August 29, 2024
The South Platte River – 11 Mile Canyon (The Upper Road Hole to the Idlewild Run)
Flows: Between 223 cfs.
Moon Phase: Waning Crescent (17% illumination).
Water Temp: 62F @ 9:30a.
Water clarity: Very clear to about 5’ or 6’ with lots of kelp.
Air Temp: 52F @ 8:15a – 72F @ 3:30p.
Hatches: Midge: 8a to 10a. Trico: 8:15a to 10a (clouds of them). Caddis – a smattering throughout the day (Smaller tan variety). PMD: 12:30p to 3p.
Spawning: N/A.
Flies: #22 Parachute Trico, #24 Black Sparkle Wing RS2, #24 Trico Spinner, #24 Callibaetis Sparkle Dun, #22 Sparkle Dun PMD, #18 Klinkhammer PMD, #20 Klinkhammer, #22 Black Manhattan Midge, #10 Chubby Chernobyl, #22 Barr Emerger PMD, #16 Purple Prince Nymph, #20 Parachute Adams, #16 Guide’s Choice Hare’s Ear.
Top producers: Parachute Trico, Callibaetis Sparkle Dun, Barr Emerger PMD.
Standing at the bottom of the Island Run - looking toward the Idlewild Run.
It was about 8:15a as I walked up the dirt road toward the Upper Road Hole. As I approached it there was a fisherman standing on the road and casting his flies into the main pool of the hole. When I got up to him he excitedly said there was a bunch of fish coming to the surface. I asked if he had gotten any, he said he just arrived and hadn’t yet.
I continued up the road a bit then cut down into what used to be a path to the bend of the river. After struggling through the thick willows I set my backpack and nymphing rod on the path and began to survey the river. Surprisingly, I didn’t spot a single fish. As I continued to look around I noticed huge clouds of tricos over the river. Some high up, others lower. It was an awesome sight.
After giving the run a cursory few drifts I headed across the river. I wanted to fish the pool from other side of the guy I ran into on the road. He was still there, and I was thinking “if that guy is lucky enough to hook up fish, there is no way he was going to land it”. When I got close I asked if he would mind me covering my side of the hole. “Go for it” was his reply.
An interesting look from the Log Run.
The trico hatch was on and the trout looked like porpoises frolicking in the pool as they came up to eat the tiny flies, with their backs clearly breaching the surface of the water. This is what draws the crowds of fishermen to this river.
The rush hour.
It’s the rush of cars coming up the dirt road as the sun comes up – with its occupants anticipating the trico hatch. Then it’s the adrenaline rush of the trout aggressively coming to the surface to gorge themselves on the thousands of tiny black flies.
When I parked in the pull-out next to the last bridge at about 8:15a and began to gear up I didn’t see any tricos at first. I thought I got there too late. But then I spotted a small cloud of them over the car. That was encouraging, but I didn’t see any more until I got to the river. That’s when I saw the huge clouds of them.
Before going into the pool on the opposite side of the river from the guy on the road, I tied on a #22 Parachute Trico and followed it with a #22 Black Sparkle Dun. I had read a report that said that after the month or so of these prolific trico hatches, the trout have become very picky – so your flies have to be spot on.
1st fish of the day.
My Parachute Trico has been like magic except for the last time out on this very river. And it was again on this day. As I casted my flies into my side of the pool I quickly lost sight of them because there was so much foam floating by. The white parachute on my fly blended in perfectly. This was a problem.
On my second cast I had a fish on. BAM! But I didn’t see the take. He hit it and ran. When I felt the pull I set the hook and had the bad boy hooked up – briefly. But I saw him on the surface and saw that he hit my first fly – the Parachute.
It was near the end of the hatch – it would only last for about an half hour more – but in that time I had hooked up four trout. I got one in the net and was disappointed with the .250 success ratio. I never liked batting below .300 and I don’t like it with my fish in the net ratio either!
Looking from the "road side" of the Road Hole.
Nevertheless, it was a fun half hour or so. The one fish I got in the net was an interesting sequence of events. I was able to track my Parachute during the drift and as I watched it float into the pool I saw two fish swim aggressively toward it. Then I watched as the rainbow whacked it. BAM! Just like that – fish on. It was about a 15 incher – not the biggest fish, but it was almost a relief to get him the net.
I ran in to a guy – Rich Bend – after practicing golf yesterday. His Jeep was parked next to me and it had a rod rack too. He had just finished a round when I finished practice and we struck up a conversation about fishing. Coincidently he was at 11 Mile the same day and was fishing the Tubes where he landed a few nice trout. He got them on a Trico Spinner. It’s a fly pattern that mimics a dead – or spent – trico. After mating they deposit their eggs on the surface of the river and die, their spent bodies floating in the river.
All the experts say to fish the Spinner after a hatch. I followed that advice after the hatch had died down, but as in many times in the past – I didn’t get any takers. When I was chatting with Rich he said he applied floatant to his Spinners, something I haven’t done. Maybe that’s the trick and I will try that the next time.
The Bridge Hole - AKA the Tubes.
After the hatch – there’s another rush hour. Fishermen packing it in and heading out. I never understood that. There are more hatches as the day progresses. PMDs, caddis, and the afternoon midges. And the fish still feed – although it does seem that after gorging themselves on the tricos they are not so hungry.
I noticed that you have to be target specific fish. If you’re patient and look for the fish. You may see one occasionally coming up to the surface in some flat water or you may spot one feeding on nymphs or emergers in a run. Those are the ones you target. Besides stealth and patients, it requires moving about the river. You’ve got to find them.
That’s how the rest of my day went. First stop after the Upper Road Hole was the Log Run where I only found the frustrating “boot lickers”. Well, I did find a few other fish in the troughs but they were very skittish and disappeared into the some mysterious place in the river.
A beauty in the net.
Then it was on to the Bridge Hole – AKA the Tubes. Nada. Then down to the Beaver Run, the Island Run and the Idlewild Run. Between the Island Run and the bridge down river from it there were about five or six fishermen. I didn’t find anything in the Island Run and soon left. But where should I go?
I could walk farther downstream to the hole below the bridge – the Happy Hour Hole – or I could walk back upstream. There’s a small seam along the shore near the 1st Bend where I watched a couple of guys hook up some nice trout a couple of weeks ago. I thought that might work so I headed that way.
Along the way I’d pass the Upper Road Hole and if I saw any fish in it I’d go after them first. No use passing up fish – right?
This one couldn't resist my Callibaetis Sparkle Dun.
I did spot some fish from the road and I soon found myself in the familiar surroundings of the Upper Road Hole. The PMDs were starting to come off in earnest as I spotted a nice trout in a small seam near the bank right at the bend of the river. I was thinking “is he feeding or just lying there? As I watched him he came up and smacked a fly off the surface. Yep, he was feeding.
I was standing in the deep trough - where Brian and I usually find the fish – and casting back to the small seam near the shore. With the PMD hatch in progress I tied on a #18 Klinkhammer PMD and casted it just upstream of the trout. I saw him come up and give my Klink a thorough inspection – pulling off at the last microsecond. I think it was too big.
I had just tied that fly and the smallest hook size I had was the #18. I tried to tie the fly smaller than the hook size but it didn’t seem to work. After that refusal I tied on a #20 Klinkhammer following the #18 one. I got another deep inspection but no take so I replaced the last Klink with a #24 Callibaetis Sparkle Dun.
Releasing a rainbow.
On my next drift the trout followed the Sparkle Dun downstream as the fly floated past him. I was ready to set the hook on that bad boy – but he didn’t take it. On the next cast he did.
BAM! Fish on!
That was fun and I fought that bad boy to the net. A nice 18” rainbow.
I soon found myself back casting into the river left side of the seam of the pool near the road. There is a foam line formed by the seam and I was casting my flies into it – letting them drift along it to the tail end of the pool. I had my Hopper/Dropper rig and it was set up with my #10 Chubby with a #16 Guide’s Choice Hare’s Ear dropped off and followed by a #22 Barr Emerger PMD.
As my Chubby drifted down the foam line past the pool and near the tail end of it, my Chubby disappeared. BAM! I set the hook and was fighting nice rainbow. He was strong and kept taking me into the thick kelp. I was doing everything I could to keep him out of it – but there was so much of it it was impossible. If the fish gets into the kelp your line can get caught up in it – and if it does, it often leads to a break off.
Another rainbow.
Every time he drove me into the kelp I would pull up on my rod trying to pull his head up and keep him out. Then he got pretty deep into it and I couldn’t lift my rod any more. That’s all it took, and he broke off.
As I was collecting myself I noticed a nice brownie in the calm water near the bank on the other side of the river. He would casually come up and sip a fly every now and then. My first thought was that maybe I could drift my Chubby by him and he’d hit it – or maybe he’d chase one of my Droppers. Then I thought it was too risky. I could spook him and if I did, he may go down and stop feeding.
So I waded back upstream and across the river to get my dry fly setup. Once back in place I casted the flies to him – targeting my landing just upstream of him. With the seam in between him and me, I’d only get a short drift before the current would drag them unnaturally. After several drifts I had a couple of good drag free drifts right in the zone that got his attention. He inspected them but pulled off.
I moved on but made a mental note of where he was – thinking I may come back for him later.
The Log Run.
The Easiest Fish I Ever Hooked Up
I was standing on the roadside of the pool where there is a shelf – my feet barely in the water. The shelf quickly drops off into the deep pool. In between casting my dry flies I noticed a nice rainbow – 19” or more – right below me to my right. He was next to my feet but in the deeper, slack water and I watched him come up and sip a fly.
I thought to myself “maybe he’d hit one of mine” – and I dropped my flies in the slack water near him. This wasn’t a cast – rather I just lifted my rod and dropped my flies into the water. Then I watched as he came up and ate my small #24 Callibaetis Sparkle Dun.
BAM! I set the hook and was now fighting a big rainbow – thinking to myself “that is the easiest fish I ever caught”. Then I reminded myself that he wasn’t in the net yet.
He tried to run out into the seam of fast water, but I was able to keep in the slower water of the pool. As I guided him upstream – my rod bent and pointed to my left – I remembered that is how I lost a couple of fish the last time out. I was trying to get him upstream of me and to my left – in a perfect position to net that bad boy.
Another look at the skinny, 18" rainbow that I got in the Upper Road Hole.
In order to do that – you have to guide (or slightly pull) the fish that way. As I was doing this the little guy on my right shoulder said “you’re pulling too much - put your rod up he’s going to break off”. And the little guy on my left shoulder said “I almost have him where I want him – just one or two more seconds”.
The guy on my right shoulder was right. He broke off in that one or two second span. UGH!!
After that I thought of that brownie in the slack water that I saw earlier. I was now on his side of the river and upstream of him by about 30 feet. I was wondering if he was still there – and if he was, how should I present my flies?
I casted them about 10 feet from the shore and upstream of where I thought he was and let the current pull my flies in toward the bank. Then I let out some line – then some more – then just a bit more.
Then - - - BAM!
Looking upstream into the Island Run.
The brownie came up and smacked my fly with a splashy, aggressive hit. Most of his body was out of the water in that brief second – the coloration of his beautiful spots clearly visible.
Before casting to him I thought to myself “if he is there and he does hit – just let him take it. Don’t try to set the hook – because if you do, you’ll just pull the fly out of his mouth. Let him hook himself”.
I couldn’t help myself – I set the damn hook! He was on until I did that, and when I did I could clearly see the fly as it was pulled out of his mouth. All I could do was shake my head.
My next cast was with my Hopper/Dropper. I casted my Chubby into the same foam line that I did earlier from the other side of the river. My Chubby disappeared in almost the same spot – BAM!
A beauty.
Fish on – yeah baby! I fought him to the net – the same way I did when I had the 19 incher on. Only this time I followed the advice of the little guy on my right shoulder and kept my rod up higher as I guided him to my left and netted a 17” rainbow. He took the #22 Barr Emerger PMD.
The rush hour was long over and throughout most of the afternoon I had the whole place to myself. I had a handful of fish in the net – and just as many lost for one reason or the other. The only sounds were from the birds and the babbling water - and every now and then – the splash of a fish on. Fly fishing just the way I like it!
Oh the rush hour.
The rush you get in that hour or so when the tricos are hatching. Clouds of them, thick in the air and trout porpoising in the pools eating them. Then when it’s over, the tranquility of fly fishing on a quiet river that you have all to yourself. Fly fishing at its finest.
The memory forever etched into our minds.
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