Bamboo Brookies: Fishing for High Country Brook Trout

Written by: John Kesler, Fall Obsession Brand Ambassador

I like to think every angler and hunter has that list of those semi-local spots that they want to check out, but for whatever reason they haven't made it happen. In my case it's because I didn't have the time and was comfortable with my handful of regular spots. Recently I managed to check one of the new places off my list.

For a long time I've wanted to hit a pair of alpine lakes just south of where I live. Rumor had it there were cutthroat and megalodon class brook trout in them. Dont judge me too hard for keeping their name to myself. With a day off in hand I hit the switchboard trying to find a companion to go with me. All my fishing buddies were locked up but my neighbor Andrew who I have hunted with a couple times and is just a generally sturdy hiker wanted to tag along for the view. With the wife satisfied that if I carked it in the woods someone would know where my body was, we set our plans.

Sunrise found me making pancakes as the rain nuked down. Decidedly not a good start but the radar indicated it would blow through by the time we got to the trail head. And blow it did, a theme that would carry through the day. We clocked the hike to and from the lakes totalling at 10 miles with only around 1200 feet elevation change. Par for the course on some of my elk hunting days, but I'm usually in a fair bit better shape then.

We started off strong, making really good time running into one other hiker who had spent the night at the lakes and warned us about a young moose that was hanging around. A warning that I pretty well blew off; it's the mountains of Colorado of course there are moose around. I probably should have thought a little harder about that given we had Andrew’s dogs with us. We continued steaming along and hit the lower lake an hour and forty minutes in. I could see a few fish but decided to press to the upper lake hoping to find some real monsters. Another fifteen minutes hiking we were almost at the upper lake when the aforementioned moose popped up out of the willows 50 or so yards away and stood there watching us. We gave it a wide berth and continued on.

We hit the lake and I rigged up this old bamboo fly rod I have cause I'm on some weird reject modernity-embrace tradition kick and got on with fishing. After about 30 minutes of not seeing anything alive in the glass clear water I came to the conclusion the lake was barren of life or at least there were very few fish in what was a 40 or so acre lake. Grabbing our gear we headed back down the trail to the lower lake.

At exactly the point Andrew asked “I wonder where the moose went” the young cow came blasting through the trees not 15 yards away. Andrew wrangled his dogs and got behind me. I carry a Glock 20 10mm auto for such occasions but have rarely ever had the need to pull it. Three years earlier a supposedly dead bull elk that came back to life ten feet from me was the last time it was drawn with intent. This young cow was not acting aggressive but with two dogs I wasn't taking chances. There were a few trees between me and her as I yelled and acted as scary as I could. This standoff went on for about 30 seconds when I decided this curious moose needed the fear of man put in her so I broke a branch off a tree and sent it whistling past her head. She made the right decision and booked it off up the hill. I was thoroughly glad I didn't have to do anything extreme or even just clack a round off in the air. Moose are no joke, and I'm lucky enough to have had many encounters while hunting so I understand their behavior quite well.

After that little adrenaline dump we got back to the lower lake and I got to fishing. The wind was blowing pretty good at this point so making casts with the bamboo rod was requiring every bit of my skill. It wasn't too long before I hooked and landed a standard size Colorado River Cutthroat trout. I was pretty stoked with that fish but I was hoping to see one of the giant brookies supposedly roaming this lake. For the next hour I rock hopped, fishing along the bottom of a boulder field. I'm ashamed to say that with the wind and lack of experience with a bamboo rod, I was fighting a losing battle.

For the fish I could see my casts were inaccurate and the ones that did slurp my fly, I was either way late with the hookset or in the case of one particularly large Cutthroat, I snapped it off on the hookset. I did see a few of the giant brookies cruising around and even managed to hook one that then tangled in some rocks and snapped me off. I was dehydrated, hungry and a little frustrated at this point so I started back towards where Andrew was reading in the shade of a willow bush. Wading through the shallows and slinging casts out as far as I could whenever the wind abated for a moment I was rewarded with a massive slurping splashing noise as my fly was engulfed by a large fish.

I set the hook and was again rewarded with a tight line. Things were turning around. Since there are two species in the lake and I didn't really get a good look at what took my fly I was just hoping it was a big brookie. After a couple minutes of fighting the fish came close enough that I could see it was in fact a big brook trout. I managed to get the net under it and let out a woop, having caught one of the big brookies I was hoping for. They say there are no gators in Colorado but the jaw on this fish put that to the test. Its mouth was massive!

After a few quick pictures I sent the old beast back to his home. Mission accomplished. It was now pushing into the afternoon and we had five miles back to the truck. There was an old beaver pond we had passed just below the lower lake that I had seen some fish in on the way in and so we stopped there for 15 minutes and I yoinked out a dozen or so small brookies. I grew up fly fishing beaver ponds for 8 inch brook trout so it was a nice throwback. With that little side quest completed we loaded up and started back to the truck.

We were making good time but even the dogs started to drag after a while. Other than recruiting a leg cramp for the last mile or so we got out of there in good order. I reckon the lower lake for sure has been added to the list of go to spots. Definitely need to make sure I'm in better shape, but I will chase those high country brookies again.