This year is different. There's no denying it. No matter where you are, it's just different. I'm starting to get exhausted by living it, hearing about it, writing about it; but, this is where we are.
If you live in the four corners region or follow our goings-on, you know that the famed San Juan River has been off-limits to us Colorado folks for several months. With the lack of New Mexico boat trips comes an increase in high-country outings. Now, don't get me wrong; I'm glad that the option is there. I directly, through Jacob, benefit from those trips. They help pay the bills and keep Jacob off the streets and out of the bars. But man, can you tell those little fish have figured out what pressure is.
When we headed out to a little mountain stream last week, I saw firsthand this new change.
I've gotten quite accustomed to not seeing any other anglers when I'm out. It's why I choose far off, high up places. It's why I opt for little fish over trophy size. Simply put, I enjoy solitude. I crave quiet.
As we made our way past cars plastered with fly fishing stickers and hiked past anglers already established in the river, we determined that our best bet was to "hoof it." The pool was open except for a few hikers noticed in the distance. Here is where our fishing adventure would begin.
As it turns out, this pool is also where it ended. Because here's the thing, sometimes a fine spot is just that and must be enjoyed. We watched rising trout, meticulously counted the seconds, did our best to match the hatch, and caught more slippery cutthroat than I can count.
It wasn't quite the adventure that I had pictured the night before, but it was right for the day. It was a fine day, in a fine spot, with some fine trout.
