Fly Fishing an Alpine Spring Creek: The Underground (Finally) Returns to Stream X

Early in the year, small stream trout exhibit the kind of easygoing eating habits fly fishermen tend to attribute to dumb, rural fish. Later in the year, those same trout get picky (fast), and they become immensely unhappy when fly rods and body parts intrude on their view.

He’s either hiding from trout or praying for a clear backcast.

Still, with clouds and drizzle in the forecast, I decided - despite a great big steaming pile of unfinished work - that I needed to fish a small alpine stream I’d somehow bypassed all year long.

I call it “Stream X” (and no, don’t bother writing to ask), and while it’s hardly a secret, it’s also not particularly well known, and given the paucity of truly good small streams around here, I’m sorta hoping it stays that way.

Off he goes, but not before I get a picture of those gorgeous colors.

With any luck, it might stay a little-fished stream. Finding it amidst a labyrinth of dirt roads is never easy (and I supposedly “know” where it is), but what’s most important is that it’s challenging fishing - especially when the water is low, and the fish spooky.

At the best of times, you need to sneak up on ‘em - and while the abundant snags and bushes provide some cover, they also make casting nearly impossible when you’re sneaking around like a frat boy outside a sorority house window.

The result is a daylong circus of snagged flies, improvised-on-the-spot casts, muffled obscenities, and yes - a handful of embarrassed brown trout.

That’s an embarrassed brown trout if I’ve ever seen one.

Helping matters a little was the drizzle, which at times turned to rain. Helping a lot less was the wind, which happily gusted pretty much every time something delicate was going on streamside. Or maybe it just seemed like it.

I fished Chris Raine’s 8′3″ 4wt hollowbuilt bamboo rod - a hair on the strong side for this stream, but useful when the wind blew. Raine was waving his new 8′3″ 5wt staggered ferrule design around, and after testing it for a bit, the only knock I had was that the rod didn’t display the native intelligence needed to avoid backcasts into trees (someday they’ll build one, trust me).

The 8′3″ 4wt and reel (manufacturers should pay me for this kind of photo placement).

Flies didn’t seem to matter (as long as they floated). I concluded the fly needed to bounce off overhanging grass in the stream or even scoot long the undercut banks themselves; not one of my six trout came out of a riffle or the middle of anywhere.

Most the browns we catch around here lack the bright red spots, but not these.

Chris did about the same, and after a bunch of hours spent skulking, knee walking, hunching, climbing over downed trees, and (yes), catching the odd trout, we were both pretty bushed.

Fall color was definitely on display up there.

Fortunately, we had less trouble finding the way out than the way in, and I drove away pretty pleased with the day - it was challenging fall dry fly fishing and I’d enjoyed modest success - but I wondered why I’d waited all year to get here, and if I’d make it back before the first snow closed the roads.

See you in the mountains, Tom Chandler.

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