When You Come to THE Fork, Take it!

Is this Heaven? No, it's Glenwood Springs.

For any fly fishing enthusiast however, the last ten miles or so of the Roaring Fork River just before spilling into the famed Colorado River is just about as close to Heaven as one can get. Perfect conditions, sunny and moderate temperatures, breathtaking surroundings and Green Drakes allowed for a day the could not be described in any other way than divine.

Glenwood Canyon from the road

Awake at the crack of dawn, my guide, Mr. Ryan Schmidt of Gore Creek Fly Fisherman and I braced ourselves for the lengthy trip over to the Fork. I spent the ride admiring the Eagle River weaving its way through the valley below, the tumbling rapids of the Colorado River and the majestic walls of the Glenwood Canyon. We arrived at our destination and wasted no time... we rigged up and got on the water.

The day immediately showed promise, as on my second cast of the day I was rewarded with a gorgeous little rainbow trout as he eagerly took the Green Drake nymph I presented to him. I saw this as a sign of great things to come, but to my surprise, things slowed down dramatically for much of the morning. We plugged onward downstream in our raft, fruitlessly casting to water that looked "fishy." I stuck with the drake nymph, adding a small copper john as a trailer. As the clock inched closer to noon, the water had warmed a bit and the fish began to respond.

I had begun to pick up a few fish consecutively on both the drake and the copper john. Some small, a few larger, but still nothing to write home about. We came to a large hole where Ryan had told me about some of his past success, and I was able to target my cast exactly where I wanted it. Sure enough, I was hit with an abrupt take, I set the hook and it was game on. I knew immediately that this fish had some girth on it. Overwhelmed by the initial strength of the fish, as the battle progressed I suspected that something just wasn't right. I thought to myself "a Roaring Fork wild trout should put up more of a fight than this!" As I pulled the fish closer, the plight of my bewilderment had been solved. I was greeted by this big ugly thing... a two foot sucker. After this Ryan and I agreed it was time to break for lunch.

Fish landed

During the afternoon, the hatch activity really took off. Still no drake duns, but what began as slight flurry of Yellow Sallies turned into an all out blizzard. These little stoneflies were out and about, hitting the surface but the fish weren't responding to them on top. No problem, we just continued to go after them underneath. Still sticking with the drake to no avail, we ditched the copper john and tied on a yellow sally nymph. From here, strikes were plentiful, the number of fish hooked were substantial, and the number of fish landed were slightly above moderate. I had more than enough chances, and I like to think I'm a pretty good angler, but I was simply not on my game today. Who am I kidding though? I was on a raft in the middle of the Roaring Fork River, surrounded by one of the most awe-inspiring landscapes in the country. If that's not satisfying enough, I don't know what is. Throw in a couple wild trout and you've got quite the rewarding day.

As the day began to wind down and we approached the confluence, I gave it one last push. Things had slowed, but I was still optimistic. Sure enough, the take I had been waiting for came about, and the fish went off running. I cautiously played him, hoping to not lose another big fish, and after a few minutes had elapsed, I brought him to hand. I was happy that I had saved the biggest [trout] of the day for last.

My day on the Fork was one of those experiences that you simply don't ever want to come to an end. I was pleased with the way it had commenced however. I'm hoping to be able to make this an annual event.