Well, it was bound to happen sooner or later.
Not a season goes by that I don't get ahead of myself wading the Poudre. Last year it just happened to occur while fishing with a friend of mine from high school who I hadn't seen in twenty years. Enter water, glance at something, lose concentration...end up in the drink.
Today, it was a little scarier. The Poudre has begun to rage, and it's not really very fishable anyway, what with the cloudy water and the sheer volume of fluid surging from the canyon melt-off.
I know it may not look like much, but believe me when I tell you that the picture above is a portrait of strong, heavy current, not to mention the slick rocks on the bottom.
Still, I accomplished everything I had to do by noon today, so I couldn't help myself. Given the rapid rise in water levels, and with no noticeable rising fish, I tied on a pheasant tail nymph and commenced to wading. As is my routine, I sent out a few casts and gradually began to make my way downstream.
As the saying goes, a more skilled angler may be able to "walk and chew gum at the same time," but for some reason I can't seem to manage it. While trying to place the nymph in what I envisioned to be the correct spot, I took one step into a large rock and promptly tripped over it. Thus began my brief float down a pretty strong stretch of water. When I finally managed to get my momentum stopped, I was soaked from chest to toe. Thank God for the trusty waterproof camera bag, which also held my keys and wallet.
I got into some shallow water under the bridge and made a few more feeble casts before deciding that the cool breeze was becoming just a little too cool. I glanced downstream into a nice stretch of calm water, knowing full well that fish were probably congregating there. Conveniently, the calm water begins just where the river becomes private property. I'm certain that many a trout were gathered, enjoying a good laugh at my expense.
I gotta learn how to wade!