One last day in the IPWA.
Upon learning we planned to hike and fish the trail, the manager (a man who looked the part of a life long forest service employee) remarked: “That trail? A man died on that trail two weeks ago. Heart Attack. Maybe 50. Some girls found him half-way up…”
Though no insects were hatching, I tied on a #14 snowshoe hare yellow sally pattern left over from a spring visit to the Smokies and began the day prospecting a small pool overhung by dense vegetation. Within moments I was on the board…
Marking off rivers within a 2-hour radius of Denver, and aided by a local Orvis employee with roots in the region (Thanks Chap!), I laid out plans for four days of fishing. Considering “rusty” to be an overly generous euphemism for the degradation of my skills, I told myself that I would be satisfied if I landed a single fish over the course of my adventures.