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I'm a people watcher. I love to observe people, what they are doing, how they are dressed, and
wonder what makes them act they way they do. I think that's why I like airports, going to the
zoo, baseball games, and fly fishing.
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I can hardly wait for this Spring to arrive. So there'll be all of those other fishermen on the
river, to watch, and try to guess at the story behind what make them do what they do. I'm thinking
back to this past year.
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Last summer I was fishing on the South Platte by Cove Campground, when I saw this guy coming
towards me. He's walking right down the middle of the river, splashing water for three feet in
every direction, and I start thinking, I wonder where he thinks the fish live, in the bushes
on the far bank? I'm betting he must be the guy that drives the truck that paints the highway
stripes, right down the middle of the road.
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Another time I was sitting along the bank, letting the fish settle down after I'd been fishing a
section of the river for about an hour, when this guy comes down the bank. He took his time getting
ready to cast, made two beautiful back casts, and then dropped his fly line so quietly into the
water it barely made a ripple. Wow! What a cast, I mean this guy is so good, I'm thinking maybe he's
a pro or something. But wait, here comes the end of the line drifting by in front of me, and there's
no fly on it, probably snapped it off in the bushes behind him. Twenty more near perfect casts later;
and he hadn't noticed that he's fishing flyless. All of a sudden this picture flashes through my mind,
the guy is standing in front of the water cooler at work, and he's pantless, and doesn't know it. Now,
that was way too much to handle, so I got up and left to find another fishing spot, where everyone had
flies, and pants.
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Later in the season, in nearly the same spot in the river, I saw what had to be the richest fly
fisherman to ever grace the South Platte with his presence. He had the latest high-tech (tan) wading
boots on, with those non-slip specially developed for walking in outer space genetically engineered
rubber sole with the never-ever slip pattern. The ones with the integrated felt bottoms complete with
titanium cleats. The (tan) waders were the best available, tough as rhino-skin but so thin you could
read a newspaper through them, and fish scented so he blended right into the river. He was so stealthy,
about all I could see was his shadow.
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I counted twenty-four pockets on his (tan) fishing vest, each one stuffed with boxes of flies,
vials of steamers, spray-on fly drier, hook sharpeners, weights divided up by size, color, weight,
material, shape, and type of closure. There may have been more pockets but the back ones were covered
up by the (tan) backpack water carrier, with integral purifying system, and the front ones were hidden
by the (tan) chest pack, (tan) waist pack, (tan) shoulder sling, (tan) tool necklace, (tan) camera pack,
and eleven clip on tool lanyards, complete with multiple sizes of hemostats, scissors, pliers,
magnifying glasses, whistle, line cutters, cigar tool, line cleaning pads, wool pads, foam pads,
rubber pads, and a compass. All of this paraphernalia hardly left room for his binoculars, folding
wading staff, and fishing nets, IGFA digital LCD display certified fish weighing scale with built in
GPS complete with every fishing stream in the Continental United States, measuring tape, tippet spool
holder with nine sizes of class tippets and fly flotation dispenser bottle.
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But I'll tell you what he looked pretty sharp with his polarized, instant tinting, unbreakable,
self-adjusting, floating fishing glasses, his bright red heats-in-the-winter cools-in-the-summer
battery powered bandana, and the right out of the rodeo circuit black cowboy hat with extra wide
brim that keeps the sun our of your eyes, the rain from running down the back of your neck, and
lets everyone know that you were fishing in Montana just the other day.
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The winner of last years Darwin Fishing Awards trophy was the guy that showed up with his two
Black Labradors. Now what possesses someone to take a couple of dogs that live to get into the
water to a gold-medal trout stream? The first thing that happens when the dogs see the water is
they make a flying leap off of the river bank into the middle of the river. The second thing that
happens is the guy fishing next to me starts chucking the largest rocks he can find at the dogs,
and their owner. Now I'm figuring the rock chucker for an animal lover because he misses the dogs
by about six feet, and I know he can throw better than that because he's pelting the dog owner
with every other rock. The last we saw of the whole menagerie was them going up over the bank,
and a cloud of dust as they took off in the pick-um-up-truck.
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Summer fishing in Eleven-mile Canyon,
South Platte River, Colorado. (click on photo to enlarge)
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A splendid Rainbow from the Dream Mile, between Spinney
and Eleven-mile Reservoirs.(click on photo to enlarge)
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Dennis Kreutz will be fishing Rocky Mountain waters all season, figuring that it's cheaper than
going to the zoo, and a heck of a lot more interesting. For more information, and photos of fish
caught on fly, visit the extremeflyfishing.com web site or contact him at dennis@extremeflyfishing.com
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Watch for upcoming Extreme Fly Fishing videos so you can
See It, Learn It, Do It, to the Extreme.
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