If I live to be 100, I’ll never get used to springtime in the Rockies. Spring weather here does not adhere to scientifically established dates; it gets here when it pleases, after which it changes its mind and reverts to winter again. We seem to get most of our snow in March and April, but we can also get spikes of balmy weather as early as February. Tulips sprout, maples and cottonwoods bud out, and fly-fishers go wild. Two weeks later, we’re buried under a foot of cold, wet snow, wondering what the heck happened.
Anglers actually like this — probably because we’re a bit unstable ourselves and can claim the behavior is an extension of our connection to the cosmos. It’s an almost believable excuse. This erratic weather often triggers the first serious insect hatches of the season and the likelihood of a major trout feeding frenzy. Blue-winged olive mayflies hatch as soon as the water warms on gray, dismal days. Conveniently, trout like to feed under those same conditions. It all fits together quite nicely and can make for some of the best dry-fly fishing of the year.
My friend Kevin likes to tell of the time he and a buddy were fishing the South Platte River near Deckers in mid-March. It started out as a bluebird day with scores of anglers on the river but with no bug activity and few fish rising. Around noon, a nasty Rocky Mountain spring storm blew in over the Rampart Range, creating bitter, whiteout conditions. Within minutes, most of the fly-fishers had bailed from the river and headed for the home fires.
But not Kevin.
Instead, he and his buddy ducked into the nearby Deckers Bar and Grill where they treated themselves to burgers and beer, shot pool, and waited for the leading edge of the cold front to pass. Somewhere in the middle of their third game of eight ball, the wind died and the snow began drifting listlessly to earth. They bolted for the river.
Back on the stream, the air was still as death and so quiet they could hear the wet hissing of individual snowflakes striking the water — and the unmistakable slurping sound of feeding trout. Clouds of little olive-bodied mayflies lifted into the air around them, and fish rose at their very knees. “We hammered ’em,” Kev recounted with a big, dopey grin on his face.
Dennis Smith is a freelance outdoors writer and photographer whose work appears nationally. He lives in Loveland.
Anglers net a trout on a Colorado river during one of spring’s unpredictable — and productive — fishing windows. Photo by Dennis E. Smith
