Denver is a lot like any other big US city when you first look at it. However, there is a difference; head a few miles West and you will trip yourself up, several times a day if you’re me, on some dodgy wading in what is probably the best river Trout fishing in Colorado; the South Platte.I am huge John Gierach fan and his scribblings inspire my fishing antics. This is one of his local waters and I was well pleased to be getting a chance of catching a fish that the man himself may have once hooked and lost.
Thirty miles is not a long way to drive but when it’s on a winding mountain road with no lighting and averaging around 30 miles per hour it seemed like it is. After midnight and feeling very tired from travelling thousands of miles across North America, it was blinkin’ hard work! I was mighty relieved to see the cabin lights welcoming me to Trumball, a small cluster of log cabins that overlook the South Platte.
Danny’s directions had been spot on and it was a relief to drop the bags in the entrance to my temporary home for the next couple of days. The sound of the river roaring below me started butterflies fluttering somewhere inside, although that could have been a dodgy chicken pie from the service station.
The alarm was set for six o’clock but I was up by 5.30 to deposit the pie down the big white pipe and to brew a pot of coffee.
Now at this point I would like to say that this was a remote mountain cabin with no electricity and basic facilities but it wasn’t! It was spacious and rather luxurious; somewhere you would happily live, let alone spend a few days admiring the view – a rather lovely river and Scraggy Mountain in the distance.
I stood on the porch drinking the first coffee of the day watching the House Martins which had taken up residence over the front door. I never did like their chirpy tunes and once they started on the “Caravan of Love” I chased them away. A Buck in velvet with a Doe in tow wandered into the garden of the cabin next door to browse on the lawn. Regardless of how good the fishing was I was going to enjoy this short break!
It was just about a mile back down the road to the retail expanse known as Deckers; a coffee shop, a a general store and a fishing store. At 8am, as agreed, I shook hands with Danny Brennan, the owner of Deckers fishing outlet and general all-round good egg. He informed me I would be guided by Jessie, a young but experienced guide and general all-round nut case! We shook hands.
There was some discussion about flows. It was down to less than 400cfps, which sounded high to me having tried to wade the Vaal in South Africa at 500cfps. However, Jessie said “You should have been here last week, it was over 800! You’ve timed your visit perfectly” – now that’s not something you hear every day...
Setting up in one of the many free parking areas along the South Platte, Jessie informed me that he’d screwed up on the wading boots front and had a size 11 and a size 13, with the size 11 being too small; after this he was named as a Cherokee Indian – Chief Little One Boot (LOB). He returned from the shop with matching boots and we set off for ‘Mad Dog’ run. We fished down past ‘Bernie’s Rock’ to ‘FBI Johns’. We caught fish too, lots of ‘em; Browns, Rainbows, Cutthroat and the Cutbow hybrids. The fish were all strong, wild and very, very beautiful – I was very happy.
We moved later in the morning, LOB led the way to the ‘Scraggy View’ car park and we fished a wide sweeping bend just in front of it. My guide was good, he knew just when to switch from nymphs to great big attractor dries, that looked like they could eat a trout, with droppers to double dry rigs. Every time we changed the rate of takes would return to normal and my conversion rate would follow; about a 4,000,000 to 1......seriously I was catching a lot of fish compared to all those around us.
Lunch was served at Danny’s house on the veranda, overlooking the river. It was a fine burger, grilled to perfection and served with a potato salad. LOB and I talked about the fire. It was the Missionary Ridge fire of 2003 and it was the anniversary. LOB explained that some mad-mare of a woman had started it intentionally to try and secure a position with the local fire department. It took a week to put out and had changed the landscape for miles around as well as effecting a change in the rivers. Fishing had gone downhill after that.
The good news was it was returning to normal now, the river is full of fish again but there have been some changes. Caddis hatches are different and there are some fine Green Drake in the river now, hardly ever seen before the fire. The Blue-wings, Trico’s and Caddis are still providing the fish with an excellent diet. Everything I had read about the area recently suggested it was hard fishing, with one or two fish being the norm. Well after the arm aching morning I had just experienced there are lots of hungry fish in that river waiting to be caught – you just need the right flies.
We fished the afternoon out stalking Browns and ‘Bow’s and Cutt’s using dry flies and we caught plenty. Not as big as the fish from the morning session but just as much fun on short line double dries. We shook hands at around 4pm and I went off to fish on my own. I caught a few more and returned to the cabin for a well earned beer.
The alarm was set for six o’clock but I was up by 5.30 to deposit the pie down the big white pipe and to brew a pot of coffee.
Now at this point I would like to say that this was a remote mountain cabin with no electricity and basic facilities but it wasn’t! It was spacious and rather luxurious; somewhere you would happily live, let alone spend a few days admiring the view – a rather lovely river and Scraggy Mountain in the distance.I stood on the porch drinking the first coffee of the day watching the House Martins which had taken up residence over the front door. I never did like their chirpy tunes and once they started on the “Caravan of Love” I chased them away. A Buck in velvet with a Doe in tow wandered into the garden of the cabin next door to browse on the lawn. Regardless of how good the fishing was I was going to enjoy this short break!
It was just about a mile back down the road to the retail expanse known as Deckers; a coffee shop, a a general store and a fishing store. At 8am, as agreed, I shook hands with Danny Brennan, the owner of Deckers fishing outlet and general all-round good egg. He informed me I would be guided by Jessie, a young but experienced guide and general all-round nut case! We shook hands.
There was some discussion about flows. It was down to less than 400cfps, which sounded high to me having tried to wade the Vaal in South Africa at 500cfps. However, Jessie said “You should have been here last week, it was over 800! You’ve timed your visit perfectly” – now that’s not something you hear every day...
Setting up in one of the many free parking areas along the South Platte, Jessie informed me that he’d screwed up on the wading boots front and had a size 11 and a size 13, with the size 11 being too small; after this he was named as a Cherokee Indian – Chief Little One Boot (LOB). He returned from the shop with matching boots and we set off for ‘Mad Dog’ run. We fished down past ‘Bernie’s Rock’ to ‘FBI Johns’. We caught fish too, lots of ‘em; Browns, Rainbows, Cutthroat and the Cutbow hybrids. The fish were all strong, wild and very, very beautiful – I was very happy.
We moved later in the morning, LOB led the way to the ‘Scraggy View’ car park and we fished a wide sweeping bend just in front of it. My guide was good, he knew just when to switch from nymphs to great big attractor dries, that looked like they could eat a trout, with droppers to double dry rigs. Every time we changed the rate of takes would return to normal and my conversion rate would follow; about a 4,000,000 to 1......seriously I was catching a lot of fish compared to all those around us.Lunch was served at Danny’s house on the veranda, overlooking the river. It was a fine burger, grilled to perfection and served with a potato salad. LOB and I talked about the fire. It was the Missionary Ridge fire of 2003 and it was the anniversary. LOB explained that some mad-mare of a woman had started it intentionally to try and secure a position with the local fire department. It took a week to put out and had changed the landscape for miles around as well as effecting a change in the rivers. Fishing had gone downhill after that.
The good news was it was returning to normal now, the river is full of fish again but there have been some changes. Caddis hatches are different and there are some fine Green Drake in the river now, hardly ever seen before the fire. The Blue-wings, Trico’s and Caddis are still providing the fish with an excellent diet. Everything I had read about the area recently suggested it was hard fishing, with one or two fish being the norm. Well after the arm aching morning I had just experienced there are lots of hungry fish in that river waiting to be caught – you just need the right flies.
We fished the afternoon out stalking Browns and ‘Bow’s and Cutt’s using dry flies and we caught plenty. Not as big as the fish from the morning session but just as much fun on short line double dries. We shook hands at around 4pm and I went off to fish on my own. I caught a few more and returned to the cabin for a well earned beer.
The next day I was on my own. I fished a few of the known pools that we had fished the previous day and a few I had not. I caught, not as well but was well pleased with the result. After a shower I headed for the airport but not before popping in to see Danny and thank him for a great couple of days.
As I drove out of the Platte valley I came across an area still ravaged by the scars of the fire and it bought home to me just how devastating it must have been. However, as with so many things, time heals and as far as I can tell there is no lasting a scar on the South Platte and I look forward to a return visit.If you are thinking of a bit of fishing in this area I can recommend the service of Danny Brennan and his team of excellent guides at http://www.southplatteoutfitters.com/
If you can only secure one of them ask for Jessie...after all he may only have one boot that fits but if John Gierach recommends him (Still Life with Brook Trout) he can’t be that bad, can he?
One thing I can suggest is get a guide. One thing I am sure of - I’m glad I wasn’t there last week.....
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