They are a jovial bunch, this dawn patrol that descends upon Cherry Creek Reservoir on a weekend when the ice is firm and good.
This frost-footed brigade cheerfully swaps notes on the fish that aren’t biting, pets each other’s pooches, exchanges greetings like long-lost friends. This demeanor stands in stark contrast to the serious souls seeking 10-pounders at Antero or a bucket full of trout at Lake John.
The thing about these seekers of perch, crappie and miniature walleye at Cherry Creek is that even if they tell their best secrets — surrendering what might have been a catch of their own — they haven’t lost much.
Of such reality is benevolence born.
But the stark fact that the catch, if there is one at all, is likely to be measured in inches rather than pounds does nothing at all to dim the enthusiasm of the folks who emerge from both bungalow and manor for this frosty escape.
Walleye and wiper of string-stretcher size prowl the murky waters of this southeast metro lake. Division of Wildlife spawn-taking crews each year nab several double-digit walleye; summer anglers occasionally catch wiper to 15 pounds.
Thing is, hardly anyone catches a bragging-size fish through the ice — certainly not at this early stage of the season when so much natural food is swimming nearby.
“Look at that. Just a whole cloud of shad passing through,” said Dave Bryant, waving toward the screen of his Vexilar fish finder, blazing red with the school of baitfish.
“How are you going to get fish to bite when there’s such an oversupply of shad in this lake?”
Like most others in this loose gaggle of anglers, Bryant is using live minnows obtained from nearby Valley Country Tackle to tempt these finicky fish. He anchors them on a Buckshot Spoon from Northland, useful in attracting attention while providing a direct connection to the fish.
“It’s our only chance. There’s no use trying to tempt these fish without live bait,” says Bryant, an ice expert and a member of the Bass Pro Shops pro staff.
As he says this, he is peering past 8 inches of ice into water with just 3 feet of visibility, a product of the algae that perpetually plague this urban impoundment. Bryant already had made the 20-minute trip from his home in Parker nine times in what has been an extended metro season.
“I’ve caught about 20 walleye, nothing to brag about,” he said. “Also some crappie and a few perch.”
What excites Bryant, along with other metro mavens who also descend on other reservoirs such as Chatfield and Aurora, is a weather pattern that delivered ice early and promises to keep it late. The next good local season may be years away, and the opportunity to stand on top of fish without benefit of a boat will be lost.
But this quest for overfed fish never is easy, even for those armed with minnows, electronics and plenty of determination.
“What we need is a good shad die-off,” Bryant declared.
It was the only morbid comment anyone in this happy, but generally fishless, crowd uttered all morning.
Charlie Meyers: 303-954-1609 or cmeyers@denverpost.com
