Meandering Angler: Frying Pan River, July 12

My Sonoma friends and I had arrived early enough to beat the crowd of anglers that was sure to descend on Frying Pan River before mid-morning, now that flows on the river were finally down to mid-summer levels.

We spread out along a section of the stream below the dam on the Ruedi Reservoir. The guys at the Taylor Creek Fly Shop in Basalt said the biggest fish hang out in this stretch of water.

Using the mysis (shrimp) nymph imitation that they recommended, I let my fly drift along a trouty-looking seam on the edge of the whitewater. A sharp tug that pulled my rod tip down toward the water told me a monster trout had just taken my offering. The fight was on.

Up and down stream from me I heard the happy hoots of my friends, who were also into some big trout.

And then I woke up.

I wasn’t in Colorado anymore. Dottie and I drove home 10 days ago.

Alas, the dream was what might have been if the Rockies had a normal winter. Instead, they got an unusually heavy snowfall followed by lots of early spring rains. The combination blew out the Frying Pan River and the Roaring Fork, the two best streams for miles. It was good news for a region that’s been too dry in previous years, but bad news for anglers, fly-fishing guides and shops that cater to them.

From everything I’ve read and from personal accounts from friends, the two streams provide excellent fishing most years. Just not right now. In fact, I checked earlier this week and the Roaring Fork is still blown out and the Frying Pan is still so high the fishing is only marginal.

Our sojourn in the area was interesting nevertheless. Aspen, which came into existence in the late 19th century as a silver mining town, was discovered decades later as a skiing haven and is now booming as a year-round resort for the famous, rich, nearly rich and those who pretend to be rich.

Real estate prices are out of sight and high-end stores like Prada, Ralph Lauren and Gucci thrive in the middle of village with a year-round population of under 7,000, but many times that in daily visitors.

Many of them, the younger, more fit kind, hit the numerous hiking trails that meander into the high peaks on which winter skiers zig and zag from late fall to late spring. They also kayak and white-water raft.

We didn’t do any of that, but we did enjoy several very nice restaurants, including the Pine Creek Cookhouse at the end of Ashcroft Valley, nestled at the base of the snowcapped Elk Mountains.

Dottie especially enjoyed walking around downtown Aspen, in which there are many interesting and unique shops, cheek by jowl with the Guccis and Pradas. Possibly because this part of Colorado is cowboy country popular with Texans, one of the busiest shops was Kemo Sabe, known for its celebrity clientele shopping for high-quality cowboy boots, hats and accessories.

Another shop, Maison Ullens, carries a line of clothing “designed for women with active lifestyles that don’t want to compromise luxury.” One doesn’t need a translator to understand that this means everything in the store costs a bucket of cash (or credit card with high limits).

The name of Aspen’s new cannabis dispensary caught my eye as we strolled along – “Best Day Ever.” Rocky Mountain high I assume.

All in all, driving nearly 17 hours each way was almost worth it. And had it been a normal year, with fishable rivers, I’m confident that I might have had one of those best days ever, high in the Rockies just few steps away from John Denver’s Sanctuary, where you can stroll in a lovely setting and read the lyrics to his most famous song carved on a rock.