Thursday, July 28, 2011

the rest of the story

Well I would be remiss if I did not fill you guys in on the rest of the story.  Let me just say not every trip can be that bed of roses we all envision in the planning.  Last weekend proved that adage true enuf.

queue Ralphie in the Christmas Story: insert 'oooh fuuuuudge' caption here
Too lazy to pack everything for our trip the night before, I just told myself I'd finish packing in the morning, let the boy sleep in a bit while getting that done.  So the morning of, I'm up, all bleary eyed and stumbing around in the dark.  I'm 'clever' enuf to remember to double-check that I indeed put away all my primo fly gear taken on the Fourth of July backpack trip.  I feel thru the backpack in the dark (out on the back porch) check all the pockets for the tell tale signs of my favorite high country fly boxes, nippers, dessicant, hemos- not there, schweet. That can only mean I put that all back in the gear bag out in the garage right?  sure!

So we're packing the daypack at the trailhead, some hours later and miles upon miles from home, I'm digging around in the gear bag and just not finding those fly fishing essentials needed for the day.  Dam!  Left next to the backpack on back porch.   So I'm left scrambling to assemble a meager supply of secondhand flies from Mrs Wulff's box (boy I really need to stock her back up!), and those broken hemos, played-out dessicant, old tippet spools we all seem to collect for just such emergencies.

Not a good start for the day, I'm sure you all can empathize. 

We finally boot up, get ready to hit the trail, realize I left my wide-brimmed hat in the other fishmobile.  Back at home.  My lucky hat, not cool dude.

Moving on, we check the trail register, find that two over-zealous anglers have headed up the river before us.  At 7am.  Most likely will have strip-mined the entire stream ahead of us.  Guess we'll have to hoof it a bit, maybe get lucky and cut the river up above the competition.  That might give my boy a sporting chance.

Mid morning finds the boy and I two miles up the trail.  Lightning strikes in the form of 'wait a minute buddy, did you see me pack my waders?'  You guessed it, back in the car.  Two miles back down the trail.  Guess I'll just wet wade today, that liquid snow can't be all that cold now can it?

We finally cut the stream at our jumping off point, I'm rigging rods while the boy digs out his waders.  Ummm, Dad, these aren't my waders, I have the brown ones.  Yep, you guessed it, I packed my girl's waders.  Of course I did.  The boy had to fish in borrowed waders all day long.

Me? My teeth were chattering most all the day, especially given that 4-hour Tboomer that started not an hour into our fishing.  Don't forget my feet wore all to hell shifting around in wading boots too big without the neoprene booties.

Insult, meet Injury: we're finally packing it out at the end of a very long day, I'm finally dried-out and warmed up for the first time in like 6 hours.  One more stream crossing, I'm already imagining sitting down to big post-fishing burger dinner.  If not for that dam rock, which rolls underfoot, I plunge sideways straight into the drink.  

In like six inches of water. 

Enuf to soak me head to toe, bruise a hip, render a limp and shred more than a good amount of pride.  As a wise man once said- Mother trucker!

Well, back home I'm grinning as I write this:  A Trip To Be Remembered.

On the flipside, my boy caught some fish- can honestly say 'twas worth the coin paid.

Wednesday, July 27, 2011

awesomeness: little big man

Spent a hard day on the water with my best bud last weekend.

 Oh a few fish were caught allright.  But they were hard won, each and every one.

My day's shining moment: my boy wading into the run, casting what must have been 20 times before he finally got the distance and aim to work out enuf to cover the fish rising sporadically next to the bank.  

But that persistent casting eventually did the trick, sticking that final cast- the fish turning, leaving his lie to run that fly down like a kid after the ice cream truck.  Fish On!

 Good work little man, that's how you get it done right there.

Saturday, July 23, 2011

ten and two

La familia arrived back from an extended visit in the Great State of Michigan, Team Roughrider's ancestral fishing grounds.  While there, Grandad helped the kids build their new rods- schweet lil 4wts with custom marbled epoxy guide wraps.  marbled?  seems all the hip kids are doin it these days :-)  I matched the gifts with a new Okuma reel and line for the boy's birthday.

We spent some time practicing ten-and-two in our casting pond out back.  The boy was nailing soccer ball trout before you knew it.

With the return of NM's monsoons, the national forests are opening back up, thank dog.  Got a lil trip planned for tomorrow to celebrate.  Wooot!

Wednesday, July 20, 2011


It rained over la casa de Roughrider this evening, thank Dog.  The kids celebrated by splashing in the gutter, stopping now and again to turn their faces up to the sky, letting the shower soak them to the bone, washing that drought away.

looks like our monsoons have finally arrived
Mrs Wulff and I celebrated with a margarita on the back porch, enjoying the cool breezes and earthy aromas that lingered afterwards.

Such is life in the high desert.

Nice to have it back.

Sunday, July 17, 2011


and lots of it- congrats everyone!

Great group effort for chunky monkey 5k tonight. Ice cream @ finish- now that's my kinda race!

Saturday, July 16, 2011

Wednesday, July 6, 2011

points north

Headed to points north over the holiday weekend, what with Every. Single. National Forest in NM closed to recreation as our fine state remains in the midst of NM's driest period, in recorded history.  Say it with me, Yuck.  So I was anxious to see how La Nina, la hermana mala round these parts, has been treating our good neighbors in Colorado. I hear she has a different reputation up there. ;-)

So I set my sights on the Rio Grande side of the fabled Weminuche, and those high country streams that head up out of the Divide.  And that's all I have to say 'bout that, as I'm sure you will understand.

My goals were simple, if many.
winged ant
Stage a far-ranging hike in, along a Rio Grande feeder's feeder.

Sample as much of the varied water offered, as was humanly possible along the way.

Basecamp near the high country source of the feeder's feeder.
springfed source- one of countless hundreds

double spring- cutthroat in each plunge pool
the valley of life- elk calves,snowbank springs, cutthroat headwaters
  Meet some new friends.
this little guy and his sibling got 'left' behind as the herd spooked on up the canyon
you lookin at me?

near one hundred head that first night

crept within 30 yards before the sentries spotted me

Make a snowball and see some fireworks on the Fourth of July.

Ascend the Divide.

check out that snow cornice!

that ridge was a bit hairy- 1000 foot plunge either side

 Oh, and connect with some Rio Grande cutthroat trout in the process.

hard day at the office
trail's end
It is indeed a gorgeous world we live in, so get on out there!

Tuesday, July 5, 2011

there and back again

Yep, survived the Great Colorado Expedition 2011.  Twenty mile backpack trip into the Colorado Wilderness proved beyond expectations.  Beyond words really.  

While my brain contemplates how to distill into words the pure Beauty Perfection Wonder Awesomeness of the trip, I thought this short might give you a taste of the fly fishing out in the wild.

Saturday, July 2, 2011

into the wild

In keeping with our collective civic, nay patriotic, duty this here blogger is heading for the hills. In search of cool mountain breezes, cutthroat trout, hopefully a snowbank or two. Having packed my essentials- coffee, oatmeal cookies, flyrod, mtb- everything else is cake. Mmmm cake- better make one moe stop on the way outta town.

See you all on the other side~