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I went up there today with my family. My two little girls caught eight beautiful cutts in less than an hour. Dad got none--it's OK. I was getting tennis elbow after a couple days of flyfishing and watching the excitement on their faces was more fun than me actually catching fish. They had a big time unfair advantage. Being younger than 12, they were able to use salmon eggs. Figuring that I could have some success with the girls "chumming" the water with their real eggs, I decided to use a glow bug-no luck. Changing plans, I noticed that there were tons of foot long cutts right in front of us "sipping" the surface for something white. The best I could figure was something like a pale morning dun, but no takers. I went down to Kirk's Flyshop in Estes, telling how it really looked bad that Dad got skunked in front of his girls, and he said I was on the right track--I just needed a number 24 in a pale white fuzzy thing. He suggested taking a pair of scissors to an appropriately small fly and giving it a haircut.

By the way, great guy that Kirk and his dad. Hard workers. It was about 7 pm on a Sunday night and he was still open and available for advice, and I purchased a few flies like I always do when I get local advice.

In any case, this is a great little pond and I told my wife that I'd like my ashes spread here so I can flyfish for cutthroat in the afterlife--it's going to be really cold, though, so if you hear a ghost howling around the lake late at night, build a campfire for me.
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