Four Years

A typical summer sunset from the back of the van...

After three straight days of trout fishing in the Flaming Gorge, I found myself with a signal at a prominent overlook. I reconnected back to the world, caught up with family, cooked a meal, and checked my boondocking apps looking for a place to stay. Rather than drive far, I decided to head down a long dirt road that I'd been watching numerous off-road vehicles, kitted out trucks, and a few RV's turn onto. By the time I decided to follow them, I had no idea if there would be any spots left, or if they'd welcome me alongside them. With the lack of four wheel drive in the van, along with a scant amount of clearance, I always find myself rolling the dice in these types of situations. As the last light faded below the horizon, I turned off the main dirt road down a riveted finger being ultra careful to not bottom out and/or get stuck. It led me to the edge of a cliff overlooking the lake and a clearing where vehicles had previously parked. I set up shop, grabbed a cold one, and checked out the stars before hitting the hay. In the morning, I made some coffee and walked to the edge of the cliff. I immediately spotted a prowling carp in the shallows. The last time I casted at a carp was almost four years ago but the image in front of me was stirring something within my fly fishing soul...

Buster Wants to Fish

Buster

When I arrived at my Uncle Tony's house in Colorado Springs, he promptly informed me that, "buster wants to fish". That iconic line from A River Runs Through It made me chuckle as I realized my Uncle wanted to trade in his red Hills Brothers can of worms and take on a more worthy pursuit. After a stint in the Navy, and a career at Berwick Electric, he finally retired. His good friends had gotten him a substantial gift card to Angler's Covey and he wanted to get rigged up for a retirement of fly fishing and other bucket list items. Before we went shopping, I took him out to the van and picked out a few different styles of trout rods for him to cast. He liked the most expensive one and ended up buying the rod, a new reel, line, vest, net, pliers, tippet, and flies. In other words, he was fully kitted out. I convinced him that he didn't need waders yet. We tried to avoid the crowds and fish some beginner friendly water within the South Platte system and settled on Tomahawk. It was pretty cool to get him going in the right direction and let him go out on his own. It took a little bit, but he started catching some fish on his own. I hope he continues the pursuit and finds that a fly rod can take you to some awesome places filled with experiences that you won't soon forget. 

Tangled Up in Blue

Cabo San Lucas

I flew out of Denver International Airport. At the various concourses, it seemed as if every fourth person had a fly rod attached to their carry on and all of those people sported various forms of fly fishing paraphernalia. On the plane, I counted at least six fly rods and sat across the aisle from a guy reading a popular fly fishing magazine. During the four hour flight, I occasionally took a peak at the articles that were mostly salt themed. I resisted the urge to talk to him because I wouldn't want someone to talk to me in the same situation. However, that didn't stop me from eavesdropping on various conversations on the plane. I heard about destinations, pangas, sailfish, grande roosterfish, ladyfish in the surf, and coastal dorado. All of this made sense as we were flying to the tip of the Baja Peninsula, an epicenter of inshore and offshore fly fishing. From the airport these anglers would disperse in various taxis to their destinations, outfitters, guides, and the fish of the lifetime that awaited them. I was simply part of the herd...