Trout eager bite on Colorado fishing trip

Clay Henry tied size 22 ruby (bottom row) and root beer midges for his Colorado trip.
Clay Henry tied size 22 ruby (bottom row) and root beer midges for his Colorado trip.

If you want to cool off in July, go to the mountains in Colorado. That's what Bill Pettit and I did, finding new water to fish and trails to hike.

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NWA Democrat-Gazette

A Frying Pan River brown trout with a size 22 ruby midge in the lip caught by Henry.

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NWA Democrat-Gazette

Flat Tops Wilderness lake near Yampa, Colo.

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NWA Democrat-Gazette

Mule deer in the Frying Pan River near Basalt, Colo.

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NWA Democrat-Gazette

Clay Henry’s White River brown trout with guide Jason Loyd.

Friends were made, including a pair of mule deer who decided to watch me fish from close range in the middle of the Frying Pan River near Basalt, Colo. I also met a young guide from Denver, although I didn't find much use for some of his traded flies.

I caught brown trout as the deer and the guide watched, then I turned tourist and turned on the video mode of my iPhone to record the deer dances in 18 inches of water. That was just before they ran up the trail to the parking lot where Pettit, my friend from Cotter, waited for me to grow tired of catching 16-inch brown trout with my size 22 ruby midges.

That's the highlight of the trip. It's a flip of the coin between the deer or the fact that my own flies tied for Arkansas waters, and downsized for the tiny local hatch, did just fine on that technical and tough stretch of Colorado's famous Frying Pan.

Well, there were many highlights, including spending time with close friends Jim and Pam Daniel, Jeremiah and Ginger Gage and figuring out what to do next with Pettit. Pam delighted us with a video she had made on her laptop of an Alaska trip last summer. OK, we didn't catch any 30-inch rainbows in Colorado like Jim landed on the Kenai.

Jim and Jeremiah broke free from work for a couple of days on the Frying Pan. They helped plot the next few days as Bill and I headed north into the Flat Tops Wilderness near Yampa, then did our fourth tour of Rocky Mountain National Park.

There were nights in Loveland (with the Gage family), Basalt, Steamboat Springs, Grand Lake and finally back in Loveland. The day trips included Crosho Lake in the Flat Tops and a hike up Green Mountain Trail in the west end of Rocky Mountain National Park.

Crosho Lake proved interesting with my first grayling, a rare fish for those areas. I went there just for a chance at that species and was tickled to get even one. The big dorsal fin is a special sight.

I tried to take fish on dry flies for most of the trip. The first day on the Frying Pan was done almost entirely with tiny pale morning duns, with one take by a 16-inch brown trout. I gave up on dries late on the second day despite fishing to a pod of risers on the upper end of the river.

There were three locals patiently throwing dries nearby when I decided to pull out the size 22 midges Gage advised. I should have gone to them sooner, but tried what the local fly shops advised first. Even a Mysis shrimp from my new guide friend failed.

I know to listen to Gage. He's my fly fishing mentor. A native of Ozark, he's always been the one I wanted to be like on the river. His casts are like a Dusty Hannahs jump shot or an Alex Collins cut, a thing of beauty.

It was just after the deer pranced out of the river that I switched to the ruby midge. I placed a small piece of foam pinched onto the 6x tippet just eight inches from the fly. I drifted them near the fly fishers below me into the rising browns. Boom!

I caught 17 browns in 90 minutes. I tried to act like it was no big deal. It was a huge deal. I was chuckling to myself as those browns hit on almost every drift.

I suddenly had new friends that were highly interested in what I'd pulled from my fly box. Yes, I shared. Three midges were given away, and they were producing browns as I headed for the pickup. I couldn't wait to tell David Knowles, my Fayetteville fly tying mentor. He is a production tyer for most of the local fly shops and is the man who popularized the ruby midge in Arkansas.

It didn't matter that the bite was still on as we departed from the Frying Pan for a great lunch in Glenwood Springs. Gage, Daniel and Pettit were the perfect fishing buddies at lunch as they let me go crazy about the ruby midge.

None of the fly shops out West sell them. But they should. They are as good on mountain waters as they are on Arkansas tailwaters. And, they are deadly here. I left some with a worker at the Ranger Station in Yampa. They'll work on the high lakes was the promise, although I focused on dries the rest of the trip.

There was great information from a National Park Service worker at the Kawuneeche Visitor Center at the entrance of the west end of Rocky Mountain National Park. Pettit was scoping out trails when I broke past the main desk to an office where a fly fisher worked. Yes, there were some sweet high meadow streams to fish. Could I handle a moderate climb?

I wasn't sure, but I knew I had to try. I'd have a fit 68-year-old Pettit to go with me and make sure I made it out. The hike was 1.8 miles, up 605 feet to 9,410. I had to sit down to catch my breath several times.

The reward for some hard work was wonderful. The hike was to Big Meadows, probably 1,000 yards long with Tonahutu Creek weaving through the middle.

Our arrival coincided with the resident bull moose ducking into the trees. We also were just behind two fly fishers from Maine. Since they went down the creek, we went up. No worries. My first cast with a Griffith's Knat was slammed by an 8-inch brookie. Another hit my second cast.

I did that from my knees. If you were any higher, the brookies spooked. I knew to stay down. You had to cast from the lower bend, into a cut bank above. And, you'd get two casts maybe before cutting across to the next bend.

We had bug spray and we were told to use it. But if there were any skeeters, I didn't notice. I was in love with brookies.

The stay wasn't long. We didn't want to be past noon because afternoon storms were in the forecast. Don't test Mother Nature up high. It can be deadly.

Among the last highlights was the trip along Trail Ridge Road. There was a stop at one of the first high turnouts where we pulled out leftovers from a great dinner at a Lake Granby eatery. I finished off some meatloaf. It may have been better cold. It reminded me of my first meat loaf when me and three brothers didn't leave leftovers.

A road worker apologized for the noise of his rig as he passed by the tailgate of the pickup. He was sorry to disturb our picnic. There was no way for him to do that as we stared off into the valley and the headwaters of the Colorado River.

No, we didn't fish the Colorado. We drove by it in Glennwood Springs and from four other highways during our trip. Pettit and I will try it on another trip. And, there will be another trip.

I love Arkansas tailwaters. I fished them on both ends of my two weeks vacation. I love the White and the Norfork. I can't get enough of the middle portion of the Norfork River. It's the best trout fishing in the world.

There was a fantastic day before the Colorado trip with guides Kristopher Bouldin and Jason Loyd on the Norfork and White with some fantastic hopper fishing. Bouldin is the new son-in-law. The two guides helped me learn to oar Bouldin's boat. Hopefully, they'll let me go some more on their days off when they get to fish, too.

So why go to Colorado? Cool air is part of it. We fished in 60-degree temps in the middle of the day. It was 106 when we came home through Kansas.

But it's also to see good friends. It's sweet when you pull into Keenesburg or Loveland and see a Hawgs Illustrated magazine on the coffee table. They talk Razorbacks in the Gage and Daniel homes.

I did make a new friend on the Frying Pan, the young fly fishing guide from Westminster, Colo. Spencer Gilvin handed me some Mysis shrimp when we visited behind our pickups the first day. Those shrimp patterns are normally a sure thing on that tailwater.

Not so on this trip. I presented Spencer with my 22s before they proved perfect. I suspect that the shop in Denver where he works will soon have them in the fly bins.

As we told each other about our roots, Spencer shared that he'd just decided to give up his dreams of playing college football to stick to guiding. He was a fine quarterback last year at Westminster. I double checked and learned his nickname was The Cannon.

I don't have one. But I'd be fine with Ruby Midge.

Sports on 08/16/2016

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