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Late April ........ The Great Escape
By Jason
Adams
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With rain, sun and wind; the Lowlands begin to bleed dry.
The Animas takes all she is given, and now is silted with a
foot of visibility. The tail water to the south is thick
with insects and anglers. To get away, one has to go into
the mountains; where winter still grips life and where
spring has not yet peeked in.
The creeks are beginning to shed their ice cloth and red
quills hatch in the ponderosa filtered light.
This water is vacant in the sweet of the year. When temps
drop, you are the only one. Period. Up or down…you are
alone. This is a double edged sword however. We live in the
mountains; as close to wilderness as you are going to get in
the lower 48. |
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The crick was still mostly snowed over, with pockets of
pretty water peeking through.
Walking on snow covered water is a bad idea. It’s a good way
to die. But there are trout down there too, and that is what
I came to see. Natural brookies and bows; colorful year
round. Waters like this, do not have a high supply of
nutrients, so most fish are not selective. Dries can be
presented in winter.
Fish collect in the deep holes. Pods of fish mingle, to wait
out the snow and ice until late spring returns when they
move back to summer cover. There was a large slab of granite
upstream and next to it, a deep pool covered in ice. The
deal was to break the ice, catch a few brookies, then post
hole back up the canyon with a smile.
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I walked the edge waiting for the ice to give, so I
could continue its breaking until enough water was
open to fish. I miscalculated the thinnest part of
the ice, and the deepest part of the pool. I took
the boulder side, instead of the opposite edge. The
boulder retained more heat and thinned the ice.
I went in leaving claw marks on the snow. The rod was
ditched and I clung to the ice with one hand, while holding
my camera above the water with the other. Strange how you
realize what is most important under duress. The rod was
dispensable. I took the camera from my shoulder, put
it on the ice and crawled my way back up.
I checked my gear. The rod was unbroken, the camera remained
dry. I shed the dripping water from my wool and waited for
the pool to calm. I had half an hour before I had to worry
about hypothermia; plenty of time to pull a fish and get
back to the jeep.
Fifteen minutes passed, with the cold settling into my
bones, I skated a dry across over the water.
Strike…Miss...
Beginning to shiver, I slowed down a bit. Second cast. Slow
retrieve…slow. Hook set. Fish in net. Even with a four
weight, these fish come in easily. Their metabolism is shot
this time of the year. A pretty little bow. One that came
from the same cobble I floated four feet above. Perfection…
By the time I made it back to the rig, I was sweating
bullets. I love spring. |
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Editor's
Note: Jason Adams is an avid outdoorsman, fly fisherman and
owner if Blue River Fly Company
an online fly fishing store
established in Durango, CO specializing in premium flies and
fly fishing gear and giving back to the planet. (Blue
River Fly Company)
Check out his website at
http://www.blueriverflyco.com. |
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