Some of the things you’ve never done are accepted as not to be reasonably expected. You’ve never gone skydiving. You’ve never climbed K2. You’ve never dated a Sports Illustrated swimsuit model.
But it seems improbable that until a few days ago, I’d never fished the western United States.
I had my chance in the form of family vacation to the Grand Canyon. We’d do our thing in Arizona, then head northeast to Colorado, where I’d have two days to fish the legendary South Platte River. For years, I’d been reading about the South Platte in books like Ed Engle’s Trout Lessons; Landon Mayer’s The Hunt For Giant Trout; and especially Pat Dorsey’s Fly Fishing Guide to the South Platte River. I’d casually said hello to Pat before, but I got to chat with him at the Edison Fly Fishing show last January. He wasn’t available to guide me, but Chris Steinbeck, another guide at The Blue Quill Angler, was. Done and done.
I have a love/hate relationship with every guide I’ve hired. They’ve all been really good, but as a night owl they’ve all horrified me with lines like, “We’ll meet at the Cheesman Canyon parking lot (over an hour drive from our hotel) at 7am.” Such is the price to pay for fishing in paradise. And paradise it was.