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Here are some of the many stories from anglers and guides who fish Sylvan Dale waters.

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with guide Bill Franz.

Mark was visiting the ranch with his family, enjoying a "dude ranch reunion" and had never picked up a fly rod until this trip! He was casting 35-40 feet in just a matter of an hour! He caught this beauty on a damsel nymph on Mother Lake in the Big Valley. It ran far into his backing and took a good 4-5 minutes to land. He is hooked and said that he was going to buy his first fly rod and reel as soon as he got home!

I caught the biggest trout I ever caught in the Big Thompson River yesterday. Twenty-one inches! A huge, fat rainbow, like one from our trophy lakes.

That big boy came out of the stretch of river in the Lower Valley where it slows into a riffle above the irrigation dam. It was about 7 pm. The slanting light from the setting sun lit up every bug like a firefly, including my size 16 royal trude. The cliffs above were ablaze, and it was hard to not look at them instead of focusing on the end of my line.

I was using a skittering technique. The royal trude hung as a dropper about two and a half feet above a size 14 blue quill wet fly. I would cast downstream at an angle, let the flies drift for a moment, then raise my rod tip and wiggle it. The blue quill would drag along just under the surface, and the trude, its white wing easily visible against the dark water, would dance along the surface, suspended from six inches of tippet. You can only use about twenty-five feet of line with this technique. Any more, and both flies drag in the water. Any less, you’re too close to the fish and both flies come out of the water.

I was easing my way downstream about half-way through the riffle. Strangely for that time of day, there were no rises. Yet I had already caught a half-dozen smaller fish, on both flies, all rainbows (I love seeing those little rainbows, which mean that our good ole Big T may have evolved a strain resistant to whirling disease). My mind was starting to wander back to the cliffs again, when a fish flashed under my fly. A big one. It got my attention.

Five more casts, five more skittering retrieves, and two more passes by the same trout. Finally, on the next cast, he took the trude. The water is clear by mid-August, so I could watch this Moby trout swim back and forth like a nuclear sub, then power upstream about a hundred feet, then turn back to me. Luckily, it didn’t head downstream. I strained to get his head out of the water, caught in that dilemma of pulling too hard and breaking the tippet or playing him too long and allowing him time to work the fly out of his mouth. After about five minutes I was able to drag him into my inadequate net. He was gasping for breath. So was I!

The barbless hook slipped out easily, and I was able to lift the trout up parallel to the net (carefully, and mostly in the water of course) just long enough to set his nose against the net rim and see his tail stretch clear to the end of the handle. Then a big flop, and he was gone. I let the net drop. My hands were shaking.

I waded ashore and clipped off the flies. Any more fishing would have been anti-climactic. I walked back to the car and measured the distance from the net rim to the end of the handle. Twenty-one inches. I’ve been fishing this river for sixty years. A decade ago I landed a twenty-inch rainbow on the main ranch grounds, but it wasn’t nearly as hefty as this one. I sat down, took a deep breath and watched the last of the sun burn on the cliffs.

I drove into the main ranch on Sunday July 11 2010 to be greeted by May-like water flows. Not exactly full run-off but certainly steady and careful wading were required. Trout were right on the

bottom and/or hugging the banks in what little quiet water was available.
      I also crossed a palpable barrier, almost a membrane, into a totally different dimension. The rush of the water drowned out the outside world. Aaaah Peace. Tranquility afforded to fly fishing in a way untouched by other endeavors. My initial fishing companion was a seasoned veteran effortlessly throwing line into the current seams and slack quiet water. I was his ghilley. [That is an old English term used to describe an assistant to aristocratic anglers.] I simply walked on his left holding a net watching him fish reminding me of when my father was alive and we fished these waters years ago. Maybe the membrane is celestial…..coulda swore I felt Dad yesterday – naw, he ascended into heaven in 2002. Sure felt like I was with Dad. It is one of the reasons I love this place so much: family history.
      My son arrived early afternoon to “waste” the rest of the day on the water. The fishing was a challenge but the experience was priceless. I had a day on the water: first as a ghilley, then as an angler and finally as a father myself. “Hey, Dad, do you have the keys to the car? I’m gonna gear down for the trip back to town.” “Jarrod, it’s unlocked.” My wallet with identity to steal, cash to pilfer and credit cards to charge up rested in the door panel. There is something special about this place – protected by unseen forces as though on hallowed ground. A place of family, friendship, freedom of intrusion from the evils of outsiders, oh and of course, fishing!
      Thanks again Sylvan Dale for the transportation through the “celestial membrane” of time and space to a tranquil world of peace difficult to find in 2010.

As a guide I prefer big flies and big tippets. And when I see lobster size crawfish carcasses on the bank, how can you go wrong with big streamers twitching on the bottom? The fact is the pigs in Mother Lake really don’t care what I prefer. Yesterday, they decided they would rather feast on dainty little midges on the surface. It was cold, rainy, and windy, but three intrepid anglers (two from upstate New York, and a beginner from Boulder) were up to the challenge. Rigged up a size 20 Griffith’s Gnat on 5X trailing off the more visible Chernobyl Ant. Got a couple of hook-ups and eventually Nick Sr. landed a fine and feisty 20 incher on the #20 Gnat. That’s pretty good fishing and a first for this senior Blues singer and harmonica player.

After awhile the trout decided they could eat #18 Renegades on 4X and Bruce the Boulder Beginner (pictured left) landed a 19 incher. By the way, Bruce is an expert Jazz pianist.

Nick Jr. (pictured below) who is less musically inclined but severely fishing inclined presented long casts to dozens of fish who refused to hook-up.

Curiously unfair as he even fooled a Swallow who took his Gnat and lifted it and his much larger indicator fly out of the water. Eventually, the appetizer portion of the meal was over and they started hitting the Chernobyls and Nick Jr. caught this 21 inch beauty on a black Chernobyl Beetle.

We didn’t stay around to find out if they would move on to Bellyaches and Autumn Splendors. Instead we went over to Main Ranch River, where over 22 fish were landed; mostly by Nick Jr. Half and half Browns to Bows mostly in the 12-14 inch range. First fly of choice was a #18 Zebra Midge. Second preference #18 Prince Nymph. Everyone was wet, cold, and happy. Except for the fish … they were just wet.

Editorial Note: Scroll down for more fishing stories, but don't pass up this read which may inspire you to participate in the next official clean-up in your area OR to clean up your little corner of the world on just any ol' day!

Being a part of the Big Thompson River clean-up on Saturday April 17th was a surprisingly emotional experience. The people at Sylvan Dale Guest Ranch called and asked if I wanted to be one of their volunteers for the day. As a fly fisherman I am someone who benefits from clean clear water and as a conservationist at heart I was only too happy to be included.

As I walked the banks of the river gathering trash I was aware of a deep stirring within my soul. Every cell in my body contains an emotion antidote. That Y chromosome is supposed to keep those deep feelings locked up in the dungeon where they can be properly shackled. After all, as a man of 54 years on God’s green earth and have learned “A man aint supposed to cry!” I dropped off my bags of trash at our rally point headed off to eat a streamside lunch.

I munched away watching to see what the fly pattern should be used to catch the rising trout my Y chromosomes failed entirely. What is going on here? Still munching I remembered back to the first time I was a trash collector. On summer vacation we would often go to Nebraska to stay with grandparents. My brother and I would take the little red wagon all over the little bitty town picking up all kinds of trash. Grandma would take the refuse giving us money in exchange. We were working just for her and was our little secret together. Shhh! Don’t tell anyone. It was our little game we thought. We would hustle to the only store in town right in the middle of Main Street to spend our wages. I still remember sitting on the bench out front sipping cold pop and eating the candy we had just purchased inside. When we got back home to Colorado we got the tongue lashing of our lives from my mother (my brother blabbed.) It was my introduction to poverty, the fear of not having enough (fill in the blank.) When we went to the grocery store in Colorado with Mom she would always pay with S & H Green Stamps and a check. In Nebraska Grandma would pay with Food Stamps and cash. I always thought it was the Nebraska version of rebates. The innocence of youth was reinforced because when we were with grandparents in Nebraska we never felt poverty. We never sensed the fear of not having enough. They always took emotional ownership of us which kept poverty at bay. My Y chromosomes were failing. I realized the Jessup family had taken emotional ownership of the land. They had hired me to pick up trash. The compensation came in the quiet streamside lunch with the candy dessert of a quiet afternoon catching rising trout.

The steady afternoon rain made beads of water on the treated fishing jacket. The beads blended with the tears. The day’s activity was sponsored by American Rivers; this event occurred all over the country. Thanks Jessup family for the lesson. I wonder how many other trash collectors all over the country became emotional owners of their little corners on the planet. I am curious to know if they too caught the reality of becoming emotional owners as the antidote to the poverty of pollution. The real fear of not having enough (fill in the blank) because of the wastefulness our culture brings. I became an EMOTIONAL OWNER last Saturday April 17, 2010 of the Big Thompson Valley and so very much more.

(With another cold front on the way and unsettled weather as per usual for Spring in this area,

this report will hold true for a while!) Scroll down for other conditions as well!

"We had a great trip! The clients were Johhny (father), Johnathon (son) and Randy (future father in law). Johnathon was given a choice by his father to treat him to a bachelor party or a fishing trip! It was very windy first thing in the morning and the previous few days’ rain and snow had cooled off the water temps quite a bit. The fish were accordingly a little slow to wake up. We began at Weldon Lake to escape the wind as best we could. We had several takes and landed a couple very pretty rainbows. Johnathon, the man of the hour (pictured below) took first honors. Later is seemed as though the wind had died down so we headed up to Mother Lake, where it did seem calmer. We watched an osprey hovering as we unloaded from the truck and got ready. He made a few attempts but without reward while we were watching. We hooked several fish right away on Mother with Johnathon again leading the way. It seemed the weather had switched the focus of the fish from midges to random different foods. Over the course of the day we caught fish on Pheasant Tails, RFSH Nymphs, Pale Olive Marabou Leeches, and woolly buggers. But none on midges. The wind returned with a vengeance soon after we started on Mother so we broke for lunch. After lunch with the wind still howling we went down to Island Lake, where is was a bit calmer. Fishing at Island was very good also with everyone catching fish. Before calling it a day we stopped at Mother one last time and Johnathon (who else) was rewarded with the largest fish of the day. A beautiful brown, "only" about 21 inches, but the tallest and widest fish I've seen in quite some time. Although there were several fish caught that day in the 20 inch range, this was by far the heaviest. By early evening the wind, the sun (which popped out in the afternoon) and the large strong fish had everyone worn out and we called it a day with smiles all around." THANKS FOR THE REPORT, AL! And congratulations to your client's wedding (and who chose fishing at Sylvan Dale over a typical bachelor party!)

The wind was quite brisk so there was a good chop on the water. Because of the chop and the small size of the bugs, we didn't try to fish the adult midges, but the fish were taking them very, very well.

A size 18 black midge adult would have been the correct imitation. We fished an indicator above a black midge pupa with either a bead head pheasant tail or a bead head hare's ear under it. Surprisingly, we got a few fish on the midge, but they ate the hare's ears and pheasant tails enthusiastically all afternoon. Fred, the client, caught all he wanted and decided to stop early, about 6pm, even though we didn't start until about 2pm. His best was a rainbow that was very near if not 24". As we were taking our waders off, of course - the wind died and Mother Lake looked like it was boiling with all the rises! Fred was really happy with what he'd already caught though and he declined to go back out when I offered. It was a great day, Fred had a really good time. He'd never seen elk before, so he was very interested when a herd of about 30 or 40 came down to the lake near the springs and were wading around in the lake. They went up on the ridge for a bit – great to catch beautiful trout and see wild elk, too! Thanks, Sylvan Dale!

Wallace Westfeldt, guide and owner MudBugCo, reports his day in the Big Valley on March 4th at this link: Bellyache at Mother Lake, including a photo of the fly that landed a dozen fish!

Mike Green, guided by Bill Franz, lands this 18-incher and a few more at Island Lake on March 16th with suspended chironomids (#14-18) from a float tube. Mr. Green reports that the fish is really much bigger than it looks, since his hands are so large! We've heard that one!

In late January 2010, Ranch Guide Ted Meredith's smile is almost as big as this

I turned into the main ranch to check in, fully expecting to register for the Big Valley intent to cast line to midging silver Donaldsons. Surprise! The river had opened up, snow and ice retreating enough to warrant a change of plans. This early season offers the stealthy angler huge advantages. In low gin clear cold water there are fewer places for the fish to reside. The low flow also means that I can get to sections that during normal flows I just simply can’t reach with any degree of safety. Prime lies – where fish can comfortably reside in secure locations, don’t have to move much in order to eat, and a steady flow bringing lunch regularly – can now be approached easily.

It was a meteorological mistake day. Weather people forecasted rain /sleet with a mix of snow, but it became a 50-degree day with overcast clouds fighting the sun. The clouds won most of the battles but that Spring feeling is just around the corner! Sporadic BYO hatch didn’t bring the fish up. In all of the walking and wading (6 hours total and yes, my toes were popsicles by the end of the day) I never disturbed any distributed fish. They are still stacked up in the prime lies water still wintery cold. I rigged up a short leader system - 7 feet to fit with the low flow conditions tapered down to 4X. I used a big and little combination with great success today. On the end of the leaders section I tied a big weighted black with orange ribs stone fly size 8 then added another 2 feet of 5X to a little skinny pheasant tail size 18 to match the BYO nymphs. I usually add more tippet to start because I often need to try several variations on the little to determine what is working best. March 3rd was an unusual day. I never changed flies. The fish took both patterns all day! 70% took the pheasant tails; 30% took the stone. The takes were slight but discernable with a strike indicator. It was great to “feel” the bumps of feeding fish again after a long winter. Hesitation feeding was the order of the day. Watch for the line or strike indicator to change speeds and then quick set lift the rod tip.

Snow still covered the lower road into the Big Valley so I went in through the west gate. The snow still covered the road even up here where the sun gets to it. I pulled off deciding to walk in the rest of the way. [Ranch editorial: Good idea to avoid getting stuck, even in 4WDs!]
Trudging over the crest of the hill thinking this better be worth it, my eyes lit up a poacher in broad daylight no less. What audacity! He was large in frame with short stubby legs, a bald head and sharp eyes. He, like me, was hunting the big vista cruisers in Mother Lake. He was trying to hook one feeding upon midges close to the surface. Shoot! He saw me about the same time I spied him! Not one to be caught red-handed, he jumped up and headed down valley toward the river. Carrying a wingspan over 6 feet he soared north; two beats later he was long gone. I have never seen a bald eagle in the valley before. Another first for the paradise valley made the trip well worth my trudgery. David, I would pay a little extra to cover the cost of his harvesting just to continue to witness this spectacle.

The midge activity was sporadic. Clousers and Olive Woolly Buggers twitched slow worked best up by the open water around the springs. One mammoth Donaldson measured 5 inches from his hook jaw to the back of his crimson gill plate. 28 inches total. Did I say trudgery? I moseyed on down to Weldon Springs to discover open water and hungry active fish. Same tactics - just lost some gear on the poacher protecting wire stretched subsurface. Great idea, ranch folk, but you owe me 2 olive woollys and 2 red eyed Clousers. All in all it was a 7 fish day - all healthy, hungry and happy. No evidence of winterkill. Still lots of fry in the water schooled up in the shallows. Water is starting to warm up. Bring on March Madness!

The snow looked too deep to cross even in “four-low” through the north gate road so we drove around entering the valley by the west gate. We hugged the road fishtailing a bit in the mud (sorry David) even in four low. The horses looked at us like we were in dire need of therapy. And they were right. Cabin fever is cured just by being out and it is only December 19th. Winter stays long this high.

The ice sheet on Mother Lake covered two thirds of the surface area. Even though the temperature climbed to a shirt sleeve comfortable 45 degrees we never saw a midge let alone a fin or a tail of a feeding fish. Rats! We should have brought the shot guns and hid in the blind, as the ducks came whizzing around at regular intervals. It would have been a great waterfowl day. I had read about how fish use the ice shelf as structure getting comfortable just underneath the edges. My son Jarrod and I decided to cast our Clousers, olive wooly buggers and egg sucking leeches on to the ice then give a little tug for them to plop into the water. Let them sink until WHAM! The technique reminded me of throwing hoppers using power casts across a river to overhanging grass giving additional cover to an undercut bank. Pop the grasshopper against the grass sometimes needing a little tug to plop into the swirling water. The comfortable fish sitting just under the ice shelf attacked again and again – the 3X tippets not even phasing the normally wary fish.

As the day wore on the temps came up the ice sheet grew smaller. The cover became only one third of the surface area making us sorry we didn’t bring the float tubes. Did I say something about needing therapy? Freezing water? Float tubes in December? Are you nuts? Yes we are. To catch these kind of fish – you betcha! We had another therapeutic blast: ice fishing without an auger. Thanks Sylvan Dale!

Understanding the unique local weather patterns is part of being a Colorado native. A traditional early cold snap each autumn accelerates the leaves to color up, the elk to migrate, and the fish to spawn. It usually gives way to a period of warm days and cool nights. Ahhh….Indian summer.

Preparing for this fishing trip was different. The cooler was replaced by a cardboard box. Sandwiches and cold sodas moved over for a Coleman stove, brats and a coffee pot. We pulled into the office parking lot at the main ranch to sign in. With the car running to keep the heater

going, I did not believe the digital thermometer readout so I thumped it with my finger. Sure enough it was wrong. The 22 degrees turned to 21. “Two Musicks to fish the Big Valley,” I told the shocked ladies behind the counter handing over our permits. I counted their fillings as they accepted the chits. This is Cowboy Winter -- the bone chilling opposite of Indian summer!

We were greeted by a herd of elk, a wandering coyote, and a pair of hovering falcons as we entered the Valley. Mother Lake was shrouded in mist as the 40+ degree water vaporized in the breeze. It reminded me of the Firehole Valley in Yellowstone National Park about this time of year. In the dead of winter the fish in this valley tend to congregate around the springs on Mother Lake while some of the lunkers huddle up in the northeast corner of Island Lake. “What about Cowboy winter like this hummm?” Let’s see elk migrating, some leaves turning, perhaps the fish are in a spawning mood. We rigged up dropped egg patterns 4 feet below strike indicators. The first fish required both of us to capture. My son squealed and reeled while I managed the mesh to net a big silver Donaldson steelhead. Impossible to know how many fish were swirling the springs but we hooked a dozen, netted half and broke off

two monsters using 4X.

This valley is an hour and a half from my home in Westminster, Colorado. The warm spring water meeting the cold breeze creates a mist hovering through the valley – surreal indeed. Three to four pound fish were regularly feeding in 20-degree weather. It is as if we had been transwarp-beamed 13 hours northwest to Yellowstone National Park fishing the legendary Firehole River. Close your eyes. Listen to the elk bugle to ward off the coyote echoes followed by the swirling splash of lunker trout and the consistent gurgle of the flowing springs. The Big Valley has a firehole of its own. Thanks again David Jessup and the entire ranch crew for making this possible for we mere mortals. Another magnificent day at the ranch I love.

Ranch Editorial: Steve and Jarrod Musick have reminded all anglers that winter at Sylvan Dale waters can certainly be enjoyable and provide fish in the net! Is that a beer on our picnic table? ;-)

Laurie Schumann, Season Member, with her catch of the day at Mother Lake! Her husband John had tied on a Golden Demon Streamer Fly.

She may have earned her way into the "24-Inch Club" with this catch, but we'd have to know the length of the net!

Laurie usually enjoys horseback riding while she's here, helping us round up cattle and other adventure rides, but today, she joined John in the Big Valley for a day of rounding up rainbows.

DISABLED DAMSELS IN DISTRESS (not referring to the photo above ;-)
July 10, 2009 ~ Steve Musick, Season Member

Sunrise on July 10th was unusually unspectacular. Not even worth getting up so early. The cloud cover made me feel like I was inside a canvass tent. The dull low light conditions lasted all morning. Big fish were stacked in the shallows chasing fry and munching damsels. While I am used to fining fish these beasts had their backs out of the water most of the morning.

      Hiding in the chest high grass the first cast wasn’t. A clumsy flip of an adult damsel tied sparse to look like a struggling stillborn in the surface film with a damsel nymph tied bushy green with black eyes about 18 inches below on a dropper. One twitch the rainbow charged like a bull. Raise the rod tip gently it’s 5x remember. Hook set started the first run. Holding the rod high while holding my breath the PhD fish finally turned racing right back at me faster than I could strip or reel. He got close enough thought I heard him laugh before he spit the damsel back at me. Nice try fisherman I have a doctorate in combat tactics. You just gotta love these fish. Checked the hook on the nymph still ouch sharp. Move a few feet down the bank, spy another back out of the water…..didn’t have to move more than 10 yards. Still hidden by the grass another flip cast. A fish swam right past both of the offering s. Twitch again the fish turns swirls and another bull rush. The reel sings some more until snap……5x is just not up to these animals.
      Rerigged on 4x now I am ready for you fellas! I flipped the disabled damsels in distress back close to the cruisers. Twitch turn swirl another rush. This is like aerobics. Solid hook set this time singing reel panting fisherman I hooked an acrobat. He completely clears the water twice before snap. 4x is only as good as the knots dummy. Did I lick the knots to keep them from burning when I rerigged? Damn.
      Halfway through the morning I somehow got smarter. The fish had moved out of the shallows to cruise the weed beds. I dressed the adult damsel with dry fly dust. In a why not mode I also dusted the nymph. Initially it floated then would slowly descend. The dry fly dust created tiny bubbles around the disabled damsel nymph. A twitch and a slight rise of the fly rod would bring life to the imitation and another turn swirl and rush. The twitching must make the fish more aggressive. It did on this day.

Felt a little like Snidely Whiplash tying on all those disabled damsels fished in distress. Can I come back on Monday or Tuesday and attempt to twist my mustache in a sinister fashion again? I netted over 20 fish not one under 18 inches. There were several others that even on 4x laughed and laughed at me. They have earned their PhD status. Once again Sylvan Dale has out done herself. I am very appreciative….again. Entering the big valley passes a person through a membrane opening to a surreal world of fishing heaven. No other place I fish including Montana is like it.

As we pulled into Sylvan Dale's Big Valley near Mother Lake, the last of the resident elk herd was just topping the ridge to the north of the lake. There was a slight ripple to the surface, but not

enough to affect the visibility. The water was clear enough to see the cruising fish from quite a distance, which was fortunate because the fish were running the banks gorging on emerging midges and were very difficult to approach closely. Jerry Kopelman (pictured left) and Kurt Pflock (pictured below) had the perfect midge pupa patterns for the day: a size 20 black fly with a gunmetal glass bead, Krystal flash body, silver rib, and black UV Ice Dub thorax. Fished as a dropper under a foam beetle and a tan L2HF Humpulator the pupa took fish consistently all day. As a bonus, more than a few fish took the dries also. The fish fed steadily all morning. After a lunch in the shade at the picnic table near the guide shack, we switched gears and walked down to fish Island Lake. The results were much the same at Island, though the wind had picked up some by that time. We easily addressed that problem by fishing the end of the lake that put the wind to our backs.

After catching quite a few more sizeable rainbows and Donaldsons we headed back toward the car. The still actively feeding fish as we walked past Mother were too much of a temptation and the guys capped off the day with one or two last fish each. We didn’t count or even measure the fish. Getting the fish revived and back in the water took precedent. Both Jerry and Kurt had me snap one picture each with one of their fish lifted just to the surface before carefully reviving and releasing them. As the guys fished their way back around Mother toward the cars, the elk returned from the ridge and completed the cycle of a perfect day.

Ranch Editorial: We sure appreciate the care with which our guides and anglers handle the fish. Thank you, Al, for making note of proper fish handling in your story!

TJ Pence of Rocky Mountain Anglers, had just made several casts with his favorite dry fly on Mother Lake during the ranch's annual guide orientation and fishing day. Saturday, May 9, 2009

was a day for area guides and fly shops to become acquainted with the Sylvan Dale waters, learn the Ranch’s expectations, and to try their own luck. TJ was looking a bit frustrated as the big trout seemed to cruise by and snub their noses at his offerings. Ranch guide Ted Meredith suggested a Chernobyl Ant as he reached insid1e his fly vest and pulled out a foam bodied, rubber-legged, ugly bug for TJ to use. The fly was tied on, and promptly cast toward a rising ring at an almost unreachable distance from the north shore. After a few seconds on the water, TJ looked at Ted and said, “They just are not hitting dries.” BAM! The trout struck and the battle was on. As TJ finally tailed the big 25 inch Cuttbow and hoisted it gently above the water for Ted’s camera, he responded. “I guess I was wrong….they like this dry!”

Ranch Editorial: TJ got billing here above his "senior," Wallace Westfeldt (pictured below) who guides for Front Range Anglers and Kirk's Fly Shop, because Wallace admitted, albeit sheepishly, that his own entry into "The 24-Inch Club" on May 9, 2009, was indeed, in fact, exactly one inch SMALLER than TJ's take! Wallace did happen to mention, however, that a fancy "measuring net" he got a few years ago seems to take off an inch or two from his prior decades of measurements! Is it the net or was he exaggerating before this net?!? Either way, we love it when anglers tell true tales! Congratulations to all guides who caught fish and had fun at Sylvan Dale!

The day was perfect as the meadowlarks sang, the geese honked, and a large herd of elk left their footprints along the shoreline, while Ed, Tony, and Jim began their guided fly fishing day on 4/20/09. Guide Ted Meredith prepared the rods and directed each fisherman on how to fish the trophy lakes in the valley at Sylvan Dale Ranch. The men each had a pontoon boat and flippers, and set out on Mother Lake to catch the big one. Ted had rigged the guys with Black Bunny Leeches and 4x tippet.

Jim was first to hook up, with a nice 18 inch rainbow and Ed quickly followed suit. Tony maintained the pace by finally landing a fish of his own. Within the first half hour, photos were taken of all three gentlemen with nice fish to reflect on later. After convincing the anglers that after 21 fish, a break might be needed, a short lunch was consumed and plans made for the afternoon outing. The group decided to try Island Lake and continued their success. Ed finally decided to switch his fly and chose a natural colored leech pattern, and found a honey hole, where he landed a fish on practically every other cast. The other two fishers watched in amazement as Ed seemed to have the perfect presentation. “We don’t need a guide next time, we’ll just bring Ed,” joked Jim.

The boys ended the day with a total of 46 fish caught and carefully released to fight again another day. “Unbelievable!” “Amazing!” “Beautiful!” “It just doesn’t get any better than this!”

The foothills wore thick clouds like a hat. No need for sunscreen or poloarized shades today. The fish don't care the springs weren't flowing on Mother Lake; neither did the midge hatch.

There were so many adults, gray, tan and rust colors, I had to switch to something different to take fish. I finally settled on an olive size 18 hare's ear greased leader and twist twitched slow.

Site casting to feeding linebacking trout is my favorite experience on Mother. The first hook-up ran all my fly line. When the junction between fly line and backing strips through the guides and your reel lis still singing, it's a linebacking fish. This one relaxed in my net straining the black mesh.

Furthered my "membership" in The 24-Inch Club by 3 inches and big shoulder Donaldson!!!!

Got tired of catching linebackers; drove over the the Main Ranch River to throw golden stones to golden browns in the canyon. Switched to BWO and PMD mayflys to finish a wonderful Good -- no -- Great Friday.

Sit anywhere ya want it's not like were packing 'em in ya know. This recession is killing us especially in the afternoons. So whaddyer doing in Loveland on a Friday? I have just come from 5 continuous hours of TM.

That explains it then. You feel as peaceful as a monk in a monastery. That much Transcendental Meditation will chill anyone out.

No no forgive me I am a fly fisherman. The cocker spaniel tilt of her head and the furrowed brow invited me to continue as she sat down to pour coffee into my waiting mug. The TM is short for a fishing system. The T is for Terrestrials---crickets and big ants were best today. The M is for midges mosquito like bugs---red black and zebra colors worked best. The midges were suspended about 24 inches under the floating land insect patterns. I fished in silent still waters of a valley just up the road. I was suspended in a float tube and in time. Five hours could just as easily been 5 minutes. Had to chase a big herd of elk off the earthen dam creating a spring fed pond named Mother Lake. There are 12 ponds in all. I only fished two. The elk stood silhouetted on the ridge line as if guarding the valley like they owned the place and I was the trespasser. Maybe they stood guard to keep everyone else out....hmmm.

Could I get eggs over easy and toast with my coffee please? Her glassy eyes cleared coming back from the TM mist....hmmm maybe this is contagious.

Solitude, silent, slinging line while suspended.....maybe it was Transcendent Meditation after all.

Thanks again Sylvan Dale crew. A 23-fish day or 5 hours anyway. It was all I could take. Maybe all I needed. A 26-inch broad shouldered Steelhead to a very scared 4-inch Rainbow racing into the security of my net. He looked a lot like lunker lunch while hooked up and played. Another paradise day at the ranch I love.

Indian summer. Dead leaves spiral to earth fueled only by gravity, not a wisp of wind. The overnight cloud cover held in the heat from yesterday, no sunscreen needed today.

Island Lake was just that an "I" land. Solitude.....yet not alone. School was in session. I taught the ABCs: Ants Beetles and Chronomids. The trout schooled up in the shallows. Some fish attacked the ants. Others bashed the beetles. Most of the fish chewed the chronomids dropped as emergers fished slow and twitchy.

Catch one trout ....quarter turn on the float tube, catch another on the next cast. Rotate some more…… fish on! In every direction fish abound -- school's way in!

Thanks for providing the classroom. God provided the weather. Another perfect day in the Big Valley of the ranch.

Jay Alipit looked over at his brother in the other pontoon boat and shook his head, “Can you believe this, Jeff?!”

“Yeah, I want my money back,” replied Jeff kiddingly. Both men were casting dry midge imitations to numerous rises that encircled each of them on the lake. They watched in amazement at the

endless noses and fins that seemed to be churning the surface of the water. The hatch was on with size 16 midges popping out from the depths of the trophy lake at the Sylvan Dale Ranch and the trout were rising to the occasion.

Sunday, March 29th, 2009 was a beautiful day with temperatures warm enough to melt the existing snow, and winds gentle enough to allow for fisherpersons to propel a craft with foot power across the lake, as Jay and Jeff Alipit spent the day with Sylvan Dale Ranch guide Ted Meredith.

Both men managed to catch and release a total of over a dozen fish for the day with the grand finale being the take of a trout on a dry fly in the month of March. “It’s hard to compete with the real thing,” said Jay as he finally convinced a nice rainbow to take a beetle imitation.

Jeff, who was most comfortable using nymph patterns, was grinning ear to ear when he finally hooked a nice bow on a size 18 Mother’s midge dry. “YES!” was all he could muster.

It was an overcast morning on Wednesday, May 28, 2008, as Kim and Charles Pacheco followed directions from their guide Ted Meredith, as to the safe way to board their pontoon boats on Mother Lake. The wind was calm as the normal dimples of trout slurping midges seemed to be missing from the glass- like surface of the lake.

Charles, an avid fly fisher, was first to launch and first to hook up as Kim and Ted reviewed casting techniques near the boat ramp. After Charles had broken off his first connection, the other two proceeded to start the backward trolling across the lake. Kim, a chemistry professor at UNC, shared that she had never actually landed a trout on a flyrod and was hoping to maybe catch even just one fish.

After about thirty minutes of exploration along the edges of the water, the concentration shifted to the middle of the lake with a bead head bunny leech with an olive green scud dropper and a split shot added for depth. Kim suddenly watched as her rod lurched toward the water and immediately fumbled for the slack line that was in her lap. As quickly as the strike occurred, the fish was gone, leaving Kim second guessing her failed attempt to set the hook. In less than a minute the fish struck again -- only this time Kim was ready! With coaching from her guide and her free wheeling Cortland reel, the fish was on and running for the hills. This battle between a novice fisherperson and a seemingly hefty fish lasted several minutes with the quarry refusing to come to the net for release. Nearing exhaustion from her efforts, Kim finally raised the rainbow to a level for Ted to net. A beautiful 24-inch Kamloops Rainbow was unhooked, photographed, revived and released to fight again another day. Charles was grinning like a Cheshire Cat, as his wife was still in shock from her first successful flyrod experience.

The same day saw the sun out in full force after lunch, as Charles crept on his knees to lessen the casting distance to the large brown trout feeding near the inlet at Island Lake. His first attempt at enticing the enormous fish to strike went unnoticed as the #18 midge dry fly floated over and past the quarry. Guide Ted, who had crawled within a few feet of Charles, quietly switched the fly to a #10 bunny leech streamer to offer another dining choice to this active brute. Charles’ delivery was perfect as the huge brownie engulfed the fly, sensed his mistake and headed for the open lake, stripping line behind him. The battle took Charles 100 feet down the shoreline as this beautiful 24” fish finally came to the net just outside the cattails. “Happy Birthday, Charles!” What a way to celebrate getting another year older!

Jeremy W., Loveland, CO: Regarding Memorial Day '08 Special: "Fishing was WONDERFUL yesterday, even with the crummy weather. I got pretty bad sun burn the previous days and was relieved to have clouds and rain all day! I caught a lot of fish and made some new friends. Please keep me on the list for upcoming open days! Happy days on the ranch!"

Dan and Cathy Pirner, Arvada, CO: Cathy and I had a great time fishing the Sylvan Dale waters over the Memorial Day weekend ['08]. We arrived on a beautiful Sunday afternoon and I spent an hour or two fishing the Big Thompson on the main ranch property. Even though the flow was a bit high due to run-off, the water was clear and the fish were cooperative. I caught and released a number of healthy fish including a nice brown of about 18 inches. Even with the high water they hit a #18 midge pattern that I had tied as a trailing fly below a #14 bead-head prince nymph. Lots of fun in a beautiful setting right outside our cabin! Although Memorial Day was cool and rainy, Cathy had several nice fish out of Island Lake using a olive bugger. In addition to trout, I caught a few very nice large-mouths in the bass ponds using a worm fly that Greg Sheets generously “loaned” me. That was great fun and a nice diversion from trout fishing. No #18 flies needed for those guys! Thanks to Greg and Bill for their hospitality and timely fishing tips. As usual, a wonderful overnight stay at Sylvan Dale. We’ll be back!!

It was an overcast morning on Thursday, July 3, 2008, when 82 year old Dorothy Morgan gave a huge grin and a satisfied chuckle, as the big bass voraciously took the floating Rapala beneath the surface of the lake. She had already landed seven bass with the help of guide Ted Meredith on Pump Lake in the lower valley at Sylvan Dale Ranch and was hoping to land number eight. Almost simultaneously Dorothy’s rod bent toward the water and the drag on her open face reel began to sing as the fish seemed to get a burst of energy in the attempt to escape. Dorothy held fast and followed her guide’s coaching as she reeled the fish toward the shoreline. As she raised the rod tip to bring the fish closer to the net, the surprising hook up soon became evident. Two large bass were hooked on one lure at the same time. “I guess that’s number eight and number nine.” said Dorothy as she took the net and fish from her guide and posed for photos.

A few years ago, Greg and I decided to fish the river that runs through the ranch property. It is a marvelous stretch of the Big Thompson River with numerous wild trout up to 18 or 20 inches. The ranch also has several locations for picnicking and group events along the river.

We started fishing up stream from the lower river near the Daddy-J pavilion and there was a wedding reception in the shelter with a harpist playing beautiful music.

As we fished on up, another wedding had concluded on the lawn and a string quartet was entertaining that group (and us). On up a ways, along the lodge dining room area, yet another wedding was under way with a mariachi band “thrumping” out delightful Mexican music. As we were fairly close to the seated crowd, many of the guys crained their necks watching Greg “hoovering” trout in.

All through the route up stream, with the varied music playing, we were also accompanied with he distant sounds of deep-throated thunder from a thunderstorm way to the north. It was a very unique fishing experience, rather pleasant, except for the stern request by the ranch owners to not fish along the stretches that might distract from the activities of the weddings. "You wouldn't want to be in the background of photographs from a brides' most memorable day!"

Gordon Penley, Ft. Collins: In April, I had the pleasure of fishing at Sylvan Dale Ranch and was guided by Chuck Prather of Flyfishing Services. This turned out to be one of the best fishing experiences I’ve ever had – I caught many very large rainbows in Mother Lake including the largest fish I’ve ever caught, a fish Chuck estimated to be in the 8-10 pound class. Chuck was very personable, knowledgeable, and seemed to have exactly the right flies and tactics for the hanging conditions of the day. I fished both trophy lakes with success and I really enjoyed the secluded setting and quality of the fisheries. I hope to be speaking to Chuck soon about returning with some of my angling buddies as I know they would enjoy the experience.