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Take your pick. The story line here either is the standard institutional yarn about how congressional action saved a historic fish hatchery to the great benefit of Colorado anglers or, if you prefer, local boy makes good.
Take your pick. The story line here either is the standard institutional yarn about how congressional action saved a historic fish hatchery to the great benefit of Colorado anglers or, if you prefer, local boy makes good.
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Leadville – Take your pick. The story line here either is the standard institutional yarn about how congressional action saved a historic fish hatchery to the great benefit of Colorado anglers or, if you prefer, local boy makes good.

From whatever starting point, the tale dovetails into the sort of feel-good scenario that makes you glad to be a member of the fishing fraternity. The plot revolves around the venerable Leadville Fish Hatchery – the second-oldest federal hatchery in the nation, founded in 1889 – and the man who serves as its assistant manager.

Carlos Martinez, a third-generation Leadville resident and star cross country runner, often did training runs past the facility located at the base of 14,418-foot Mount Massive southwest of town.

Puffing along at 9,500 feet, that youngster scarcely could have guessed that, after graduation with a degree in wildlife and fisheries biology from the University of Wyoming and a stint with the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers on the Snake River in Washington, he’d be back in 1999 at the same old hatchery during the most critical time of its existence.

For all its history and benefit, the Leadville unit seemed doomed to closure five years ago, a victim of disease, a budgetary crunch and bureaucratic indifference.

“If it wasn’t for a 2002 appropriation in Congress, it probably wouldn’t have made it,” Martinez said of an effort spearheaded by U.S. Sen. Wayne Allard.

The trouble originated with the discovery of whirling disease, a 1995 event that, coupled with the Division of Wildlife ban on stocking infected fish, rendered the Leadville unit virtually useless.

The congressional rescue provided $2.025 million to install a state-of-the art filtration and treatment facility that processes 3,000 gallons of water per minute. The result is an annual output of 100,000 catchable rainbow and cutthroat trout bound mostly for nearby Turquoise and Twin lakes as mitigation for the disruption caused by the Frying Pan-Arkansas project. Production is expected to increase by half in the near future.

“Two million isn’t a lot when you consider the impact of the hatchery and the fishery on the local economy,” Martinez declared.

The hatchery was certified free of WD in late 2006, a time also marked by the construction of eight concrete raceways to further keep the disease at bay.

As he tells the story, Martinez, now 33 with a master’s degree, is peering into trays wriggling with 12,000 3-day-old greenback trout, soon to be key players in the recovery of the native trout of Colorado’s Eastern Slope.

These fry are destined to become brood stock in an expanding cycle of restoration that includes two tributaries of Rock Creek, whose headwaters above the hatchery contain one of the populations being used in the Threatened and Endangered Species recovery effort.

“My best memories are when my father and I hiked up Rock Creek to fish for brook trout,” Martinez said of the import that has in large part been removed to make room for the greenback.

His dream now is for additional funding to construct a new hatchery building that will permit conversion of the existing antique brick building into a museum. One might argue that the facility is that already, a magnificent structure that attracts 36,000 visitors each year.

A place that also serves as a trailhead for climbing Mount Massive once shipped Yellowstone cutthroat as far as Europe; one still hears reports of these bright trout swimming in waters deep in the Alps.

Farther up the trail, a plaque marks the location of the old Evergreen Lakes Hotel, where Molly Brown celebrated her wedding breakfast.

“There’s a lot of history here, a ton of tales,” Martinez marveled. “Someday I’d like to write a book about it.”

Should that happen, the circle of the story indeed would be complete.

Staff writer Charlie Meyers can be reached at 303-954-1609 or cmeyers@denverpost.com.

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