Montrose - Daily Press

Joel Evans

Outdoors Columnist

Memorial Day.

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A national holiday to honor the nation’s armed services personnel killed during wartime.

The older I get the more significant the memorial holiday becomes and the more powerful the message it portrays. You are able to freely read and I am able to freely write because of those who went before and now serve, creating and protecting freedom.

Although reading and writing about fishing is trivial compared to the greater truths we hold to be self evident, I am thankful for a comfortable lifestyle, including days fishing, given to us by those we honor on Memorial Day.

As a youth, I knew of the freedom and can even say I appreciated it. But as my lifepath lengthens and I am exposed daily to news of a not-so-comfortable life in other countries, I am grateful and humbled.

So as you are out and about in the great outdoors of Colorado this weekend, come Monday, pause in your play and remember how it is that it came to be that we even have the freedom to play in the first place.

So where will you be on Monday? Heading to the lakes and rivers of western Colorado I expect. Even if you have a work day scheduled, hopefully you get a nearby day off to enjoy just the same.

If I could be anywhere and everywhere all on the same day, here are few of the places you would find me.

Blue Mesa Reservoir

With a boat and a windless day, cruising the lake with pop gear trailing in the distance would be most relaxing.

Gosh, I might not even care if there was a lure at the end of the pop gear. Slowly motoring while gawking at the mountains, sipping a cold drink, with one eye closed would be enough. Oh okay, I would bother with the hook - you’re right.

Taylor Reservoir

Absent a boat, bank fishing the shallows at Taylor with spin rod in hand and a big, ugly, weighted black marabou lead head jig on the business end would be satisfying. Stretched out in a lawnchair, gawking at the mountains, sipping a cold drink, with one eye closed would be enough. Oh okay, I would bother to reel it back in just in case - you’re right.

Silver Jack Reservoir

The one-man pontoon boat doesn’t have a motor, but oaring over to the West Fork inlet isn’t that far.

I figure the rainbows are gathering for a big social event involving a little romance that might make for a cheap date. Once I got there, lazily circling the inlet, gawking at the mountains, sipping a cold drink, with one eye closed would be enough. Oh okay, I would bother to cast the bladed spinner towards the shallows occasionally - you’re right.

Gunnison River

I’ve been there a few times I’m told, sometimes even a few times on the same day. Oh well, an insatiable thirst just needs one more cast.

So what, if during the long days of summer you don’t leave the river until dark. Getting home at midnight and going to work the next day builds fishing character and makes for a great story if you can stay awake the next day to tell the story.

Accurately, of course. Deep in that canyon, gawking at the sheer cliffs, sipping cold river water, with one eye closed would be enough. Oh okay, I would tie on a large orange stonefly just in case the salmonfly migration has started - you’re right. I might even quit after 30 kissed fish.

Ridgway Reservoir and the Uncompahgre River

Both? Together? Same Day? Yep. Wow!

After an early morning of fly fishing in the river tailwater, I could quietly scoot around the reservoir inlet in the float tube with the spinning rod pulsing from the sinking Rapala as big as my hand, hoping for a trophy brown.

Oh okay, I would take the time to reel in that 30 inch brown - you’re right.

Roaring Fork River

Near Aspen, probably the best choice for me on Memorial Day. It was here that my dad, a veteran, taught me to use a fly rod to cast a Western Coachman tied to the end of a weighted leader on a dead drift for a hidden purple rainbow. Remembering him and the freedom he fought for and freely passed to me seems appropriate.

So a lawnchair, a cold drink, and one eye lazily closed would not be enough. Wading deep, head low, casting sideways back to the slower water near the bank, plopping the weighted leader into the fast water at the head of the current above the exposed rock, waiting for the Coachman to sink deep, stripping the slack line, watching the drift, subconsciously noticing the slight pause, lifting only to set the hook, letting the slack slide through my rod hand finger as the rainbow runs to the protection of the fast current, reeling up to get the fish on the reel, letting the line surge out on a powerful run, until all, fish and line, is brought back to hand. With admiration and a kiss, the rainbow is released just as my dad had a thousand times.

That would be enough.

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