My Friday fishing partner, Kim, thought I should pick our fishing location last Friday. I did. I picked the two campground areas on the West Dolores. I haven’t fished them in a long time and my somewhat old memory remembered them as not overcrowded this time of year with beautiful streams and lots of fish. Two out of three was not good enough.
We arrived at the campground of choice around nine. The stream looked great. Despite being a beautiful day, we didn’t see any other fishermen nor any fly rods leaned against the campers. Those were two signs we should have paid attention to. We booted and suited, strung up our rods and followed a path downstream to some great-looking water. Here we started the first of a thousand casts.
We both tied on dry flies, started casting and didn’t turn a single trout. We then did what any fly fisher would do: Tied on different dry flies. After making many more casts we went to nymphs. Still no fish, and lots of casts. I was making so many fruitless casts that I started doing practice casts to rocks just to see if I could hit them.
At this point, we stopped for lunch and had a conversation about what we should do. We decided to take the path back upstream to try that area out. I lit a new cigar, we both tied on new dry flies, and began casting; no fish. Following our previous plan of action, we went to nymphs, more casting, no fish.
We sat down on the streambank to think of something else to do. It was decided an entirely new location was needed. I used my old memory, from above and suggested we drive back down the Dolores River to the American Legion Post, located just before the old fish hatchery.
As we were unloading our rods an old camper walked into the parking lot and began telling us about the big trout he had been catching. He even said he had been catching everything on dry flies.
Our spirits went up. We followed an old road upstream to where the camper suggested we go. The area looked beautiful. We both tied on dry flies and began to cast and cast even more. I walked upstream towards a large flats area hoping to find trout eating on the surface. More casts, no fish.
I went back to where Kim was fishing a large runoff area. She told me she had caught one on a dry fly, but was now using a Woolly Bugger in the deeper water. I watched her catch a second fish. I quickly tied on a Woolly Bugger and proceeded to make even more casts. Kim had also gone back to making lots of casts that didn’t produce another fish. After making what seemed like a thousand fishless casts we decided we had had enough and headed back to the car.
As we were stowing our equipment, I started to apologize to Kim for my poor suggestions on locations, thousands of casts and two fish. She stopped me mid-sentence and reminded me what a beautiful day it had been, the gorgeous streams we had fished, and the total lack of other fishermen.
She was right. I had placed catching fish above the overall experience of why people fly fish. So, if like me, you are getting frustrated with just one part of a day on the river, stop and look around. I bet once you do that you’ll experience what Kim had to remind me of.
