This was one of those alpine meadow streams that’s loaded with Brook trout and surrounded by a sea of grass, which — whenever the wind picked up — rolled convincingly like swells in the ocean.
The cold spring meant the wildflowers were firing on all cylinders (they should have been done a month ago), and everything that wasn’t a flower wore the hard-working green of summer leaves.
(click the images to see full-size versions)
Older Bro and I hiked into this tiny alpine meadow stream based on his recommendation; “You’ll love it, though don’t get too excited about the size of the fish.”
I knew exactly what he meant.
And frankly, I was proud of him. He’s a relatively new fly fisherman, but aside from the casting and the knots and drag-free drifts, he’s already mastered the art of couching his recommendations in case the weather’s bad or the trout are sulking or the other guy’s a headhunter.
I’ll be blunt; I think a lot more people say they love these little streams than actually fishes them; they’re pretty, but for a lot of fly fishermen, fish that seem to top out at 9 inches (we got one 13? and one 10? fish on this trip) add a little glitter to that other, bigger water.
Still, we hiked the length of the meadow and fished our way back up, and before we even strung up our fly rods my heart rate was picking up.
I even tried a couple of the standard gambits on him (“Didn’t you notice the special reg poster at the ranger station? This stretch is bamboo fly rods only…”).
Sadly, he didn’t fall for any of them, but then, he’d probably been disappointed if I didn’t try.
I admit I was disappointed by the state of my lower body after we got back to the car; if we went farther than six miles I’ll eat my government surplus Boonie hat, yet I felt like I’d been crossed the continental divide, and with a heavy pack.
The late, great Jim Gade once told me that the way to avoid geezerhood was to not start thinking like you were an old man. “Once you start thinking you’re a geezer, you’ll start feeling like one.”
Tomorrow — if I can drive a stake through a couple projects — I’m going for a walk.
I fished a (probably) 60 year-old Phillipson Peerless 8' 5wt, and I was reminded that although the rod wasn’t necessarily designed to cast a leader, the mass of the bamboo in the tip does tend to load the rod when there isn’t enough line to do so.
And if you’ve worked your way through the pictures, you can imagine how rarely we cast more than a foot or two of line.
As you might imagine, fly selection wasn’t exactly critical, though given the sheer tonnage of grass and insect life living around the stream, I wasn’t surprised when the Arizona Mini-Hopper worked slightly better (OK, it’s hard to know for sure) than anything else I tried.
After all, it’s as much a beetle or caddis as it is a hopper, which seems like a pretty ideal combination for a stream so often visited by terrestrial bugs.
See you somewhere green and wavy and Brookie-filled and beautiful, Tom Chandler.
Tagged as: brook trout, fly fishing small streams
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