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Hiking

Blake and I flew into Colorado Springs in July to target Rio Grande cutthroat trout and finish out the New Mexico trout challenge we started a couple years ago in the southern part of the state with the Gila trout.

I used a mix of sources to plan this trip out, but New Mexico Game & Fish and the Western Native Trout Initiative make it very easy to find where you need to go to target these fish. I’ll be very honest and admit that it takes some of the fun out of it with how free and available information is to find these days. This is not necessarily a complaint because the more people that care about the fish the better and the only way to really care about something is to experience it, so in that way the available knowledge is appreciated, but the process just isn’t the hunt that it used to be. I can pretty much figure out in a night what use to take me weeks. It’s still rewarding to put in the effort to travel out and catch something you’ve only seen online, I don’t think that will ever change.

We started our day with a stop at The Drift Fly Shop in Pueblo and the guy working behind the counter couldn’t have been any nicer. He wasn’t able to give us much intel on the area we were headed, but he was very pleasant and engaging. We stopped at another shop later in our trip that was in the area we were fishing and we didn’t get that same feeling. It was pretty much just a big circle jerk of guides who looked at us like we just broke into the place. There was one young guy that sold us flies who at least tried. I just hate when fly shops give me bad vibes, I mean we all enjoy the same thing, why would my presence put you off? Fly shops can go either way in my opinion and if you’ve got a good local one take advantage of it.

After the customary Wal-Mart stop for supplies we continued onto our destination, which was in northern New Mexico, where we set up camp and then hit the nearby trailhead to hopefully take us to some RGCTs on day one. The drive was a pretty one; I’ve never been to the southern Rockies, it’s such an interesting mix of mountains and desert. We passed dust devils, prairie dogs, and pronghorn on our drive, and I loved every bit of it!

It did not take long at all to catch a fish. In fact the first hole I stopped in a brown whacked my dry. I think Blake’s experience was similar. It’s been customary for us to take a picture with the first fish just in case we never catch another, so we put check marks next to a New Mexico brown trout on pretty quickly on day one.

The stream was a tight one with a pretty good amount of elevation change and a healthy amount of brown trout. If you could find a place to get a cast off you generally had a really good shot at catching a fish, they were there, casting to them was just tough. North Georgia prepared us for this though! If you can fish a blueline up there you can fish a blueline anywhere.

I vaguely recalled a barrier on this stream in my research and we hiked the approximate distance I thought it was from the trailhead, but we did fish a fair amount below it to start. We ended up finding the actual barrier falls on the hike back out, but as you can see above, I was able to find a Rio Grande cutthroat trout somewhere above it – my first one!

We quit fishing not long after that fish simply because we ran out of daylight. It’s been a while since I’ve hiked out of somewhere in the dark but this was one of those days. We probably covered more ground than we should have, especially on day one, but I was fueled by adrenaline and excitement, it would have been tough to pull me off the water otherwise.

Marcus was ahead of Blake and I on the tributary and had elected to walk out and head back down to the main stem before we were ready to. I was happy with our decision to stay because I don’t know that he ever made it up to the nice spot where Blake and I finished up and caught those nice cutts. We hiked back down the trail from there and decided to fish the main stem of the river in that area where the tributary dumps in while we were waiting for Marcus and still had daylight. We rang Marcus up on the walkie and found out he was further downstream from us so the water from that point upstream was ready to be fished.

The fishing that late afternoon, especially the dry fly fishing, was a lot of fun. It was outstanding. I was having a hell of a time landing fish without a net and then taking a pic so I documented maybe a quarter of them. I did get a fun series of Blake catching a nice cutt right before we decided to head back up the road to the campsite.

I just learned Google Photos will animate your pics for you, so I may start throwing those in more posts. Sorry, not sorry.

It was a great way to end what was already a fantastic day and that success played into how we’d spend the next day.

I am a fool for small streams. I love them. I can’t get enough of them. I’ve got to fish them whenever I get a chance. So of course I had a day planned on a tributary to the river system we were staying on and day 3 was that day. The idea here being that the tributary may be colder than the main stem of the river and perhaps we’d have a better opportunity at a bull trout there due to it being a sort of thermal refuge for the juveniles. I would have been ecstatic catching a bull trout of any size on this trip.

An empty parking lot is always a welcome sight on any of my fishing trips and, expectedly, that was the scene when we pulled up to the trailhead that morning. The idea was to hike up a ways before we hit the creek and that’s what happened, but I cut my hike off much shorter than I expected to after I came across the hole pictured above right off the trail. I had visions of big bull trout sitting under all that timber, but I was only able to pull two small cutts out of that spot. Unfazed, I continued fishing my way upstream from there.

Fish were on the smaller size to start as Blake and I played a loose form of fisherman’s hopscotch working our way upstream. Fish size, for me, increased as we kept moving on up. I began the day fishing an oversized dry-dropper and had several fish just nose the dry. Downsizing resulted in far more committed strikes and hooked up fish on both flies.

At some point after my next fish I would lose my net. I don’t keep it on a zinger, just tucked behind me into my waist pack, so I’m not sure if an overhanging branch snatched or if I just left it on a rock after netting that last fish. Either way, I didn’t have it for the rest of the trip and probably need to ask for a replacement for Christmas (hint, hint to whomever wants to make that happen).

No matter the trip, there are always the “fish that got away” stories and mine happened just upstream of the big rock in the pic above. The creek had split and I opted to fish the side with less water as I could see there was a big tree laying down in the creek making a deep pool, ideal habitat in a place like this. I cast my dry as far up and as close to the tree as I could get and sure enough a monster fish came out in a flash to eat it and instinctively I set the hook far too quickly and pulled that fly away from the fish too soon. I never got a hook in him, but he never gave me another shot either as every subsequent drift came up empty. It looked like it could have been bigger than the big cutthroat I caught the day prior, but we’ll never know and because of that it will probably keep growing.

We ended our blueline day trip at the nice hole that Blake pulled his fish he’s pictured with from. Blake caught a few in that spot and I managed one there as well after catching a couple of nice cutts in the runs leading up to it. Unfortunately we didn’t come across any bull trout in this stream. Maybe they were higher up or maybe we just didn’t throw the right flies, I don’t have any experience with them so I don’t know. After busting my leg earlier in the day while wading I was just happy there was a trail running alongside the creek that we could take back down.

Wading can be dangerous and I had a scary moment earlier in the day. I was trying to work my way up above a rock ledge from one pool to the next and I took a step in the wrong spot and had my leg punch threw some loose rock and settle much further down than I anticipated. I was briefly stuck with my leg lodged in the rocks and I had to holler at Blake for a hand. Once I handed off my rod and backpack I could focus on pivoting my foot to the right angle that I needed to slip it out. It came out once I applied enough force. I’ve been wading for a long time and that was a first. My shin was bloody and would stay that way the rest of the day. I applied bactroban later back at camp, but had I been taking my time I could have avoided being in that situation altogether.