Sounds fun my friend, glad you got a chance to get out. Jimi
Hi Gang! Just being able to go fishing last week meant a lot to me since I've been unable to wade since breaking my right leg on the Gunnison in May and then two weeks out of the cast, tearing my posterior tibial tendon and spending the entire summer as a "cripple". I can tie only so many flies and read so many fishing magazines and books before I get completely disgusted and wonder, "Why me Lord?" and start feeling sorry for myself. Oh well, I sometimes have to learn the hard way and the broken leg and torn tendon were definitely the hard way. Day 1 - Wed. Sept. 4. Left the cabin at 8 a.m. New Mexico trout don't get up early, which is fine with me. I might have caught more bass over the years if I'd been an early riser. Guess I'm what you call a nocturnalist. Love to "moonlight bass fish". We arrived at the upper end of Philmont Scout Ranch, near Ute Park around 9 a.m. to fish the Cimarron which was flowing at 40 cfs which is the optimum flow for trout. Even with the drought, the Watermaster was still releasing water from Eagle Nest Lake, which feeds the Cimarron. The Cimarron is probably one of the best kept secrets in New Mexico, because it doesn't get the pressure of the nearby famous Rio Grande and San Juan. Those are the rivers you'll see advertised in the FF mags, while the Cimarron is never mentioned. However, fisheries biologists put the count of browns at 5,000 per mile. I don't know about you, but that sounds like a helluva lot of fish to be spread over a mile of a stream that's rarely more than fifteen feet wide and 2-3 feet deep. I spent about twenty minutes just walking trail alongside the river, looking for hatches. We'd run into a big "something or other" hatch on Highway 64 just east of where we were to fish. Had to stop and clean the windshield off. Boy, it took GUTS for those bugs to fly into our windshield like that! However, the only hatch I saw near the river was a cloud of "No-See-Ums", GaNats, to some of you. No problem though, I've fished the Cimarron a bunch over the years, so I know those browns pretty well. They don't take many dry flies! The first arrangement of flies I used was an Elk Hair Caddis,(indicator), with a Copper John dropper, one of several sent to me by Byard, in addition to the bunch of flies I ordered a couple of weeks ago for my trip. Byard is one of the most helpful guys I've had the pleasure of knowing, and he also has some danged good stuff in his Linesend Shop and I find it hard to beat the prices. When I saw that no really good hatch was going on, I decided that I'd better get down into the stream and get to it. Remember now, my ankle was still very tender and I was wearing my ankle brace inside my high-top wading boots and using my home-made wading staff. (Thank God for it.) As I gingerly stepped into the water while supporting the weight on my right leg with the staff, I felt it snap! Not my leg, the staff. Yep, and I fell headlong into the cold water. So much for home-made wading staffs. All was not lost though, cause I got a clean break about six inches up from the tip of the staff and it was now very stiff. It was too limber anyway and the shaft was now about six inches up from "walking cane" height, which was probably better anyway. I was wading wet, in nylon Columbia fishing shorts and shirt, so it didn't take but a few minutes for me to dry out. In fact, after all the Texas heat this summer, it felt damned good to lie down in the Cimarron. Anyway, I'd already told you guys on the list that the first thing I was going to do when I got our there was jump in the Cimarron, sit down and enjoy the cold water. So, I'm a man true to my word, even though I was kidding. The cold water was good for my ankle too. The worst thing about busting my ass in the Cimarron was that one of my Plano fly boxes fell out of my vest and one side of it opened, spilling out about a hundred flies that weren't fastened. Bad scene. I completely lost my religion and started cussing a blue streak. However, I really lucked out since there was a small lay-down in the path of my flies that were being swept away. It had some leaves piled against it, so guess what? I didn't lose a single fly. They all washed up against the leaves and all I had to do was scoop them up and put them back into the box, albeit a little damp. Need to check the hooks. Hope they didn't rust. After what seemed like an hour, I was ready to wade and fish. I say wade, because it was pretty overcast and I wasn't too worried about the browns seeing me. You can forget wading the Cimarron on a "blue bird" day though, when "stealth fishing" is the name of the game. When it's like that, most of my casting is done from behind a bush or crouching low in the vegetation along the bank, crossing the stream only when I must. First cast. BAM! A fine little brown of ten inches. Not a lot of fish, but a good little fighter. The current made him feel much larger. Releasing him, I threw upstream from a bush hanging out over a little bend in the river and let the Copper John settle while the Elk Hair skittered along in the current. Just as the Elk Hair was swept under the bush, my line sang and darted toward the undercut bank to my right. This ain't no nine incher, I told myself. Then he stopped. My line went slack. "Damn", I yelled as I began reeling in my line. After maybe four or five turns, the lightening bolt brown darted out from under the bank and took off down stream, leaving me totally unprepared for a run like that. My reel sang, and sang and sang. Just as my spool spindle was beginning to appear under the backing, the big bruiser stopped again, giving me the chance to regain some line and hopefully bring him in. When he finally came near enough for me to cradle him, I just realized that I'd caught the biggest brown of my life. Eighteen inches! Not very large to you trout fishers out in Montana, Idaho, Wyoming, etc., but one helluva giant to an old Texas boy like me! And, no DonO, I didn't have my camera! I've ruined three in the last three years by falling and getting them wet. Jody has already killed me a couple of times for blowing $300 for a camera, only to ruin it. So, there is no photo. You'll just have to take my word for it! Oh Yea! I fished my 5 1/2 foot custom made, (by me) 3 wt bamboo fly rod the entire time I was in NM. . . . . .Stay tuned for Part II - "Hell, I Did It Again". -- Jimmy D. Moore, "BIGTROUTMAN" I FISH BECAUSE I MUST! More importantly, I fish because my Dad taught me! Author,Outdoor Writer,TOWA, TF&G,VP-GRTU Owner/Webmaster - Worldwide Flyfishing Info. http://www.BIGTROUTMAN.homestead.com/MainPage.html
