Project Healing Waters

  Alex and I got the chance to host The Denver Project Healing waters group today on the Arkansas. Project Healing waters is a national group of Veterans that have the common interest of fly fishing. We guided the group in the morning and fished with them in the afternoon. Fishing on the Ark is definitely starting to pick up with several fish landed in the morning and the largest fish being a 22.5 inch bow. This was Gary’s second day ever with a fly rod and he will be hooked for life, must have had a GREAT guide. We had the afternoon lull from about 11:30 to 1:00, but fishing picked up after that. We got to fish with the group and I landed about ten, with the largest being 20 inch bow. I had to take off and get to my real job about 2:00, but Alex stayed and finished the day landing a 21 inch hen. Sorry, I do not have pics for proof, but this time I will believe him.

   Fishing is really starting to pick up again here in Pueblo. If you are not getting the results you are looking for, book a trip and we can make you time on the water more enjoyable. We here at The Drift Fly Shop spend a ton of time fishing, scouting and studying the habits of these fish. Thanks for reading, Connell.  The Drift Fly Shop 719-543-3900

In The Shadows

    Part Deux

   Going back to my earlier blog series on my own personal fly fishing Mount Rushmore, the next most popular president seemed to be the next logical step. Abraham Lincoln was known mostly for two things; the emancipation of the slaves and his honesty. With all the stories I have heard over the years from anglers it would be very difficult to make that “honest” connection, and slavery, that will be a stretch as well, but I think although extremely corny, I can do it.

   The first year Cat worked in the shop she would come home almost every day telling me stories about what one or another fisherman was doing to catch fish.  Going to the water she would try so many things that her head would nearly explode. Some ideas turned out okay but as time went by and seeing many of the story tellers on the water, we have become very skeptical of the “only right way “to catch the fish.

  One of the greatest storytellers over the years has been Tony, better known as Antz, to his friends. Tony is one of the few people than has me completely captivated when telling stories. His voice inflections, his arm waving, his facial contortions and most of all his sound effects, are like no other. If you were to close your eyes, you would think you were on the river hearing the hook set, his reel scream, and the water splashing, his movement on the water and last his net landing the monster. When he finishes telling his fishing stories, he goes on to wrestling, friendships, golf and whichever direction his story  goes he has you just as entranced as the story before. When strangers come in the shop they would stop listen and fall into the Tony trance until he was done, sometimes minutes, sometimes hours, always entertaining. Naturally, I was not one hundred percent convinced he wasn’t full of ****.

  Before talking about fishing with Antz, I need to let you know that prior to fishing with him, my idea of sight fishing was going to the crystal clear Taylor and tossing my junk at every pod of fish. The first time I had the privilege of fishing with Antz was on the “Dream Stream”. It was an accidental meeting when Cat and I were walking up the river and just as we saw a small pod of fish, in crystal clear water, Antz and his son walked up. He looked in and told me to go ahead, nervously because of Toney’s stature, two casts in and I landed my first fish of the day, a 17 inch cutty.  Unfortunately she spilled a few eggs while I was getting a pic, but nonetheless, I stood up with my chest sticking out a little farther (yep I’m the man!). We walked up the river across from each other with Antz slowly surveying the water all the way. The water dirtied and riffled more as we walked up. Every now and again, he would stop turn his head a little, take another look and cast. He was seeing so many fish that naturally I thought he was full of it, but he kept hooking fish left and right. I figured it was just the side of the river he was on so I switched, but it was just the same, I was seeing squat and he was hooking fish. We walked up the river about a mile and then back down, I could not believe the vision that Antz possessed. We got back down into one of the lower bends and he started showing me a pod of fish, I had no idea what he was looking at but went along with him anyway. He told me to stay put because they were moving up. He hurried up past them and started slapping the water, when he told me they were almost on me I casted. The indicator only moved a short distance and Bang. The wake headed straight down stream about forty yards. I was able to chase down and land a beautiful 22 inch bow. I was not The Man, He was!

  So how do I make the connection with Antz and Mr. Lincoln, after watching him in action, He just may get the Honest Abe award for the stories, and heck if his fishing stories are true, maybe the rest are as well. I choose to believe! Next comparison will be as hokey and corny as you can get and please …I do not mean to offend anyone. If you ever have spent time on the Dream Stream than you know how your dreams can turn to nightmares in a hurry, as you drive the two and a half hours the thoughts in your head are of 30 inch fish and lots of them, and when you leave you are stunned to have only caught a few in the 12 inch range. At times you feel you like you are a complete “slave” to these Dream Stream monsters, did you catch it, the subtlety. Maybe if you are lucky, as I have been, you can be “freed” from the nightmares of the dream stream. What a blessing it has been over the year to get to know and fish with Antz, the tips and techniques I learned from him have made me a much better fisherman and my time on the water is so much more enjoyable.

   Writing these blogs has really been a lot of fun for Cat and I. They get us thinking about all the blessings that our friends have been to us. If you have not been to The Drift Fly Shop in Pueblo and you are in town, I hope you stop by and say hello. You just may catch an Oscar performance by Tony. We are passionate about fly fishing here and loving meeting others that are just like us.

   Since Tony has no idea that I am writing this blog on Him, I was not able to get his permission to put up any of the pics that his best friends have given to me. So legally, I am saying that these pics may, or may not be of Ant’z, if they are not than they look just like him. Also, the goober in the blue coat was me with the fish he practically put on my line. The other pics are Jeff and his son.

   The next subject in this series, Teddy Roosevelt, has already been spoken for. I am still contemplating my Andrew Jackson; I have some ideas but if you would like to volunteer or know someone that fits that description, feel free to let me know or leave a comment. Thanks for reading, Connell

Seeing the Stripe

  Tuesday Cat and I got to fish for the first time in a week. The sky was bright Blue Bird and the wind was howling. The section we went into saw the Bow’s laying in frog water and barely moving. We fished for four hours and only landed two. We hooked several but the size 24 midges were pulling out way too often (my excuse). I knew I had a guide trip going out the next morning with the perfect kind of client, someone that has struggled catching tail water fish and desperately wanted to learn how. Checking the weather report I saw that Wednesday called for Blue Bird skies, only 10 mph wind and 60 degrees. The warmth told me that the river would be packed and the clear skies told me that the fish would be super spooky with only a short window for active feeding.

   I was surprised to see only a few cars when we arrived and was excited after meeting my client and seeing his true humility with wanting to learn. The wind was blowing much harder than forecasted so I was hoping he could cast. We headed up the path and I asked him a few questions about what he knew and I realized by his answers that he knew a lot more about fly fishing than he thought. The first spot we stopped was the perfect place to begin learning. We were able to stand above a riffle that came at us, deepened and then turned against the bank. We were able to see the shadows of the fish and see what type of water they were holding in and the direction they were facing. We then walked down and my client started casting, we worked on line management the first half an hour, drifting though the riffle where the fish were holding. I was a little surprised that we didn’t pick anything up but he picked up the line management very quick. We walked up to the next run and at the tail end we spotted several fish chasing midges on the bottom. On his first cast, the indicator landed just behind the fish and he stripped perfectly until the bow grabbed it and starting running. First fish of the day was a healthy 14inch bow. The next was a 17inch female followed by a 16inch male that had teeth like a small shark. We fished that hole for another half hour or so hooking and catching several more fish. We started seeing fish rising all around and decided to move to the riffle just up above. Scouting it out, we could see several shadows feeding like crazy. He hooked 15 or so and probably landed ten before taking a break to jot down some notes and thoughts before moving back into the lower hole. We fished that for a while with a couple hookups before we decided to check out the riffle one more time before calling it a day. And then we saw it, glowing like neon on the Vegas strip, conservatively 21 to 23 inches,  a solid deep red stripe, about fifteen feet out from us . The wind had picked back up and after putting my client at ease, by telling him he had to make the perfect cast or blow the chance, he started casting. The first two casts were blown below the fish and luckily did not spook him. Then he laid it out perfectly, five feet in front, perfect upstream mend, tighten the line and  BANG, out of the water about a 22 inch male pig of a rainbow. The first run was fifteen feet across, then straight up river then across and down. We started chasing him and made our way to the other side, my client was able to work him into the slower pool where the Rainbow’s face finally surfaced and teetered a few times as if he were saying “I quit and I have been had, congratulations”. I was so proud of my client and what seemed to be a near flawless battle with this beauty. A deep breath of relief and triumph was half way out and then it was over, a quick head shake and he was gone with all three flies. We stood for a second with jaws barely above the water and after what seemed to be an eternity, we both just smiled. The day was complete…

  What joy sight fishing can be, but with the understanding that chasing shadows all day can make it difficult to sleep at night. The images of the fish and the sounds of the splashing water never seem to stop echoing in your head. Sometime the fish are just laying flat on the bottom, sometimes you see the white of their mouths as they are feeding, sometimes you can just see the shadows moving around, but nothing much compares to when that shadow turns into the giant red stripe.  Slab, pig, toad and troutzilla are some of the common names; I just call them my personal gift from God.

   What a joy and thrill it is to fish and teach how to sight fish to these beauties. With the water low and clear for the next few weeks, this is the perfect time to learn sight fishing and to recognize different trout behavior. We at The Drift Fly Shop are passionate about fly fishing and teaching the different techniques. We would love to hear from you if want to learn new techniques or just unfamiliar with the area and want to have a great day on the river. We have several slots open over the next two weeks. To book a trip call The Drift at 719-543-3900. Thanks for reading, Connell

Shop Stories: “Desperate times and Desperate photos”

Being attached at the hip to a fly shop for almost a decade I have seen some outrages things. From time to time I will be posting these stories for your enjoyment or pity..hehe. I promise these stories are 100% true, however the names have been changed to protect the not so innocent. So this installment is entitled “Desperate times and Desperate photos”

                Several years back a group of enthusiastic fisherman came through the shop doors grinning ear to ear.  The trio was comprised of three men; John, Jack, and Justin.  The three were planning their first trip to the catch and release section of the Taylor.  For those of you not familiar with that water it is considered the most challenging and potentially rewarding water in the state.  Many an experienced fisherman has crawled home from that water with tears and a fishless camera.  While some capture the fish of a life time and try to figure out how they can convince their wives to move to Gunnison.  Needless to say when planning a trip there many “preparations” must be made and that’s what the trio was up to.  That night they were on a mission for information.  After an hour of talking, looking through books, and searching the internet the trio was pumped and planning to come back to the shop later for their purchases.  Over the next two weeks I saw John, Jack, and Justin either as a group or separately almost every day.  Then they disappeared off into the land of the big fish.

                 One week later John appeared.  We engaged in the normal small talk and finally I inquired as to the Taylor trip.  Without hesitation he pulled a photo of him holding one of the largest trout I have ever seen.  The odd part was that I couldn’t tell what kind of trout it was.  It was too dark.  So I asked for the details.  He went on to tell me about landing it and what it took, but never identified it.  The very next day Jack came in and tossed a photo of him with a giant fish on my counter.  I did the normal wows and asked him what it took and he sprang into an hour long explanation.  While he was talking I noticed that the fish was unnaturally black but it was clearly a rainbow and had a white sore side.  Not wanting to down play his joy I said nothing.  A week later Justin came in and I asked if he caught fish.  He hesitated but pulled a photo from his wallet.  There it was; a massive black rainbow with a white sore.  Holding the photo I knew one of two things, either all of the fish in the Taylor were ill or I had just seen the same fish being held by three different fishermen.  Betting that the last was most likely I told him the gig was up and asked him what really happened during the trios trip.  Slowly he explained that they fished for five days straight and none of them had even gotten a hit.  He said that every day of their trip they walked by the corpse of the largest fish any of them had ever seen.  So finally on the last day they all decided not to return home empty handed.  So one at a time they picked up the rotting dead fish and took a picture with it. He also explained that they were very careful to come up with three different stories as to how it was caught and they promised to only show certain friends and family the photos so no one would expect anything. What they didn’t expect was that all three would bring the photo into the shop to impress the fishing girl J

Lesson:  If you feel the need to take a picture with a dead fish….. take only one....and show no one.

The Drift Fly Shop from my Prospective............

Land of Lies, Flies,Fish, and Love

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

Peace and Quiet Water

     

          Storms to the north offer a rare joy on Pueblo’s tail water, peace and quiet.  When snow locks the poor fisherman of Springs and Denver inside their city limits the Arkansas here becomes a sweet place of solidarity.  Pulling into the parking lot at Valco today my joy bubbled over.  No matter how many times I counted I come to two. Yes, only two cars graced the parking lot.  As I geared up I tried to think of a word to express what I was feeling and decided one word would not describe it.  So using more than one word here is how solidarity on the water feels:

                Imagine throwing a party.  Several people attend.  Family, friends, casual acquaintances, and strangers walk around your house and eat your food.   Loud conversations and laughs intermix with the tension and fights which come from too many people in a too little space.  This is how the river has felt for the last two months.  Today, however, was the last hour of the party.  It is at this time when conversations are quiet and serious and only your best friends are there.  The hour when true bonding and reminiscing occurs. Today was just me and the fish in the final hour of the winter river party. 

The fishing was not exceptional in numbers or size, but in the sweet peace and quiet I found an exceptional day of fishing.  J

Fish rising to snowflakes.... I swear they were having fun!!

http://www.thedriftflyshop.com/

Addicts on the Arkansas

   My wife and I have decided to fish the next day and the cycle begins.  7:00 p.m. rolls around and I begin to think about the flies I will need to have for tomorrow.  Check the weather forecast, high of 45 and a few high clouds. The little chill runs up my spine as I think about the midge hatch that should be smoking and the afternoon should see a few blue wings as well.  I start with ten Ninjas, size 22, tie a couple FOD’s in size 20, and finish up with some size 24 of my “South Park” collection (Marklar, Tweak, and Starvin Marvin).  It is much safer for anyone not tying to stay clear of the tying table.  If you bump it, at the very least you will get death threats with the eyes.  10:00 p.m. rolls along and the tying has ended for the evening and on to the next task.  Inspecting the rod I am to use tomorrow, the Winston B11-MX 5 weight.  Pull it out of the tube and clean the ferrules, change out the leader, and even tie on the three flies I will start the morning with. Repack the rod and next, figure out the attire for the next morning. Go back to the computer and see if the forecast has changed in the last few hours, now it is a high of 46. Should be the perfect day for layering, a wicking long sleeve undershirt, a long sleeve “The Drift Fly Shop” fishing shirt and a windstopper vest will be perfect.  Finally midnight rolls along and I give Cat my work plans for early tomorrow before we fish. We lay down and my brain goes immediately to the holes we will be fishing tomorrow: the drift through the bend hole, the back corner of the W weir, and the log deep runs have been fishing well as of late. Cat leans over and I can tell she is in the mood. Honey I am really tired tonight for sure tomorrow I say.  Then in my mind back to the river…….drift off………..

     And that is just the night before.

    An old addiction recovery saying went something like this “If you are not an addict than there is no way to explain and if you are an addict than no explanation is necessary.”  If you understand how my fishing eves go, than you also know the day of, gets even worse.  Reflecting on the last ten years or so, there is no doubt in my mind that I am completely, 100% addicted to flyfishing.  Luckily for me, Cat has the same addiction. In the different addiction recovery programs, they will give you a test to let you know if you are afflicted with the particular addiction. I have decided to build my own test to determine if you are a flyfishing addict. It is very important to answer all questions truthfully.

1.       Have you ever missed or played hooky from work to flyfish?

2.       Have you ever lied to your spouse, parents, or friends about your whereabouts when fly fishing?

3.       Have you ever caught yourself salivating while walking to your favorite hole?

4.       Have you ever hid your flyfishing purchases from your spouse, parents, or friends?

5.       Have you ever turned down a roll in the hay because you can only think about fish?

6.       Do you own more than three flyrods and you actually think you know the difference in them all?

7.       Do you spend more time repairing your waders than helping your spouse , parents, or friend

 around the house?

8.       Do you spend at least an hour a week hanging out at the local fly Shop, articulating your expertise?

9.       Do you carry your book of fish pictures everywhere you go(Ben) and do you have more pictures of your fish than your family on your computer?

10.   Have you ever had a fight with your spouse, parents, or friends as to the amount of time you spend flyfishing compared to the time you spend on them?

11.   Can you recite the specs of your fly rods but can’t recall your spouse , parents, or friends birthday?

12.   Is your rod and reel set-up worth more than your transportation to the river?

13.   Have you ever planned your vacations around spawning cycles of fish?

14.   Have you ever put on your favorite Fly Fishing shirt to go into a Fly Shop?

15.   Have you ever considered throwing rocks at your favorite hole when you see a bait dunker in it?

16.    Have you ever wasted your time reading or writing idiotic flyfishing blogs?

   The scale goes like this. If you answered 0 to 2 than you are a liar and you need to reread question number 2 and 16.  Getting one to 16 makes you an addict, and remember that denial is the first sign of addiction. All kidding aside, having a serious addiction gene I can’t help to think about how flyfishing has partially saved my life.  I have never been pulled over for DWD (driving while daydreaming of fish), arrested for public catch and release, and although close, never been arrested for fighting with bait guys.  Flyfishing has given me the opportunity to share my addiction with the absolute love of my life(my wife, not Winston)although he loves it as well. Flyfishing has given me the opportunity to guide and teach my love for the sport with strangers and friends, and to meet some real awesome people that I would not normally associate with.  An addiction, yes, but maybe we can start Flyfishers Annonymous and the first step in recovery will be to stop by The Drift Fly Shop and say hello. (719-543-3900)

http://www.thedriftflyshop.com/

  If you are reading this blog than you are either a current friend or hope to soon to be a friend. Cat and I are both guides and shop employees at The Drift Fly Shop in Pueblo, Colorado (719-543-3900) and if you are in the area please stop by and swap stories or at least say hello. Remember, we are all in this affliction together…..