Summer.

Summer. It's a busy time for most of us, filled with long days at work, with little allowance for free time. So, when the opportunity arose to spend a weekend camping with my friend Trevor, as well as with my brother, I couldn't let it pass me by. We enjoyed hotdogs over the grill, lots of laughs, and plenty of fish. 

Trevor managed his first fish on the fly, and then proceeded to catch many more eager little bass. I, on the other hand, used some time to pursue carp, and succeeded a couple of times. Here are some pictures from the weekend... Enjoy!

Decent sized Common!

Trevor's first fish on the fly

Second Carp...

The Chub Hatch

Fun in the Salt

BWO BDE

Here is an excellent little Blue Winged Olive pattern tied by Ben Furimsky.  The BDE will hold up two tungsten droppers without any problems!  Tie a few up!

Fossil Fish Slam!

NORTHERN COLORADO ANGLERS!

Fossil Ridge Fly fishing Club is going to be holding a fly-fishing only tournament at the swift ponds on saturday, April 28th to raise funds for the club.

First and second place prizes are T.L. Johnson fly rods worth $300 each and third place is a box of several dozen warm water bugs tied by Several local tiers. There will be a raffle, a barbecue, and more fishing than you can handle! 

The swift ponds are normally off limits to the public and have some of the best warm water fishing in Northern Colorado! This is a truly unique opportunity! The cost is $20 for general admission, or $25 if you want a T-Shirt with the logo below on it! If you need some more info, want to buy a ticket or volunteer feel free to contact me via facebook or send me an email at jake_ruthven@hotmail.com. 

We are limited to accepting 50 anglers and spots are filling up fast!

Silenced Observations

Waltzing amongst the multitude of swirling currents and taunting greedy predators below, it didn't take long for the single dry fly to become the target of a wily brown trout.  I watched as a mouth appeared from below, and in a fraction of a second, the synthetic offering attached to the end of my line sat firmly embedded in the corner of the unsuspecting trout's mouth.  Shaking his head in disapproval, the fish soon succumbed to the resistance of my tippet, unaware that all I desired was a picture before releasing him to fight another day.

I watched appreciatively as the trout regained stability, and swiftly slipped through my fingers as it hurriedly swam for the security of the depths.  Refocusing my uninterrupted attention on the slow moving run, I watched.  Not moving, not casting, just... watching.  Minutes passed, when a small dimple caught the attention of my peripheral vision.  The fish sat farther downstream in the slowest moving part of the run... A rather tough position to get to on my part.  Knowing that the fish would have all the time he needed to evaluate my imitation, my fears of cruel rejection combatted my willingness.  This was just a fish... yet it worried me more than being denied by any good looking girl.  

So, I removed to beaten little fly from its secure spot on my hook keeper, and crouched on the bank as I prepared to cast, knowing that my fate awaited.  I knew I would have one cast at this fish before he retreated to the depths, so it was now or never.  Emotions roaring inside of me, I dropped the fly 2 feet upstream of the trout's lie, and quickly laid a mend in the line.  Watching, watching, watching, surely I had already drifted over him, but some weird internal sense was screaming at me to keep the fly on the water.  It seemed I couldn't bring myself to cast again, I was going to get something on the first drift.

As if being summoned by the fish gods, a lazy brown appeared behind my fly, and as slowly as physically possible, he engulfed the fly gracefully. Resisting every urge to set the hook, I waited until he disappeared, and smoothly raised the rod.  Fighting valiantly, the educated trout dove underneath branches and rocks, making every attempt to break the 7x tippet.  Eventually the resistance proved superior, and he slid calmly into the deep bag of my net.  I had succeeded, a feeling that could be unparalleled by seemingly any other happening.  

I relished in my achievement, and knew that I could now call it a day.  Striding confidently away from the river, I felt on top of the world...  What a day.

Kamchatka

Words can't even describe how badly I wish to go here...
Eastern Rises | teaser from felt soul media on Vimeo.

Riding High

This is one of my favorite shorts of all time.  The cinematography is superb, and the fishing isn't bad either... Check it Out!



Riding High: A Season on the Fly from Waterline Media on Vimeo.

Sunburns and Dry Flies

Tiredly I ran up the stairs hurrying to answer the phone call that was causing my obnoxious ringtone to sing as loud as it could.  I answered with a sloppy "hello" as I sat staring out the window using all the internal strength I had to peel my delicate eyelids apart from each other after a long nights sleep.  It was my great friend and mentor Steve Thrapp, asking if I could meet him at the river in twenty minutes.  Despite still wearing my shorts and crinkled T-shirt, and my hair being strewn in every which direction, I agreed, and the usual routine began.  I managed to piece together a decent array of clothing from what I had laying around my room, and before I knew it, I was headed out the door.  Thankfully, I keep all of my rods rigged and ready in the back of my car, so I could be on my way quickly.  Before I could take off, my dad reminded me to grab food and a drink.. something I often forget.

Upon arrival at the water,  I slid on my waders and boots, and as Steve pulled up, we shook hands and exchanged our latest fishing tales.  Chatting as we approached the water, one look down river revealed hundreds of rising fish throughout the many riffles and pools.  We split up, and began targeting fish as best we could.  After roughly an hour, I had only tempted a single fish, and Steve had raised a few others with none landed.  Frustrated, we headed upriver in search of other (hopefully) willing fish.

As Steve roped in one fish after another, I sat and watched a single rainbow as she fed rigorously in the heart of a shallow riffle.  I couldn't believe how intently she was feeding, as her mouth opened roughly every three seconds.  Rigged with a dry - dropper, I made a cast to the fish, and to my surprise, she took the midge dropper on the first drift.  The fight lasted roughly 30 seconds, and the fish soon laid at the bottom of my net.  After pictures, I carefully released the beautiful fish to fight another day.

For how rigorously this fish was feeding, she was awful thin!

Trekking further and further down-river, we finally found more fish, and Steve really began to teach them a lesson.  Steve has been and still is one of my greatest mentors, and he has taught me much about what I know today.  Every time I am able to fish with Steve I learn a ton, and it is always amazing to watch him as he dissects the water, and brings several fish to hand.  Steve is also the creator of the PIOPod, sold by Fishpond, and his care for the environment shows with every outing.  With seemingly every cast, Steve hooked up, and over the course of roughly 30 minutes, Steve landed a myriad of different fish.

As the sun began to set, we tried one last stretch, only hoping for a good fish.  Cast after cast produced nothing, until I managed to hook up with a decent rainbow as I swung the flies through the current.  After an intense battle,  I hoisted the fish for pictures, and released it swiftly to its watery home.

Colors!

Sunburnt and tired,  I had to call it a day, and as we removed our waders, Steve and I shook hands before leaving.  With plans to do it again soon, we went our separate ways, and headed towards home.  It had been a tough day on the water (for me at least), but hey, I was glad to have gotten out. 

Monster Brown

Words can't even describe this fish...  I realize that most of you have already seen this, but hey, at least it'll help make the work day go by a little faster.

Matt Heron Reels in a Gigantic Brown Trout from Filmed In Tahoe on Vimeo.

Colorado Gems

The ferocious wind howled as it dove between tree branches and hovered across the water's surface.  High hopes were gradually reduced to actualization as tippet fluttered every which way in the myriad of wind currents, making it nearly impossible to attach flies to my line.  But we couldn't give up, we had to at least give it a shot!  

Upstream, Sanders stood knee-deep in a run dropping his rig in front of countless risers.  Before we could even say "hey" and shake hands, Sean angled his rod backwards, and was set into a quality brown.  I assumed the position of net-man, and after a hard fought battle, we had a beauty of a brown in the net.  Pictures and fist bumps followed, and the beautiful creature was then released back to its chilled home.

Sanders' Brown... Like 5 minutes into the day

"Damn Sanders... not even a minute into the day you have a fish in the net?  I gotta quit fishing with you!" I said jokingly as my dad hopped into the river in hopes of bringing the next riser to hand.  As sanders and I sat clumsily re-rigging, my dad started working a single rising fish.  Cast after cast was rudely ignored by the picky fish, until finally the dry was attacked from below.  "Got him!" he yelled as he raised the rod slightly, sending the frightened fish into an astonishing fit of headshakes. Minutes later the tired little fish was slid into my dad's hands as he hoisted it proudly for the camera.  After a swift release, we proceeded up-river in search of a few more willing eaters.

As my fingers slowly lost feeling, I barely managed to finish assembling my rig, cinching down the last knot as quickly as possible.  The wind battled my balance as if I was being pushed over by a ghost of some sort.  Leaning into the powerful storm, I speedily laid down a cast on the water's surface.  Watching intently as the flies drifted downstream, I reacted immediately to the feel of a fish on the line.  A smooth lift of the rod produced a nice cutbow, and as I released the fish to call it a day, sanders yelled out requesting help on the net.

Sanders' Last Fish of the day... 

Shivering violently, I netted Sean's fish, and after quick pictures, I hurried back to the car in search of heat.  the radio came to life as the engine hummed, and warm air gradually brought the feeling back to my frigid fingers.  It was awesome to fish with Sanders (as usual) but I was really happy to have gotten my dad out on the water again, and watch the smile run across his face with each hook-up.  As we sped towards home, I couldn't help but think of how lucky us Coloradoans are to live in such a beautiful place.  As my mind expanded on this thought, I watched as the fiery orange sun nestled itself to bed for the night behind the purple mountains that Colorado is so well known for. "This has gotta be the good life" I muttered under my breath as a smile came across my face.

My Dream Trip...

Red Like Winter: the Trailer from Waterline Media on Vimeo.

Stopwatch Offerings

"One mississippi, two mississippi, three mississippi, four mississippi... there he is"  My mind spoke quietly as I timed the gap between each rise-form.  Though the surface was boiling with risers, I would target only one at a time, hoping for success.  

A small black parachute was drawn tightly to the hair thin piece of tippet, and a minuscule drop of floatant accompanied the soon to be meal.  As the fish rose again and again every four seconds, I sat, kneeled in the river, doing my best to get the fly in front of the fish on the fourth second.  Presentation after presentation, the fly escapes the fish's grip by a mere second.  As if the trout is snickering at me, his mouth appears once again, and a flick of the tail is given as he descends back into the water column.  One last attempt must be made I think to myself, and without hesitation, the fly is dropped inches upstream of the fish.  "One mississippi, two mississippi, three mississippi, four mississippi... " I watch intensely as the miniature fly drifts toward the awaiting mouth.  What had been the longest four seconds of my life suddenly came to a swift end as the head of a fish broke the surface, gently sipping in the tiny dry fly.  Twists, turns, and small, half-hearted runs followed immediately after the hook set, and a short time later the small brown trout was brought to hand.  "Nice Fish" hollered another angler as I carefully returned the fine specimen to its watery living room.

Quieting my emotions temporarily, I set my sights on the next riser, positioned immediately upstream of the previous victim.  I counted again between each rise-from, this time glad to be given a fifteen second gap.  I knew that with a considerably larger gap of time, I could hook the fish easier, and so the first cast was dropped onto the water.  Cast after cast I was beginning to question my theory, when finally a nose showed itself through the glistening surface.  Jumping twice, the fish quickly lost energy, and came tiredly to hand for pictures and a swift release.

Last fish of the day had been chewed on a bit...

The process repeated again one last time, and as the sun began to drop behind the mountains, I decided to call it a day, knowing that my parents would soon start wondering what had happened to me.  I threw all the gear in the back, and drove off into the sunset, blaring the country music.

The Ice Pick

This is a really cool streamer pattern that is especially effective during runoff.  Its bright coloring makes it highly visible in the water, and the rabbit strips add some bulk for a larger profile.  A super simple fly to tie, I encourage you to give it a shot!

Dedication and its Rewards

Thought I would throw up a cool video of my buddy Jake Forsline sticking a monster 'bow this winter... Check it out!

Itu's Bones

Itu's Bones Trailer from Sol Duc Buck on Vimeo.

Monday Movie ~ Ed Engle Style

Second Chance from Samuel Ebersole on Vimeo.

Shellshocked Adventure

The stage was set - snowy weather, sunny skies, and a plan to meet at 9:30 that morning by the river.  As the brakes squealed and both cars came to rest, anticipation hovered above like fog, and friendly handshakes were exchanged as Sanders and I shivered violently in the frosty morning air.

Slightly torn waders and trusty wading boots were slid onto my frozen body, and an overflowing hip pack was strapped to my waist as it tightly hugged the over-sized wooden net also known as the 'Pig Stick'.  Worn laces were cinched tight, and a few weapons for the day were selected from the diligently organized rows of my fly boxes. The moistened knots were then drawn tight, securing the meal courses to the tippet.

Approaching the water, flows became a concern whether we said it or not, but determination drove us forward without looking back.  A mere fifteen minutes into the day, I dropped to my knees as I screamed "Holy S**t Sanders, We got a 25 inch fish right here!"  What usually spans the course of 20-30 minutes of presentations took only a single cast as the fish turned without hesitation to slam the easy meal.  A smooth lift of the rod resulted in intense runs, but after around 45 seconds the big male brown was brought to net, and we both stared in disbelief.  The colors were astonishing, and my day had been made.  After a series of photos, and a dramatic increase in morale, the beautiful fish was released, and we knew that Sanders' turn would come next.

4.5 pound brown

My best Brown to date!

Continuous searching resulted in few fish, so a swift decision was made to proceed to the next area, giving us a shot at different fish.  Rods were loaded into the cars, and off we went.  Upon arrival, it appeared that every person in Fort Collins had decided to try fly fishing that day, seeing as there were exactly two spots left in the lot.  Crowded water resulted in minimal fishing, but as fellow anglers left whistling the signature Super Bowl anthem, space became plentiful.

As the afternoon midge hatch entered full swing, a single fisherman sat perched right in the heart of the action.  Sean and I tried above him, and quickly brought three fish to hand.  Frustrated, the man left the perch, giving us a shot at a few fish.  A single rise was spotted and after a few refined presentations, the dry fly was slowly tugged under, and what seemed like a 12 inch stocker at first suddenly showed itself as an 17 inch cutbow thrashing below the surface.  Directing the fight while chest deep in the river with the net, I watched as Sean bravely battled the fish.  A few minutes later, the chance presented itself, and the gorgeous fish was scooped into the net.  Sean's face lit up like a kid in a candy store - an image I will never forget.  Sean proudly hoisted his biggest trout from this particular watershed, and after many pictures, the camera-friendly cutbow was carefully released. 

Sanders with his gorgeous cutbow!

Poor guy's jaw was ripped up...

Favorite pic of the trip

 What had been my best day on the water so far this year came to an end with handshakes and talk of the next outing.  Sanders is a great guy, and I could tell he learned a lot about the river that day.  Check out Sanders' blog here!

To Sanders - that was a badass day dude.... we are definitely going out again soon!  This time though, we have to try and beat the fish from this trip... ha!

Monday Movie

"Hatch" trailer - by Gin Clear Media | Fly Fishing Movie from The Fly Fishing Film Tour on Vimeo.

Tuesday Tie

This is a great little pattern created by the illustrious Jay Zimmerman.  I fish this deep as a caddis larva this time of year, and unweighted just below the surface when the caddis are popping.  Check it out!