Walden – There was, Scott Graham knew, a stream over there somewhere.
No matter that he hadn’t seen water for long minutes, time spent untangling his fly rod from willows, thrashing through thigh-high grass and, of course, swatting mosquitoes. But it had to be there someplace.
“This is a lot more like hunting than fishing,” he said, executing a gymnastic spin between branches. “You have to work for what you get here.”
Somewhere over in an adjacent thicket, the Michigan River trickled its way across the broad expanse called North Park, at once the consummate meadow stream and ultimate angling enigma.
The mere fact that it carries the exalted title of river might be reason for review. Barely 5 yards across. Sometimes scarcely running enough water to float a bathtub toy. But there’s the name on every map, pouring down from the Medicine Bow Mountains in the southeast corner of the park, wandering through miles of ranchland, ultimately joining the North Platte, which, everyone agrees, really is a river.
But just when you’re ready to write the Michigan – and several other small area streams – off as a cruel joke, you hear the stories. Nearly every local has a tale about orange-sided monsters thrusting hooked jaws up through a tangle of roots to pull down a fly or lure, like some troll with fins.
Graham, who for the past three years has managed the North Park Anglers fly shop in Walden, has collected his share.
“I’ve caught a dozen browns over 20 inches in Roaring Fork Creek,” Graham said.
Graham also had captured nice trout during evening forays along the Michigan, where it flows not far from his house on the outskirts of town. Sizable trout indeed lurk in the deep holes of these thin ribbons of water that ramble across North Park.
But timing is everything on meadow streams where trout and fishing maintain an uneasy balance with cattle ranching – particularly that aspect that involves the growing of hay.
With a ganglia of streams pouring across its undulating surface, the broad valley called North Park may be Colorado’s most prolific producer of grass. On a day in late June, flooded meadows glisten in the sun, while water courses shrink to a trickle.
Trout retreat to deep holes under the protection of branches, holding places often spaced hundreds of yards apart. A determined angler must maintain the resolve to bash his way from one fish to the next.
Flooded meadows also produce another bumper crop. North Park mosquitoes earn high marks both for size and vigor, perhaps the only creature that might love a visiting angler solely for his body.
Having rescued his gear from the willows and earned a Deet-induced standoff with the bugs, Graham hop-scotched along the Michigan to catch a number of small brown trout. A 12-incher that darted out from a seam of current to grab a caddis emerger proved the catch of the day.
A later visit to the Division of Wildlife’s Manville Lease on the Roaring Fork produced the same challenge: Low water, long hikes between potential fish-holding spots, even more bugs.
“It’s a classic of haying season,” DOW biologist Ken Kehmeier said of the water situation. “We’re looking at a fairly low snowpack on all these river systems, particularly on the east side of the park.”
Kehmeier believes the water condition will improve when irrigation slows down in early July, perhaps inducing some of the larger trout that might have migrated down from the Roaring Fork to the North Platte to return.
In a valley best known for its rich reservoirs, the various stream- based state wildlife areas remain something of a mixed bag. Obtained through a series of perpetual easements and long-term leases in the mid-1980s, they generally provide more fishing recreation than fish – places where anglers almost literally can lose themselves amid the willows.
“I can fish here for days without seeing anyone,” Graham said.
Part of the trouble with the fishing is that trout share the streams with cattle, a situation that over the past century has not been kind to the habitat. Trampled banks produce widening and loss of cover for trout, which also makes them vulnerable to predatory birds such as white pelicans.
But, as Kehmeier suggests, they do provide access and opportunity, angling commodities not always available elsewhere. Wherever you go in North Park, there’s always a river around there someplace.
Charlie Meyers can be reached at 303-820-1609 or cmeyers@denverpost.com.
