Here in Nebraska, trout fishing most often comes with an asterisk attached: special casting conditions may apply, subject to approval of the irrigation/weather gods, no long casts required, not responsible for streamside vegetation/in-stream algae; warranty void if temperatures are too high or dissolved oxygen is too low, notice: hatchery trout have been calibrated at 11 inches to fit into US-regulation medium skillet… In truth, fishing here can be very rewarding, as many of our trout streams require a fly fisher to be relatively good – in terms of casting, reading the water, and fly selection. It’s not always easy, and so when you succeed, it can be very satisfying.

But still when the prospect of a trip to Colorado looms, visions of trout as long as your arm start to swim into and through your dreams. The Frying Pan, the Roaring Fork, the Crystal, the Colorado… big waters, big fish… It’s intoxicating.

So what do you do, what do you think, after that trip, and the fishing has been OK, sometimes pretty good, and sometimes just plain slow, and never cosmic?

Most of time, it wasn’t that there were no fish to catch. Most of the time, fish ended up in the net. And they were nice fish, 13, 14, 15 inches long, browns, brookies, rainbows. But they often weren’t easy. They’d take the same fly on the 9^th drift over their spot.

They’d short-strike, then lie low for 15 minutes, then eventually come back after a fly again. In some cases, bankside fish would ignore the PMDs, drakes, caddises, and only pick off an ant or beetle.

In slow pools they’d float along with the current, eyeing your fly for 3 or 4 feet, before deciding either to eat it, or, more frequently, silently to drop back down into the shadows.

Like I say, it’s generally not that there weren’t any fish to be caught

– but it was slow enough that a fisherman could sort of lose interest, start to wonder what else you might productively do with your time, then be very surprised when a fish took. That’s a good way to miss a strike, by the way.

Coming back from Mecca, you want to say that you got religion; coming back from France, you want to say that you ate and drank well at every meal; coming back from Colorado, you want to say that you caught lots of fish, or really big fish, or both. When it doesn’t happen, you’re kind of at a loss. Disappointed.

But then, that doesn’t seem right, does it? After all, fishing wasn’t bad. In fact, some of it was pretty darned good. So why the long face? Because of expectations, I suppose. Those pesky things get in the way of reality on a regular basis. The next time I clean out my vest, I think I’m going to toss out that pocket-full of expectations I carry around in there.

The true purpose of the trip, by the way, was to attend a bamboo rod-makers meet, and that was good fun. Cast some great rods – from Gnomish Rod Works, Harry Boyd, Bob Taylor, John Channer, Marcello Calviello. Marcello’s 7ft 4wt got my vote for the nicest-casting rod on the rack – bamboo ferrules, light, smooth, responsive, effortless tight loops into the wind - just a sweet-casting rod. This rod, plus a 3-piece version by Harry, inspired me to try making a bamboo-ferruled rod – more on that as work progresses. Testing out new tapers and designs is one of the great reasons to attend a rod-makers event. A low-volume maker like me would spend decades doing all the experimentation that you can experience at one meet.   "Good-but-not-great fishing aside", that was worth the price of admission.

Lee