Sometimes it’s kind of nice to just step back from the fray and spend a little time with someone that matters: me.
I know that sounds selfish, but I’m talking about Father’s Day. We dads are supposed to have it easy, for one day at least.
I haven’t had a whole lot of days off since Beecher and I purchased the papers. We work most weekends, whether at the office or on work stuff up at the house. Heck, even when Beecher’s traveling she’s tapping into our server doing newspaper work. We’re pretty sure all business owners in the area do the same, so it’s not a complaint, just my rationale for planning a little indulgence on a day devoted to me.
By now you may know that given a hall pass for the day, you’ll probably find me on a river nearby chasing trout with a fly rod. But the rivers are still blown out, and I’ve tossed my fly into the Uncompahgre at Pa-Co-Chu-Puk often enough that I wanted a change of pace. So when one area isn’t working, it’s time to try another.
Cochetopa Creek, flowing north from San Luis Peak, a 14’er, was my destination. It dumps into Tomichi Creek about eight miles east of Gunnison. The Cochetopa is running clear, unlike a lot of rivers in the state.
The only things missing on the trip were my two boys. Ross called me that morning from Austin and told me how much he wanted to be fishing with me on Father’s Day. You can’t beat that. Michael got to Ridgway late the night before and wanted to rest after two days in the car. No problem. He’ll be on the next fishing trip. So, Trey Fowler, our intern, joined me. We’ve been calling him our adopted son since he arrived last month. When your real sons can’t make it, it’s good to have a choice.
We stopped about 17 miles or so above the confluence of the Cochetopa and Tomichi. The Cochetopa is about 10 to 15 miles wide in most places with some deep runs of about three to four feet. Mostly, in this stretch, it is straight as a string. The weather was perfect Sunday. Trey and I each landed a brown within the first ten minutes, but things really slowed down.
Time to amend plans. Back to the car we went and headed to a higher creek, the Archuleta. I’d never been there before, but it looked promising on the map. It also looked like a good lunch spot and it was only about eight miles away, just shy of Cochetopa Pass. When one creek isn’t working, maybe the other will.
We reached the Archuleta and found a high mountain meadow stream protected by a tall fence erected as a boundary for this small wilderness area. We had to scale a fence ladder to get to the creek. Wildflowers were popping everywhere, and the water was gin-clear and teeming with promise as it snaked through the valley.
We needed only two flies to have a successful day: a size 16 dark olive baetis parachute dry and a size 16 copper john nymph. When the swallows swept in and frantically picked bugs from above the water’s surface, we had trout rise to our dry fly. When the swallows were nowhere to be found, we went deep with our nymphs. When one wasn’t working the other did. That’s the way fly fishing ought to be, a simple choice of alternatives.
With nearly three hours of travel ahead of us, we packed up around 6 p.m. The fishing had been good. We saw only one other fisherman the entire day, which made it feel as if we had the whole valley to ourselves.
Everyone finds their own way to clear the mind and cleanse the soul. It sure was nice to spend Father’s Day with a good companion, a few creeks and choices just as few. I hope all the fathers out there had it just as easy, for one day at least.