There is something to be said for being a bit overweight, a bit pudgy a bit fat if you will. When you are out in the cold, focused on where the fish are and it just happens to be hovering in the mid 20’s with snow on the ground, well, I could have used a little more fat. Of course I am from Texas, but man, it was cold. I have read the glorious accounts of freezing rod tips and braving the elements in pursuit of quarry. Those glorious visions were soon replaced by visions of amputated toes.
The trip to Boulder over the Thanksgiving break was a couple of days short, so in total I spent four, yes only four, hours on Boulder Creek. I gathered my information from local fly shops such as the Front Range Anglers and Rocky Mountain Anglers in Boulder and began my relenting pursuit.
Thanksgiving morning I noticed I was the only one on the creek. The fish brain always goes, “Hmm, is that good or bad?”. Never mind the temperatures, there were plenty of fitness freaks running the trail – remember those that harbor some envy fondly call Boulder “The People’s Republic of Boulder”. So those that can – were, as usual, doing their thing.
I began working my way upstream from the Sixth Street Bridge, and was immediately thankful for my two weight 7’3” TFO recommended to me last Summer by Guide Joel Hays for use on the streams and high mountain lakes of the Weminuche Wilderness. What a trip that was … so … warm. The cold was setting in and I could see there were going to be a specific set of problems related to sub-freezing fishing, and none of them were related to all the thermal protection against the Goddess of Ice. No, the problems began at the tip of my rod and went on from there. First, yes I have now experienced my first frozen rod tip – again and again. Second, ice on the water has a funny way of getting a Texan’s attention; The edges grab your line and don’t let go. They act much like rocks that have malleable edges that quickly take a groove from your line and at then end form a nice grab on your fly. Bye Bye Fly. And the ice was continuing to edge out from both sides of the low running creek – remember in winter that Boulder Creek is a long way from the nationally famous white water rapids of the spring.
So the second problem past the carnivorous ice becomes a chain of ice beads on one’s leader. Visually, it looks like the ice melts when the leader hits the water, but in fact when you pull it out it just gets thicker and thicker like spinning frozen cotton candy.
I worked all the way up to the park and through the park without a sighting of a fish or even a bump on the dropper, worked the pools, rocks, eddies and backwashes – nada. It was time to go, my two hours had expired and Turkey was waiting.
Day two would give me, at the most, two more hours to figure out how ignorant I was of the finer stream life of high mountain trout. My still developing theory is that if you can’t see them in these clear streams, they either aren’t there or they are running deep. One hour and fortyfive minutes into my two hours, I knew I had to make a change. Off with the hopper / dropper combo, and tie on a 14 bead head nymph. Get down and see if they are on the down low. Nothing in the pools. Then it came clear – THEY ARE UNDER THE ICE. I found a spot within site of the park parking lot, and dropped my beadhead with the line just touching the edge of the ice – in a slow flat spot of water. It glittered in the noon light as it pulsed and swayed in the way a belly dancer does her seductive dance.Out he comes, with a sway of the body and tail – showing me exactly what a minimum of effort for a maximum of food looks like – a fine twelve inch Brookie opens wide so that I can see the white diamond of lips, takes hold and … lets go. Ok, Ok, at least I had found them. Five minutes to go before my ride arrives. Dapple, dapple and YES! After momentary current resistance a fine eight inch Brookie is finally purchased at a high price – if time really has value and learning curves ever do reach a flat slope.
Lessons learned: Keep all appendages warm. Always see your local small fly shops as soon as you get into town. If there is ice, make sure to ask if it is a factor. Never fish just four hours in three days – always give more time to yourself for intelligence (literally) gathering.
