HARTSEL — In one of those rare examples of nature imitating man, two bald eagles keeping watch where the South Platte River empties into Elevenmile Reservoir formed a mirror image to the fishermen plodding along shore.
In their separate ways, each had come to look for trout, often large, that make a loosely scheduled spawning run into that reach of river anglers call, simply, the Dream Stream.
Beginning in late February and continuing deep into March, spawning rainbow and cutthroat trout, along with an occasional brown with a taste for omelet, forsake the relative safety of Elevenmile to enter the 5-mile river segment ending abruptly at Spinney Mountain Dam.
In times past, the dream suggested total bliss: a tailwater with open water year-round, giant spawning trout in spring and fall, ample natural reproduction to maintain a perpetual wild population of all three species. Whirling disease removed much the latter element a dozen years ago, but popularity among Front Range anglers seems to have dwindled little, if at all.
Never is this more true than in spring. Through the years, fortunate fishermen have filled photo albums, magazine covers, even books and videos, with the images of magnificent trout captured in this catch-and-release water.
Hooking these vulnerable fish seldom proves a problem. The greater challenge always has been to know the time when the release from Spinney, controlled by the City of Aurora’s water department, would be sufficient to coax the lunkers up from the lower lake. The angling circus created by such an attraction serves as a turnoff to some; others consider a bout of combat fishing a small price to pay for the trout of a lifetime.
This year’s test has been more complicated than most. A problem with a pipeline far downstream in Aurora’s delivery system caused the water agency to limit the Spinney release to a measured 50 cubic feet per second — about half what is needed to provide a comfortable cover for big fish.
Brian Fitzpatrick, Aurora’s manager of delivery, estimated the repair, and the lower flow, would last well into April — past the peak of the run.
“The only change would be if there’s an early melt-out higher up the system where we’d simply pass that flow straight through Spinney. But that doesn’t seem likely,” Fitzpatrick said.
The bitter paradox for eager anglers battling terminal attacks of cabin fever is that what seemed a perfect season for a watershed loaded with snowpack has been stymied by a busted pipe.
This leaves fishermen, such as our downtrodden pair from the Denver area, with options as thin as the water flowing across the inlet: Bet a tank of gasoline that a few big fish can’t suppress their reproductive urges, whatever the flow, or simply blow it off until next year.
On a day when a cruel gale howled across a snowscape straight from Siberia, a bare handful of delusional souls peered balefully into a river where wind-driven waves spoiled any opportunity to spot fish. Most left after an hour or two.
For Aurora resident Joe Childs, this marked his fourth Dream Stream foray of the season, eager to replicate a memorable day in 2006 when he landed seven trout heavier than 10 pounds.
“The best I’ve done this year is 4 pounds,” he said above the wind. “I’ve caught a number of trout, but they’ve all been little guys.”
As he tiptoed along the lower river, where sheets of ice collected in the slack flow, Childs frightened an eagle that rose in the air, banked sharply, then stooped to grab a smaller bird sitting on the snow. Securing its meal for the day, the eagle at least had options.
Whether fishermen have similar opportunity on the Dream Stream depends on some miraculous intervention by the weather gods. Otherwise, this will be a season for the birds.
Charlie Meyers: 303-954-1609 or cmeyers@denverpost.com
