a giving day

Well in between spring break and working on the meadow last weekend, I did manage to eke out a fishing trip, yay. 

Snuck up to the Ark when no one was looking, at the end of April when the caddis should have been winding down. Not this year tho, looks like I landed right into the thick of it, schweet. 

I hear from the fly shop the caddis are struggling out of the canyon into Coaldale, so I set myself up that first morning at that canyon trading post public access. I find a favorite pullout, start gearing up, eyeing a few other anglers prospecting the reach below the road. The whole time I'm not seeing anyone hook into any fish, despite the fact two of the prospectors were a guide and his sport. 

Huh. Duuude, that's not right, what gives?

I finally get down to the water, see plenty of caddis adults flitting thru the willows and in the lee of the streamside boulders. Scanning out over the water, you'd never know I was in the van of the hatch, there's zero surface activity showing. 

I fish for a couple hours right into prime time, and I've got hardly bumpkis to show for the morning. Just a few fish on the tandem rig. Huh. 

A couple of anglers eventually catch me up, exit the water as I'm switching pupa, we get to talkin. They report a banner day, you guessed it, yesterday. Today? Bumpkis. Huh, that don't sound right.

We part ways, voicing variations of the theory the fish must've had their fill, hatch stalled, too windy, who-the-hell-knows-that's-why-they-call-it-fishing....

Left alone, I fish for another hour, past 2pm, wondering where that pending hatch went. Knowing it's got to be fishing better somewhere, anywhere but here, I pull stakes and head downriver. 

I got me a notion.

I pull into another favorite pullout down below Texas Creek, delighted to see plenty of unpressured water. Once in, I fish thru some unproductive water, my eye on the prize.

See, there's a big sweeping bend below Texas Creek, maybe a half mile in length, so a dry-fly, river-left angler has the outside bend on his side of the river. In a couple of small reaches that bend may shallow up over some broken cobble, into riffles. No so great there, late in the day, if the hatch ain't happening.

No, the best water late in the day is where that fractured boulder field tumbles right into the water's edge, creating all those pockets. Better still, that particular reach where the willows crowd in amongst the boulder all thick like. 

Puuurfect caddis shelter- boulders & willow windbreak right up to the waters edge, boulders breaking the current creating those small eddies behind each and every one, and 2-feet deep water on the outside bend.

Like I was sayin, perfect. 

I get up to the bottom of that reach, and just like last year, and the year before that, I immediately start holding forth in one of my favorite stretches on the Arkansas River, Colorado. 

It's not long before I'm trying to shake off the smaller fish on LDR's, not wanting to burn the valuable daylight drying out the fly after each fish brought to hand. Eventually, my shredded foam caddis hackle comes off all unwound, and I'm forced to re-rig. I get caught-up by another angler, his curiosity piqued by all the commotion I've been putting up. He's got a shit-eating grin on, starts right in on how he's had a banner day fishing that same black foam caddis adult. He's done, having caught his bakers' dozen, and comments how I just seem to be warming up. 

I ask him if he's been prospecting those edges downstream, he says naw, that's where the anglers have all been wading thru. He's been casting out deep, and what a day to show for it, must've caught 15 fish! I nod back down along my path of destruction, suggest he just might want to reconsider those edges tomorrow. He shrugs, we both agree for some the Ark giveth, sometimes the Ark taketh away.

He heads back downstream to his truck, I turn back to lining up unwitting victims. Not long after, I rise and play my next fish, wondering what kinda bullshitter I'd have sounded if I told him I stuck 15 fish in the last hour alone. 

Sometimes she giveth, sometimes she taketh away. With half the reach yet unspoiled, it was indeed one of those days, one of those giving days. 

fat tire awesome 2013

Auld Lang Syne'g my favorite moments on the bike in 2013.  Thx for riding along!  

dry flies stoke 2013

My best dry flies memories of 2013.  May all of us enjoy more of the same in 2014! M

viento encantado

dawn patrol

Had to opportunity to hook us up with the pilots and crew of the Viento Encantado balloon the last day of ABQ's Balloon Fiesta.

envelope training

rigging

Can't say enough about the hospitality everyone extended the kids and I.  If you have not yet experienced crewing a balloon, you'll find the entire community vibe second to none.

pilot's briefing

lot to learn

we have a go for launch

fun!

just as much for me

Many thanks to Russ, Clark, Aileen for having us out, showing the kids the ropes, literally, about the backstory launching and recovering a hot air balloon.   Quite something to witness the synergy between pilots, crew, balloon first hand.

deflate

elk smoke

elk smoke [elk smohk]; noun  

Def: those wisps of backcountry storm clouds reminiscent of the vapor of elk bugling on a frosty morning.

Origin: First coined by toddler Will the Thrill on one of his first camping trips

 

Usage: peering out of the tent at the remnants of last night's storm, WTW exclaims- 'Look Dad! Elk Smoke!' 

Indeed it is son, indeed it is. 

the fall backpack 2013 series:
fair warning
discovery
elk smoke
epilogue

keep calm

 

that is all~

we're not gonna go home, bro

Michigan Wolverines let their play do the talkin and steal the win from a senior-laden, smack-talkin, dong-punching team of Kansas Jayhawks.

4 secs left in regulation, Trey 'we're not gonna go home, bro' Burke drains a 3 from the next county and seals the 14-point comeback to send it to OT.

That's how you do it right there.

A good day's work...

...done.

Sometimes traveling for work doth hath its privileges.

good morning!

In a profession fueled by coffee, you know you've reached the pinnacle of your avocation when you finally churn your own espresso at the office.

Aahhhhh.

Rank doth hath its privileges.

one more

...to stoke the fires before a long winter's nap.

bike in a box

A fact of life: you can't stop a kid from growin.  To wit, time to cast about for new steeds for both our young racers.

Found a great deal online for Will the Thrill, to set him up into his first 26" wheeled rig.

Check it!

1. 13" alum frame, 29 pounds all told.  Saves 7# off his steel 24" wheeled Schwinn.
2. 24 speeds, deore rear derailleur
3. 80mm front fork, adjustable, lockout
4. Mechanical disc brakes
5. WTB saddle, rims
6. all wrapped into a stealth black frame- Noice!

 

It shipped straight from an online retailer, cuts the LBS middle man and requisite markups.

Saves Team Heitman a good bit of cabbage, all the more important considering we need to stretch our pesos on into another more qualifying 29er for Shredder.


Setup is a snap:

1. Unbox & unwrap
2. Set wheels
3. Install handlebars
4. Connect front brake cabling, adjust brakes.
5. Install pedals
6. Adjust saddle, shifters, bars to fit.
7. Shifts great right out of the box!

 

Buying direct online, from an off-brand manufacturer, is not without it's fair share of controversy and risk (does not support LBS, quality control is a bit suspect), but this here blogger can attest it works for this Team.

The boy absolutely loves it. Loves the weight savings, the big mo' offered by the 'big' hoops, the all-stealth package.  Customized it right away with a gold Poison Spider sticker he's been saving for the better part of two years for just this occasion.  Wooot!

Roll on Dude!

awesomeness

Now this is one cutthroat angler who gets it.

I mean really, really gets it! sniff ;-)



Oregon Coast Range Cutts from Sam Brost-turner on Vimeo.

HT: This Is Fly

colorado river cutthroat trout

 It would appear our neighbors to the north grow their cutthroat big. :-o

river of no return

Well it's true the fly rods have been neglected of late.  :-/

bike down...

With both kids getting into the mtb racing scene read: thank you Jesus! ;-] we have been fairly booked with races and riding, where in past summers we were out chasin fins.  Segue to last weekend's Frazer Mountain Madness, held you know... in Taos.  That same Taos that serves as gateway to all that is good and righteous in our great state.

...fish back up

So, coming off a race on Saturday, and seeing how we wuz in da 'hood, I took advantage of the locale to take off into the high country, bringing only the Yeti for company.  See, I had an eye on a neglected two track that just might serve to connect two points of a squiggly blue line.  Between those two points?  The River of No Return.

A man, a bike, a backpack.  Here then, is our story.  Told in images, until the good stuff runs out.

and in between.

Fair warning, you might wanna get that something cold from the fridge, freshen that bowl of popcorn, this may take a while :-o

stomped

Tunnel trail? Stomped.

I had a hand in that

I make it 5 straight miles of mostly climbing, up Tunnel+West Ridge and back down Otero+Tunnel, back to truck.  10 miles round trip. 

West Ridge trail

Up some of the more grueling, bouldery, babyhead-littered tread Otero has to offer.  Then back down some of that ripping, flowy singletrack in Otero Canyon. 

Otero Canyon

Railing Otero

Only to face that crushing half-mile climb back out of Otero and into Tunnel Canyon, to rip it all over again.

contemplating that long climb back up Tunnero

flying down Tunnel Trail

The girl can bring it~

grass in da house

...bamboo that is!

Recently The Fates over at Outdoor Blogger Network cast my way a golden opportunity to gear test the stuff Dreams are made of: a bamboo* rod, reel, line outfit put together for an extended round-robin contest.   

    *(Yes you read that right: hand-picked. hand-split. cane bamboo.  And not that Kane BamBu you see on the end-aisle at wallyworld either)

Included in the package~

• 2 piece 8' 5wt bamboo rod handcrafted in ID by the good folks at Fall River Fly Rods, namely master craftsman Jason Zicha.  Mr Zicha sir, may I say right out of the gate, a finer thoroughbred has never graced our stables here at la casa de Heitman. It is a schweet stick indeed.
• Balancing the FR rod is a  Montana Fly Company large arbor Madison II reel, with stealth river camo anodizing.  You'll know MFC as the innovator behind the trout skin look applied to most everything we fly anglers hold dear.  Yes iPhones included.  Like Duh!
• Paired with the MFC Madison is a double-taper 5wt RIO Trout LT line, hand-selected for its ability to locate cutthroat trout much like those famous elvish daggers detect the minions of Darkness in LOTR.  OK, I might have made that last part up.  All I can say is it better deliver!  Kidding, RIO attorneys! (kinda?)

RE: contest? OBN summoned eighteen delirious bloggers to attend the 2012 OBN Hunger Games to circle around the Cornucopia and fight a bloody duel to the finish, winner take all, with the aforementioned ensemble awarded to the victor valiant.

OK, might have made that up too.  But that might be cool, no?  Let's just say, looking over the assemblage on my kitchen table, OBN- I'm willing to negotiate terms.   

Wait, Mrs Wulff says no, so I guess the Cornucopia idea is out, my apologiesYoutube! ;-)

In reality, the contest allows each lucky blogger a coupla weeks to drool over fish the combo, then send it along to the next contestant. Fellow blogger Ben Smith of AZWanderings fame received first crack at the combo the last coupla weeks.  I want to thank Mrs Smith for finding the strength, fortitude to finally pry the rod from my former friend's fingers, send it along.

Speaking of thanks, muchas gracias to OBN for this great opportunity, tres gracias to Fall River Rods, Montana Fly Co, RIO for their generosity! 

As for me, I've booked some time this weekend to get lost in the wilds of northern New Mexico.  If we should never meet again, forgive me my friends, please know the temptation was simply too great.

ark wrapup

Wulffpack alpha male in his natural habitat

 So Thursday we lollygagged around Salida, hoping for BWO action.  Getting settled into the river's rhythm and getting caught up with the folks meant Thursday was really the shakedown cruise, the act of fishing of primary importance, catching less so.

young pup getting it done

Friday was our first serious day on the water.  My folks and I huddled together over breakfast, comparing notes on our understanding of best water combining ease of access and wading for the folks, above the main body of the hatch, offering a good chance of an emergence in its own right.

ole guy's still got it!

 We settled on that public water either side of Texas Creek- the water and canyon walls spread out a bit, offering a good heat sink for the sun's rays.  In my experience, TC has nearly always sprung an early emergence, even when the main hatch remained stalled downstream. 

tres amigos

 Friday this again proved to be the case- with both fly shops reporting the main emergence down around spike buck and 5 points, 2.30 showed a moderate emergence at TC, enough for all of us to trade out our subsurface rigs for dries.  While the rising fish were far short of gangbusters, they were numerous enough to offer a consistent stalk for a solid two hours.  With the risers on the wane at 4.30, we headed back to camp, sated on maybe 30 fish for our efforts, largest only around 14"

With the strengthening emergence at TC, Saturday we were primed for bear.  We headed out late to allow the emergence to get on started, our arrival at the river was greeted with the first caddis skipping off, and fish rising in pursuit.  I set both my folks upstream, set about tying the boy's rig up fresh, how he manages those birds nests in a blink of an eye I will never know.  

calm before the storm

I look up just in time to see Mom floating down a channel, having slipped off her perch into fast water.  You fish often enuf, you've prolly been there before yourself- lost your footing, now floating, shipping water like the Titanic, the speed of the current preventing you from regaining your feet, your eyes wide as saucers as you scrabble fruitlessly for purchase.  No matter that water is only 30" deep, you're heading for the wrong side of nowhere fast.

Will deftly nets Gramma's flotsam, while I get dug in, get her float arrested, set her aright on a nearby boulder.  Holy Moly!  That was something huh Mom?

she lands her own fish too

She's a bit flustered for a while, but none the worse for wear, just soaked to the bone, the only thing dry was her hat!  A good dry in the 80d sun, a quick run back to camp for dry clothes, she's back at it landing the two biggest fish for the day.  Boom!  That's how you do it right there.  What a trooper!

Meanwhile the hatch kept strengthening, my Dad, Will and I circle around the area stalking pods or risers. Once caught or put down, we'd search for the next pod, then eventually work our way back around the circle to the initial pod to begin the cycle again.  Wash, rinse, repeat, that was our afternoon on Saturday.  

arkansas river gold

Aside from Mom's morning shenanigans, the rest of the afternoon was like that proverbial walk in the park.  Only with a rising fish behind every riffle, in every pool.  I could not have scripted a better day for we four, anglers all in their element.

Saturday evening's fishing proved off the hook for Will and I, fishing the egg layer evening rise.  Looking over the word count above, I guess that's a story best left for another day.

this fish never stood a chance

Til next time- mike