With the weather looking sketchy for the next several days for precipitation, today was our best shot at a good hike. We packed up our day packs, Miki with our food and me with my fishing gear (priorities you know). Our trail is just south of Breckenridge, so we arrived at our turnoff within 30 minutes from our campground. Spruce Creek Rd. turned us into a subdivision of sorts, if you can call a bunch of houses (very nice mountain getaway homes) scattered throughout the forest, a subdivision. Our road now transitioned from asphalt to groomed gravel. After the last home on the smooth like road, the road transitions to crap. I guess you would call this a somewhat maintained borderline 4-wheel drive road. Most any car would be fine to the trail head. The road does not stop at the first trailhead, this is Colorado, where ground clearance ranks up there with engine size in the midwest. If you choose to continue on, you find the road deteriorates further (crap+) in smoothness and steepness. Of course we continued on...we have a Chevy 4x4 diesel! The only problem with this picture, is our truck's suspension is so stiff (to handle the 5th wheel) that every bump is magnified. So up the trail we crept, occasionally letting other 4x4s pass us with normal cushy suspension. We were only going slightly faster than someone walking beside us, but we reached our parking area in good shape and all four tires still inflated.
The joy of taking the truck that extra distance was a difference of additional miles to our trail. We were now down to a little over 2 miles. We grabbed our packs and headed up. We had a choice...a trail or FWD (4 wheel drive) road. Both got you to the same place, but not sure where the trail was. The road was more obvious. Up the road we went. It was pretty cool in temperature and we were layered up for the day. Not far up the trail we started peeling off the first layer...the road had a pretty good incline (thus the FWD). About an hour after we left the truck, we arrived at the lake. It was a welcome sight because the wind had picked up a bit.
Down to business. Miki found a good place to get prone while I strung up a new fly rod I had to have, just for such an occasion (hiking). I chose what looked like a delicious fly from my case and before I knew it, I was casting for trout that I hadn't met yet. They were cruising the shore and were what I thought were pretty good size for an alpine lake. My experience in the next mountain valley over, the Mohawk Lakes, only gave up smaller sized cutthroats, but some of these were easily 15" or so. I was jazzed. If Tooga were me, he'd be drooling.
I quickly tried a number of different flies, trying to decipher their appetite. They spared no time in meeting my flies, but turned their noses up and cruised away. As I was casting, there was only low willowy brush about waist high to stay clear of and was very manageable. I had just changed flies and was casting out to where there was some surface action, when I noticed the last foot and a half of my NEW rod was missing from the rest of it and was floating out in the water. Let me put this another way. I had somehow just broken the only fly rod with me within the first 15 minutes of arriving at nirvana. I collected the tangled mess and assessed my situation.
Pre-catastrophe, I knew they wanted me. |
Post-catastrophe, I was hoping they weren't laughing at me. |
One little fish, one big goal. |
One happy fisherman, and one dry Miki. |
Back down the way we came, memories in mind. |
My Zend from the Road (trail): NIL DESPERANDVM (nothing is to be despaired of)... ...Never say die.
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