If you've never been to elevation, you might not know that alcohol kicks a bit harder when you're there. I'm sure there's a scientific explanation, and maybe I'll check with wikipedia later and see act that is. If you don't know what I'm talking about, you'll just have to take my word for it.
Last week, as previously posted, I took a quick trip down to Colorado to check out the F3T and to see some old friends. The film festival got rolling later in the day, and upon my arrival in Summit County, Colorado, I found myself with a few hours to kill.
With all the gang busy doing the work thing, I hit up one of my old favorites - the Dillon Dam Brewery. After two beers, I moved on to The Baker's Brewery (in what used to be the Village Inn).
As we all know, sometimes that one beer you stopped in for turns into more than one. Tasty beverages and good conversation will do that.
After tying on a proper buzz, I made my way over to Cutthroat Anglers for the show. The beer and elevation were combining to make for a great evening.
As previously mentioned, the films were great and I had a chance to catch up with some really good people. I went to bed that night dreaming of trout and decided that heavy drinking be damned - it was time to fish the next morning.
Friday morning greeted me with 3 inches of fresh powder and bluebird skies. I made my way to some of the best "urban" water ever - the Blue River in Silverthorne. This a a gold medal fishery, yet is within spitting distance of outlet malls, weed dispensaries and restaurants galore.
The morning was frigid, with temps in the teens. The sun made it bearable. I geared up with long underwear, a recently replaced pair of waders and studded boots. I fished the old spots I knew from my days living in the area and landed a few gorgeous rainbows. They were hungry for mysis shrimps, and i fortunately had a few dozen left over from my CO days. They hit hard - not the typical slow winter takes that one might expect on such a frosty day. The Blue gets it's water from the reservoir, and fishing a tail water this time of year has it's advantages.
I stopped by the stretch of the Blue below Green Mountain Reservoir and opted not to try it. Many years ago, Eric had to find some climbing rope to get us back up to the truck while fishing there. The trail was snowy and icy, and having a definite lack of rope made me think about saving it for another day.
The whirlwind trip had to end, so I headed north to the windy realms of Wyoming. On the way back, I stopped in to see the gang at Wind River Outdoor Co. Geoff hooked me up with some map info on the Wind River and encouraged me to go check it out.
My first fishing experience in Wyoming was indeed on the Wind River. I headed up near Dubois (don't say it with the French pronunciation - its said DO-BOYS, ok?) and found some beautiful public access areas tucked in between the private lands that dominate this state. I rigged up my "new" JP Ross rig and threw on a stinky pickle with an RS2 under it.
Fishing was quiet. Had a few takes, missed a few takes, and landed a decent brown. Then disaster struck. My phone (I know, why did I have it?) goes off. It's the bank. Someone had a shopping spree with my debit card and I had to go deal with the nasty business of finding out that I was up a creek financially for a few days.
After that unpleasant bank stuff, it was back to the river. In that hour of not being on the water, Wyoming decided to reveal it's true nature. The wind was raging and with temps in the low 30s, it was damn cold. It was about that time that I realized my foot was wet, and those Patagucci waders with about 5 hours of use had decided to let the water in.
Needless to say, I threw in the towel for the day. Winter fishing is tough, but I'll be back (with patched up waders).