Day 2 of my trip to Gunnison Colorado involved my father in law, Mark, and I visiting a couple of spots that contrasted one another greatly. Our first stop was Black Canyon of the Gunnison National Park. We went there for the opportunity to drive down to the river and do some fishing but we stayed for the scenic views. Unfortunately, I wasn't able to wet a line at any point due to a series of landslides that had made the road to the river impassible. While I was a little bummed about not being able to fish, I came away from the park with the belief that this Canyon is one of the most beautiful locations I have ever visiting.
If you ever get a chance to visit this park, there are a large number of spots to visit. The visitor center is a great place to start. It is full of interesting information and points out notable locations. Along the scenic drive that takes you around the south rim of the canyon there are places to park and short trails to hike. The trails lead to spots that overlook the canyon and provide stunning views of rock formations and the Gunnison River at the bottom of the canyon. The hikes are easy but if you're scared of heights, you might notice a rise in your pulse.
As we left the park, I started looking for another spot to fish. My wife, Wendy, and my mother in law, Sharon, were due to arrive in the early afternoon so I knew I needed to pick a spot near the airport in Gunnison, Colorado. I didn't have high hopes about the fishing because I felt like I would be hitting a lull in the day but we didn't seem to have anything else better to do. So when I stumbled on a small park that was on the bank of the Gunnison River in the city of Gunnison and located very close to the airport in Gunnison, it seemed like an obvious choice.
When we pulled up to the parking lot, we were the only vehicle at the park. By the time I got my waders on and fly rod rigged up, the parking lot was almost at capacity. When I was finally ready to start making casts, rafts were drifting by, families were splashing in the shallows, and other anglers had started fishing. While the situation seemed to look increasingly more difficult to fish, I was determined to at least make a few casts and hoping to catch one single fish.
I started off throwing a couple of small flies under an indicator but quickly found that I needed to make a couple of changes. I was fishing right where boat traffic was passing through and my backcasts were getting close to families that were sitting on the bank. I decided to tie on a soft hackle and move further downstream where the river widened and became less populated. The reason that I settled on the soft hackle was because the water was fairly swift and reminded me of the a situation that I had experienced with my former basketball coach, Jeff Tebbencamp.
One day on the White River near Cotter, Arkansas, coach taught me how to swing a soft hackle. It was unlike any fly fishing I had ever done at that time. It took me a little while to recognize the bites and how to properly set the hook, but eventually I picked up the technique. I then used the same technique at Bennett Spring State Park to catch trout which gave me the confidence boost I needed. So as I stood in the Gunnison, looking at the soft hackle I tied on, I thought to myself, "Well coach, let's see if I can make you proud."
It is important to note that this was an idea that did not come from anywhere else. I'm not being arrogant or trying to boast. It's just important to the story. Fly shops never mentioned swinging a soft hackle. AI didn't suggest it. Internet research never recommended it. It just felt like it might work. Don't get me wrong. I had tried other things that this was just another dart that I was throwing at the dart board and hoping for a bullseye. When a fish hit my fly so hard on a dangle on my fifth case, I just about came unglued. There was no need for a hook set and the fish was properly buttoned. I landed that fish with a smile as big as the Rocky Mountains and while joy filled my heart, my brain turned quickly to my basketball coach. That fish would not have been caught on unfamiliar water, in the middle of the day, in a river full of fly fishing rafts and families splashing around in the water if it hadn't been for him.
I made a few more casts in that spot and after not getting any bites, I decided to move downstream where there was similar water and fewer people. I landed two more fish and I was a variety of emotions rushed through my mind like the riffles I was fishing. None of them were big fish by any standard. However, they were all brown trout and I cherished their beauty as long as I could before successfully releasing each fish. I think brown trout are the most beautiful freshwater fish in the world (feel free to disagree with me like my dad does) and I see every single one as a gift that I get to borrow for a few seconds.
Eventually it was time to head back to the truck and go pick up the ladies which would make our group whole. As we waited for the flight to arrive and the women to deplane, I thought about the beauty that I had witnessed since I woke up. The canyon, the mountains, the river, and the fish all got tattooed on my brain and I hope the ink never fades. People find beauty in a lot of places. For some, it is a New York City skyline at night. For others, it is graphics in a video game. Some folks find it in their imagination while creating the mental images that are inspired by a book. For me, the most beautiful things (not people, you will always be #1 if you're reading this Wendy) that I have ever seen in my life come from nature. The sights and experiences of that day were beautiful in the truest sense of the word...and my trip to Colorado wasn't even half way over!
