The Old Man, Marty, and I snuck over Cottonwood Pass one last time this year to hit the Taylor. We encountered some snow and slush on the pass on the way over and I knew this would be the last trip over the pass this year. The White Buffalo handled the conditions without a problem. After sitting in my Grandma's garage for many years there were a few issues to work through mechanically but I think (knock on wood) I've got them sorted out. With the new roof rack and Big Sky Rod Box it's become a sweet fishing vehicle! I think my Grandpa would enjoy the upgrades. Fall is probably my favorite time of year to fish in Colorado. Big hungry fish seem to come out of the wood work. So do the crowds but sometimes you can hit it right and find some room and some big fish. This trip just happened to be one of those times!
We headed over Friday afternoon and even though the weather was a little nasty going over the pass as soon as we started dropping down towards Taylor Reservoir we saw blue sky. I was actually hoping that it would stay a little nasty with the low clear water but the sun was a welcome surprise.
I took a little walk up above the bridge looking for pigs in the hog trough but didn't see anything huge. We fished for a while in the avalanche hole without much action then decided to head downstream a bit to a run we've done well in over the years. I stood up on the road and took a good look at the near side of the run and the tail end of the run. Lots of mid sized fish in the tail end and a few bigger shadows in the deepest section but again nothing too huge. I decided to cross at the bottom of the run and check out the other side. I crossed and started making my way towards the head of the run looking in the heavier water for some color. I made it almost to the top of the run when I spotted a MASSIVE red blob. Holy Crap!!! That is what we are looking for!
Of course as soon as I saw him, he saw me and pushed a little further out into the current. I thought he was going to pull a Houdini and was just about to sling some choice words for wading up the far side too quickly when he stopped, turned back upstream, and held his position. I started walking backwards very softly! I got back a ways to where I felt comfortable and just marveled at this huge red blob. This fish was REALLY colorful. I pointed him out to Dad and Marty on the far side of the river and they could see the color easily. This thing was big and red.
I watched as he moved through the run. He'd hold in a position for a while and then move downstream a few feet and then would come back upstream. I could see the white of his mouth as he was eating. I got really nervous. I made a few casts and he scoffed... Slowly moving away from my flies and then back to his holding area. I reminded myself to take it easy and not whip him to death. I figured if I made one or two descent presentations to him without hooking up that a fly change was in order. That was the game for the next 40 minutes....
What the hell. Time for a big ass egg pattern. First cast and all I saw was white mouth. I almost pulled the fly out from in front of him but hesitated at the last minute. A split second later I lifted the rod and he was on.... and hauling ass upstream! I didn't hear it at the time but Marty said, "that thing is heading for the dam"! I couldn't stop him. He made a long run upstream and towards the far side of the river. At one point Marty got close to him but as soon as the net got close he turned and swam right at me. Crap!!! He was back on my side of the river about 20 feet in front of me before I knew it. I had to strip in slack as fast as I could. I was frantic when I finally tightened back up on him. I thought he was gone.
After holding for a while in the deeper section of the run he started making his way back upstream on my side of the river. He made it up past a boulder and I had to stretch to keep my line off the rock. I slowly worked my way up to him and got the rod almost on top of him from my side of the boulder. He was holding. I told my Dad that he could probably step around the boulder and net him since I was getting good leverage. I knew I wouldn't be able to see what was going on when my Dad stepped in front of me. All I could do is ever so slightly apply more vertical pressure to try and get his head up enough.... It seemed like a life time before I heard, "I got him"!!!! He turned around and all I saw was red slab. Unbelievable! No way we just landed that fish.
I was on cloud 9 for the rest of the evening. We fished a while longer but I wasn't really paying attention. I just kept playing the whole thing over and over again in my mind. It didn't seem real. Around dark we packed up and headed to Gunnison for the night.
We were at the river at daybreak the next morning. We decided to hit the avalanche hole since it was open. Dad and I were on the water first. Marty came up a few minutes later and started fishing up above me a bit. Well started fishing isn't the right way to put it. He took one cast and hooked up! It was still pretty dark so we couldn't really see what he hooked into but it wasn't acting like a small fish.
We concentrated on the avalanche hole and above the bridge for the rest of the morning. We caught some nice fish but I didn't see any other toads. These fish know how to get around the river. Sometimes you see a ton of huge fish and sometimes you don't. I think there is a lot of luck involved with hitting it right.
We did head back downstream later in the day and I saw my big red blob. I was happy to see him back in the run feeding. He was having nothing to do with us though and as soon as we got anywhere near the water he was gone. Off to get bigger.
