Rocky Ford Creek Report: The Last Fish of Winter

Winter has retreated to the high country. There it will make its last stand.

Down along the creek it's already spring even if the calendar says it's winter for one more day.

You've brought your new ties, and over the afternoon each pattern--PMD, Lady McConnell, and Adams variant--brings trout to the net.

You bring one in on a black humpy and discover a nice little mayfly tie broken off in the corner of its jaw.

The afternoon goes from breezy to breezier, in the great tradition of March. The pelicans sail over now and then tilting like kites.

The best fly of the afternoon is the little yellow and quail soft hackle. You trail it in the meniscus behind a high-floating stimulator for awhile.

The sun angles lower. On the last trip, this was the time for a lively evening rise. This time the fish stay down.

You change tactics and present the soft hackle with a brisk strip. It works.

It's on the strip that you catch the last fish of the day and the last fish of winter.

You get home and the moon has a halo around it. Looks like a change in the weather.

Rocky Ford Creek Report: The Change

Off you go again.

Up on the flats the winter wheat is asserting itself in a wash of green.

Down in the Grand Coulee the snow is a memory.

You slog through the cattails to your casting platform. The day is mild, the creek is calm, and fish are moving.

You throw a muddler wet and gurgle it in. You get some interest. After a few more casts you get a commitment.

Then there's a change in the weather. A squall blows in. The rain hits your face like buckshot.

You pull your hat down and fish through it. The fish, though, back off for the duration.

Soon there's another change in the weather and the wind drops. The slick water looks right for a dry.

The fish come out again and want it. Even a blind fish finds it.

You rest that fly and tie on a new black humpy. You drift it. No response. You twitch it. Just upstream a fish comes five feet out from the bank to waylay it. It's a nice fish. You decide to take some shots of the fight. You get one and the fish comes loose. One thing at a time.

You cast the humpy out again and the best fish of the day rolls on it. You pay full attention this time.

The humpy stops getting noticed. You clip it off with appreciation.

There's a change in the weather again. A restless breeze comes up. You can sense the cloud mass slipping and sliding overhead.

A gap opens up between the clouds and the horizon. A high pressure ridge is expected. Here it comes.

You keep fishing. You follow the lead of mayfly sign and fish may nymphs and dries. That doesn't work so you try a muddler dry. That doesn't work either. The fish can't make up their minds.

Then there's a change in the weather. A hard wind kicks up. It blows straight in on your right shoulder, shutting down any possibility of a cast in that direction. So you fish to the left. You tie a muddler wet on again and get some follows and misses.

The wind blows harder. You jam your hat down tighter. You see an occasional fish still breaking the waves but your fly gets no more attention. Then you stop seeing fish.

You hope the wind might quit or moderate but that's not going to happen. You go ahead and rig for mousing and give it a good shot. The wind roars in your ears and the fly whistles around your hat and you take extra care to avoid burying its hook in some fleshy extremity of your own.

After awhile you accept reality: the creek is blown out. You leave with a strip of light still showing in the sky. But you get back to the truck at the same time.

It's the change: you could swear winter just left and spring is coming in on a gale.

Fly Tying: A Muddler Wet for Rocky Ford

Muddler Wet

Hook: dry fly #10 4X long

Thread: Black

Tail: black marabou

Body: pheasant tail

Rib: copper wire

Underwing: cream marabou

Overwing: black marabou

Head and Collar: natural deer hair

Next time I'll include a pinch of flashabou over the wing.

I used to fish this version more frequently. The Rocky Ford Rainbows

haven't seen this one from me in some time, if at all. I keep the head

round (sometimes smaller than pictured) and the collar long. I fish it ungreased

and strip it briskly through or just under the surface film, giving the marabou

plenty of action. I've had good days with this fly at Trout Lake

and have a good feeling about it for Rocky Ford.

Rocky Ford Creek Report: Life Is Good

Another mild Friday calls you to Rocky Ford. You make your way carefully through the fog in a southerly direction. When you get there you can tell the temp has hit it's predicted high in the upper 40's. That's better than the upper 30's, but with the damp and wind it just makes you long for that first really warm day. It will come.

You gear up and then take out that round packing tube. You ordered a new rod as a birthday present for yourself, and it got to the house just as you were ready to leave. Happy birthday to you.

Nothing fancy; in fact, a $49.95 special. But it looks good and feels good when you whip it in the parking lot. You string it up and hike down to the creek.

The chilly wind is making some lovely riffles. You tie on a muddler and begin to cast and strip, etching lines across the water's opaque surface.

A fish likes the look of that. It comes up from beneath and sucks in the fly.

Another fish likes it, too. This one lunges and comes down on the fly. It's a good, heavy rainbow that looks like it's been around the block a few times.

The muddler doesn't get any more attention, so you clip it off for another day. This is one of your muddler ties that survived the season at Trout Lake. It took its share of fish there. Good to see it still taking fish.

You try some dries. Bear's Paw and Callibaetis get a swirl or two with a brisk strip. But no hookups. You like the rod, though. It's stiff enough to easily shoot out the long line necessary for this Rocky Ford bank fishing, and it's 9 foot length keeps the backcast above the cattails--when the wind doesn't collapse the loop.

You go subsurface with a scud. There are days where the fish are on it instantly. This is not one of those days.

But you target rises and wakes and eventually fool an excitable teen.

You select the Red Tag wet, thinking you don't fish enough wet flies here. As if to confirm that thought, you get a quick take. Alan, at Small Stream Reflections, would be pleased. He said that would be the fly.

Then, in short order, another fish on the Red Tag. This one comes from the side, rolling to make the grab. It's one of those hits that make you exclaim with pleasure.

You think you've come up with the perfect system, but the house wins out again. No more hits on the Red Tag. You go back to a muddler.

It works twice. Both fish are wired. The second fish won't stay still for a headshot.

By then its getting dark. If they liked the muddler, they'd surely like a mouse. You tie one on and begin to work the water. Way out in mid river you get a series of bumps and misses. Little guys, you think, but they're hot. You keep going back to them, swimming that mouse under their noses, and get a hook up. Nice.

And again. Pretty.

You keep long-lining out to that channel, and number three hits and sticks. It's a mouse fest!

You work that mouse some more, probing the shorelines and the areas around the cattail islands, still hoping for that monster lying somewhere looking for a big meal. But that will do it.

You pack up and hit the road. The fog is still thick on the flats. You have plenty of time to reflect on a very good day at Rocky Ford.

It was a very good day, but it's going to get better. Twenty minutes from home you stop and pick up your grandson Sebastian.

He's coming to Grandpa and Grandma's house for another fun weekend.

Life is good.