Breckenridge, Day 5

Today started out as a black day. I did get to sleep in a little, and had a delicious breakfast consisting of eggs, bacon, potatoes, and mango juice. But the fishing did not start out well. We set off around 8:00, and drove through Silverthorne and beyond on Hwy 9, and then got on...wait for it...Highway 40! It's almost like I never left St. Louis! Except that there are mountains here. Whatever.


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Anyway, all along the way, once we got up near the Colorado River, we were checking out fishing spots. It's funny around here, because there are all these little pull-outs along the highway, where people just park their cars, and walk down to the river to fish. Roads, rivers and railroads are trifecta out here. That makes for lots of relatively easy fishing access.


The day started out black because Dad caught two small brown trout. We were on a wide, flat, relatively shallow stretch of the Colorado, and I had no luck at all. Things were very bleak for me in the War of the Fish. I was being outmaneuvered by a more advanced military force, shriveling in the face of superior firepower. It was bad.

Dad wasn't happy with the fishing there either, though, so we headed back to the car, stopped in lovely Kremmling for some tasty Mexican food for lunch, and then headed to a spot on the Blue River called the Slate Hole. Which is funny, because that big rock-slide wall that you see? It's shale.



Regardless, do you know what I like about the Slate/Shale Hole? I caught a fish. The tables were turning. T was goin' down.

I had another hook-up a little bit later, but after a couple of flips in the air, the fish spit the hook and I never brought him in. Clearly terrified at the prospect of defeat, T said it was time to go. Actually, he said that twice. The first time, he said "we'll just go down here, fish this one spot, then leave." So we went to that spot. Just as he was ready to leave again, after calmly and reasonably (ha) expressing his distaste for uncooperative fish and tangled fly lines, the fish started to rise. This was my chance. I was still one fish behind, but they were feeding.

Game. On.

T was getting a lot of strikes, but no fish yet. Then, like a flash of light, I had another rainbow on the line. This was the moment of truth. I was all worried that he was going to spit the hook like the last one - turns out, it wouldn't have been possible. He had smacked at it pretty good, and it took a lot of elbow grease and a forceps to get the hook out of the poor guy's lip. He flopped back into the water a little stunned, but swam away of his own accord, so I think he's OK.

It was getting late, roundabout 4:30. Since we were tied 5-5, T shouted upstream that next fish wins. It was sudden death overtime. 10 minutes later when neither of us had caught a fish, he amended to "next fish, or call it a draw at 5:00." The pressure was on, and man! I almost had it. Just like earlier in the day, I had a fish on the line. I set the hook, but he ran at me, flipped in the air, and spit the hook. Dad said that didn't count. I thought it should, but then he pointed out that the multitude of strikes which he had gotten (and I hadn't) should probably count for something too, in that case. Fair point.

So, 5:00 rolled around and we called it quits - tied 5 to 5 over three days of fishing. It was a long trek back to the car, and Dad stopped every so often to point out the good spots where he had caught big fish before. It reminded me of that line from A River Runs Through It: "Paul stayed home [in Montana] for college, unwilling to leave the fish he had not yet caught."

Eventually we did make it back to the car, and the weather was just right for rollin' down the highway with the windows open.

That's me!

Remember a couple of days ago how I said there were whole hillsides that had been decimated by the pine bark beetle? Well, check these out:




That, ladies and gents, is what many a wanderer now sees whilst traversing the fine and non-humid state of Colorado. No good at all. There are lots of dead trees near Frisco, and you can see where they've started chopping them down in an effort to protect the town when (not if) they burn.

We had initially planned to go out to dinner tonight, but our fishing extravaganza took a little longer than we expected. Instead, we had some roasted root-type veggies and grilled cheesy turkey sandwiches. And I am going to have some more Graeter's momentarily. Jealous? You should be!