Colorado: Rocky Mountain National Park

All my life I dreamed of seeing the Rocky Mountains. States like Colorado, Montana, and Wyoming have always had this sense of outdoor romanticism. I have long wanted to hunt or fish in these states. Places known for their trout and big game. In my forty years, I have often wondered if I would ever have such an opportunity. Would this be a dream that faded or would it come to fruition. Thankfully, the latter would become a reality.
In November, I watched Ohio State beat my beloved Penn State. A day after the game, I would have a chance to meet Steve Schweitzer. Steve was an old high school buddy and classmate of my brother-in-law, Wes. Apparently, Steve had moved to the Denver area, taken up fly fishing and began exploring Rocky Mountain National Park. He enjoyed the park so much, that he decided to do ten years of research and write a guide to fly fishing this amazing place.
I liked Steve from the moment I met him. He was not a fly fishing snob, but a very personable and gracious man. We talked fishing, he showed us pictures that made me drool, and he invited Wes and me to join him this summer for a fly fishing/back packing adventure. It still did not feel like it would happen.
Within weeks, Steve had sent me a copy of his book and we were making plans to go to Colorado. He had a camp reserved and pictures to share with us, and the reality of this actually happening was starting to set in. I was really going to get my chance to fish the Rocky Mountains and finally catch the famed cutthroat trout!
Wednesday, July 27
Tonight I left to spend the night at the in-laws. We have an early flight and need to be at the airport long before my children will be out of bed. It was a tearful goodbye. I hate seeing the kids upset. I love them so much and I know I will miss them dearly. However, I hope to learn enough that someday I can share with them this special place.
Thursday, July 28
Travel Day
The morning ended a sleepless night. I had so much on my mind: The excitement of the trip, the hassle of the airport, my wife and children. I was anxious to get started. We were at the air port early and were soon waiting for our flight. It would stop in Chicago and then on to Denver. It was uneventful and that is exactly how I like to fly! We were soon in Denver and an hour later would find us at the door step of our friend.
Steve was very excited to see us. We made a quick visit to his local fly shop, The Laughing Grizzly, for some last minute gear and a hat. Then we headed to Wal-Mart for our fishing license. Thirty-one dollars later, I was ready and legal to fish the state of Colorado.
We went back to Steve’s to check our bags and make a few last minute pack adjustments and then we were off to a local pub for our last real meal before our strenuous hike. Steve has a great view of Long’s Peak, the highest point in the park at just over 14,000.

July 29
Day 1
I actually did get some sleep this night. I dreamed of high mountain, Colorado River cutthroat trout all night, but I slept. I was geeked and ready to get started. The ride from Steve’s house travels along the Big Thompson River. The road winds through one of the most beautiful canyons I have ever seen. I saw mule deer and beautiful pocket water as we made our way upstream for a stop in Estes Park. One McMuffin and an orange juice later and we were on our way into the park. I was speechless as we made our way up Trail Ridge Road. Steve kept asking me if everything was okay. I was just trying to mentally digest the magnitude of these magnificent mountains. Every time I would comment on how awesome one view was, Steve would tell me to wait a minute and soon the views were even more spectacular. We stopped for a quick picture at 10,500, two miles above sea level. We were at the summit of the highest paved road in the U.S. We had to stop for a few more pictures before headed back down the other side of the mountain.

On the way down the mountain, we crossed the continental divide. We were soon looking at the headwaters of the mighty Colorado River. It was amazing to think that this was the same river that carved the Grand Canyon. We had to make a quick stop at the park office to change vehicle identification data and we were soon at the trail head. I am not sure how excited I was to carry a thirty-five pound back pack for seven and half miles, but I was ready for my back country adventure to start.

The trail was deceivingly flat for the first mile and a half. We passed many day hikers on their way to Cascade Falls. Eventually, we would even have a local cross country team pass us and return on their way back. The weight of the pack was tedious, but the scenery helped to alleviate the burden.

Before I knew it we were at the half way point. A spot called Big Pool. It was agonizing to pass up so much fishable water, but Steve assured me that I would be rewarded. Now it was time to test the waters and one of my favorite flies. We stopped to take the packs off, eat a Cliff bar, and fish for my first ever Colorado River Cut Throat. I have to admit, I was like a kid in a candy store. I quickly tied on my beloved parachute adams and was soon flinging my three weight at one of the many seems in this pool. It did not take long to watch the trout travel three feet to the surface to slowly sip my fly. Within seconds I had my hands on the powerful little fish and I was as content as any fly fisher could ever be.

I quickly caught three more before handing the rod over to Wes. He was soon on the board with his first trout ever and burden of the back packs seemed to fade a little as we left the big pool. Another couple of hours of hiking later and we soon found ourselves unpacking and setting up camp. This would be our home for the next three nights.

With camp set up, we trekked to the river for a couple hours of fantastic pocket water fishing on the North Inlet Creek. I am not sure how long we fished, but there were eager trout to be found in every pretty pocket. I was a mess. I was like some giddy little kid. Steve was very entertained by my childish enthusiasm. I was very entertained by the foolish fish. I was able to hook close to thirty trout that first night. However, one of the memories that will stick with me forever was the sight of Wes, dangling his feet over a twenty foot cliff, dropping his fly and catching fish after fish while reeling them in like he was bass fishing. They were soon flying through the air on their way back to the water. It was quite a sight.

I, on the other hand was scaling walls and wading the fast water to fish a small canyon. It was sketchy and I am sure my wife would have been very unhappy with me, but I had to do it. The thought of fishing water that most would shy away from was too tantalizing to pass up. I was rewarded with several more fish and a long hike out. Our first day of fishing was coming to a close, but the excitement was far from over.

We stopped to filter some water and wash up a bit. Back at camp we boiled water and ate freeze dried meals that once seemed so romantic, but now tasted like a freeze dried meal! The mosquitoes and the long hike had taken their toll. We were in the tents before eight p.m. Wes and I slept shoulder to uncomfortable shoulder in a small two man tent. At least we tried to sleep. Soon Steve was whispering for us to look outside of our tents at the young Bull Moose that had meandered into camp. He was less than twelve yards away before Steve yelled at him. It was an awesome way to end the first day.

Even after a long day, the scenery and the fishing seemed almost surreal. Steve was right, around every corner the mountains become more majestic and the scenery more spectacular. The smells and sounds were dream like. The wild flowers reminded me of my wife. The mushrooms reminded me of Matthew and his fascination for the colorful fungi. The rocks and mountains reminded me of Morgan and her love of stones. Even looking back now, I have to ask myself if it wasn’t just a dream. And it just kept getting better!