Mosca – Here’s a quiz for the fly-fishing ages.
The differences between a carp conclave at San Luis Lake and a visit to a Bahamian bonefish flat are:
For anyone unable, or unwilling, to come up with the scratch for a bonefish expedition, the questions are particularly appropriate.
Here on the broad expanse of the San Luis Valley, as well as dozens of other lakes and streams across Colorado, anglers enjoy a search for arm-stretching carp that in most respects are remarkably similar to what you’ll find along the rim of southern oceans. Little wonder aficionados call them Rocky Mountain bonefish.
San Luis Lakes, the largest of which has been incorporated into what may be Colorado’s most peculiar state park, may not provide the largest carp in the state, perhaps not even the most. What it does offer is a spectacular surrounding that in many respects rivals anything you’ll find in the islands.
From the towering Blanca massif to the southeast to the sharp pinnacles of the Crestone group farther north, the Sangre de Cristo range reveals seven 14,000-foot mountains. Somewhere in the middle of all this, Great Sand Dunes National Park continues to grow its grand, shifting towers.
It’s almost enough to make one forget that San Luis Lake, in its present decimated state of water retention is, well, basically just a carp hole. In an effort to eliminate what biologists rather rudely lump together as “rough fish,” the Division of Wildlife in April applied a rotenone treatment that killed many smaller carp. Happily for a small cadre of enthusiasts, most of the larger fish survived.
Praise for a shallow lake surrounded by a barren expanse of greasewood and generally whipped to a muddy froth by prevailing southwest winds may seem odd to anyone who doesn’t know the delights of casting to carp.
Bill Dobson, whose home near Poncha Springs is 75 miles from the lake, typically spends most spare moments trying for trout on the Arkansas River. He discovered the San Luis carp from a friend who spotted them while water skiing and his fishing regimen hasn’t been the same since.
“There’s some real torpedos in here,” Dobson said. “They’re a beautiful fish, in a carp sort of way.”
For those who move past the generally unsavory image of carp as a trash fish, this European import provides remarkable sport as a change of pace from more traditional pursuits.
Big, strong and ever-so-available, carp take a wide variety of flies and baits – provided an angler observes the proper protocol for approaching a creature that can be every bit as wily as, well, a bonefish.
For anglers enraptured by the spirit of the chase, the best locations feature areas with shallow water where carp can be observed foraging, or mudding, for food hidden in the soft bottom. You’ll often spot a school spread out in a feeding pattern, tails in the air just like, well, bonefish.
A carp’s broad dietary range includes a variety of insects, crayfish, even small fish. At various times, they even attack lures. Fly-fishermen who stealthily maneuver into casting range tempt them on various patterns that might vary by location and season.
On Monday, Dobson and his Leadville companion, Dick Anderson, found San Luis carp in the mood for a bead-head Woolly Booger. In water that rarely reaches knee deep, Dobson suspends his offerings beneath a high-floating dry fly that serves as an indicator. Other times, he crawls the lure along the bottom without the top fly. The notion is to keep the fly on the bottom, where carp root for food, then cause it to crawl along to attract notice.
When hooked, carp streak off on a long, burning run much like, well, a bonefish. The same stout tackle works well for both. Substantial carp populations exist in virtually every large reservoir east of the mountains. You’ll also find them in the cold, clear water of Elevenmile Reservoir, in the South Platte River where it flows through Denver and in most ponds around the area created by gravel mining.
The carp craze among fly-fishermen appears to be spreading. The Platte River Fly Shop in Casper has added carp trips to its repertoire, even acquiring flat boats to pole across local reservoirs much like, well, bonefish guides.
Recently, Denver angler Will Rice reported great carp success at Jackson Lake, another state park, near Fort Morgan. For proof, he provided photos of large golden fish every bit as big as the ones at San Luis Lake.
Trouble was, Rice’s shots didn’t include any Fourteeners and certainly not any sand dunes.
Listen to Charlie Meyers at 9 a.m. each Saturday on The Fan Outdoors, radio KKFN 950 AM. He can be reached at 303-820-1609 or cmeyers@denverpost.com.
