Tag Archives: Brook Trout

Duality and Dichotomy

Many lump the two words together. Replacing one with the other and vice versa. To me they are two very different words. Dichotomy is the simple division of a whole in two. As much as one can divide by two there are still extraordinary complex ways to cut a pie in half, evenly. Whereas, duality is the bridging together of seemingly opposing ideas through one commonality. Humans are dualistic in nature. One life leads one direction and another in the other, but coexist in a strange harmony as one. When we divide something entirely from its original by half to become its own entity and live in harmony with its divided half… What have we created?

Que reality. Something that we see on a daily basis. Streets, cars, rivers, and fish are completely tangible objects. Real objects. It’s our way of life and everything in it, it’s that guy that greets you at the gas station, It’s the traffic you fight everyday. Even when it comes down to something out of the ordinary, it is still reality.

Our next performer on stage is art. There are many classifications of art and unless you want to pause here and read a million page book, I will focus on one simple term. Surreal. No matter the art, it is a portrayal of actual events. From music to architecture, there is something surreal about art. Even realism has, to some degree, surrealism. In some cases there are circumstances that cause events of reality to be surreal, dichotomy. These circumstances also require you to enjoy duality of your surreal reality, the high country.

This photo credit belongs to DiBiasio Photography and was a blast on the weekend trip. If you ever find yourself on an outing with the man, ask him about the “Dog about town”. You will never regret it. Joe is a remarkable photographer with a keen eye for his end product and a few of his prints are available for sale. If you see his union station photo and think it is neat, you should see the real print. Silly data, photos are for frames!

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Guess Who’s BACK!!!!!!!!

CHI-KOW!!!! For those in the know, that’s a karate chop. After all of this time i finally found the app to upload a blog post… From my phone! How amazing is this world we live in? This thing we call technology. Just wow. I’m a pretty happy camper right now and i feel the need to recap this entire year. Granted, I’ve probably lost all of my readers, but it’s like a new beginning for me into an era of technology. My “konnetic” rod has been giving me advice on the future and says that i should really get with the times. Heck, even Sanders has begun the “neofly” slang without me.

It all began on a cold night, the kind of night fishing dreams are made of. I remember it perfectly. March something, 2012 was the date originally a pristine white on the calendar now carried the burden of a big black “X”. The gravestone of a buried day. The screams of drunken teenage skiers pierced the quiet dead cold night. I tied on the desk lit by a tiny lamp in the ancient hotel room. “The Usual” seemed to be the bug of bugs this winter season. The more I tied, the more i grew tired. My winter gear was in the laundry below the party. No sleep, the gear will find new legs.

The morning began and i was off to a late start so I figured, “why not do some fact finding at a local shop?” After shopping for a few, I saw it. My new fishing buddy. The one that would be with me for the rest of my life, the one to talk to me when I’m feeling lonely, the one to pick me up when I’m down. “The One” Who says you can’t buy love? Some may call me a sellout, Nate, John T. In my defence, I’ve had my old rod for the past 15 or so years. Time for a new one, and Nate, you have broken more 100 dollar rods in your life than this one cost.

When I finally made it up the Taylor, it was -8 degrees. Some may say that is too cold for fishing, but they were rising. The One was at home fishing with me, it new it’s fate. Since then, The One and I have…

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Caught Blue River brutes,

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11 Mile maniacs,

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Crystal River crazies,

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Frying Pan-handlers,

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And participated in the g-town beat-down.

Also, not pictured was a natural tiger trout and some other assorted very large fish. The One was also with me when… I slid down the side of a mountain, was sucked into a river, almost broke my leg and hand and arm (all different occasions), nearly froze to death, attacked by bees and ants, and nearly struck by lightning.

This is what you have been missing and I apologize for the stories that I couldn’t tell, but today begins a new beginning. A very exciting and fun beginning. I’m ready? Are you?


White Hot Love After a Blistering Cold Day

As I hiked down the trail back to the car I sang. Not a soul felt like hiking in that cold snow. I sang louder knowing that John and I were the only two people left on the trail. The karaoke disc in my head played silent Christmas songs and I sang them out loud to an empty hall. I’m sure John and the trees enjoyed it. After all, I feel like I’m a great singer and I’m sure the trees would agree.

The thoughts in my head were bouncing as well. The day was exceedingly hypnotic, fresh, crisp. I watched the snow collect on the pine needles and pull the dying grasses to the Earth. The clouds were low in the sky and the images of being there were perfect. The catching was on and my goal of the “Big Trio” was accomplished. There was a bounce in my step in the few miles of trail to the car.

Just before we made it to the car, I thought one last thought. Hot Chocolate. Not just any put-it-in-the-microwave cocoa. Cocoa from scratch. White Hot Cocoa. My mouth began to water and my body went into relaxation mode. After the hot cocoa, it becomes hibernation. Yes, this potent stuff has coma inducing side-effects. Here is how it is done:

Warm up 1 cup of cream in a big pot:

Add 1 cup of white chocolate morsels and allow them to melt, don’t get things too hot, good things take time:

Add 4 cups of half & half slowly. I usually do it 1 cup at a time every minute or so. If you go too fast the chocolate will recombine and leave strings of chocolate on top of your mug:

Right before you serve, add 1/4 teaspoon of the best vanilla you can find:

Serve. Enjoy. Hibernate.

Also, in an 8oz glass you are looking at like 1200 calories. Just saying. Note the beer mug I served myself, I need insulation this year.


Writers Block

I think every writer in the world writes about the block to get rid of it. It reminds me of that song in your head. You sing it out loud hoping that it goes away, or that skunk that rides along on your back. The blog here is giving me the smell of a good skunking and the rivers are yielding fish. The “Frenzy” really reminded me that I am an unpopular writer in the blogging world. Heck, even in the fishing world I’m not really known for anything. By no means is this a pity party, but you can feel free to bring some beer. I’m not a guide, I don’t work at a fly shop, I didn’t write a picture book of flies I have tied, my work isn’t published in a magazine, but I do spend well over a 3rd of my life on the water. Because of that, My writings and my trips sound the same to me. Walking away from this for a couple weeks was to get in order what I wanted this for. I want to make it more exciting for you guys. Here is a quick summary of the past two weeks:

Chased Brook Trout in the high country!

Climbed a tree for my last yellow sally.

Fished in the snow!

Ran through rambling rainbows .

Fished a great new river with John T. 

Caught a handful of Brown Trout this size.

Finally, although no pictures were taken, I fished with the boss again. In the same place as last time and it was even more fun this time. That was the past two weeks in a nutshell! I’ll Get you some fresh new posts next week!


Dear Loyal Readers

Dear fish nerd follower,

I write this letter to you because I haven’t yet had the spare time to write a full post as of late. Fishing has been great everywhere, wish you were here. Over the past few weeks I have been chasing browns around the front range with a friend and coworker, up into some wild land hunting lost fish, and chasing big brook trout up high country streams. Tomorrow I will be meeting up with the fishing frenzy attendees to frantically fish turf that I am not at all used to, but really excited for with some other bloggers. I’m not sure exactly how it will work out, but I figure if you throw a bunch of us into the same water, great results should come from it. I can’t wait for the morning to come. See you all there.

Sincerely,

-Dave- backcountryfishnerd

P.S. Here are some spoilers from last week.


Archnemesis Poudre

We meet very interesting people in our lives. Even something as simple as blogging can bring people together. Aside from having fishing in common, bloggers tend to have the same addiction to talking about fishing during times it may be inappropriate. You just never know when it will come out, but some things just happen to trigger a fishing story. A deep conversation can begin here, but we have to move things forward. Feel free to comment with an awkward time to bring up fishing. It is our passion that fuels the stories and the stories to come. So far, Mike from Dry Flies & Fat Tires has shown me how passionate about fishing he really is and his excitement about it fuels the ones who have the chance to fish with him. Go check out his blog! Next, and my second experience with another blogger was Sanders from Up The Poudre.

Sanders and I have a lot in common when it comes to fishing. He gets a bit over-excited to fish and forgets some simple things like… Lunch. Well, so did I. Maybe we should both read Lesson #2 again. We met at 6am to head up Poudre canyon to fish Sanders’ home water. Water that I have never seen below 2,600 cfs, let alone fished, or even thought about fishing. I had no idea what I was getting into. This day it was 400 cfs. Driving up the canyon my eyes were alight at every hole, knowing that it contained massive amounts of fish. I recall telling Sanders more than a few times, “look at that hole”. I’m sure he knew them all, we were in his home water. However, we headed into new water for him as well. Our destination was a little higher up river. Our excitement grew as did elevation.

Sanders found his target spot quickly and soon we were off fishing without a hitch. …or so I thought. While crossing the river, I looked back to see Sanders holding a bag in the air proclaiming, “It’s dry! It’s dry!” Confused, I remembered the hole in my waders and felt the cold water begin to drain to my foot. When we arrived at shore, I learned that he had lost his footing. If it is any consolation, I almost peed my pants crossing the river. Maybe I did, but I was wearing waders. Who would know?

The day wore on with no fish to hand. Not really a problem to me. I’ve worn the skunk shoes before. This river was different. From midges to caddis to beetle and everything in between, nearly everything in my box. Buggers to emergers, and nymphs of all sorts. Failed. Then, a glimmer of hope from Sanders with his brown that didn’t seem to fight like one.

My day was complete at that moment. A fish to hand between us, not my hand, but we beat the river. No need to catch anything for the remainder of the day, I was happy.  Afterward, he suggested we move up river. Good suggestion I thought. Just a couple holes showed up and one provided me a fish. I could’ve fainted. I know it was a dink in comparison to the brown Sanders caught, but it was a brookie! We shared more laughs at the fishes expense and I was refilled with anticipatory fuel, but it was time to head down the Poudre. 

I struggled fishing perfect drifts through the best seams as Sanders practiced “new techniques” and started hauling in fish. It was late in the day and I’m sure a lot of laughter bounced off of the canyon walls as he pulled in miracle fish but sometimes even the fun trips have to end and return to that daily grind. Besides, there were no more crullers left and we were both hungry.

Before I finished writing this, I stopped by Up The Poudre and saw the headline of “A New Friend”. I haven’t made many of those in my life, but Sanders is one of them. I’m very glad and somewhat humbled to have the chance to fish with the guy. If you still haven’t gone to read his blog, go now.

Lesson #13: Although addicting, crullers are not a substitute for lunch.


A Prolonged Goodbye

Lately, I have been fishing almost too much. Every second spent not working has been spent fishing. There are a few times that I have been out that I still have yet to write about. One of my favorites was a day on South Boulder Creek below Gross Reservoir. In that same area and the headwaters of Boulder Creek are the places I have been exploring lately. I’ve been spending a lot of time in the high mountains, in the still water butted against high alpine peaks and the most recent place was teeming with feeding fish.

The weekend started when Joe came to visit from New Mexico. After settling into Denver, we decided that a high country camping trip was in order. As far as my knowledge of Joe’s fishing adventures go, I can not remember a time that he has been to the high country to fish. At least not this high. We hovered around 11,000′ in one of the most spectacular mountain valleys I have seen to date. It was almost otherworldly. The flow out of the lake spilled down a cliff and the story was the same for the inlets to the lake. Like strings held by mountain peaks to hold up the lake.

The trek began the day previous, with Joe, Jace, Jacob, and I fishing some beaver ponds about 1,000′ below the lake. We fished while we waited for John to head up the mountain from work. It didn’t take long for “Dave’s roller” to start pulling fish from the river. Still small, but very feisty critters. The roller seemed to be the ticket for the whole trip. When John arrived we mentally prepared for the “2 mile” hike to come with sandwiches and other assorted tortilla holding material. Not to mention the unbelievable Cool Ranch Doritos and bean dip. If you have yet to try it, do it.

I woke up early to tie some extra Rollers and a quick breakdown of camp and we were off. Wait…

Ok, we’re off!

After hiking the 4.25 mile trail we couldn’t wait to get catching fish. Even at the entrance, they rose to the surface in numbers I barely fathomed. Early on in the day the fish were ultimately aggressive, but as the heat of the day wore on, the bite slowed to deeper water. We saw that water from a distance and there “Chewie” and the soon to be famous (not really) “R2D2” shined in glory. 2 deepwater bugs found fish hovering around the bottom. Looking into 20′ of absolutely clear water is a sight to behold and watching a fish cruise through what looks like the air is even more spectacular. One of those things that you long for when your eyes close. Joe, John, and I had no trouble getting into the fish, but the kids seemed pretty intent on taking in the world around them. More than anything, the snow.

As each second of the day ticked by, it was one more cast, then we will go, one more fish and we are gone. So far from the truth. After quitting with the excuses of staying, we descended. Then ascended. Then descended again. Strange trail. The four of us were exhausted when we made it back to the truck. About a minute into the drive to John’s car, the kids were out like wet noodles in the bed of the truck while we relived the amazing day that we had.