Kermitt’s Walkabout

Wandering along I-70 below Idaho Springs is a 1.5 mile somewhat fishable section of the creek. Action can vary by the day depending on water levels and angling pressure. This is a section of the creek I have dabbled a bit on but never have come up with anything big. “Big” for this stretch would be a solid +16’er brown or bow that would possibly weigh a pound or two at most. Two pounds may be an exaggeration or even a wild boast for most fish on the creek but larger brutes do exist. Hard work, timing and sometimes just plain luck will put that magical fish in your hands.

My plan is to simply get out there as much as possible and hope for at least one good fish and a mix of scenery. Finding water with solitude is also a bonus, which points me towards Kermitt’s Walkabout. Having to park and walk the stretch makes a bit of difference in regards to pressure. So much of the creek sees at least one or two casts on a daily basis. Being able to pick apart the areas that are less worked makes me feel a bit closer to the divide and helps me forget that I am only 20 minutes from Denver.

Right off the bat I expect to struggle. Water is low and from previous trips I know the fish are scared. The ant pattern has faded in success and only the minnow pattern is getting noticed on the spin side. This reduces me to a few small nymph patterns and only one or two spin presentations. Not the best conditions for me but better than say a blizzard or forest fire. (I’m fully prepared for both at this point) Walking, casting only to get a timid flash or a curious follow here and there. First the spin, then the fly…maybe a switch up or fresh tie on before moving up the stream. Sometimes you get the love and sometimes you don’t. When you do it is like magic.

Hopping over rocks and moving upstream the struggle continues. By now I have hooked only one or two small browns in the 10-inch class. I’m starting to think this trip might get tossed in the “not worth posting” pile. I had covered the entire stretch and was now headed back with my brain already scrambling to plan the next trip. Then I notice a small section of rocks that had been passed on the way up.

One fish can make all the difference. Even though this isn’t a two-pounder brown that I could shamelessly boast about but it is a quality fish for this stretch. It also helps me salvage this post with some respectability. Quick photo-op and release.

Kermitt’s Walkabout…name explained. So I may come up with a few names for stretches of the creek. My hope is to break the 50-mile mile long strip of water into sections and name those sections using landmarks of some sort. At the base of this run is a bar\restaurant called “Kermitt’s”. They serve hot coffee, cold beer and even do live music on the weekends. The fact you have to park and walk the 1.5 mile stretch makes it a “walkabout” as opposed to the drive, park and cast sections that dominate most of the creek. Mark my words…I shall pull a two-pounder out of Kermitt’s Walkabout and yes, the bragging will be shameless.

My name is Matt and I’m a fishaholic.

The gorgeous “skunk trip”

Scouted a “fork” section of water that has been on the scout list for some time. This is one of those not so talked about places with little or no info or to go on. Sure there were a few fly guide notes jotted down here and there on various internet venues. But these notes read so much like every other web update for anything other than sections of the South Platte or Taylor River for example. A few pictures on fishing forums and the unknown factor only made the mystery build in my mind. The suspense grew until it faded to the background completely when I stumbled on a few other spots with fish-fantastic possibilities. “Hit it when it’s good.” A phrase of wisdom from my past echoes in my ears. Eventually the clockworks of my fish planning fell into place and when no other fishing spot could be picked from the pile, this one made it to the hit list weekend time slot.

The real trick on scouting missions for me is thus: Find the spot, learn as much as you can and if all prevails catching some fish would be nice. Scouting missions come with a lot of unknown factors. Even the best planners can only do so much with nothing more than a few tidbit clues and breadcrumbs. Weighing weather and season I knew there could only be one downfall beyond the breakdowns or getting lost.

“I’m just hoping the water levels are good.” These words fell off my lips as the truck door closed and the trip began. This was my one fear…well that and maybe being attacked by a mountain lion from a rock ledge thirty feet above my head.

Found the tricky turn off with only having to make one missed road-U-turn maneuver. Rocky dirt road from there that leads to a cliff ledge and an open view of the fork stretch below. It was a gorgeous view but the water was low…very low. As beautiful as the scenery was it would net help the fact that fishing would be ever so difficult.

Open the door and the echo of coyotes wailed in the distance. Not a small pack of coyotes mind you but a full rout of these furry fanged beasts. This was the morning call home. The call of the uncles that watch the kits as the elders return home from the night’s hunt. From the endless choruses and banter, I assume it was a good hunt and a joyous reunion.

The cliff dive into this stretch was about 70 degrees and about a hundred feet. The actual trail down is much easier seen from the bottom as opposed to the top. Taking the deer trail down it seemed that foot traffic was nil. Had I found a secret location virtually un-fished? Was this even still possible in Colorado? Eventually I found the actual trail and the mosaic of human footprints along the trail.

There was also a casual passerby on the frosty morning trail. Not the typical wandering character I am used too.

What you had to work with is an inch of water here and an inch of water there. Pools of water with any depth were about the size of your bathroom sink. While still trying to put together a viable pattern and catch any type of fish whatsoever tragedy struck. Three guys pulled in and jumped the trail eating up the lower part of the section. The timing couldn’t have been worse as we had just finished a quick scout of the water upstream and just now were heading downstream. The trio would have first taste of the downstream section in conditions where shallow water, spooked fish and first casts were all I had to work with. With the rest of the stretch pilfered, the only thing to do was to hop off and look for more water. Rolling on to Plan B didn’t prove to be any more successful. Neither did Plan C. I could feel the frustration and disappointment the entire drive home. It weighed on my shoulders like a two-ton heavy thing even when I kept reminding myself…

“Ninety percent of the fish are in less than ten percent of the water. That ten percent requires effort to find and even then you have no guarantees. To find the very best fish and fishing experience…you have to put in your dues and can’t fear the skunk.”

So much to learn and so much more to accomplish before the big dirt nap that looms in all of our futures at some point. No matter how far I come it is still ever so clear to me that there is still so much further to go. In truth, I may actually learn more on the bad trips than on the “fish filled up the boat” runs. I’ll take the occasional skunk trip as long as there is another trip on the board after this one is done.

My name is Matt…must fish.

Late bassin’ on slow creature presentations and a warm trend

We had a spurt of warm weather that nearly reached the 80-degree mark the last weekend of October. So I stepped out of small water trout mode for a late bass run. Taking advantage of the infrequent warm trends keeps me in touch with a few of my warm water pals. Late bassin’ isn’t easy, in fact it can be some of the most difficult fishing that I undertake considering these fish are much less active in the colder temps.

The water temperatures are dropping quickly. This not only slows down bucketmouth bass in Colorado but also inflicts some havoc on the forage base. Shad are prone to die off when water reaches below 45 degrees and only a slight percentage of sunfish spawn make it this far. Towards November I will often start with baitfish patterns but rely more and more on slow moving creature baits such as jigs, tubes, and maybe a fluke rigged weightless. Anything I can run slow slow slow is going to get the tie on.

Other lures that are typically considered fast moving like spinnerbaits and even some shallow running crankbaits can be tossed out with a slow crawl presentation. These will work too if you get them close to strike zone. And this strike zone gets very small as we reach winter.

Late spring and summer the warm water fish are at the peak of their activity. Metabolic rates are optimum and the fish feed as often as they can. The fishing action generally speaking is the best at this time for largemouth bass and other warm water fish. The largest fish may still cling to that heavy cover they call home but likely to move around quite a bit in search of food. This is what you had in July…not the case now.

As temps move out of the 60-degree range and down towards 50-degrees or lower, you see bass activity slow to a crawl. This is due to the biological fact that fish are cold blooded. Their metabolism and circulatory system slows down emulating an almost hibernation type behavior. They still feed but it is infrequent and based more on opportunity or chance.

Slowing the lure speed down to match the energy allowance in winter is another huge factor. The fish will not be able to swim long distances or attack forage as aggressively as they do in summer. Instead of a lunging strike the fish will lurch slowly forward, open their mouth and hopefully close it on a tasty morsel or your lure. Anglers can still get the occasional reactionary strike with the “cast-n-rip back” method but a slow slow slow presentation increases the chances greatly of getting a bite as opposed to the lure passing by.

Cold water bass note: Play them short and get them back quickly. Similar to bears and other wintering creatures in Colorado, fish do their best to store up fat reserves for the long winter. Overplaying the fish depletes these reserves and could weaken the fish severely. This isn’t just for bass but a primary concern for warm water fish that don’t actively feed in winter. Over handling can also hurt the fish more in the cold weather months due to their slowed circulatory and immune systems. It takes them longer to recuperate so in turn it is healthier for the fish to be handled as minimal as possible.

My name is Matt and I’m a fishaholic.



Match the Crawl?

I promised someone that the ant picture would be posted with a little “Match the crawl” reference. It is rare that my fishing offers even a sliver of insight or brilliance into the fly-fishing circles that I travel. These are exceptionally acclaimed anglers with countless trout and endless miles of premier trout waters under their belt. It has been a struggle at best to convince a few…well most…ok pretty much all of them that I had stumbled across this ant pattern and actually caught fish with it.

(Above: The actual picture I was talking about in one of those water cooler situations where a more experienced fly angler is listening to my fishing tales in sheer disbelief. “…and you were fly fishing you say? )

They look quite similar when you match them up and one of the key elements to tying on a fly that represents that “special of the day” item on the trout’s menu. The window of selection in regards to what a fish will hit and what it will not may be very small so you want to be as close as possible to size, shape and colors. I have seen fly anglers stop casting to tie up a brand new fly to match the exact presentation they want. I marvel at this ability and wish that I had the patience and skill to stop casting and whittle me a wood-minnow presentation with full paint and epoxy treatment that would slap the fish silly.

What made the ant pattern so amazing on this day is that it was the one fly pattern that hadn’t been hammered on these fish time and time again. For me the trick is throwing something on the menu that the other fly anglers are not throwing. In many cases it is my only chance when the water gets crowded with experienced fly pressure.

And it is not only experienced fly anglers that I have to contend with out there. Sometimes even the fish will point out the errors in my fly game and it’s embarrassing quite frankly.

“You’re not getting low enough in the fast current.”

“Are you sure you have a low enough weight tippet?”

“Everyone else is using nymph patterns in #20 or lower. #12 wooly bugger is just obnoxious on this stretch.”

Other fish are far more courteous and say nothing. Perhaps they even tease me from time to time by rising to the presentation and then slowly sinking back to the bottom with that familiar disgusted look on their face. Sometime after, another angler approaches the small stretch of water I am fishing. Some poor dumb fish takes pity on me and hits the ant pattern impaling itself on the hook so all I have to do is lift the rod and put the small trout in my hand. Quick release of the fish and some light conversation ensues.

“…ant pattern you say?” Mr. Orvis Reddenbrocker says with a nod and then moving upstream.

The angler passes as I pull some debris from the fly and readjust my setup. Then I turn to the water and say.

“Thanks for making me look good there guys.”

“Shucks, it wasn’t nothing.” One of the trout says popping its head up out of the stream. “Hopefully he switches to that @#$% wooly bugger.”

“It’s not a wooly bugger!” I scream in defense. “It’s an ant!…smart@## fish.”

My name is Matt and I’m a fishaholic.

Pontooner Update: The annual scrub down and rod holder complete

The Annual Scrubdown

The pontooner has a few years under its belt and showing some signs of wear. Late in the season I always try to put together an annual “spruce up” for the tooner before I put it back into storage for the season. Moisture, mold and other ailments may actually fester over the winter so that one last check is always good before stowing something away for long periods of time.

(Above: This is a shot of the tooner all barnacled up. Not the worst this thing has ever looked but could use a spruce up.)

This year I ran the boat through some heavy moss that ended up getting baked in the sun on the drive home. A trip through the car wash and a pocketful of quarters couldn’t get the stuff off. It limited me from rolling through the mudsnail inspection checkpoints and locked on a handful of smaller waters for the last part of the season. Before I could put things away for the winter, a good scrub was in order.

(Above: One side scrubbed down with the Magic Eraser by Mr. Clean. After using green scrubbers, sponges and possibly even a Shampow product. Other side scrub…looks brand new.)

Balancing out my fishing gear abuse with routine maintenance is the only chance I have at keeping things ready for the next trip.  Even if I take it out late in the season…what have I got to lose?

Rod holder worked out

So I finally ordered the rod holder and as Josh from Bigerrfish and others pointed out, the straps are the ultimate downfall to this design. It is difficult to get these straps to stay perfectly adjusted with inflatable craft and falls into that “more trouble than good” category.

(Above: This is the original model with the straps. It took extra time to setup and something you had to watch as temperature fluctuated. After a few trips it was quickly abandoned. )

After some pondering and prototype work, I eventually came up with the answer. It was the same answer\problem with so many boat accessories that don’t have the 1.25” diameter pipe in mind. Modification brought it back around. All I needed was some U-bolts hardware and a little elbow grease.

Once I got the hardware fitted, the plastic area around where the screws are placed needed to be removed in order to cinch everything down. Then a soft adapter plate was put together with some Styrofoam and electrical tape. The adapter plate keeps everything snug without beating up the powder coated paint job.

(Above: Prototype installed needing only a few slight cosmetic touch ups like cutting down the threaded portion of the bolts and filing them smooth.)

When it comes to adding a lot of marine accessories to the pontooner scene, the biggest gap to bridge is often merely finding the right adaptation. Sometimes it requires a little fabrication, or maybe just some U-bolts. In some cases it may require a little of both worlds but can make the pontooner experience all that much better. Maybe this winter I can dust off a few ideas, designs and even prototypes that would make Kevin Kostner and the crew from Waterworld a bit jealous. Hey, a Mattsabasser can dream right?

Good luck and good fishing.

Rockinz’ De Splake!

So things turned out all right for the first run on the Hot Tip. A few pieces of the puzzle were gathered and a couple of fish helped me develop one or two patterns on that day. But there were still more questions than answers in regards to the splake and I was itching for another run. Work and other pre-planned destinations pushed the second attack further and further down the schedule. Eventually the clouds parted and the Hot Tip was on deck.

Running late, I reach the trailhead at about 8AM under overcast skies. Grabbed the gear and started making my way up the trail heading straight for the sweet section. Now I had a visual layout of the area with casting experience for most of the stretch. An adequate game plan was formed to maximize the quality sections first and then work my way back down.

(Above: Gratuitous river\creek shot. Overcast skies do little for my creek shots. )

Early into the trek I run into a couple and two pack goats. More on these ornery pack goats hopefully in a subsequent post. For now suffice to say these critters made me abandon my game plan for a minute and look for a spot to cast. Reaching the cliff edge I look down at the water and see an angler already working things. The grizzled beard and round specs looked very familiar. A few shouts confirmed it was indeed the legend…Mountain Goat Keith. Somehow by pure luck I managed to trade two ornery pack goats for the one and only MKG (I know the initials don’t exactly match…kind of a long story). But make no mistake that this guy eats 14’er mountain hikes for breakfast in search of high mountain cutts that he handles gently and releases for another day. Darn near killed Don and me on one run a few years back…yet another story. Salutations were exchanged and we decided to work the water in tandem.

(Above: Not too shabby shot of the slinger in action. The guy could land a fly on a dime if it was still in your pocket. I am deeply honored that he even tolerates my presence.)

Step into the first spot and MKG is hooked up with a small brown. A few steps more and he hooks up with another. Then a decent bow around the next bend. Me? I’m getting a few flashes, bumps and mostly the no-go. The minnow pattern was getting bumped, almost cradled by fish but nothing would commit. The ant got even less. Flip, flip, roll cast, roll cast, cast…nothing.

“This was money just a few weeks ago…I swear.” My case was pleaded to the water and more importantly to Mountain Goat Keith. His looks of skepticism suggested that he was not all that convinced.

“…Dropper setup.” He suggested after a few more riffles and bends in the stream. “I’ve got extra if you need anything.” Then moves across the rocks over to the next small pool and goes to work once again. By now he was way up in the fish count and I hadn’t even gotten my hands wet.

Luckily we reach a sweet spot midway up the stretch and a small rainbow takes pity on the minnow setup. Funny how one fish can build confidence and remove a lot of pressure. For me this fish was like breaking through a barrier of confusion and reaching clarity on the other side.

My eyes instantly refocused and I could see the fish in the water dancing around my lure. It was clear my minnow presentation’s cover was blown. They were merely toying with it for fun and no intention of striking. Something else was needed. Through the clarity it came to me like a vision out of nowhere. The answer to all of my hopes and dreams…or at least a possible tactic which if it worked would be nearly as good. Reaching into the bag and tying on the item of vision I give a faithful cast into the riffle headwater.

A good healthy cast follows landing the lure on top of the riffle and flutters effortlessly to the bottom. A lift, a bump and a miss. Another lift, a bump and a miss. Suddenly, just as before an idea pops into my brain scattering the two tiny marbles inside in all directions. It gives me the second part to the equation. Found the trick and wham! Splake on!

Once again I have to battle these extremely antisocial fish in an attempt to photograph them. The first one was extremely difficult and seemed to have a shortened outer gill plates for some reason. A quick photo and release. Re-set and then cast for more.

(Above: Splake is part brookie part mackinaw and all spastic. Not my best shots by any means but I am $%%^ happy to get these.)

At the end of the stretch MKG owns the fish count with a mix of bows and browns, a few of which are very respectable. The only thing saving my pride and shameless bragging at this point are the splake. I’m more than happy with that and even Keith gave a resounding “Hmmm” when I showed him the fourth and largest specimen. He may have lifted half an eyebrow slightly as well but his sturdy grimace remained cold like steel.

On the way back we hit this and that pool along with many more bends in the stream. I started falling into a groove and managed to pick up a small but beauty brown along with a few others to close out a hat trick of sorts.

Climbing out of the last long cliff section I leave MKG at the water still slinging. A crowd of passersby halt their passing and ask me how the water fairs for the day. I mumble a few odd tidbits of gray warbles and the really large pinecone that got away. They seemed greatly confused not so much by my riddling but more so at the fact I would be carrying a spin rod along with the fly setup in such a small slip of water.

“Oh this? I use it to battle off ornery goats. Did you see the two big ones on the trail earlier today? ”

Special thanks to Keith for putting up with me for a few hours on the stretch.

My name is Matt and I’m a fishaholic.

Photos from the field

May the Forest be with you.

(Above: This is a T-shirt for display and sale. This angle was the only one that didn’t reflect the light right back into the camera. My shots are rarely perfect.)

Estes Park is a crazy cool town with a lot of that quaint mountain town flavor. This is but one of their brilliant outdoor phrases and philosophies. As most outdoorsfolks can attest; at times the forest can be with you or against you. To all of my followers, viewers and the one guy that didn’t try to cut me off in traffic today…”May the forest be with you”.

This picture is worth: Two Bucks

(Above: These may be the most glorious mule deer that I have ever seen. I took this photo from the roadside on my way home from work-no zoom.)

There are times when I kick myself for not purchasing high-end photography equipment or at least something that I could use for those truly amazing photographs that pop up when you least expect them. For this reason I carry my POS digital just about everywhere.

How about Four Ducks?

This is not my best duck shot by any means but seemed to go with the mule deer above. Two bucks, four ducks and I wish that I had a platypus in a pear tree or something really clever to finish the thought.

Even though I no longer hunt in Colorado due to intense crowds and a number of really close calls, hunting is still deeply respected in my heart. Hunters and hunting management pays for so much of the wildlife habitat in this state and across the nation. If not for the protecting, managing and funding of wildlife spaces by sports-folks and true wildlife agencies like Ducks Unlimited and so many more…this state would have been devoured by real estate developers long ago. Even though I no longer hunt in Colorado, I support and thank you all for your support in regards to wildlife management.

Feral apples

The term “feral” generally means having escaped from domestication and becoming wild. For some silly reason I enjoy feral apples above the granny smith or even Fuji style apples bartered at my local grocer. Sometimes the bite is extra tart or I may have to inspect a few before finding one void of bugs. Nonetheless, I relish the art of locating, capturing and yes…even devouring said wild fruits. See? It is indeed true. I don’t catch and release all of the time.

One shard at a time…

So there is a lake that I fish with a long sandy shoreline that can form a large or small beach depending on where the water level decides to be on that given day. Every year some kid gashes his\her foot on shards of glass. Luckily the worst outcome thus far has been a few stitches. But every year the parents curse, swear and cringe at the fact the damage could have been a lot worse.

I hear a lot of swearing these days. But rather than join in the tirade I have decided to pick up these shards in sandy areas where humans may want to kick off their shoes or that good place to throw a stick for the dog (insert crazy no-leash dog\oblivious or absent owner rant here). In little over an hour I had cleared a gorgeous section of sandy lakeside paradise of every shard to be seen. Some of these have rounded edges showing signs of wear over time. The water was fairly low and a perfect time to do this. Hopefully this effort will eliminate a great many gashed feet and cursing parents. Maybe then I can fish the edge of these beaches (the transition from rock to sand) in peace.

(Above: All pieces combined in one plastic bag it shows the potential for injury. (Sigh) And we spend all this money chasing mud snails and exotic crayfish.)

Some areas may already be beyond hope and the broken glass on the shoreline may look like the aftermath of a hundred fish bowls colliding in a strung out mess. Well maybe except the fish bowls are made mostly of brown glass for some reason. But so many other places are worth the effort even if it is only one beach section at a time. Then all we would need is to keep people from tossing out any more glass bottles. That would be sweet. Those little toes and paws are worth the extra thought.

Once again a huge thank you to the followers, comment posters and viewers of my fishing blogilicious. I can’t say enough about how humbled I am that you folks even put up with me. Even though I am busy finishing off a few projects at work while gearing up for some new ones, I will still do my best to keep things rolling with fantastic Mattsabasser fishing blog updates through the upcoming winter season.

Good luck and good fishing.

Emergency order: Rusty Crawfish – No Transport!

ALAMOSA, Colo. - Colorado Division of Wildlife Director Tom Remington today signed an emergency order prohibiting the transport of live crayfish from Sanchez Reservoir State Wildlife Area in Costilla County following the discovery of invasive rusty crayfish at the popular southern Colorado reservoir.

DOW invasive species sampling technicians collected several specimens of rusty crayfish during routine shoreline surveys in late August and early September. Subsequent testing performed at the Aquatic Animal Health Lab in Brush in September identified the specimens as rusty crayfish. The Illinois State Museum confirmed the finding on Oct. 14.

"Rusty crayfish are a tenacious invasive species that have the potential to impact streams and lakes," said Greg Gerlich, the DOW's aquatic section manager. "We need the public's help to prevent this noxious pest from being moved to other places across the state."

The discovery of rusty crayfish at Sanchez Reservoir marks the third location where the species has been detected in Colorado. State wildlife officials first discovered the species in 2009 in the Yampa River near Steamboat Springs--prompting a basin-wide emergency prohibition on the take of live crayfish.

Link to full announcement on CDOW website.

http://wildlife.state.co.us/WildlifeSpecies/Profiles/InvasiveSpecies/RustyCrayfish.htm

This species, which is native to the Ohio River basin, can often be identified by two rust colored marks on its mid-back area, near the area where one would place a thumb and finger to pick the animal up.

Matt’s Rant: Every time you turn around there is another invasive species attacking our wildlife areas and natural habitats here in Colorado. These invasive species displace the native species and disturb the natural order. How they get here is usually through some sort of human introduction only to learn much later the ramifications.

Rusty crawfish seem to be a badass version of the original crawfish with larger claws and a serious attitude towards the native versions. Left unchecked, these crawfish eventually will overpopulate and completely eliminate the native versions. Will this be the end of all humankind and Earth as we know it? No. But it may take yet another bite out of the overall quality in the habitat thus hurting fishing overall.

Most fish that rely on crawfish for forage will adapt to rusty crawfish as they have in so many areas where these warmwater fish and rusty crawfish share habitat. However, many of the fish species have acclimated themselves to the native versions and may adapt slowly to the invasive crayfish. How fish react to the different bacteria as well as aquatic vegetation loss that rusty crawfish are associated with is yet another.

At the very least this will create extra restrictions, additional regulations, more red tape at additional cost to managing agencies that eventually get passed down somewhere. The impact is felt to everyone that frequents our watersheds. My biggest fear is that there will be another layer of scrutiny added to anglers and more waters will be closed to our access.

This is yet another good reason to stop taking aquatic organisms from one area and moving them to another particularly crawfish. If you fish with crawfish for bait, please take additional time to catch them from the same lake you are using them in.

Good luck and good fishing.

Links, references and acknowledgements:

http://iz.carnegiemnh.org/crayfish/country_pages/state_pages/colorado.htm

http://www.seagrant.umn.edu/ais/rustycrayfish_invader

Fall returns to the Creek

A taste of fall and another run on the creek. This time I checked out the section around Lawson and Dumont. This is a park and cast scene with a lot of rugged rock hopping along the way. Having fished a good deal of this 50-mile creek, this one small section for some reason was left untouched in regards to my creek excursions. Gear in tow I headed up looking for the right exits and a place to fish.

(Above: Quick little map shot. Red arrows mark the exits and the road turns to dirt from there. You can drive a short distance but most of this area is traveled by foot only.)

Traffic was relatively good on the way up. Ski season has not gotten underway so I-70 still looks like an interstate as opposed to a parking lot. Make the exit near Lawson and look for the dirt road leading to a small walk-in park sponsored by the Colorado Lottery funds.

(Above: The road\foot trail along the one of the newer walk-in sections of the creek. Foot access is easy with a handful of water pockets along the way.)

Walking down the road and looking at the creek two things stood out more than anything else. Fall colors were kicking in and the creek was low. Very low. One element would put things in my favor. The other would take all of that advantage away. Right away it was tough going just finding fish.

I managed to plink a few fish, nothing outrageous or spectacular but just enough reason to wet the hands and keep moving forward.

(Above: Little brown trout from the upper stretch going back into the wet stuff.)

The Dumont section offers a few secluded parking spots but you are fishing right next to the interstate. You would think that would be annoying but the sound of rushing water drowns most of it out. Once you start casting everything fades into the background.

Fall colors can be exceptional in Colorado but as the branches begin to shed, the leaf debris in the water becomes my nemesis and foe bringing challenge and frustration. A fair percentage of my casts would get fouled up with the deciduous fallout. When I would get positioned perfectly to cast into the spot, a gust of wind would hit dusting the entire area with leaves. Nothing to do but battle it out and then move on. There seemed to always be a spot worth casting into up ahead. This is the siren song of moving trout water.

(Above: Crystal clear pools of emerald and transparent. Some spots look so good you know they have to fish in them.)

Eventually I fell into the groove and found a pattern that the fish seemed to like. It wasn’t easy as the fish were so much more wary in the low and very clear water. Luckily I dialed something in before reaching the few less pressured spots with more promise. Cast, plink! Cast, Plink! Cast Plink and then move further upstream.

(Above: Chubby brown and fall colors. Sometimes I work way too hard for smaller fish. Must fish.)

Browns ruled the day with the cutbows giving a rise then a scoff. More than a few fish would seem to chase or follow the presentations rather than commit on anything I threw. However it was nice to see a few fish take something. Sporting their fall colors is a nice touch as well.

Many of the male browns were staging for spawn and I pondered trying to capture some of this on film. But with the fish so wary it would be nearly impossible and decided to move on and keep fishing. With a foot or more depth it might have been worth a shot and not so intrusive.

(Above: Release shot of another brownie in shallow water. A few of these areas were mere inches in depth. An ominous sign this time of year.)

As the afternoon settled the smell of smoke started to mix with that of fallen leaves and pine. The sun became orange and hazy in the sky signaling that a forest fire may be burning on a mountain ridge not too far off (The Grand County fire to be exact).

“Better head out before the road down turns into a real mess.” I said hopping over rock after rock to reach the truck to leave.

Pulling off the exit I am met with a mass of automobiles. Jostling for position one person let’s me in and I give a thank you wave. Slowly crawling down the eastbound lane a large sign flashes “Fire Operations in Progress-Expect Delays”.

“Oh great.” I exclaimed. “This could take some time.”

However, as soon as everyone passed the sign, traffic picked up and speeds returned to the white knuckle, foot to the floor, mountain race that typically ensues on I-70. People were simply slowing down and bunching up just to read the sign.

My name is Matt and I’m a fishaholic.

Mitchell-Mojo combo. Not a gear review, more of a gear ramble.

Rod: 7’-0” St. Croix (Mojo Bass), Medium\Fast [paid-99.00, Outdoor World (Basspro)]
Reel-Mitchell 300X [paid 39.99-Wal Mart]

Needed another M-FA rod for some of the faster baits that I like to run. St. Croix makes a good product and I’m glad they came down a little in the price range with the Mojo. Admittedly this is not as solid as their higher warranty stuff but a steal for 99 bucks. The split grip is pretty sweet even for an old school guy like myself. Already slingin’ it out there for bass and trout with beauty performance. For more on how rods are made and useful facts, feel free to refer to the links provided below.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fishing_rod

http://www.madehow.com/Volume-5/Fishing-Rod.html

http://www.stcroixrods.com/content/engineering_and_technology?tag=off

Quite a few of my bass rods are 6’-6” and Medium-Heavy action. For some reason I like to dig pig bass out of heavy cover and heavy\stubby gets it done. Faster action rods however should be in the 7’-0” class in my opinion to take advantage of the extra play at the end.

After throwing heavy\stubby most of the year a 7’ wag-tail rod can really whip a spinnerbait or smaller swimbait out there and make the retrieve back seem to last forever. Puts a big smile on my face and I kinda feel like “Bob” the Enzyte guy.

(Above: Graphics team called in sick. I bet those @#$%^ are fishing!!! Probably going to get sued by the Enzyte folks for the pic rip. Thanks guys.)

Here’s a link to the St. Croix website below.

http://www.stcroixrods.com/

Matched up with a Mitchell 300X I hoped to balance things out with a modestly priced reel. I have gotten great mileage out of the Mitchell Avocet II S2000 in the past (this is a 20 dollar reel and I know the Pro-Am guys are really cringing right now) and wanted to test out the 300X. Not a believer in the 300X yet as I expect a lot for 40 bucks but its holding up well. Quick change spool feature and a few other cool things about this reel may get all bla bla bla’d about if I find the time.

Folks might be surprised in regards to the amount paid for my fishing equipment. It is far less than you might think. Gas, entrance fees, lures and line add up quickly. If I bought expensive rods and reels it would cripple both my budget and my game. My preference is to get quality gear in a price range that I can afford and then use the @#$%^ out of it. This is where many anglers disagree with me. Pro-am anglers or guys with a bit more money willing to lean on one or two rods the whole season will and should opt for the higher end stuff. My fishing style is more kamikaze and constantly wrought with misfortune, carelessness and even theft. I have never broken gear on a fish but have come close on a few catfish. Cliffs, catfish and buggars take more of my gear than anything else but I am always “good to go” with a backup. Wait to fish? That’s just crazy talk. Must fish!

Gear reviews? I don’t really do gear reviews. My gear posts are more “gear rambles”. It took me a long time to find my own style and means (or justification for that matter) to support my angling addiction. It works for me but not the best advice out there. Some good advice is this: Generally you will get what you pay for. Get the best value that you can find in a price range that you can afford. It also helps to take far better care of it than I do by avoiding cliffs, theft and catfish. Like it, love it, hate it…I must fish.

Good luck and Good Fishing.

Postcards From the Campfire

Once upon a time I considered myself quite the outdoorsman doing my fair share of trekking, camping and exploring the great outdoors of Idaho, Montana and Colorado. My skills were not particularly impressive, as I could not start a fire without a lighter or half pound of magnesium shavings, flint and maybe even another lighter sometimes. What did make me legendary (more so in my own mind more than anything) was the fact I could run amuck over hill and dale for several days with little more than a pocketknife and a handful of lighters. The forest was never burnt down and I made it back mostly in one piece every time. That is the stuff of legends, right? Sort of? Pocketknife incident at Big Creek aside (I was seven years old), I still consider myself quite the outdoorsman.

My first excursions were as a youth and referred to as my “dangit” trips. They are named as such because most of the trip I would mutter or yell “Dangit!…forgot the sleeping bag” or the more common “Dangit!…forgot the can opener.” One fourth a can of chili or pork and beans opened with a rock tastes better than a full can opened with an electric can opener. I am sure of this. Mostly sure that is. But I learned quite a bit and was able to explore a good deal of territory before I was an adult and got sucked into this whole work\pay bills thing.

Now that work and fishing have completely taken over my time and outdoor interests, my camping said long reaching outdoor trips have suffered greatly. In truth I am lucky to sleep on raw dirt and jagged rock with a lovely mixture of pine needles poking me throughout the night about two or three times a year. I know that I make it sound glorious. Trust me, it’s even better than this when large thunderstorms and bears stop by in the night to say hello.

“Dangit!…forgot where I put the pepper spray!”

PsssssssssssT!!!!

“Dangit!…found the pepper spray!”

(Sigh) I can’t wait to go camping again.

Here is a small mix of photos from one of the more glorious camping trips taken this year.

Original “Hot Plate”

Brewing some water for coffee. I redid the pitiful fire pit that was here before adding some wind protection and less likelihood of fire escaping. Campfires require vigilance and responsibility.

Coffee confessions: My pallet does not require fancy grinds or special brews when it comes to coffee. I can drink a Columbian roast or even Folger’s instant when needed. Maybe the real trick is letting me know what you prefer before we leave for the trip.

Storm rolling in

Drive many hours to reach the camping spot. This is a tiny slice of lake paradise near Florissant. I try to visit once or twice a year. Never fails that as soon as I reach the destination, get things set up and look to dinner and an evening with the firelight…a storm rolls in. Storms tend to circle here for some reason so the deluge may come in repeat performances. Evening entertainment consists of lightning, thunder and pounding rain.



One time while camping I dreamt that I had reached the doors of Asgard. When the mighty doors swung open Thor greeted me and he was pissed! He began wailing upon me with his mighty hammer. Then I opened my eyes and realized that it was only a dream.

“Oh, I am just camping again.” I mumbled and went back to sleep.

By morning most everything stored was still dry but a small lake had formed at the corner of my tent. The lake was eyeballed for rising fish while making coffee. Might have given it a cast or two if something big rolled on the topwater. Finished coffee, hit the lake. Nothing.

“Maybe the fish moved upstream to the tent.”

Bear tracks

Here are some bear tracks found in the mud only a few hundred feet away from camp. Bears can get a little nosey around campsites and tracks like this make me sleep with one eye open. There are actually two sizes most likely indicating mother and cub.

“Great…Momma bears are always so friendly with cubs around.” I said moving past the muddy cove inlet towards the other side to fish.

(Above: These were the prints that were most clear out of the many scattered along the muddy shoreline. )

Apologies for milking another “filler” post into the blogilicious material. I pride myself on fabulous fishing content and go to great lengths to keep pouring it on month after month. Going through the hard drive and moving stuff into the archives I came across some extra footage. Sort of like a Photos from the Field excerpt but from some camping done a while back. The lake itself was a no-go. Fish were laying low and probably suffering from summer heat. This place is much better in the spring.

“Didn’t get eaten by a bear at least…not too shabby.”

Good luck and Good Fishing.

Scouting the “Hot Tip”

During the Foothills Project a few weeks back one of the members asked if I had fished “So-N-So” spot, a section of small river\creek. My confession espoused that this was on my scout list but closer to the bottom rather than the top. After a few words of encouragement the spot moved up a few notches. My earlier research had sifted a few flakes of gold but nothing very excitable. Small water, a few fish here and there if you were willing to hike a little. The recent conversation uncovered the stocking of splake, a hybrid trout (brook and lake trout). This sealed the deal for me. The scout trip was slated for the next available opportunity.

Gear loaded and I’m back up in the hills. Finding this spot is not easy as the web site will say the name of the road as one thing but Google Earth and every other source defines it as another. It’s all part of the magic and mystery of water hounding and scouting out fishing spots. After some driving I finally find the magical hidden turn off and heading up the dirt mountain road. Twist, turn, drive around another bend and see water. This is lower section of the stream and not part of the prime water that I am searching for but my casting elbow starts to twitch and the truck is pulled over. Must fish.

“Oh man. I‘m never going to reach the top if I stop at every sweet looking spot along the way. Just a few casts at this one little hole here and then we gotta get moving.” I said this six times before reaching the trailhead parking area.

The water was a lot lower than I expected and nearly a foot lower than just weeks if not days ago. This all but completely shuts down the spin game. I can work a few options but not many. When things drizzle down to a trickle I am hard pressed and 90% of my trout game goes to the fly rod. The water was so low in fact that I nearly stopped, turned and chose another venue as I drove up. But after staring into the small, flat pool of crystal clear water and seeing fish, my hands went for the gear.

“Oh you guys are going to get it!”

(Above: First cast, bow on the fly. This was practically a fish in the barrel scenario and they were willing to take #18 all day long.)

(Above: Chubby little cutbow with great color. I was amazed to pull a handful of fish out of a hole not much bigger than your average living room rug.)

Plink a few fish and move on. Stop and plink one or two more and move on. There seemed to be at least one or two bug munchers in every fishy looking spot. These weren’t the largest fish but there was just enough room to work and pull out a bow or brownie in the 8-10 inch class.

(Above: Button up brownie in a “slipping out of the hand” shot. Male brown trout pump up the volume in regards to their color pattern in fall. This one had some spectacular red dots.)

Finally quit goofing around and make it up to the trailhead and officially get things going. Most of the time I can stay focused on the agenda but for some reason I couldn’t help grabbing a bite or two from the tasty spots on the way up. Now things were going to get serious. Over an hour was already burnt. I was hiking in and less than confident about how far up and what to expect. My references said 2-miles one way on a service road that followed the stream. Once you reached the outlet it was no trespassing. Did the gear load, key check-lock down thing and headed out. Hopefully this would be more than just a hike with some fishing poles.

(Above: Slip of water-Kiss of Fall. Visions of water and deep descents before winter.)

The area has quite a bit of vertical rock and heavily wooded pine forest. Deciduous trees are found in sparse pockets along the stream or in small mountain valleys. The grasses and a few of the bushes are turning into fall mode but the aspen trees are still a week or two off here when I took this picture. The raspberry bushes have been picked clean by birds and beast as the wind brings in the crisp air. This all makes the moment perfect as I approach a pool slight larger than most that I have seen today.

(Above: Same area as above but a closer perspective. There weren’t many fishing holes this size offering a spin cast.)

And then it happens. First cast with the spin setup and WHAM! Heavy hit clobbers the baby-rap and acts like its not going to give it back.

“Whoa…what have we here?” I say as the flash hits the surface silver body and black on top. “Beauty bow perhaps?” It gets closer and my heart really starts to race. “Splake!…and he’s going nuts!?”

Now I don’t claim to have vast knowledge about trout and especially hybrid species like splake. But let me say that this is by far the most antisocial fish that Mattsabasser has come across. It’s true that fish fight so much because being caught is a humiliating experience for them. They have to admit that they made a mistake and may possibly be eaten as a result. However, the splake take this way too far. As soon as they get within reaching distance, these fish go ape-#$% and are nearly impossible to photograph or at least photograph well without serious damage to the fish. In this case I did a quick “pic-N-Go” to get the shot and then the fish back in the water.

(Above: Splake sporting a baby-rap. Every once in a while I like to post a picture with a fish holding some spin gear to see how many people will give me crap about it.)

From here the service road rises and the stream gets further and further away. Every tasty section requires a bit of a cliff dive and you have to rock hop from there. Moving to the top of the fishing section the fish numbers seem to drop off but offer more in the way of size. I started seeing less and less of the 8’s and 10’s with more of the 12’s, and 13’s. The occasional 14’er would pop out from behind a rock or rise up from the trough to look at whatever was passing by. A rise, a bump, a nip and even sometimes an actual hit would follow.

(Above: Quite a few of the tastier looking sections have seen a bit of pressure from other anglers and the trail up and down to the water is somewhat worn. Still worth a cast.)

Missed a few good fish. I never seem to have a trip where every bump, flash or hit ends up in my hand. The torment comes when the really big flashes, hits or bumps end in a miss. I could catch a hundred fish and still worry about the one that got away if I think it had a chance of being that one spectacular fish of the trip.

Another spot, another cast and pulled out another fish. This time it’s a dark colored brown trout in a very small pool. I think the fish has nowhere to go until he manages to go into a submerged rock crevice and stay there.

“Don’t make me bust you off, buddy.” Losing a bite is one thing but busting a fish off would devastate me at this point.

The line was relaxed and the fish was expected to stay locked up or come off the hook. Instead the fish managed to swim out of the crevice and into my hand after only a few short moments of play. Tough terrain for photo ops so this fish got a one-hand shot, then release.

(Above: Brown trout with heavy tan. Nearly broke this guy off in the underwater rock structure. One pic and back you go.)

One good fish makes those earlier misses fade into the background. It even helps the fatigue in the legs go away for a brief moment. Another cast or two in the same spot and then climb back up the rocky incline to the road. Not the worst inclines mind you with wannabe-cliffs in the 15-20 foot class but taxing in quantity. You seem to glide down the first few but after two miles or more I found myself almost crawling up and down the last hundred yards or so. There were very few trails following the river so you pretty much had to battle the incline all day.

It was all worth it. Scouting out the new section and doing well exceeded my expectations. With a foot or two of additional water?…who knows. Adding splake to the species hit list is pretty @#$% cool too. Not a common species in Colorado and not even on my radar. Now it’s just a matter of the long walk on the service road out.

(Above: Shot of the service road. I have had far worse trails to travel but like them much closer to the water. I don’t make the roads or the water…just fish what you got.)

My name is Matt and I’m a fishaholic.

* Note: This post took a while to put together and fell out of the time\date rotation. Actual date of trip 9-24-2010.

Acknowledgements\Resources:

http://wildlife.state.co.us/Fishing/SpeciesID/

tags: Colorado, fishing, brown trout, splake, just found the tags feature, Mattsabasser, fishaholic.