Thursday, June 2, 2011


 Tuesday following Memorial Day Weekend; a good day to fish.  The crowds are gone, those feverishly racing back to work to make up for an early departure the previous Friday.  The river takes a deep breath after shaking off a thrashing of strike indicators floating through one hole after another.  The fish are relaxed in low flow and clear surroundings, podded together in social networks to rest after a three day onslaught of anglers seeking a moment of personal grace from the pace of modern society.

As I approach, the river is calm, basking in a brief moment of collective security, lonely, peaceful, in a state of refined elegance and beauty.  Today I'm an intruder,  someone or something out of place in the natural order of things, robbing the river of much needed inactivity.

I'm waiting, waiting on a hatch and then a rise, waiting on a big game draw result, waiting in anticipation of the upcoming bird season.  I'm waiting for some tires I ordered that still haven't shown up, waiting on a corporation to finalize a job offer, waiting for the new grass seed in my yard to germinate.  I'm waiting on life.

Seeking relief, I bounce from one piece of holding water to another, occasionally making a cast to a few energetic feeding fish, but more often than not just watching the water and fish at play.  The fishing is technical and hard.  I take a few fish, one brown trout, a couple of rainbows, and a plump stunning lone cutthroat hiding behind an inconspicuous boulder near the tailout of a riffle.

Happy with my results and renewed by the repeated lesson of the importance of patience, I make my way back to my truck for the quiet drive home.   On my way, I recognize a nose poking up in a pocket of calm water, then another and another.  I am rewarded by a small BWO hatch coming off in the afternoon overcast sky, taking witness to a few fish consistently rising to a timely hatch.  They too were waiting, and they were rewarded.  Another lesson? 

Unprepared and lacking a suitable imitation, I am no longer waiting, but rather wanting.

The South Platte River - Deckers Area
CFS: 100
Conditions: Clear and technical, fish gathered in pods
Flies: drowned caddis, BH Barrs flashback emerger, Red Headed Stepchild, black loopwing RS2, buckskin


troutrageous1 said...

Love it. It's that "want" that makes us come back again and again.

Colorado Angler said...

All in all, that sounds like it was a great time on the water - and hitting it on a Tuesday was a smart move.

Ah, the waiting game - like you, I've been waiting...too long. Time to fish.

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