Dispatches From El Escondido, Vol 3, Tuesday

 Winter weather arrived in Creede today. The forecast called for rain and snow beginning at 6 AM today. When that didn't happen, I did the logical thing. I went fishing. 

Apparently I was the only one with that bent this morning, at least on the creek I visited. There is a campground nearby (many have already closed), and I could smell bacon cooking as I hiked down to the water. That was the only distraction I had. Not a soul was astream. The fish were very cooperative. Maybe they sensed the coming storm and were on the feed. Strikes were aggressive - no sipping dry flies today. This day called for nymphs. 

This creek is in a tenebrific canyon. There are places sunlight seldom touches. The fish are darkly colored, lean and muscular as they should be. And they fight. I learned the hard way to fight them with side pressure to keep them in the water - for if given a chance to leap, they shake the hook and escape like a piscatorial Houdini. 

This is a low water year. The place I originally planned to fish today was just too low. It was really sad to see.  Fortunately the creek I ended up fishing  draws it's resources from an alpine lake. Technically it is a tailwater, though the character of the stream is that of a freestone.  

Yesterday I wet-waded, as temps were in the low 70's, Today with the foreboding forecast, I donned waders, fleece, and a waterproof wading jacket - choices that proved prudent as the morning wore on. 

While the wind was blowing a bit, I was protected in the canyon. I kept a wary eye out for beetle-killed trees that might come down in a blow. Once the thunder started around 1:30,  I knew it was time to go, but I delayed just a bit to fish through one final run. 

Rain and ice pellets started coming down lightly, and my cabin is higher in elevation that the creek, which could mean more snow than rain. However since temps were in the 50's this morning, most everything that fell melted almost immediately. 

Once home, I began doing a few chores to prep for the cold night ahead. Temps are supposed to get down into the teens. Nobody had to tell the birds - they were already sheltering under the eves of the porches. I fear they would invite themselves in if I left the door open a moment too long, and who could blame them? 

It is snowing heavily now. The mountains I know to be there are hidden from my view from the dining room window as I write this. The smoke we had yesterday from the California and Utah fires now appear to be washed away, but the mountains still hide. 

I love the day after snowfall - the quiet is unmatched. Here, safe, warm and provisioned in the cabin, I watch the gathering storm with wonder and thankfulness.