Dodging turds in water you must first check with a geiger counter is more than any fly fisher should be forced to endure. Let’s face the facts – urban water is putrid, ugly stuff, and a fly fisher cannot reconnect with Mother Nature when they are deciphering graffiti and snagging submerged retreads. As a man oft described as caring and selfless, undeniably altruistic, I’ve taken it upon myself to try and rehabilitate a few of these brownlining folks.
Places and People
Last Saturday I again marched to the Blue River, described by some of the Orvis Cherry Creek folks as my home water. Precede that categorization with spring and you’ve got yourself a deal – I adore the Blue this time of the year, and will generally fish it hard right through caddis semester. I had Primal Fly mastermind James Snyder in tow once again, along with his colleague David Luna and bunny tying extraordinaire Tyler Kendrick.
I’d like to say we slayed trouts with reckless abandon, but around here we’re also trying to quash the general consensus that all fishermen are liars. A grand total sixteen fish were netted amongst us, a tally made all the more dismal considering we spent nine hours trying. Worse…two rods, a Loop Multi and a Scott A2, were broken (one through carelessness and one through Murphy’s Law), and one fine Rio Gold fly line was frazzled (although me thinks that was a manufacturer’s defect). A dozen plus flies were lost.
The fishing results themselves were somewhat expected. I’d missed out on a Friday invitation, and the report back was a handful each. Those doing the reporting were more skilled than I, so the assumption was things were slowing down a bit. Nevertheless, what can go wrong will go wrong, and that includes having not a cloud in the sky.
On a positive note, what fish we did catch were gorgeous. Rosy cheeks and fat bellies. Like repetitive visits from Santa Claus, in May. And after breaking his rod early on and enduring an additional (undesirable) slog to the vehicle and back, Mr. Kendrick was able to put it behind him and pick up the fish of the day, a 22/23-ish rainbow in a difficult spot (and with the author’s rig…damn I’m a nice guy, eh?).
Intensive, long-term counseling should steer these dirty water thugs towards the road to recovery. I may not be the most qualified man for the job, but heck…someone’s gotta do it!