In the Shadows of Greatness

 Working in the fly shop and guiding I constantly get the question “where did you learn all of this”, and with great humility I tell them that I am just awesome that way <-( humor). Last summer, a past client and friend called and asked  advice about fishing the Black hills, it was great to be able to give advice and to later have pictures of a 24inch bow e-mailed to me.  I had been to the Black Hills a few years before and was able to fish the area while checking out the sights. If you have never stood at the base of Mount Rushmore and looked up, then you are missing one of the truly humbling experiences you will ever feel. Standing in the shadows of greatness, even a dork like me is in awe with the thought that these people have made it possible for us to live the way we do today. Later when I was feeling a little less nostalgic and thinking  little more about my fly fishing addiction, I began thinking about the people in my fly fishing life that have carved out the way I fish today. My  fly fishing Mount Rushmore.

  When I first moved to Colorado I did not have a plug nickel to my name but was in love with everything about the mountains. I bait fished the creeks, the large reservoirs, the Colorado River and the high mountain lakes and had a great week if I caught two fish, and then I met Mark. We started training at Winter Park ski area on the same day and immediately hit it off when we started talking fishing, even though he was wwaaayyyy older than me. On our second day of training we were let out early and we decided to head to the river, but not a lot going on in Grand County in mid November. Well, we got skunked, but it was the first time I got to see the true art of fly fishing and I was amazed. A year and a half later, I asked Mark to take my dad fly fishing and without hesitation he said “no problem”. The three of us hiked the train tracks about a mile back to the Fraser . They both had waders so they headed into the river to begin. I did not have waders, just my sexy short shorts, and I got to crawl through the thick willows just to watch, every step was like crawling though barbed wire and I had scratches and cuts all over my arms and legs. I was just crawling through a hole in the thicket when I watched Mark gently lay down a small Adams and about a sixteen inch rainbow came up, sipped it and Mark brought it in. It was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. It was still years later before I could afford my first fly rod.

  After moving from winter Park, I lost touch with Mark for several years. When I began fly fishing I made it a point to get back in touch with him. We finally got together again up in Grand county and swapped fishing stories for a few hours and he told me how he very rarely fishes rivers and has fallen in love with lakes called Delaney Buttes.  I informed him that fly fishing lakes is more luck than skill. Cat and I stopped at the Delaney’s that summer on our way back from Wyoming and got skunked after several hours, proof that it is all luck. Hehe  A year later I headed up to try again over Memorial day weekend, I fished the evening and caught one fish, the next morning I was getting skunked when Mark showed up. He paddled out near me and gave me a few pointers, he then started catching fish. I think he landed a dozen or so over the next hour and I finally caught two. Looking around, no one else on the lake was catching fish. The fish were a little on the silver side but fat and totally frisky. I began going up there a few times a year and have since realized that like there is no luck in fly fishing, even in a lake. Mark has made quite a name for himself up in North Park and I have started calling what I see in North Park as “the Mark affect. If you go into the fly shop and mention Mark or his dog Jakes names you get their immediate attention.  One of the great things about fishing lakes  is that sound carries so well and if you listen while he is fishing, you hear the clamors from all over the lake about the bearded guy catching another and another. When he gets to a spot and starts catching fish people from all over the lake paddle near him because they think it is the only place where fish are. They start crowding him but he just turns and catches more on the other side. It doesn’t take long and the people start paddling away and muttering obscenities about the bearded guy catching all the fish. I remember coming over the hill from North to South Delaney and looking down at the lake to see one pontoon boat surrounded by several others, it looked like the old pictures from the U.S. Navy fleets during WW11, and yes Mark was in the middle. When the sun goes down it is dinner a campfire and more fishing stories with Mark and Jake, his Golden retriever.  I love checking my e-mail and seeing his name because I know I am going to see more big beautiful fish. One time I was even fishing about thirty miles away on the North Platte and got to talking to a guy that had a Golden and told him I was heading over to the Delaney’s to meet a friend with a Golden, he said “ are you talking about Mark.”  If you ever are fishing up that way you should stop by and say hello to Mark, and if people near you are being rude, just tell them you are friends with Mark and Jake.  If you do not know which trailer is Marks, just watch and see where all of the incoming anglers stop to see what is working, I’m sure it is Marks trailer. I am very thankful and have been truly blessed to fish with and learn so much from Mark over the years.

  I guess when comparing Mount Rushmore to my fly fishing friends of today I would have to call Mark my George Washington. He was there at the beginning, he showed me a better way to fish, He never looked for notoriety and they were both born about the same time. It is truly a blessing to have been able to be around so many great fishermen over the years. I hope all the readers have the amount of wonderful and knowledgeable friends that I have had over the years to learn from. If not, than I would suggest hiring a guide for a day, some of us are funny and most of us will teach you a great deal about having fun fly fishing. We at the Drift Fly Shop are always trying to make your time on the water as wonderful as possible, so if you are in the area stop by and say hello. My next blog with this theme will be my Abe Lincoln, so who might get embarrassed next time? Check back, Connell