The Agony and the Ecstasy

Sure, the late Irving Stone would not blink an eye at the events of Saturday, but then again, I doubt he was a fly fisherman either - but we, having been out on the water, know better, so it will be up to one of our own to write about it sometime in the future...

It's been eight months since I've last had the chance to fish the famed waters of the Taylor, so pulling into the parking area in the C&R section essentially sent my 'Angling Pleasure Receptors' through the roof.

Yeah, this river is a kick in the pants for fly fishing addicts everywhere - it's like (insert your politically-correct winter holiday here) for big people that fish.

Having bunked-down in Buena Vista Friday night, we were up at 3:30 am to make the drive over Cottonwood Pass and into the Taylor Park area, hoping to beat the horde of people that this river attracts (and for good reason).

The point was to get a good spot and hold it for the day - yeah, I know, to get the really big fish you need to walk the river and hit the holes where they're parked.

Since this was Eva's first time fishing this river, I thought it would be good to find an open section, with good seams that she could work on and hone her drift. Plus, I kind of liked the idea of staying put, given the heavy traffic that is on this river.

So, we wound up picking a section on the water, and worked it over good through the course of a day. On future trips, I promise that we'll play nicely and let others hit the section that we were on - Eva learned a lot, so next time I think she'll feel a little more comfortable walking the river and working more varied water.

Anyway - fish? Oh yeah. There was a ton of them in there - in the section in front of us, there were too many to count.

What's really cool is that, on the HD video, you can actually see all of fish in the water - and they're everywhere. It looks like a freaking fish hatchery, there's so many of them. But here's the catch: yes, the fish are plentiful, but they're not always so accommodating.

Watching a handful of 20+ inches of actively feeding trout, three feet off the bank in a foot of clear water and they're not hitting a damn thing you're throwing their way? Agony in it's purist form.

Even more hurtful is when the fish actually move out of the way of your fly as it drifts past, and then, just as smoothly, move back into place after it's gone. That goes beyond being 'snubbed' and is downright hateful on their part.

However, move downstream a few feet, throw your line in and you hit a bruiser on the first cast. Confusing, frustrating and pure excitement all wrapped up into one - a roller-coaster ride of emotional highs and lows, and I love every minute of it.

With that many targets, it didn't take long for me to hit my first trout. The second one I nailed was a certified Taylor hog, which I pulled from some deep water a little upstream from where Eva was. After about 10 minutes of fighting, and a scenic walk down the side of the river, my line broke and I was left with....not disappointment...but exhilaration. He was a beast of a fish and it had been a rush trying to get him in the net.

As for Eva, she did well for her first time on a very tough river - she bit into some nice-sized fish, but the line either snapped or they popped off the hook. Also, the environment is not the most relaxing to be in when you're still trying to get your feet under you - lots of spectators and heavy traffic along the dirt road can make one feel overly-exposed, so she's earned another badge of respect for braving that testosterone-soaked Angling Gauntlet.

Me, I set and lost more fish on Saturday than I have in a long time - snapped lines, bent hooks, etc. seemed to be the norm. And I did it using only ONE fly and a pea-sized indicator. Josh, I know that makes you cringe to hear that, but you know my philosophy - find the depth, nail the presentation, and there's no need for multiple flies and gimmicky set-ups. Maybe sometime in the future, we'll hit some water, and you can try to teach me the errors of my way...

Up until mid-afternoon, the weather was fantastic, but then the 'storm' came in. And it came in with bad intentions. The initial gust of wind damn near took me off my feet - I had to kneel to keep from getting blown over. And the grit (from the dirt road) that it was carrying was brutal - I felt like I was staring, point blank, into the nozzle of a sand-blaster - and when you mix that with freezing, stinging (horizontal) rain....it made for a very unpleasant experience.

Overall, it was a well-earned break - sexy company, beautiful scenery, good fishing, some hooks embedded deeply into fingers and a seriously wicked storm. Yup, I'm living a dream. Oh - and loaded hot dogs from Coney Island in Bailey? Yeah, that's a great way to round out the weekend if you ask me.