Last weekend, a friend graciously allowed me to tag along for some time on the Colorado River. The timing was ideal. With the spring season in full swing, it was almost sensory overload. Cottonwoods unfurling their greenery, the heat of the canyon sun, and the cold spray of early-season water. Rebirth, and all the associated metaphors. It was brilliant, and then there was the fishing.
Sure there were fish. But the real “event” was one of those things that is a cue that the fly angler’s season has begun its crescendo. On the river, and in the eyes of an angler, hatches are always events. They can be subtle, like the early-morning trico and the delicate, sipping takes they evoke. They can be profound, like the mighty salmonfly. And, they can be almost overwhelming, as was the case on the Colorado last weekend.
Now that’s a spring caddis hatch. Such are the days that we lay awake dreaming about during winter’s dark depths. Of course, none of the Colorado’s incredibly strong rainbows and browns were paying any attention to the proliferation of adult insects on the water. However, by early afternoon, they were greedily sucking down emergers fished just below the surface, such as a peacock softhackle. It really is about as fun as it gets.
