Spring Time in the Rockies

     It was the top of the fifth and the Rockies were up 7-2 with everything going their way. In comes the middle relief and the first batter gets the brush back, next pitch, plunked in the back. A walk, a single another walk and then a grand slam. Before the Rocks knew what had hit them, the game had finished with a 17-8 loss. Why did they have to poke the proverbial tiger?  

  I know what you are thinking; does he think he is a good enough of a  writer to tackle Baseball? Has he gone crazy? Or is he even writing about baseball?

  The answers: no, maybe and Not Even A Chance!

  Cat and I went fishing today and what an eventful day. I had gone up and around a corner and was hooking fish but kept losing them. Cat walks up and says are you catching a bunch? I have already caught 7 and the biggest was 20 inches (that was the brush back). Next she says “you only caught 2” and then she grinned (the plunk). I know I get accused of being way too competitive, but sometimes you just gotta go with it. Putting on the game face, I pick up 15 of the next 16 fish with a grand slam of a just under 21 incher and a triple 19 incher.

   I have told you all before that I used to play a lot of golf and I had a particular friend that I would always compare my game to. Jim was a scratch golfer and one of the better players around. Playing with a golfer of that caliber made me a much better golfer. Even though he was given seven stokes a round, he could usually beat me. The times that I would beat him it was celebration time, so even though it was not a real big deal beating a scrub like me, my reactions brought out the competitiveness of Jim. I guess in a way it is kind of an honor to be put on those types of pedestals.

  Heading back to the car today, I was thinking about how fishing can be so competitive and got me thinking about a day last October. I had a friend come down from Canon City named John. John has been a friend of mine for over ten years and we have fished together several times. Shortly after he had started fly fishing his schedule got really tight. He barely got to fish for about three years or so and finally started fishing again last year. One day last spring he was down here in Pueblo and he hooked a couple pigs, the first ate his lunch, but the second he had done everything correct and got about a 22 incher up to us twice. Finally it took a quick turn and snap, I thought he was going to cry. So anyway, back to October, I had decided that my number one concern that day would be to get john into and land a big fish. Brandon called the night before and asked if it would be okay if he joined us and I said no problem. We got to the river and everything seemed perfect. It was snowing and we were the only anglers on the water. About ten minutes in, Brandon started grunting and we saw his rod was bent over. He then fought and landed a beautiful 19 inch buck rainbow. The next few hours I put John into ever hole that I know holds big fish. We were not hooking anything big but were catching gobs of little fish. We finally got into my favorite hole and after getting John set up in the perfect place he took a couple casts. One intense take and snap, then arms up in the air in disgust. I gave him my rod and started working on rerigging his rod. A couple more casts and BANG!!, out of the water and it was on. Seeming like forever, we finally got Johns fish landed. It was a healthy 18 inch rainbow. I think I was as relieved as he was. We fished a little longer and then we decided to fish our way back to the car.

   The walk back was odd, all of a sudden Brandon and John were walking by themselves, away from me. I could hear them talking but  they were talking low enough so that I could not hear. Then it hit me, my biggest fish of the day had only been about 14 inches, and I was sure that was what they were talking about. Could this finally be the day? It got very difficult to act cool on the way back and I started cherry picking all the best holes. Ever step, they were fidgeting more and more and I could see it was taking everything they had not to start talking trash. Finally we had made it to the last corner before we were to cross and get out. They were both twitching bad as I said “alright lets go” I felt a little like the Devil after losing his golden fiddle, I knew that I had been beat. A couple of steps across and I see a fish rise on the far side. One cast, and like in an eighties hero movie and in slow motion this pig jets himself about a foot out of the water. Everything went deathly silent and then I heard a collective ugh…behind me, followed by “are you freaking kidding me”. A couple minutes later, John netted and measured my fish. Un-freaking-believable..21 inches. I just smiled and said its okay; we all had a good day today.

   So I have decided that if I am ultra competitive, maybe it is not entirely my fault. I think I will just take it as a great honor to be the angler that other anglers compare themselves too. And always remember, it is a long season, at one time the Rockies were up 8 games last year.

   Thank you for reading these blogs, it is a blast to write them and share some of our stories. Cat and I are passionate about fly fishing and everything that goes along with it. If you have the same love and we do not know you, we wish you would stop by The Drift Fly Shop sometime and introduce yourself. The pictures are from the snowy October day and  up in the tree was a Bald Eagle looking for food. Cat will post a fishing report from today later.

Thanks, Connell

The Drift Fly Shop 719-543-3900