BASALT — Paul Franklin could have been forgiven for thinking he had wandered back into the previous week. Only better.
The scene that unfolded for the Thornton resident a while back on the Frying Pan River just below Ruedi Reservoir conjured up the humorous quote from Lefty Kreh, the one about the fishing being so good he thought it was yesterday.
But this was real and, as far as fishing goes, a bit on the serious side. At least it was for Franklin, who had coaxed three companions through single-digit temperatures to the spot where he had enjoyed glorious success exactly seven days earlier.
No pressure here.
The situation, Franklin kept saying on the extended drive west from Denver, was that a cluster of trout, mostly spawn-run browns, had gathered in the stretch just downstream from the dam. The action, he said, was just about the best he’d ever seen in the peak of winter.
But that was last week, much more daunting than Lefty’s yesterday.
It also was the middle of January, a time when Frying Pan browns long since should have ended their romantic endeavors. Unless this was some aquatic take-off on “Desperate Housewives,” the orgy had to end, and soon.
Like nearly everything involving Colorado’s fishing affairs, spawning schedules have lagged weeks, perhaps months, behind the norm. Frying Pan browns obviously were no exception.
Still, this nuance of timing added just one more element of uncertainty to the always chancy prospects of winter fishing in rivers. If we needed any reminder, it came from the layer of hoar frost that gave vegetation at water’s edge the appearance of bottle brushes or the brisk wind moving through a red sandstone canyon still streaked with shadows.
For Franklin, relief wasn’t long coming. Targeting a slot slightly deeper than the shallow flats around it, he hooked a trout on his second cast. That fish was lost, but certainly not the day.
What ensued over the next seven hours was one of those seasonal miracles that might have been recorded on parchment rather than in a fishing film. With trout slurping all around, it never occurred to anyone to pause for lunch, a bathroom break or even a sip of water.
A triple hook-up highlighted a day when doubles became almost commonplace. Nearly all the fish were brown trout and the only thing missing were the mysis-fed hogs often anticipated in this famous tailwater stretch. With a slack flow of 77 cubic feet per second, the really big fish had retreated to deep water. The notable exception, a large and brilliantly marked male rainbow, fairly bulged from a steady omelette feast.
Most bites came on an assortment of midges, sizes 22 and 24: Candy Canes, Jujubee midge, Mercury midge, various mysis imitations and the so-called “Secret Weapon from Dorsey.”
Among the Colorado tailwaters famous for giant fish in cold weather, the Frying Pan is the only one where anglers occasionally arrive in limos, high rollers bored after a few days skiing at Aspen.
It also attracts a caravan of visitors from the Front Range, anglers willing to risk I-70 traffic and uncertain weather for a tug or 30 on the line. Perhaps none is more devoted than Paul Geer.
Without access to a chauffeur and with no inclination to pay exorbitant lodging fees, the Arvada resident at least twice each month makes the red-eye round trip to satisfy his passion for uncluttered fishing.
“I only go from November to April,” Geer explained. “There’s just too many people, too much attitude the rest of the year. To me, its always much better in winter.”
There’s another saying, older than Kreh’s, that goes something like this: You never can do the same exact thing all over again, only similar.
Much to Franklin’s relief, you also can do it better.
Charlie Meyers: 303-954-1609 or cmeyers@denverpost.com
