Glancing over the cold metal rails of a small footbridge, I observed intently as three decent rainbows sat idling in the current, munching on anything that came their way. The air was frigid, but the heat of determination could be felt from a mile away; whether we said it or not.
Back at the car, I slid on my trusty old waders, and the worn laces of my boots were cinched tight as the excitement built inside of me. A few feet of hair thin tippet were unwound from the spool, and two synthetic snacks were selected from the foam slots of my fly box. The wind howled as the knots were delicately fastened to the eyes of each hook, and two small split shot were clamped to the over priced piece of line known as a leader. Once rigged, my trusty hip pack was strapped around my waist, and my net was held between the straps of the pack and my jacket as I set out in search of my first fish of the new year.
Returning to the bridge, I zeroed in on one small rainbow, and elegantly placed the rig in front of him. As the flies drifted effortlessly through the current, the line drew tight, and the small rainbow was ushered towards my awaiting hands.
As the day progressed, Many beautifully colored fish were brought to hand, and the winds howled in celebration. Time after time, we would watch as the hungry fish moved to the side, claiming our artificial offerings as their own. As the line was drawn tight, the fit of lazy headshakes would begin, and eventually the fish would come tiredly to hand. With swift releases, the small creatures were free to return to the frigid waters that served as home.
|In the aquarium|
|Most uniquely colored rainbow I have ever seen|
|Weirdest looking brown I have ever seen|
|Dennis Martin with a nice brown|
|Last fish of the day!|
After awhile, the small midges attached to my line were slowly depreciating in quality, and the sun was slowly tucking itself away behind the snowy peaks that surround colorful Colorado. The day was coming to a close, and after our excited emotions had quieted, all that could be heard was the soft trickle of river water. The muddy gear peeled slowly away from our bodies, and we drove off into the night.