Tributary Three
Hiking to Prime Water
By Carl Pudlo, Colorado
Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find;... Luke 11:9
Many times the Gentleman of the South Platte would talk
of the pains he had taken to find the different places
where he frequently fished the reputable river. He would
refer to sources he had found in books, libraries, maps,
and inhabitants of the South Platte River basin region.
It was not until he told me the following story that I
realized fishing also consists of doing your homework,
reading maps, reading resource books, and talking to
the local people...
"Mid way into the fall of 1991, a friend informed me of a
place on the South Platte where two of his acquaintances
often fished. He related to me a story of the twenty-four
inch rainbow trout they had caught using spinners on light
tackle. Hearing about large rainbow trout on this stretch
of the river really piqued my interests. I immediately got
directions, and had determined in my mind that I would find
this part of the river and fish there. Since it was getting
close to winter, I never did fish that stretch until the
following summer.
When springtime came, I started looking for reasons to find
the prime water area described to me by my friend the
previous fall. This water lies north of Lake George just
downstream from an area campground. Just downstream is a
large understatement. Accessing the prime water requires
a two-mile hike around private land. The trailhead lies
just before the entrance to the private land consisting
of many homes in a planned subdivision. To enter the
property, either you own land within the subdivision, or
you have the right connections. Since I had neither the
land ownership, nor the connections, hiking was the only
way to access this prime water. At the trailhead, there
is room for three or four cars to park. I found a reason
to look for the prime water late in the spring. It was
necessary for me to get my younger boys out of the house
for some exercise. It seems the younger boys' exercise
for the day consisted of finding ways to annoy their older
brother and sister, not to mention their mother. A hike
to the prime water seemed in order.
We took the twenty-two mile drive from Woodland Park on
a warm spring morning. The sun was bright and the day
was unusually warm for springtime. From the parking area,
we started the two-mile hike. The trail starts with a
moderate incline. From the incline, you can see the South
Platte both upstream and down. The river looks more and
more like a snake winding its way through canyons as a
hiker gets higher and higher on the trail. The river
alternates in appearance from viewing points hundreds
of feet above. The ripples of the river are white like
snow. Where the river takes gentle turns following the
contour of the canyon, the river appears deep gray. When
I hike the trail to the prime water, I occasionally stop
and sit to enjoy distant rippling rapids.
On this day, I could not even get one mile into the trail.
It seems the boys' interests were more inclined to
annoying anyone who was near them, rather than hiking.
A distracted youngster is never held accountable for
drifting into the fascinations of the hike. A
rambunctious child is more interested in throwing stones,
finding walking sticks, and asking endless questions
about the surrounding area. I was doomed from the
beginning of the hike to a time of answering questions,
and keeping the boys from throwing stones that might
find other hikers on trail switchbacks below us. Time
with the boys is never lost time. I had the opportunity
to try to instill in the boys the same love I have for
the majestic mountains and scenery of Colorful Colorado,
and I had the opportunity to find the trail for which
I was searching.
Late spring and early summer rolled around, and I still
had no chance to get back to the prime water trailhead.
As fortune would have it, I got the chance mid summer
not only to hike the entire trail but also to fish the,
so far, mysterious prime water section of the South
Platte. It had been a common custom for my family to
take an extended vacation during the summer to visit
family and friends in Wisconsin. Since I had limited
vacation, I spent only a short vacation in Wisconsin
with family, and came back early to Colorado for two
weeks of bachelor living. It was at this time that
I took the opportunity to camp and fish at my leisure
for one weekend during the year. I remember packing
on a Friday after work to get to another often-frequented
fishing hotspot. I spent the night fishing and then
planned to rise very early Saturday morning and drive
to the unfamiliar trail and hike to the fishing hole
I had been dreaming about for the last nine months.
The hike started at 5:15 in the morning. The beginning
moderate incline follows the slopes of the many valleys
and canyons formed by the hand of God. The trail
moderately rises and levels as the sounds of the river
diminish, informing you of the trek leading away from
the river. I am always awed at the rock formations
encountered at blind corners. The precipitous drops
into the various valleys and canyons continually
remind hikers to be cautious. Often one can see signs
of wildlife along the trail, if not the actual wild life
itself. Frequently I think of redefining the trail to
shortcut through the valleys to where I see the trail
continuing on the opposite mountainside. The strain
of hiking the trail keeps me from free lancing a new
trail. My view of the path would often lead to a more
strenuous hike than simply sticking to the existing path.
After hiking for more than forty-five minutes, the river
sounds return as witnessed by the echoes of the ripples
off the surrounding rocks. The trail approaches the
river again, but the river is nowhere in sight. The
course begins to descend at a much steeper rate than
the ascent. By this time, arms are weary from hauling
waders, fly rod, and any other fishing paraphernalia,
the heaviest of which is the wineskin that carries
water. High altitude and dry conditions sap the
moisture from a body as if in a desert. The body
sweats and cools as the sun occasionally shows its
intensity through the canopy of ponderosa pine.
Finally, the sound of the river begins to get
overpowering as one navigates the last hundred yards
of steep, rocky terrain. At the bottom of the trail,
the hiker breaks out into a small opening and sees a
house just upstream and across the river from the
trail. Every time I reach this point I think to
myself how much effort would be saved if I could
just drive to the house that stands opposite me.
Then I remind myself that more than half the fun
of fishing is getting to the water that so pique
my attention.
The water at the point where the trail reaches the
river is a stretch of over one hundred yards of
straight, fast moving water. During the mid-summer,
the depth in this stretch averages three feet or more.
I never wanted to see how deep the water got. It
would be too easy to slip on the rocky bottom, bounce
against a large submerged boulder and go for an
unwanted swim. The banks are lined by large
ponderosa pine trees and scrub oak. Openings in
the brush are the desired spots for flipping a fly
across the stream and along the deep banks. The
fish can hide anywhere since the water appears
uniformly deep from bank to bank. It is best to
stand in these openings where a back cast is not
interrupted by the streamside brush. Roll casting
is a necessary skill along with the ability to wade
near the bank in water that is broken by all sizes
of submerged rocks.
Since this was my first venture to this area, I
walked the first hundred yards taking in all the
visual and audio stimuli emanating from the river
and canyon. After the long first stretch, an island
almost fifty yards long and twenty yards wide separates
the river. The water was high, and I could not fish
the fork of the river across the island. I started
fishing from a clearing about twenty yards upstream
from the fork in the river. First order of business
was to put on the waders and thread the line into the
fly rod. I suggest never taking a two-mile hike
through mountainous terrain wearing waders. The heat
generated in the waders is intense. I have never taken
the hike in waders. I just want to point out I have
the sense not to hike in waders! Finally, I got to
the streamside where I began to strip out the fly line.
Being the uncharacteristic fisherman that I am, I just
throw ten feet of line out to midstream so I can
continue to strip out the fly line. As expected,
the marabou streamer drifted down to the bank only
twelve feet downstream from where I was standing.
While still stripping fly line out, the water
erupted with an attack on the streamer that left
me with my jaw dragging on the water. Stunned by
the immediate and unsuspected response, I set the
hook very late. I was surprised the fish was
struggling at the end of the line. I had hooked
a trout that started swimming anywhere and everywhere
in front of me, trying to escape the hook imbedded in
its mouth. After a short struggle, I landed a
sixteen-inch rainbow trout. I looked at the trout
in amazement. The tail did not have the usual fan shape,
but instead looked as if deformed by parasites eating
away at the tail. I believe that was the first fish
I ever encountered that had Whirling disease. I had
not known at the time, nor was there any Department
of Wildlife information published that would alert me
to the Whirling disease dilemma that had gripped the
South Platte River. I returned the fish to the water,
knowing that if I had kept any fish, I would have a
two-mile hike carrying extra weight. This definitely
was a day of catch and release.
I fished the fork of the river on my side of the island.
This was straight, fast water, broken only by huge
protruding boulders. Submerged boulders are easily
identified by the water as it backwashes over the
boulder. I concentrated on fishing the front, back,
and sides of boulders, both protruding and submerged.
Along this stretch, I was able to connect on two more
rainbows about twelve to fourteen inches long. I was
pleased with the fishing. There was no cloud cover,
but the early hour of the morning kept the sun from
directly shining on the river. The river is in a
canyon with steep climbs on both sides of the river.
Coupled with the moderately thick cover of Ponderosa
Pine, sunlight would not descend upon the river for
at least two hours. As long as the sun was not
directly shining on me, the temperature condition
was cool and comfortable. I can always judge when
it is time to quit fishing this stretch, the sun
will shine directly on me and make the heat intense,
a most uncomfortable situation.
Where the two river forks join after the island, the
river takes a gentle right turn. The rocks are ever
present, and the outside bank is deeply undercut.
There is no way of wading the inside corner when the
water is high. I was content to fish the undercut
bank by casting the streamer I was using to midstream
and letting the line drift back to the bank. The flow
of the water is slower around this curved bank. The
brush and trees along the bank still make roll casting
a necessary skill. Rocks near the bank are accessible
with a little jump, if only to get away from the brush
on the bank for casting purposes. It was at one place
like this about midway through the curve that I was able
to jump across to a boulder and fish from there. I was
able to cast upstream, downstream, and across stream.
Fifteen feet downstream sat two huge boulders with an
obvious deep wash between them. This appeared as an
excellent place for a trout to lie in wait of
unsuspecting food. I was right. On my first cast, I
let the streamer drift about a foot deep. There was no
swirl when the fish attacked the streamer, but an
unmistakable jerk alerted me this was a good fish. The
deep bend of my fly rod also showed the signs of a
significant fish. Unfortunately, I was late on the strike.
The fish pulled steadily for about 10 seconds, and then
spit the fly back at me. I could not help but feel the
fish was laughing at me as I stood there watching the
water wash by the many rocks around me. It was safe to
say someday I would return to this spot and reflect on
the fish that got the best of me that day.
During that morning of fishing, I remember catching six
sturdy fish; the smallest was a twelve-inch brown, the
largest about sixteen inches. They were all chubby,
well-fed fish. I estimated those six fish to weigh
approximately eight pounds, quality produce for a
three-hour span of fishing. The river along this
stretch offers a diverse set of fishing challenges.
The deep pools with the muddy bottoms, the fast,
rocky-bottomed straight-aways, and the gradual bends
with undercut banks, all contribute to a fishing
experience unrivaled in the South Park area. The
backdrop of formidable canyon mountainsides adds
to the richness of fishing this section of the South
Platte. Prime water has its beauties and its
associated cost, the cost of finding the prime
water and accessing it." ~ Carl Pudlo, Colorado
The South Platte Chronicles Archive
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