Divide and conquer.
For those seeking respite from high water, that military adage may prove the best advice for manageable stream fishing – as well as blessed relief from crowding and other holiday ills.
The solution is simple enough. Find a river that’s flowing a bit too powerfully for your taste. Then, to paraphrase Yogi Berra, when you come to a fork in the stream, take it.
Such smaller tributaries offer the most obvious solution to the current troubles with extended runoff that plague many rivers in the western part of the state. Although most currently maintain a higher flow than usual, you’ll find them generally clear and inviting.
The fact that a vast majority of the holiday throng will be pounding along the main roads and campgrounds only compounds the benefit.
Which is precisely what Jon Harp experienced Sunday when he negotiated a forest road through the Rio Grande National Forest, then hiked for half an hour up a stream few Coloradans know exists.
The Rio de Los Pinos rises in the South San Juan Wilderness, pauses briefly at Trujillo Meadows Reservoir, then snakes through broad meadows and steep gorges before joining the San Antonio River to wander off into the flat, dry expanse of the San Luis Valley.
Apart from a remarkable isolation penetrated only by the daily summer passage of the Cumbres & Toltec Scenic Railroad, these canyon reaches of the Los Pinos offer a population of brown trout that extends beyond the size expectation anglers normally assign to a small stream.
Take, for example, the 17-incher that swallowed Harp’s nymph only brief minutes after he reached the water. Or a similar specimen that later grabbed a dry fly only to soon let go. In between, the Los Pinos produced enough intermediate browns to make three visitors very glad they had taken the walk along the narrow-gauge track into a world far removed from the population centers to the north and east.
Harp, a former professional golfer, discovered the relative isolation of south Conejos County a dozen years ago – about the time he began to realize the greater emotional benefits of searching for trout relative to small white balls.
“When a man who operated a guide service asked me to do some work for him, that’s all I needed,” Harp said.
First from a base in Walsenburg and then even closer at La Veta, Harp regularly made the jaunt to a place that feels the fleeting footprints of the occasional tourist, but surprisingly few visitors from the upper Front Range.
“Not many people truly know this area,” Harp said.
When the opportunity came to open the Conejos River Anglers fly shop (719-376-5660), a full-service operation at the hamlet of Mogote, 4 1/2 miles west of Antonito on Colorado 17, Harp jumped.
Much of the reason can be found in a quick scan of a forest map that shows the blue squiggles of small streams spreading like the branches of a willow tree off into the outback. For a Front Range resident accustomed to a scattering of creeks suitable for fishing, the bounty of the Conejos country is astonishing.
“Los Pinos probably ranks no better than No. 7 on my list of small streams to fish,” Harp said, quickly calculating the mental math. “But at this water level, it may be No. 1.”
Part of the reason rests in the way the stream spins along in a classic series of riffles and pools that point like directional arrows to the places trout are likely to wait. At higher flows, an angler should look for the stretches with more moderate gradient; later in the season, a hike into the steeper canyons will yield even more profound solitude.
Like much of southwest Colorado, those drainages that flow toward the Rio Grande received copious quantities of snowfall. Continuing runoff delayed the start of prime fishing season, but compensation will come from solid water levels in late summer and autumn.
Meanwhile, there’s plenty of clear water in a dozen streams where few people go. For recreationists seeking respite from the crowds, much the same can be said for a number of locations across the state. Except in the far southwest, high-country trails are free of snow, although a late spring has delayed the thaw at many cirque lakes above timberline.
The secret to holiday happiness is simple enough. Find a good map, make a few calls for local information and head for those wild and wonderful places where most people won’t go.
Find the end of the road and begin walking upstream. Heeding Yogi’s advice, take the fork.
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.
