Tributary One - South Platte Chronicles
By Carl Pudlo, Colorado
Once Upon a Time in South Park
"In the beginning... Gen. 1:1
The first time I met the Gentleman of the South Platte,
I was fortunate to talk to him for over an hour. He
told me several stories of his experiences of fishing
the South Platte River. His eyes glistened with
excitement as he recounted the tales. His words flowed
like the river itself. His face radiated the excitement
as he began to tell of the first time he fished the
South Platte River...
"I sat on the bank and watched Yooper Bill flip dry flies
upstream toward the remains of a railroad bridge. There
were four pairs of pillars, large enough to carry the
weight of a train. The current cascaded around the pillars
leaving ample cover for the fish. As I watched, Yooper Bill
told me of his success, each fish he caught was bigger than
the last. First, an eight-inch brown, then a ten-inch rainbow,
then a twelve-inch trout, and finally a fourteen-inch trout,
which he released only a few minutes before I arrived. I
trekked a short distance upstream from the remains and
watched more as Bill pitched dry flies toward the east
bank of the river. In our conversation, Bill revealed
he had thoroughly fished the middle pillars. Since Bill
had fished the surface, I thought a fly underwater might
interest a trout. From upstream, I could easily make
several casts between the pillars. I tossed a size-eight
streamer between the two middle pairs of pillars. I will
never know exactly what type of trout attacked the streamer
when it hit the water, but one thing was certain, it was a
BIG fish. The tippet and fly line ricocheted directly back
at me from the force of the eruption. I found no streamer
at the end of the tippet, only teeth marks marred the last
four inches of the tippet. It was obvious Bill had seen
the strike. His line and fly drifted aimlessly downstream
as Bill stood dumbfounded. Our first trip to the South Platte,
new water containing the reality of gold medal trout, left us
speechless for some time as we reflected on the amazing fish
that got away.
I first discovered the South Platte River of Colorado in
the summer of 1990. The South Platte River flows through
most of south Park County where dams form reservoirs in
several places. The many miles of Gold Medal water present
unique fly-fishing in both fast and slow water. The South
Platte River flows through a variety of land formations
including meadows, valleys, and canyons, as it follows
its general northeast direction to the Denver area. The
meadows can emanate a feeling of tranquility while, in
stark contrast, as the river drops through narrow, rocky
canyons, the switchback trails along the riverbank can
leave a feeling of extreme apprehension. Whether an
angler tosses dry flies on the meadow or drags nymphs
through the canyons, the South Platte entices one to
want more, whether it is more scenery, more fish, more
excitement, or just more tales to spin.
The first time fishing the South Platte was with my
companion, Yooper Bill. Bill was nicknamed Yooper
Bill when I discovered he was a native of the northern
part of the Lower Peninsula of Michigan. Bill is not
technically a Yooper, but his familiarity with 'Yoopers'
and their unique life style made it easy to give him the
honorary title of Yooper. In Colorado, the only people
who know of Yoopers are Midwest transplants and visiting
Yoopers.
Yooper Bill is a tall slender gentleman with an intense
love for the outdoors. He immediately fell in love with
the Colorado atmosphere, especially fishing the mountain
streams. Bill has a sense of humor consisting of one-line
puns that would occasionally leave you puzzled. It was
rare that one could get the best of Bill in a battle of
cerebral puns. He and I would often cause many people
around us to leave in frustration as we passed pun after
pun back and forth on any given subject. On one occasion,
I did get the best of Bill. He was talking of the general
incompetence of a particular person. Bill referred to the
person as one who is 'not be able to distinguish their
rectum from a hole in the ground'. I immediately retorted
to Bill that it would be best this person never take up golf.
Bill thought for a minute. After he realized the implications
of my comment, the day was a lost cause. He was unable to
stay focused on work anymore.
For several years, Yooper
Bill and I spent one weekend a summer camping and fishing.
On the first of those summer weekend fishing excursions, we
decided to try the South Platte River in South Park County.
The portion of the South Platte we fished that day is gold
medal water just outside the small village of Hartsel. The
South Platte at this point flows through a high plateau meadow
between Antero Reservoir and Spinney Reservoir. The expanse
of the meadow reveals a contrasting splendor against the
backdrop of the far-off mountains and bluffs. In the distance,
Pikes Peak appears as only a small rise on the horizon. On a
warm summer day, the intense heat of the high altitude plain
can scorch a fisherman in little time. South Park is one of
the few places I know where one can fish with rain gear and
five minutes later apply a heavy dose of sunscreen. A
fisherman can experience hot and cold all within the span of
five minutes and this was one of those days.
Fishing the South Platte at Hartsel becomes difficult
when no cloud cover is available. Bright sunlight kept
the fish close to any cover found along the river. We
were fortunate this day. The scattered cloud patterns
were thick and filled with lightning and rain. As we
fished, we could see patterns of rain, sun, and lightning
in all directions. As the clouds passed overhead, we
could not help but wonder if a stray lightning bolt
would prematurely end our fishing. Lightning from a
distance always holds a resplendent charm as it races
from sky to ground, but the dangers are never far behind.
We parked in a small turn around area where a sturdy
green stepladder allowed us to cross over the barbwire
fence. After pulling on waders, and preparing the fly
rods, we hiked directly south to the river through a
large meadow of grass and wildflowers. We passed
through gravel ditches, which displayed evidence of
previous heavy rains and floods. The ten-minute walk
brought us to the remains of an old railroad bridge.
Yooper Bill would start downstream from the bridge
remains and then work upstream. This pattern of
fishing fit Bill since he enjoys his dry fly fishing.
I started just downstream from Bill and worked a
streamer heading in the opposite direction from Bill."
To be continued. ~ Carl Pudlo, Colorado
The South Platte Chronicles Archive
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