidden ponds. Nothing worked!

Bewitched, Bothered, And Bewildered By The Beguiling Beaver Ponds Of Trout Creek

Fortunately, I got a measure of revenge and partially rejuvenated my mojo with trips several weeks later to tackle the beaver ponds of Pass Creek not far from my cabin near Salida, Colorado. I managed to catch dozens of nice browns and brookies including a 14-inch beautiful brownie.

Beaver Pond Saga, Chapter 3: Return Of The Mojo (Pass Creek Near Salida, CO)

With my mojo partially patched up, I am planning a return encounter this summer with the baffling Trout Creek denizens!

Another particularly humbling experience came in the fall at the hands of brook trout on the upper reaches of the Huerfano (Wear-fano) River in the wilds of the Sangre de Cristo Mountains of southern Colorado. Fishing in one of the most scenic valleys I’ve ever set foot in, I was sure this was going to be a banner day when in the first pool I came to I spied nice brook trout finning in the depths. However, three hours and many epithets lates, I flew the white flag. I had scored nary a bite the whole time as the spawning brookies made clear amore was more important than eating. With the air redolent of skunk, I slunk back to my SUV and headed back downstream where I managed to salve my bruised ego and rid the myself of the scent of skunk with a dozen or so nice brown trout. Sometimes persistence pays off!

Exploring The Hidden Creeks of the Sangre de Cristo Mountains: Day 1 On The Orphan River

On the blood-curdling front, in the past close encounters with alligators and moose have topped the list. This time it was a close-encounter of the cougar kind. Picture bushwhacking through heavy, tall brush along a creek to fish a beaver pond, stepping out on a sand bar, and seeing the fresh tracks of a mountain lion! That’s what happened to me on Pass Creek last summer.

Needless to say the last few hairs on my follicle-challenged head stood straight up! I hadn’t seen or heard a thing, but had no doubt the cat was watching me. Fortunately he must have thought my skinny, old body wouldn’t be much of a snack. I made plenty of noise the rest of the day, and had my knife close at hand just in case. A 14-inch brown trout made the fright worthwhile!

Most Surprising

For every Huerfano River or Trout Creek debacle, there always seems to be one or two pleasant surprises each year where I discover a new, unexpectedly good water to fish. Upper Tarryall Creek in South Park, Colorado, wins the award for 2021. I stumbled onto the creek in June when I stopped with my sweetheart granddaughter Aly to have lunch and explore a “haunted house” at the Cline Ranch State Wildlife Area on the way from Denver to my cabin outside Salida, Colorado.

When I pulled into the parking area, I noticed that the four spaces were all prominently numbered. On a nearby sign I read that each parking space was assigned an exclusive “beat” on nearby Upper Tarryall Creek, a beautiful small stream. It reminded me of the beat system the English use on their rivers where waters are divided into beats or stretches and the number of anglers allowed on each limited to help spread out the fishing pressure. I made a mental note to return, which I did several weeks later. After parking in one of the designated spots, I walked north to the corresponding upper beat and had a fabulous day fishing for nice browns in the creek and several big beaver ponds. All of this not much more than a stone’s throw from traffic whizzing by US 285. And I had the water to myself all day in South Park that is sometimes overrun with anglers from Denver and Colorado Springs. What a smart idea!

https://hooknfly.com/2021/07/30/get-on-the-beat-at-tarryall-creek-in-south-park-colorado/

On The Horizon: Looking Forward to 2022

So what’s on the agenda for 2022? First and foremost is to get back down to Florida to get my saltwater chops back. I arrived in Everglades City a couple of weeks ago, got the kayak and Gheenoe ready to go, and started executing that plan. A 24-inch snook on my first yak outing led the fish parade. More stories and tall tales to come from the Everglades backcountry!

I also want to explore some of the remote brackish canals east of Naples, Florida, that are impossible to access except with a kayak. Big snook are rumored to hide out there along with the gators!

While in Florida, I hope to get the Everglades Kayak Fishing Guide back on track and will be sending out the manuscript to several publishing houses.

I’ll be hauling one of my pedal kayaks with me on the way back to Colorado in May so I can stop at Port O’Connor, Texas, and fish that wonderful inshore water inside the barrier island for redfish and sea trout in my kayak. The yak will also come in handy as I try to explore some high-mountain lakes in Colorado that are accessible with my 4-WD SUV.

Also high on my list when I return to Colorado for the summer will be to fish another remote tributary of the Conejos River, the Middle Fork up in the high country not too far from the Adams Fork. I also want to explore the upper, wild reaches of the Rio Chama near the New Mexico border.

Of course, I will chase some trout with my sweetheart Aly!!

June 24, 2021June 24, 2021 hooknfly

Beaver Pond Saga, Chpt. 2: Mojo Rejuvenation on Pass Creek (near Salida, CO)

Late May/Early June 2021

For my recent befuddling foray on the Trout Creek beaver ponds see: https://hooknfly.com/2021/05/23/__trashed/

and for some tips and techniques for beaver pond angling see: https://hooknfly.com/2021/05/27/runoff-blues-try-a-beaver-pond/

Beaver ponds are my go-to alternative when my favorite rivers and creeks in Colorado are blown out from spring runoff. This year I decided to try some inviting new waters close to home that I had overlooked for years. Based on decades of experience, mostly in the school of hard knocks, I fancy myself a fair-to-middling beaver pond angler. However, as documented in a recent blog post in May (See link above.), my first beaver pond outing of the season on a stream near Buena Vista, Colorado, one with a very promising name—Trout Creek—left me bewildered and despondent. After some four hours of hacking my way through a willow jungle and numerous casts on picture-perfect ponds, I netted only three modestly-sized fish! Needless to say, my piscatorial mojo was severely depleted. Undaunted, I promised I would return to take on the insolent critters, but decided first I better get some semblance of my full mojo back. To do so, I settled on a series of beautiful beaver ponds that dot Pass Creek, a small stream only a mile from my cabin near Salida, Colorado, as a potential antidote.

Pass Creek originates high up near the Continental Divide at the foot of 12,850-foot Chipeta Mountain, flowing out of beautiful Pass Creek Lake which holds some gorgeous cutthroats.

Pass Creek Lake With Chipeta Mountain Above

It then cascades some eight miles to its confluence with Little Cochetopa Creek just below my cabin. I had fished the lake and upper four miles of the creek a number of times over the years and had a ball catching some nice cutts in the lake and smaller cutts and brookies in the creek below, with a few surprise out-sized cutts mixed in. However, further down below the remnants of a little mining ghost town, I hadn’t given the stream much attention, primarily because it is heavily overgrown in its lower stretches or runs through private land.

In 2020 curiosity had finally gotten the best of me, and I sampled a couple of the beaver ponds a mile or so above the Little Cochetopa Creek confluence, landing several hefty brownies.

Alas, sometime in the past year those little waters had been blown out by the runoff, which often happens with beaver ponds. Fortunately, one fine winter’s day in 2021, I had decided to get some fresh air and drove up the bumpy gravel road that parallels the creek to do some recon. And what to my wondering eyes should appear but a series of beaver ponds that had been invisible all those years, hidden by a thicket of bushes, vines, and trees.

Winter Recon Pays Off With Sighting Of Hidden Beaver Ponds

I marked the location on Google Maps and then bided my time. Now that time had arrived with my beaver pond mojo needing some readjustment!

On a sunny afternoon in late May I was bouncing up CR (County Road) 212 that winds above the creek. The breeze was light and temperature in the 70s. I could see the creek was high from the runoff but reasonably clear and definitely fishable. I drove up about two miles up from the junction of CR 210 and 212 and pulled over at a turnout in the road where I had spotted the ponds earlier, then walked about a quarter mile back down just below where I estimated I would find the last of the ponds in this stretch.

The ponds were completely hidden, but relying on my keen navigational skills and some prayers, plunged into the thicket for a serious bushwhacking session.

Soon the wild roses and other assorted thorny bushes were grasping at my waders, and just as I was about to utter some choice expletives, I spied what looked to be a pond and could hear the rush of the creek.

I navigated carefully around a waterfall above the pond, but despite my stealthy approach, sent a squadron of small trout in the shallows scurrying for cover. Well, I thought, at least the fish are here. I decided to let the denizens of the pond settle down and fish the creek right below the waterfall. I checked some stream rocks and found them loaded with small mayfly and caddis nymphs. Caddis and mayflies along with midges were also flitting around in the air above the water. All signs were looking good! I was carrying two rods, one a 7.5-foot three-weight fly rod that I rigged with a bushy #16 Rio Grande King Trude attractor below which I tied on a #18 red Two-Bit Hooker to imitate the mayfly nymphs. The other, blasphemously, was a 5-foot ultralight spincast outfit that I figured I might need to be able to cast in the overgrown stretches above where fly casting would be impossible or to get down deep in the ponds. It was rigged with a beadhead sparkle caddis nymph and a #20 red zebra midge.

Dynamic Duo Is Good Combo To Tackle Overgrown Beaver Ponds

I knelt carefully on a sandbar 20-feet below the waterfall and targeted my cast at the foam line along the grassy undercut bank. The trude floated jauntily down the little run and promptly disappeared. I set the hook and was on to a trout that scampered back and forth in the small pool. Finally a Lilliputian brown came to the net.

Given my baffling experience on the aforementioned Trout Creek, I celebrated with a victory dance. Never has there been such rejoicing over an eight-inch fish as there was for this little guy.

Now I was ready to tackle the beaver pond. I concentrated on the darker, deeper water near the dam, but came up empty. Next I proceeded cautiously up the long south arm of the pond. Despite my stealth, again I scared the daylights out of a school of small trout that promptly jetted to safety above, no doubt alerting their brethren. Cracks began to appear in my still fragile, recovering mojo.

I retreated to the north arm of the pond and climbed back around the waterfall. Above, the creek narrowed, requiring me to claw through the overhanging branches and brush to reach open water. But the effort was worth it as I emerged just below the next good-looking beaver pond.

I crouched below the dam to avoid spooking any fish in the pond, and had just enough room to make a short backcast. As soon as the dry hit the water it was inhaled by a spunky brown pushing 9-inches. That was more like it! Surprisingly, however, a dozen more casts came up empty. I decided to mount the beaver dam and use the spincast outfit to probe the deeper water with the double-nymph rig to which I had added a split shot. No sooner had the flies sunk out of sight into the dark pool than something hit hard. It was another brown enticed by the zebra midge, this one a little bigger.

Now the action turned fast and furious, and I quickly fooled five more. The mojo meter was inching steadily up! As I worked to the upper end of the pond where the trees and brush receded, I switched back to the fly rod and fooled several more browns on the Two-Bit Hooker.

As I continued wading upstream I stepped out on a sandbar for easier going and immediately saw some fresh animal tracks. The hair on the back of my neck stood up when I realized they were those of a mountain lion. Yikes.

Chaffee County is reputed to have one of the largest cougar populations in the state, but I have yet to see one here. I had the feeling something was watching me, but fortunately didn’t see or hear anything the rest of the afternoon if the big cat was indeed spying on me. He probably figured there wasn’t much worth gnawing on this old grizzled body.

From here on up, the going thankfully got easier as the ponds were spaced more closely together. The next one featured a big dam and plenty of casting room for the fly rod on the south side. I carefully scaled the south end of the dam and worked my way to an open spot where I knelt carefully in the shoreline grass. A few fish were rising along the opposite shoreline where the water was deepest. I unfurled a long cast that alighted delicately near the risers and was rewarded with an immediate strike on the dry. I set the hook and was onto the biggest fish of the day. He immediately headed towards the safety of the deepest part of the pool up against the dam and its riot of sticks and branches. My little rod was bent double as I tried to horse the trout away from danger. It was nip and tuck, but he finally relented and came in—a 14-inch beauty!

After my nerves calmed down, I made several more long casts with the dry/dropper rig but to no avail. So out came the spincast outfit. I cast across the pond again and let the nymphs descend to the depths of the pool. I cranked the reel handle a couple of times and was jolted by a hard strike. Another good-sized brown had inhaled the red zebra midge. He would also go near 14-inches!! This was definitely the honey hole, and three other brownies over 12-inches soon followed. My mojo meter was spinning wildly!!

When things quieted down, I proceeded to the next pond immediately above that was smaller and required a tricky backhand, sidearm cast to squeeze the flies into the main current under some overhanging dead branches. My first two casts were just out of the flow, but the third swung in gracefully just below the little waterfall created by the dam above and glided under the twigs. BAM! There was a miniature explosion as another nice brown that would measure 13-inches gulped down the dry. He dove for the undercut bank but I was able to winch him out into open water and into my net.

This would be the last of the good-sized fish, but who can complain.

The next pond upstream turned out to be shallow, yielding only a couple more diminutive trout. From there I ventured back into the fast-running creek upstream. As my flies floated pell-mell past a little brush pile at a bend in the stream, several miniature browns came flashing out in hot pursuit. I decided to have a little fun and made several more casts. They tried fearlessly again and again to nail the little imitations, but to no avail. Nothing like ending the day with a good laugh, a smile on my face, and the mojo meter recharged.

Eager Little Brownies In Fast Run Help End Good Day With A Chuckle

After I bushwhacked my way back up the slope to the SUV and had shed my waders, I quaffed a good NA beer. With another hour or so of daylight, it entered my trout-addled brain that maybe I should drive another mile upstream to where the creek flowed out of a stretch of private land to see if there were any more decent looking ponds up that way. Look what I discovered that some busy beavers had built since my last sojourn up here a couple of years ago.

Guess I’ll have to sample them next week…somebody has to so might as well be me, and maybe I’ll supercharge my angling mojo for the return bout on Trout Creek. I think I’ll need it.

February 28, 2021February 28, 2021 hooknfly

Beaver Pond Recon: The Perfect Antidote For Post-Covid Second Shot Fishing Fever

February 28, 2021

While being a septuagenarian has increasingly few benefits, one major exception is jumping to the head of the line to get the coveted Covid vaccinations. After scoring my second one last week, I didn’t suffer from any serious side effects–except found myself nursing a mild case of fishing fever in its wake. No one warned me about that!! What to do?? Fortunately I found the perfect antidote: A two-hour recon mission scoping out the beaver ponds on a little creek near my cabin just outside Salida, Colorado, that produced some good brownies last spring.

And with spring just a few weeks away so must the spring thaw that will let this small stream aficionado get on back on the waters he loves. What I found definitely lifted my spirits but oddly only stoked my fishing fever. What’s an angler to do??

It was a bright and sunny day when I embarked on my exploratory mission, albeit a brisk 29 degrees at 8,000 feet.

Nevertheless, the first big pond I came to that produced that nice brown trout was already showing some open water! And in the creek up above I even heard and then caught a glimpse of running water!!

To further stoke the fever, a mile upstream I stumbled on a promising series of beaver ponds, replete with a picturesque lodge, that had been hidden by overgrown vegetation last time I was up that way. Got to be some decent fish in there!

Hopefully it won’t be long before I am boasting about my piscatorial acumen accompanied by photographic proof of my beaver pond exploits. To all my fly fishing friends out there, keep the faith—winter is about over!!

October 19, 2019October 20, 2019 hooknfly

Goodbye To A River: A Sweet Afternoon On The Big Ark Near Salida, CO

Late October 2019

For some earlier articles on fishing the Arkansas River, see my posts from late 2018

I was well into packing up for my annual migration to the Florida Everglades for the winter. The first snow had already fallen, leaves were falling fast, and the wind had been blowing like a banshee all week, making fly fishing a dangerous sport.

But then as if by magic, the winds relented and the angling gods beckoned, an irresistible siren’s call. I hadn’t been out on my old home water, the Arkansas River, that flows close by my cabin near Salida, Colorado, since March. When I moved to Colorado back in the late 80s, the Big Ark was undiscovered. I could fish all day on a weekend back then and rarely bump into another angler. But it wasn’t long after that rafting on the river turned into a big business, industrial-style tourism. Then the state designated the Arkansas as Gold Medal trout water, followed soon thereafter by creation of the Arkansas Headwaters Recreation Area. Both events were the equivalent of putting a big neon sign that said come on over, ye hordes from Denver and recreate. And they did.

Today Denver has over a million more residents than back then with easier access to Salida, the result being flotillas of rafters, kayaks, SUPs, float fisherman, and other assorted riffraff to drive wade fisherman berserk.

It’s virtually impossible to find a quiet spot on the river for piscatorial pursuits, even on weekdays. Now if I am sounding like an old curmudgeon, I plead guilty. Rant completed.

But suddenly to my wonder, the winds have died down, the water level on the Ark is 275 cfs, perfect for wading but too low for most rafters and kayaks, and the cold weather dipping into the 30s at night has sent fair-weather anglers scurrying to warmer climes. Now if I can dodge the increasing legions of placer miners on the river and avoid the smoke bellowing down valley from the big Deckers fire, I may find some solitude like the old days and even some fish.

Off-The-Beaten Path Adventures and Eclectic Musings Of An Itinerant Angler

Chaffee county fishing