Frying Pan Fiasco

Friday, 2:00 p.m.: We've finished packing, and now it's time to head out. This ride will take us four hours away, to the Frying Pan river in Basalt. I have a couple rods, lots of weight, and tons of flies, along with some other stuff.

8:00 p.m.: After dinner and a few bathroom breaks, we're at the infamous Toilet Bowl. To my great surprise, I'm the only one there. The weather is freezing, the wind is howling, and I have the headache to end all headaches. However, I'm on a mission. I need to catch a fish before the night is over. Luckily, my quest doesn't take long, because I catch a nice brown on my tenth cast. I keep fishing, catch a few more small(er) fish, and head to the Green Drake hotel.

Saturday Morning: I wake up bright and early at 4:30 am. getting my gear on takes about five minutes, and then we head out. When we arrive 15 minutes later, my early start seems to have paid off. I hop in the river with my glow in the dark Thingamabobber, and try to catch some pigs. I catch a few, but decide not to take pictures because the temps are in the single digits. at around nine o'clock, I meet Pete and Cale. Cale is out with his father, picking up trash along the river. Upon talking to him some more, I learn that Cale is quite the celebrity, and has been recognized by all sorts of people for his trash clean-up work. Nice work buddy, keep it up. Oh, and did I mention Cale is only like 9?!

Weird Expression

Saturday Afternoon: Next, I meet Phillip. He is one year older than me, and equally into fly fishing (something very hard to find these days). We get to talking, and spend the rest of the day hammering fish together. It's also a big help to have someone net your fish, and he was great at aiding me when I had a big fish. Here are a few photos from our adventure:

Phillip and I Double Up

"Average" Bow

Saturday Night: I get a text from Phillip while I am at dinner saying that he convinced his mom to let him stay the night, and that he will see me again tomorrow. Far those of you who are a little old for texting, it's like the new version of the Pony Express. For those of you who are a little old for the Pony Express, it's like the new version of dropping a cave painting off your velociraptor into your neighbor's cave. I hop back in the car after dinner and head back up, ready to take another shot at night fishing the Pan.

The fishing is the best I've seen it so far, and I hammer six big rainbows on my first seven casts. I fish until it's pitch black, then wade back across the river. I manage to survive that trip, but fall in two times and get soaked to the bone.

Sunday Morning: I get up around the same time, get dressed in my now wet waders, and head back to the Pan for on last day of fishing. It isn't long after the light comes up that I see Phillip pull in, and not long after that we both start catching fish. We call it quits around noon, promising to hand out again soon and get back on the water. Check out some more photos and a very short video below:

Some Sort Of Disease??

Nice Brown

The Pan

Cold Hands on the Blue

Photo Stolen From Courtesy of Examiner.com

When I woke up at 7:30 yesterday morning, I debated whether or not to look outside. I knew it was going to be cold and snowing. After about ten minutes, I decided to check anyway. Outside, I saw sunny weather and 60 degree temperatures. Shit! That meant my ride was probably already on its way. Cursing and tripping around the house, I gathered some warm clothes and fishing gear. Luckily, my ride was also a little late, so it worked out perfectly.

A little over an hour later, we arrived at the top of the Blue River in Silverthorne. Now it was snowy, windy, and cold; more like I had expected. I hopped in, armed with a mysis shrimp pattern and a size 24 Top Secret midge. I picked out a riffle and started casting. Within ten minutes, my reel was singing and I had a nice 16 inch rainbow in the net. I hammered fish for the rest of the morning, catching 15 fish between 14 and 22 inches. The best part came during my last fish. This bright red, 19 inch rainbow was swimming at my feet, with the mysis in his mouth. I reached down to grab him, and he shot off once more. The trailing midge managed to find its way into my left thumb, and broke off. The fish was still on, so I fought him while trying to push the fly out of my thumb. After the fish had been released, I sat down on the bank to keep working on the fly. Luckily, the 20 degree weather allowed the hook to slide both in and out of my thumb with no pain. Victory for the cold fingers!

Dream Stream

Catching a lot of fish is fun. Catching a big fish is awesome. Catching a lot of big fish is amazing. Catching a lot of big fish by sight casting with flies you would usually use in Alaska? Well, that's the Dream Stream. Since I did this last time, let's try the timeline again.

2:00 am: Wake up, get dressed, hop in the car. We have enough food for two days, two rods, three reels, and lots of flies (No Buckskins. That will be important later).

5:30 am: Arrive at the Dream Stream. For the first time ever, we are the first ones there. That means it's time to start fishing.

Day One: Fourteenth cast, the indicator drops. Hook set, and we have one hell of a fish on. Within five seconds of me being unprepared, the rod tip has dropped and the fish is off. Time to keep fishing. The fishing stays quite consistent, and my third hookup brings a fish to hand. A nice 19 inch rainbow takes off the skunk early. We keep fishing, and nice fish keep coming to hand. One more cast, and my indicator has dropped again. I set the hook, and the tight drag on the reel starts to sing. A minute or so later, this bad boy came to hand:

Two casts after that pig, the indicator drops yet again. One more hook set. If I thought the reel was singing a minute ago, it's taking full on Dubstep now. And for those of you who live under a rock or listen to real music, Dubstep involves a huge bass drop that will rattle your teeth. I fight for almost five minutes, and the biggest trout I have caught in a long time finds its way into my net. Now, you were probably hoping for a picture of that monster, weren't you? Well, you can have one. Soon. We need time for the drama to build here, folks (plus my buddy hasn't emailed me the picture yet).

We fished for the rest of the day and caught some real nice fish, but I definitely wasn't playing my A-Game anymore. A big fish will do that to me.

Day Two: I'm up early again, out on the water before the Sun. I fish the same hole as yesterday, and catch a few more nice fish. After a few hours, I notice a familiar hat-jacket combo coming down the river. For those of you who don't know Big Fish Bobby D and Monster Trout Hunter Todd, they are the masters of big trout. These guys go to some of the most famous rivers in the state, walk into a crowd of people, and nail a hawg. They invite me to fish with them, and I gladly except. They are picking off some nice fish in a riffle, and I don't want to just go in and high-hole them. Instead, I fish a deep slot below them. I'm casting to a dark shadow, hoping it's a fish. My third cast is on target, and I see the shape move toward where I think my flies are. The rod goes tight, and a few minutes later a solid fish comes to the net. This seems like a good way to end my day, but I decide to tag along with Bob and Todd. We walk around on the high bank looking for fish, and quickly find some. Todd hooks up first, then I wade in. Looking closer, I think I see a long shadow. "Is that a fish?" "Where," responds Bob. "Right there," I say, as I set the hook into a 22 inch rainbow. This seems like a good way to end the trip.