The sky held what weather forecasters call “passing clouds” when I left home for the Frying Pan River. By the time I got to the Brown Dog Coffee Shop in Buena Vista, the clouds were decked up over the Collegiate Peaks. I thought there was still a chance I could get over Independence Pass. With luck, I’d make it down through Aspen and to Basalt in good time and head up the river where I planned to meet up with Vince Zounek, John Gierach and Doug Powell.
We make a point to fish the Blue-winged Olive hatch on the Frying Pan River in the spring time, but I normally don’t make the return trip to the “Pan” for the fall hatch of olives because I’m hunting elk. This year the second elk season, which I typically hunt, was inexplicably scheduled for later in October which meant I’d be able to meet up with the guys for the hatch. After the olives, it’s pretty much midge hatches if you’re a dry fly fisherman.
A sign just outside Buena Vista indicated that Independence Pass was indeed open even if the weather I was seeing looked iffy. I turned west off U.S. 24 on to Colo. 82, but it wasn’t long before another sign informed me that Independence Pass was closed. The explanation simply said “weather”. This would normally be a disappointment because I’d have to go up through Leadville to take Tennessee Pass over the Divide and then go west on I-70 to Glenwood Springs. From Glenwood I’d circle back south up through the Roaring Fork Valley to Basalt. It added at least an hour to the drive.
However, the additional windshield time didn’t disappoint me this time because like most fly fishers I know you can get great Blue-winged Olive hatches on cloudy, snowy days.
When I stopped for gas in Basalt I got a text from Doug that said they were already heading up the river. The text included a photo of Vince’s truck so I could find them. When I did, they were at a spot fishermen call Old Faithful. Vince was at the truck and said they’d just arrived and the other guys had already gone down to the river.
“You know that pool you like to fish, Doug says it’s full of rising trout,” Vince said while he hurriedly geared up. I did the same and put on all the warm clothes I had.
It was spitting snow when I got to the river. I went downstream toward Doug and when we met up, he calmly said, “It’s silly, crazy with rising fish. Here take my spot.”
Doug’s a generous angler, so I took him up on his offer. I tied on a single Blue-winged Olive dry fly imitation and waded out. There were trout rising everywhere. Once I got the drift down, I was pretty much catching one trout after another. It really was “silly, crazy … ”
No fisherman goes to the river expecting this kind of day, but we all know days like this are possible. You can try to explain it scientifically by talking about the weather conditions, the fly patterns, the biology of the hatching mayflies, the physics of a good drift and on and on, but all told it’s magical and you end up just considering yourself lucky that you’re there to receive the gift.
We took our time getting to the river the next day and the fishing was even better. We caught more trout than we could count. At one point an old John Lee Hooker blues tune came into my head … “You know, I know we’re gonna get together one day …” I took the lyrics to mean I’d catch a bunch of the trout that were rising around me. Before long I was tapping my toe to the beat of the song. Then I shifted spontaneously into a little jig in the middle of river. I was totally in the moment. No past, no future.
I wonder if it wasn’t a little like this when primitive hunters or fishermen had legendary days of plenty. Those kinds of days lived on around campfires for generations and got you through any rough days that might be ahead.
It’s all ritualized now days. We’re out there with our Gore-Tex waders, fancy fly rods and fleece jackets fishing for, and then releasing, non-native trout species that were introduced to the river for our angling pleasure. It’s comfortable and fun and then there is the day when all the trout in the river go silly, crazy rising to a hatch of insects and what might have been just another day on the river becomes transcendent.
It’s when you look at your friends and say, “Dudes, is this really happening?”
Visit EdEngleFlyFishing.com to see Ed Engle’s blog, “The Lone Angler Journal.”
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