Writing About What I Write About

Driving across the high elevation shortgrass prairie of northwestern Fremont County today with Jason Klass, we wiggled our way into a conversation about the content of our respective blogs, both of which are based on tenkara.  The talk centered around what we write in our blogs, and why.  As for Tenkara Tracks, I've purposely chosen to write more about how tenkara feels, rather than provide how-to instruction on fly tying, casting, reading water, or any of the zillion other things that I could provide instruction for.  There are plenty of websites and blogs devoted to that, and they're doing a fine job for the most part.  I would much rather write about my tenkara experiences.  How it feels to hike down from a high lake in the pouring rain and pounding hail, hoping you don't get struck by lightning.  How it feels to have an ever-so-slight breeze behind you as you cast upstream, watching kebaris land on the water as they only can with that faint breeze.  How it feels to anticipate what that fish will look like, in the moment between when it takes your fly and your first glimpse of it, your only indication that it's a really big one being it's quivering pull on the tip of your rod.  Yes, I'll still throw in a gear review now and then, but look for more of my experiences in the backcountry, and less how-to.  Now, I have a whole day of fishing to think through, and it sure was a grand day in the canyons.  More on that soon!  

The Marrow of the World

Photo by Chris Harvey

…"the Rocky Mountains is the marrow of the world," and by God, I was right. Keep your nose in the wind and your eye along the skyline.”

--Del Gue, Jeremiah Johnson (the film) 

Marrow.  Deep in your bones, that place in your body that keeps you immune to the things that will harm you.  The marrow of the world.  That place in the world that keeps you immune to the things that will harm you.  It’s home, a place of protection and peace.  Mine is a 74,401-acre expanse of granite, tundra, golden aspens, subalpine fir, bristlecone pine, pocket water, high lakes, brutal storms, sunshine, brookies, cutthroats, grouse, snowshoes hares, and microscopic wildflowers.  Bighorn sheep and mountain goats bounce on the talus above timberline, and elk, moose, and mule deer range between the krummholz and the bottom of the creek canyons.  Black bears, coyotes, and mountain lions work the shadows and the night.  I’ve been coming here since before it was even federally designated as wilderness, in the summer of 1978 when my parents dropped me off, alone, on one end and two days later I showed up back at home.  It was handy, because the southern boundary was only two miles from our home. That first solo trip across this place set the stage for over three decades of hunting, angling, and rambling in my own little piece of the Colorado Rockies, and what I’ve come to claim as my own “marrow of the world”.

We each have our own marrow. This just happens to be mine.  Each of us have those special places where we recharge our batteries, challenge heart, lung, and muscle, and breathe deep.  It may be a desert canyon, a snowfield of unbroken powder, or the quiet corner of a city park.  Wherever your marrow may be, please seek it out often, get your head and heart back on track, and fill your soul with peace and strength.  Those are all things my own marrow has given me since before I could shave.  It’s a magnet, a force that pulls me back home often.

Here’s hoping you find your marrow and visit it as frequently as you can.  It can be a place of peace and introspection.  It can be home.  Go there, fill up, and come back each time a different and stronger person.

Zen and the Sprit of the Nanopool

During the summer, I had a chance to take my tenkara rod, and guide others, to a wide variety of Colorado high country water.  I fished ripping, reddish-brown freestones blown full of summer rain, in which the only places a trout could survive were the leeward side of boulders in the deep recesses of nooks and crannies out of harm’s way.  I fished relatively big (on the tenkara scale) tailwaters, so deep and fast I could barely shuffle my 130-pound body halfway across without being torn off the bottom and deposited in the next larger river forty miles downstream.  And I fished slow, meandering sections of meadow water, working the cutbanks and oxbows with hoppers.  But the greatest joys of my summer were seeking out the tiniest blue lines on the map and on the ground, and putting dry flies on pools no bigger around than a skillet.  I call them nanopools.  The fact that tenkara makes fishing these spots not only possible, but productive, made it all that much better.

What is a nanopool?  Well, they come in all shapes and sizes, but most of them are so small they usually only hold one fish.   They occur on only the smallest streams.  Streams that you can easily spit across and ones you really don’t need even hip waders for.  Late in the summer they shrink even more, as the snowfields on the peaks melt and evaporate their way into nonexistence.

Trout holding in nanopools are feisty and will smack just about any dry fly you put in front of them.  They will hold at the far end of the plunge pool, and the edges of the pools where they can feed but remain hidden.  If you catch one, you’d better move on because he was the only one. 

 Luckily, small mountain streams are dotted with nanopools and you can spend a while day fishing just a half-mile of water, letting the spirit of the nanopool take you away as you lose all sense of time.

Seek out these tiny streams and pools, and you’ll be as addicted to them as I am.  Be ready to spend most of your time on your knees or hiding behind boulders.  The water is so clear and shallow that you must use all the stealthy skills in your quiver to remain unseen.

Tiny places in an immense landscape…what’s not to love!

Time to Think

One aspect of the simplicity of tenkara is that it gives you more time to think.  Less gear means more time to tune into the alpine aquatic world around you.  Less does indeed mean more.  I realized this once again while picking apart pocket water on the East Fork of the Cimarron River in southwest Colorado, scouting some water I'll guide clients on in early July.  Quality time spent on streamside inspections of adult Yellow Sallies squirming their way from under round stones.  Spending mesmerized moments with stonefly shucks on wet boulders.  This tri-forked river is alive with stoneflies, and I'm darned lucky to be here. 

Somebody Left the Oven On!

I went out with Eric and Levi Lynn yesterday, sharing a little canyon with them.  Levi caught his first trout on a tenkara rod!  I cannot remember a hotter day up there (who left the oven on?), but it sure didn't slow down the fishing!  The name of the game was terrestrials.  It's a whole lot of fun to watch feisty browns smash hoppers, beetles, and spiders.  The best fly for me was a black foam beetle, tied up for me by Karl Klavon, a friend who lives in Fresno, California.  Thanks for the bugs, Karl!

Summer Canyons

Here's a short video I shot last week with Patrick Smith.  Patrick is the founder and former owner of Mountainsmith, one of the original Colorado outdoor gear companies.  Patrick now owns Kifaru, International, based in Wheatridge, Colorado.  He and I have had many adventures together in the backcountry over the years.  Recently, I introduced him to tenkara and he's never been the same since! 

The Heart and Soul of Tenkara in Colorado

Over the Memorial Day weekend I was fortunate enough to spend three days hanging out at RIGS Fly Shop and Guide Service in Ridgway.  I had a chance to meet Tim Patterson, owner of RIGS, and Matt McCannel, RIGS head fly guide.  We will be offering guided tenkara trips for the first time ever in Colorado, and Tim, Matt, and I are the first three certified tenkara guides in the state.  These are exciting times for tenkara in Colorado!  We were joined by Daniel Galhardo, founder of Tenkara USA, and the one man responsible for bringing tenkara to the west in modern times.  We were able to take Daniel and his wife out to a tiny stream and really show them the beauty of southwestern Colorado.  I brought along my good friend, Eric Lynn, owner of Mountain Ridge Gear, and the group had a simply fantastic time!  For more info on guided tenkara trips in the southwestern Colorado Rockies, visit us at RIGS Fly Shop and Guide Service!

Eric Lynn, Matt McCannel, Me, Tim Patterson, Daniel Galhardo.
(Photo courtesy of Daniel Galhardo)