"can't catch it in a camera"

Saturday had been planned (at least in part) for over 2 weeks. One of the teachers here at the college had a friend coming out to visit and a few of us had planned on taking the day to go climbing as a way to get to know the visitor a little better.

So when Kelley and I were in Santa Fe, I stopped in at REI and bought a couple more pieces of climbing gear...a daisy chain, some locking carabiners, and a new chalk bag.

As the time got closer my days in class just happened to be spent taking the kids to the Rio Gallinas again as one of the last parts of this huge unit on ecology we're doing. As they planned out their field study, I walked the river and started noticing the trout in the stream. My "other love" was now groaning once again from the river to my soul and I went and bought a fishing license this past Friday. During my fishing outing on Friday afternoon I began to think about what the climbing would be like on Saturday and as I mulled over the terrain that we would be in, I realized that the Mora river ran straight through the area...deep inside of Carson National Forest. It was set then...

...I would ride the harley with climbing and fly fishing gear riding on the passenger seat(like some turtle with an adrenaline addiction)up New Mexico Hwy 518 and have what would become a day to rival days.

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We ate breakfast at a friend's house on campus and then I took off early to scout out the fishing spots before we all went climbing. 5 minutes (by road) from our climbing spot I found a great section of the river where the pools were deep and the trout were active. I couldn't wait until after the climbing, so I put on all my gear and caught a little brown trout within the first 4 or 5 casts.

I had seen my friends pass in the car on their way to the crag, so I got back on the bike and met them at Comales Canyon in Carson National Forest. The hike in was enough to shake the cold of the morning ride and I found them setting up gear at the bottom of a rock face called the Water Wall. We climbed until about 3pm. I climbed a 5.8+ that was really fun and tried to climb a 5.9+/5.10A route. I only got 1/3 of the way up, but the first few moves were great and tired me out.

Then it was back to the river. I went further up 518 towards Taos only by a few hundred yard and found a great public camp right by the river. I put the rod together, donned my waders and vest and stepped softly down into the stream. The willows on the riverbank were enough to buffer my casting from the harsh wind that had picked up. As the sun came out, I decided to try a dry fly (I had been fishing nymphs all morning and the previous day). I put on a stimulator caddis with a bright orange tail and crept up on a deep hole with a steep rock as the outer boundary...I could feel the trout waiting.

A long cast found my caddis laying down at the full extension of the leader and tippet where it paused for a brief second before the water exploded. A beautiful brown trout had been fooled and was now on the end of my happy line. Soon in the net, I marveled at its golden color...the spots on its side beaming with color like I had never seen.

I fished the rest of that afternoon careless if I caught another after that magnificant fish. I was soon back on the motorcycle and heading home through some of God's most amazing country...the bright yellow sunshine of the turning aspens like islands amidst the deep green of the alpine spruce and fir trees.

Home came quickly and much welcomed by my tired but happy body after a day that a camera could do no justice to.