Rocky Mountain High

We traveled north out of Albuquerque on I-25.  Its steep grades and climbs held our traveling time down.  Our next destination was Trinidad State Park just inside the Colorado Line!

Our camp site was made for a tent camper, so it set up some challenges to fit in our 31 foot coach.

Those years of truck driving experience as a Beer Distributor paid dividends as with just some back and forth adjustments we were able to find the best angle that we could find the best coach position to get it to level.  Our replaced leveling motor preformed handsomely, and it was just a short time that we were settled in and ready to explore, and fish!

Trinidad Lake is held captive by the drought that seems to have no state boundaries.  The ranger reported it was down about half way, but I noticed its waters were clear most likely direct from the towering Rockies off in the Westerly direction that still held their wintery snow caps!  Maybe some of that snow pack will find its way to this shinning blue Gem of a lake!

Just as we began to make plans, Jude became victim to an intestinal bug. I stood by offering condolences and sympathy while symptoms peaked and waned.  Jude is the healthiest person I have ever known and when she goes down, it is rare but that being said, it is that health and the resilience it provides that soon had her feeling fine and ready to explore our new surroundings.

highway of legends

We took a drive on what was called the Highway of Legends.  It traveled west of Trinidad for a while passing through old turn-of-the-20th-century  coal producing towns that provided fuel for the railroads that were the arteries for the newly blossoming Industrial Revolution sweeping America and the world!

Suddenly we were in the Front Range climbing higher and higher past geological formation such as the Dakota Wall that rose vertically for over two hundred feet.  We did not know that this formation was a totally unique feature of the Rocky Mountain and was present throughout its traverse as the spine of America!

We traveled over a 10,000-foot pass.  I remembered that is was well over a decade ago that my travels in Wyoming and its neighbor states took me that high. Jude and I both noticed the pressure difference but our slow ascent in altitude over the past month spared us any altitude adjustment problems such as headache or fatigue.

The highway wandered through summer homes built by their owners to effectively escape whatever urban confines their winter residences held.  They ranged from the anointed to simple in style but my mind could not stop thinking of the drought and seeing these dream homes completely surrounded by bug infested forests.

The Legends Highway found its way back to I-25 but not until it wondered through golf courses, bedroom communities, and resorts dotting the eastern front range.  It was a pleasurable journey of a hundred miles where we were blessed with a plethora of Juniper and Pine foothills, dotted with small Alpine lakes fed by snow melt and framed by crystal blue skies against snow-capped towering mountains!

One look at Trinidad Lake led me to believe that the Rainbow Trout that lived there would seldom see hand-flies from anglers. They would be fed a never-ending menu of green, yellow, garlic Power baits by its visiting anglers.  I pulled my fly tying box and in a short time produced a dozen Double Renegades flies.

Rattle Snake Kindgom

I tie one fly on my fly rod and headed in the direction to the lake near the campground. I ended up scrambling down a steep bluff to the water’s edge.  All the time going down bouncing from rock outcropping to another, I was thinking that I may very well be in Rattle Snake kingdom, but the water called!

A dozen casts produced a scrappy Rainbow!  In Quick succession, four more Trout followed.  We feasted on fresh trout that evening.

The next morning when we were on a Trinidad State Park sponsored bird walking tour, we came across a coiled Western Diamondback Rattle Snake sunning itself in the morning sun!!  The very area I bounced down the previous evening was indeed snake kingdom and that forays off steep rocky inclines was not really the smartest thing to do!  I revised quickly how to present a fly to those willing Rainbows.

Our sea eagle fold-cat (“the meal ticket”)

One of the toys we have is a Sea Eagle Inflatable Pontoon style Fold Cat boat with a  Minkota 30 pound thrust motor.  It is equipped with two seats and is quite comfortable and very stable.  It was a perfect platform for Jude’s continuing fishing lessons.

As an adult, Jude has never caught a fish.  As her mentor, I hoped to use that comfortable boat and fly rod to catch her first fish.  It is always special when a beginning angler can say that their first fish caught was on a fly.

We set out early the next morning.  Within a few hundred yards, Jude’s first fish was a reality.  We released it and I was proud of her.  I went on to catch more trout and some Walleye that I was targeting.  I had always heard that they were excellent table fare. We found that they were as we had them grilled on coals that evening.  There is nothing like fresh fish.

The next morning, we were moving on deeper into Colorado but since Memorial Day weekend was upon us and that traditional mile marker of summer meant everyone with a trailer, tent or coach was out seeking what we were seeking. Adventure!

We found eight days at another Colorado State Park named John Martin and thanked our lucky stars as it only had one reservation left when we called.  We packed the coach and set off again.  There is something thrilling about being able to do that.

We found our spot at the Lake Hasty (just below John Martin Dam) to be outside the rows of shady spots nestled with rows of Cottonwood trees at the Lake Hasty Campground.  With temperatures pushing 10 degrees above normal at 87, we knew that without some quick action, our coach’s air conditioning would run 24 hours a day.

We contacted the staff with hope of moving to a more benign spot.  We just happened to inquire at the same time a Ranger was at the front desk.  He knew exactly what to do.  He okayed us to stay in the Camp Host spot that was adjacent to the Lake and blessed with shade most of the day!  Jude and I realized that through constant checking with reservation staff, we could benefit when often online reservations present a different situation.

After visiting a local tackle store, we went armed to the lake with that local insight to catch two species that I had little experience with in my history of fishing. One was called a Wiper (a hybrid between a Striped Bass and a White Bass) and a Crappie.

Jude had become fond of my ultra-lite spinning rod I had that featured 4-pound test line. When I was a professional fisherman, I used that rod to win over $1500.  It just catches big fish being that it presents lures in such a finesse way.  Well, two days in a row, she caught the largest fish. One was over five pounds.  Not bad for four-pound test line.  She is on her way as an angler!

The one thing I can say about this part of Colorado which is in the southeast corner is that the wind does blow and blow hard.  Two evenings in our stay at the Campground had winds that I estimated to be over 50 mph and wiped out at least a dozen tents.  I am not sure any tent could make it those gale winds.

Being from Wyoming, I have some experience with wind, but I am used to wind that comes and goes. The wind here is constant.  I can tell you that wind of that duration and intensity is hard to sleep through in our coach.  A couple times I told Jude that we needed wind tie-downs that mobile home owners use.  I laughed but those gusts shook our coach pretty good.  It also limited our boating/fishing to just a few hours in the morning because the wind would come up and literally blow us off the water.

miller migration

In Arizona, I was always surprised at insect migrations that would suddenly occur.  Tarantula, Sphinx Moths, Praying Mantis, Lubber Head Grasshoppers were some of the insects I noticed in Arizona. After spending one night in the campground, I moved one of our camp chairs and between 30 and 40 little Millers flew out!  Over the next few days, we noticed more and more Millers/Moths in the RV.

I quickly realized that they could not have traveled into the coach in the number that was present primarily through the door.  They were in fact coming up from underneath the coach. They would seek refuge from the wind and daylight by roosting in the sanctuary that the Mirada provided.  When it became dark, they would climb up through the smallest spaces or cracks and enter the coach and then flutter about trying to escape the coach’s cabin.  We were constantly trying to keep them under control inside the camper.  There is something annoying when you are watching TV and a Moth is crawling or fluttering on the screen.

We then started to notice the birds.  Every day we would see birds line up on the campground’s bathroom, showers and laundry sidewalk.  What they were waiting for was the staff to sweep the interior rooms and then sweep the pile of moths outside.  It was like free food for the Western Kingbird, Robins and the Grackles. It was quite a scene watching the birds wait for the staff to open the door.

We spoke to the staff and they said that this was a mild year for the Millers!  Last year they were refunding people’s camping fees because of the thousands of the moths entering travel trailers, and when the owners would open a cabinet, hundreds of them would flutter out!

Jude and I are constantly reminded to the blessings that this life has.  The scenery, the fishing, the freedom and now we are blessed with only have five or ten moths a night and it was fun watching the birds line up for a buffet or chase the moths in a 20 mph wind!

Our version of ‘Centennial’

One thing that surprised us about this part of Colorado was the historical part it played in the development of the West.  The Arkansas River was once an International boundary for Spain, Mexico, France, the U.S., and Texas!  Kit Carson is buried here in his home at Boggsville.  The river was part of the Santa Fe Trail which eventually led to the statehood of New Mexico and Arizona.

I was impressed at Bent’s Fort, as every room was chocked full of authentic tools, buffalo robes, furniture, clothes and other authentic era artifacts. It really added to the experience and I have never seen a National Monument so authentically dressed.

We are off to the Denver area tomorrow, so back to civilization.

Our Search for a Perfect Packable Boat

Going on the road takes some extensive planning. Absolutely.  Let’s face it, we were reducing all our worldly possessions and putting them into the storage compartments on the Mothership!  It takes some ingenuity to organize what we could not live without into just eight storage areas.

We couldn’t do it initially.  We hit the road with many items that we really had no idea where to stow. So, for the next three months, we were in a constant state of shedding possessions at every thrift shop we could find. Having things orderly and some space to move around provided more peace of mind than all that “stuff.” It took 90 days, but we were down to travel weight. We never regretted parting with all those possessions.

Even with that success, we had some interesting problems that were not easily resolved.  One of the more pressing issues was how were we going to incorporate a fishing boat into the already stuffed Mothership.  Fishing is not only important for our recreation but provides fresh and healthy meals for us.

Since we were towing the Chevy HHR behind the Mothership, we could not  trailer a boat.  Also, the HHR was a small car without a roof rack, so putting a reasonable length boat on top of the car was not practical.  We needed a reliable and safe boat that could fold down to a reasonable size AND that could fit in the compartment area of the HHR. My Internet search began!

Click, click, click, revise search, click, click, well, you get it, but this was a serious endeavor!  The parameters were narrow. It had to have good reviews, it had to be a stable fishing platform, and most of all safe. The most important thing about fishing is coming back from fishing! Click, click, click…

Sea Eagle pops-up! Mmm. They are a manufacturer of inflatable, rafts, kayaks, and what’s this?  A pontoon inflatable that has a four-foot-wide stance, measuring twelve feet long with oars, swivel seats and a transom for an electric motor. Very interesting!

I looked at a lot of boats, but the Sea Eagle 375fc FoldCat got my attention.  It is a serious contender for the position “Meal Ticket;” we named it before we found it! So many positive attributes keep coming up! It folds down to a miniscule 75 pounds and the folded boat is only four feet long.  The 375fc FoldCat is engineered so that two pontoon tubes are joined together with a super strong fabric floor.  It gets additional cross support from four aluminum slats that completely stabilize the inflated FoldCat and appear to provide a comfortable fishing platform. It is powered with a 30 lbs. thrust Minn Kota electric motor that is transom mounted on the boat’s rear.  This gives the Sea Eagle 375fc FoldCat plenty of forward speed.

The 375fc FoldCat is adaptable to floating rivers and with its serious ten foot oars and quality oar locks, it can easily become a fly fishing platform. I really don’t have any aspirations for floating on rivers.  I prefer to fish on lakes. My mind is racing with anticipation that just gets higher and higher with every review I read. This inflatable is lightweight, stable and nearly indestructible!  I believe this 375fc FoldCat from Sea Eagle is the perfect boat for our Nomad Travels.  I order our “Meal Ticket!

 

Finally! We are Full-Time RVers!!

we will never say it was easy but, indeed, we are full-time rvers!

In the final days before becoming full-time RVers, we had challenges on top of challenges. The biggest was the LaMesa dealer in Tucson. After our shakedown trip to Roper Lake State Park, we returned the RV for a number of things needing attention. We were promised a date and time to pick up the vehicle, but we encountered delay after delay on their part. We were finally down to only one day before we had to leave our house when we finally got possession, so it was a haphazard packing job, at best, and an impossible challenge at worst.

We will leave the Southwest tomorrow.  That part of our migration was delayed by the fact that we did not wish to proceed to the northern tier states too early to avoid some of their lingering cool spring temps, but little did we know that we were going to be completely held up by the failure of a major part on our motor home!

When we were visiting Bill Evans Lake, testing the limits of our ability to dry camp without the amenities of water, sewer and electrical hookups, the leveler motor on the RV failed to retract. Eventually, I was able to retract the levelers manually and proceed to Albuquerque.

Surprising Diagnosis

The diagnosis at the Camping World service center was delivered, short and curt.  Jude and I looked at each other and acknowledged that buying the most comprehensive insurance coverage had been a benefit after only a couple of weeks on the road.

Little did we know that the procedure for coverage (and how the insurance would do anything to get out of paying the entire amount) plus the availability of the part would completely obliterate our carefully laid out itinerary.

Wow! Who would know that since RV vehicles range from the very old that toil up a hill in a hundred years to the glossy new thousand horse power million-dollar diesel pusher, and that no manufacturer of RV parts keeps any kind of inventory?  They all built their respective parts to order!!  The time estimate to get the part manufactured and installed was jaw dropping, a minimum of two weeks and possibly longer since an insurance adjuster had to come to Camping World to validate their replacement diagnosis, and then oversee it every step of the way.

Jude and I accepted the sentence with silence and justified it with rationalizations that it was an opportunity to continue to adjust our coach to our expectations.  That list included peeling the old weather-cracked decals off the coach’s sides, using a high-quality rubbing compound, then polishing to restore the outside finish.

Our new TV was purchased with the mission to replace the old analog set that was as wide as it was deep.  The Orion set was the perfect size and allowed us to join the 21st century as far as high definition picture. Unfortunately, its sound system consisted of little speakers that faced backwards resulting in an excruciating low sound level even when turned completely up!  Finding and installing a sound bar was also on the list.

Servicing our generator was another item we needed to do so as the keep our options open when camping in a site that is dry or without amenities. This engine servicing joined other items such as installing latches on some of our cabinet doors designed to keep their contents contained when driving over the assorted road obstacles such as speed bumps that are determined to rock the coach side-to-side with sufficient force to completely empty a kitchen cabinet in 1.2 seconds!

Other items needing attention was the bicycle rack.  While the rack easily carried Jude’s 1960 Western Auto Galaxy Flyer, it was taxed when it was asked to also carry our ladder.  It definitely needed a Macgiver approach that would marry the bike and ladder and carry them with ease.

One by one these items were checked off until finally we woke up one morning and realized everything was done.  This came just one day before we were called by Camping World staff informing us to have our coach at their service entrance at 8am for leveler motor installation.  Yeah!

All work, no play? No way!

While this was a lot of work and required daily focus, we did have time to explore Los Alamos and the WWII Manhattan Project.  We explored several state monuments and two national monuments named Bandelier and Tent Rocks.  We also started each morning with a daily walk along the Rio Grande River, walking through its ancient towering Cottonwoods and scrub willows that provided subsistence and cover for many new species of birds that I had not seen before.

Being spring time, the Spotted Towee, The Cedar Waxwing, the Yellow Rumped Warbler, Canada Geese, Mountain Blue Bird and various species of shore birds all blessed us with their mating colors and display songs.

Tomorrow we take our repaired leveler motor northward into Colorado.  Our first stop is Trinidad Lake State Park.  We will stay there a couple of weeks.  Our new Sea Eagle inflatable “Fold Cat” boat will start to assume its duties to put us in position to catch their Rainbow and Brown trout, perhaps a few Bass or Crappie.

Now that our coach’s list was eliminated, the Sea Eagle will be the next focus for upgrading to our fishing preferences.  Since Jude has decided to learn to fish, there are additional demands for storage and comfort, but that is another story in our continuing nomadic journey.

Image courtesy of Joe Cross via Creative Commons License, some rights reserved.

Summer Tour 2019 Colorado and Return to Arizona

A Family Get Together near Colorado Springs

We have a daughter-in-law in Albuquerque, Mandy, and a granddaughter, Haley, near Denver. We hoped to have a get-together near Colorado Springs but it turned out more difficult than expected. Mandy had a new tent she and Haley wanted to try out. I called a number of campgrounds and learned they were all old with tiny spaces and geared to RV camping, not tent camping. We extended our search and ended up at a National Forest Campground near Woodland Park, South Meadows. There were benefits to our choice: the campground had HUGE campsites and gorgeous walking paths behind the campground, and great proximity to Colorado Springs and local attractions.

Mom and Daughter Camping

It was easy to decide our first full day should be spent at Garden of the Gods Park, a registered National Natural Landmark in Colorado Springs. It features dramatic views, 300′ towering sandstone rock formations against a backdrop of snow-capped Pikes Peak and brilliant blue skies. The world-class Visitor & Nature Center and museum is the most visited attraction in the region.

We hopped on the 1909 Trolley for a narrated tour and fantastic views of park attractions.

Rock Formation 2

Rock Formations at Garden of the Gods Park

We spent another day in Manitou Springs, starting at the Manitou Cliff Dwellings, a drive around town, and lunch at the historic Cliff House at Pikes Peak, providing an atmosphere of Victorian romance and opulence dating back nearly 150 years. From its storied start as a stagecoach stop to its turn-of-the-century prominence as the area’s premier mineral resort, it remains the crown jewel of Manitou Springs.

Manitou Cliff Dwellings
Manitou Cliff Dwellings
Lovers Lane Street Sign
Celebrating our 13th anniversary, we found ourselves on Lovers Lane
Cliff House Hotel
Cliff House Hotel

Blue Mesa

When we started full-time RVing in 2013, I came across this location in our Coast Resorts membership info and made a mental note I’d like to see the area sometime. Sometime came!

The drive from our camp near Colorado Springs was spectacular: through the heart of the Rockies on Highway 50, Pike and San Isabel National Forests and then over Monarch Pass, 11,321 feet! The pass is widely considered one of the most scenic in Colorado, offering a panoramic view of the southern end of the Sawatch Range from the summit.

The Sawatch Range is a high and extensive mountain range in central Colorado which includes eight of the twenty highest peaks in the Rocky Mountains, including Mount Elbert, at 14,440 feet elevation, the highest peak in the Rockies.

The road is excellent and I would recommend it to anyone with the opportunity to do it.

Blue Mesa Recreational Ranch
Blue Mesa Recreational Ranch

The Blue Mesa Reservoir runs 29 miles from Gunnison to Montrose, CO. The state’s largest reservoir, the Blue Mesa is part of the Curecanti National Recreation Area. This is where the waters of the Gunnison River gather before carving through the steep walls of the Black Canyon of the Gunnison.

The Curecanti NRA Visitor Center was just a couple of miles from our site at Blue Mesa Recreational Ranch, which was also where we launched our boat to fish. Kokanee’s here too, but smaller than Flaming Gorge. Delicious nonetheless.

At the Visitor Center we learned about the Morrow Point Boat Tour that runs between the Blue Mesa and Morrow Point Dams and into the famous Black Canyon of the Gunnison, giving us the opportunity to learn about geology, wildlife, early inhabitants, the narrow-gauge railroad, dams and reservoirs. It runs daily in the  summer.

It’s a gorgeous hike to the boat from the parking area – 232 stairs, then onto the old narrow gauge railroad bed for about a half mile. The hour and a half trip is on a large pontoon boat with a captain and interpretative ranger.  Most places the cliffs are at least a thousand feet high.

It’s very hard to imagine the railway that existed there in such a narrow canyon. “When the first Denver and Rio Grande train passed through the upper reaches of the Black Canyon of the Gunnison in August 1882, the passengers gazed with wonder at the steep walls above them, the cascading waterfalls and the towering granite point of Curecanti Needle. As the little train found its way out of the canyon and the passengers set their thoughts toward the open vistas ahead, few could imagine the human and monetary cost of constructing this “Scenic Line of the World” through some of the most rugged country in the West.”

Tour Boat at Morrow Point
Tour Boat at Morrow Point
Waterfall on Boat Tour
Waterfall on Boat Tour
Curecanti Needle
Curecanti Needle

Our boat tour was in the morning, so later in the day we drove on to Black Canyon of the Gunnison National Park. Now we would see the river from the top of the cliffs.

Black Canyon of the Gunnison Sign

“…no other North American canyon combines the depth, narrowness, sheerness, and somber countenance of the Black Canyon.” -Geologist Wallace R. Hansen

The walls of the canyon are 2,000 feet deep, rock walls are only 40 feet apart and plunge directly into the river. Choose your footwear accordingly!

View from Black Canyon of the Gunnison N.P.

Fishing at Delores and a Visit to Mesa Verde

The Views RV Park  in Delores, Colorado, called to us because of its proximity to McPhee Reservoir (second largest in CO after Blue Mesa), Mesa Verde National Park (a World Heritage Site) and the Canyon of the Ancients.

The Views turned out to be our favorite RV park of the summer. Our huge spot, #10, overlooked a gorgeous valley and the park is located directly across the highway to the entrance to McPhee Reservoir.

View from Site 10 at The Views RV Park

McPhee Reservoir

It’s the largest lake in the San Juan National Forest, with a beautiful topography of piñon, juniper, and sagebrush trees. Things to do at the McPhee Recreation Area include boating, fishing, camping, hiking and biking.

McPhee Reservoir, Delores CO

Mesa Verde National Park

Mesa Verde National Park was created in 1906 to preserve the archeological heritage of the Ancestral Pueblo people, both atop the mesas and in the cliff dwellings below. The park includes over 4,500 archeological sites; only 600 are cliff dwellings. We visited the Mesa Verde Visitor and Research Center, the Chapin Mesa Archeological Museum and drove the Mesa Top Loop Road.

Mesa Verde NP Entrance Sign

Spruce Tree House at Mesa Verde NP
Spruce Tree House Cliff Dwellings
Cliff Palace at Mesa Verde NP
Cliff Palace Cliff Dwellings

In 1978, Mesa Verde National Park was named a UNESCO World Heritage Site in recognition of its exceptional archaeological relevance – including its spectacular cliff dwellings tucked into the sandstone alcoves of its steep-walled canyons.

Canyon of the Ancients

Our morning at Canyon of the Ancients was an eye-opener. This National Monument encompasses more than 170,000 acres of high desert and protects a rich landscape of cultural and natural resources. Thousands of archaeological sites have been recorded in the monument, and thousands more await documentation and study.

Lowry Pueblo is the only developed recreation site within the monument. It has stabilized standing walls, 40 rooms, eight kivas and a Great Kiva.

Humans have been part of this landscape for more than 12,000 years. Changes in cultural life over time ranged from hunting and gathering to farming. In the beginning (about 750 A.D.), farmers, Ancestral Puebloans, built year-round villages, clustered pit houses. Over time, these ancestors build larger masonry homes with connecting walls above ground. In time, factors such as population growth, soil exhaustion and changing weather compromised the area’s natural resources. By about A.D. 1300, these ancestors migrated to New Mexico’s Rio Grande Valley or farther west to where the Acoma, Laguna, Zuni and Hopi people live today.

Canyons of the Ancients N.M. Sign

During our summer travels, we go out of our way to see and enjoy our national resources: parks, monuments, forests, wildlife refuges and BLM land. This year, though, we are grateful to find ourselves more committed than ever to the preservation and defense of these treasured places.

“We have fallen heirs to the most glorious heritage a people ever received, and each one must do his part if we wish to show that the nation is worthy of its good fortune.” – Theodore Roosevelt

Last stop: Prescott, AZ

We’re biding our time in Prescott while it cools down on the “West Coast of AZ.” We need to be back in Lake Havasu City mid-September, which is still a little too hot for our liking, so we decided to spend our last two weeks in Arizona, but at a higher altitude.

So here’s an admission, a possible reality of full-time RV living and traveling: Enough of a good thing is sometimes enough. We’ve had a fantastic summer season, but we’re both looking forward to getting back to what has become “home” and a regular routine. This stop brings us within an easy day’s ride of that goal.

I chose Willow Lake RV Park because of it’s location – the heart of the Granite Dells of Prescott. As we drove in, I was thinking it was a good decision, and sure enough, there are numerous trails right from the camp that lead to the Willow Lake Loop Trail (about six miles in length).

Willow Lake, Prescott AZ

One day I was walking and some pink and purple flowers caught my attention off the path. There were plenty of yellow flowers in bloom, but nothing like this. Investigating, I saw they were artificial flowers indicating a grave. As I continued on, contemplating my find, a metal reflection caught my eye and I left the path again to investigate. Aha! It was an informal pet cemetery. What a lovely idea in such a peaceful place. Later, I looked on-line to see if I could learn more about it, but no luck. A hidden treasure.

Pet Cemetery at Willow Lake

I did learn though that Prescott’s Mile-High Trail System contains approximately 100 miles of trails including Rails-to-Trails projects along the former Santa Fe Railroad, the Prescott Circle Trail System, the Greenways Trails System and the Dells trails around Watson and Willow Lakes. In our many trips to Prescott over the years, I had no idea of the recreational opportunities.

Mainly, in the past, our opportunities have been limited to shopping since Prescott has my favorites when it comes to groceries: Costco, Trader Joe’s, Sprouts (none of which are present at or near Lake Havasu City).

Another fabulous summer into our memories. Havasu Springs, here we come!

Fishing Full Circle

It’s three a.m. Even though I had the opportunity to view the heavens as few people have ever seen, I am amazed at the amount of stars that escape the influence of the Tucson urban lights.  I conclude it is another Sonora desert phenomenon. They are everywhere if you just notice.  I am grateful for noticing.

The lake’s water is rippling, fed by the slight southwest breeze and enhanced by the park lamps into a million refractions.  There is the usual medley of sirens, airplanes, and motorcycles from the city mixed with the calls of owls, coots, and night hawks from the desert’s edge, but essentially it is peaceful here.  I interrupt its tranquility with a cast.

The snap of the wrist, the whir of the line thru the rod’s guides and the plop of the lure temporary overpower the medley.  I love fishing.

It’s been like this since my youth.  I remember countless mornings spent in Idaho and Wyoming, watching the world awake.  I remember sunrises that defied any artist’s stroke, where it seemed there were two skies; one on top of another with colors in them that no one could name.  I have snapshot memories of animals, birds, and reptiles and my encounters with them that would surpass any nature documentary.  Most of all, I recall epic battles with worthy adversaries. Fishing was always good to me.  It has always given me solitude without loneliness and it did not take a rocket scientist to determine that fish live in beautiful places.  All I needed to do was notice.

The lake’s resident geese stir and announce a winged entry into the water with a chorus of raucous alarm. I direct my gaze in their direction.  In the gloom, I see a coyote prancing, not even mildly interested in the geese.

Over the years, I developed the ability to mimic birds and animals. I learned how to purse my lips, suck in air and create a sound similar to a predator call.  I could not help to give the coyote my best imitation.

Instantly, the animal freezes, peering toward the open water. My thoughts call up the fact the canines have 100 times better night vision than humans.  I wonder if it can see me.  I wonder what’s going on in its mind, hearing a rabbit call coming from the middle of the lake.  I conclude it can’t see me.  I cast a low silhouette when I am in my float tube. This is one of the reasons fishing from a float tube is so effective.  Even the fish cannot see you as well as they see individuals in a boat.  The animal regains purpose to his journey and leaves without a second look.

I reposition my body with my float tube’s seat. My float tube has always been an attraction to anyone on shore and in other watercraft. They would stare in silence, some would ask if my legs were in the water, others would just laugh, point me out to their children. It becomes even more atypical when I use my fly rod. I laugh that it still remains the same after thirty years. They usually stop chucking when they see me catch a fish.

It is serving me well again after years of being stored in a closet.  My tube lay dormant for years while my fishing watercrafts evolved through a wide variety of boat styles and motors. It re-emerged after a required selling of my Ranger bass boat to return to college and my self imposed fishing sabbatical while I finished my educational goals. Soon after I started my second career, my association with my tube was reborn.

I feel like I have come full circle as I return to my old way of fishing.  I cannot help remembering that day when my picture was taken by my good friend Tom Montgomery. Being a professional photographer, he sold that print to “Sports Afield” as a cover photo.

I was a cover boy.  It was start of a long relationship I had with every form of media.  I enjoyed that attention, but now I am just a simple man, relieving stress, enjoying the Arizona summer morning.

The water feels cool around my wader protected legs. It is serene and there is no human audience present in the early Tucson morning. The army of arm chair fishermen and the families picnicking will arrive later this weekend morning. Right now my SCUBA fins are moving me silently, efficiently around the lake’s shore line.  My casts are rhythmic, directional, and searching the water’s depths. The crank bait imitates the shad my quarry feeds on.  I am fishing for the lake’s apex predator, Largemouth Bass.

Of all the fish that I have caught, this fish is a very different denizen of the water.  The bass is not the “King” (Tarpon) with their towering continuous jump ability; nor the Prince (The Rainbow), with their wide beautiful flashing red side stripe.  The bass is the thug, the mugger, and an ambusher and will eat anything they are bigger than.  They apply their trade very successfully in the dark.  It is dark now.

The bass feeds along a continuum ranging from the gentle flair of his gills, creating a vacuum and sucking their unfortunate prey into their cavernous mouths to slamming anything that moves with the tenderness of a jackhammer.  Most fish eat to satisfy hunger and while the bass does this, the bass does something else.  They strike out of anger. They react with blinding speed and brute force with actions bordering on hatred.

So much has been written about this magnificent creature.  I agree with all of the words used to describe it.  What I like most about bass fishing are most people who pursue bass practice catch and release.  Bass do not attract the meat fisherman.  They are usually too hard to catch.  Individuals who eat fish focus on easily caught fish such as the catfish, bluegill or the stocked Rainbow trout.

Catch and release was a natural for me to incorporate into my fishing.  I was very young in my fishing experience when I realized fish were not always a renewable resource. The quickest way to ruin a good fishing spot or stop the growth of fish was to add grease.  As my love of fishing grew, intentionally killing a fish was like murdering a friend or business associate.  It was easy to let the fish go, knowing that it had the opportunity to learn from the experience, becoming wiser, and more selective in its menu choices.

 Being more selective means growing into a bigger fish.  It is the quest of all fishermen to catch the bigger fish.  They are worthy opponents simply because they are hard to catch. There is a sense of accomplishment, a sense of mastery, joined with total exhilaration at the sight and feel of such a fish.  I am here for all sizes of bass, but every cast has a personal hope of the larger fish.  Hope is a good thing in fishing.

The “Big Dipper” is starting to fade now, yielding to twilight.  The hot Arizona sun will soon be completely dominant. The wind switches slightly.  My fishing wisdom recalls that the fish always face the wind direction.  I adjust the direction of my casts.

I am nearing the dam, with its deeper water, and underwater rock points.  I have experience here.  I cast to a rock formation. I retrieve slowly, pausing periodically to allow the small crank bait to rise slowly. At the end of one pause, the lure is stopped before it can continue. Built on years of conditioning, the wrist snaps and the rod tip is swept in a low arc.  The line tightens, emitting a high pitch whine, the fish is hooked.

The Shimano rod announces its testimony to the strength and power of the fish by bowing elegantly.  Its tip nods, bounces and shakes again and again in reaction to the fish’s tenacious struggle against the rod’s restraint.  Suddenly, the tautness of the line relaxes as the fish telegraphs its intension to rise to the surface.

The water breaks with the force of breaching submarine escaping depth charges.  With gills flaring, head shaking, and tale walking, the fish launches itself towards the brightening skies. I gasp! The fish is large. It lands, spraying water violently against the water’s surface calmness.  The fish sounds and races towards deeper water.  The reel reaches its preset release point and releases the line with a controlled slip.

When the reel’s drag stops releasing, I apply side rod pressure and start reeling in line, stopping only briefly when the fish surges again the constant pull of the line.  I reposition my hand’s grip on the rod’s handle, hoping to ease the pressure being placed on my wrist. The bass races to the left, with the fishing line slicing a “V” in the water.  The sudden side pressure causes the tube to rotate. I apply right side pressure with the rod and the fish stops, flounders on the surface before racing in a new direction; right at me.

I reel as fast as I can, trying to erase the slack in the line.  Too much slack allows the lure to loosen and possibly shaken easily.  I kick my fins strongly, trying to increase the distance between me and the charging fish.  It is useless.  The line goes slack.

I feel my heart sink as I momentary think the fish might be lost. I must regain line tension, but I realize this is a critical juncture in the fight.  I reel line very slowly.  I know that when fish do not feel pressure from the line and rod, they often stop, but if tension is regained too fast, the fish can react so quickly to the new pressure that it gives the line a sudden shock and breaks it.

I feel the fish.  It is below my tube.  I tighten gradually and the fight resumes with another dash.  The reel performs flawlessly, its drag releasing before reaching terminal breaking point for the line. I reel again when the drag stops. I am gaining more and more line. The fish begins to tire.

Bass never really quit fighting.  They struggle continuously, shaking their head, diving again and again.  It is in the last moment of a contest that inexperienced fisherman lose fish, especially large fish.  Their enthusiasm to lay their hands on the fish results in misjudging the fish’s reserve ability of unpredictability.  This being said, one simply cannot engage in holding a fish forever in their fighting mode.  Fish can often fatigue themselves so much they can literally die from the over execration.  Catch and release then becomes non-functional because the whole purpose of the concept is for the fish to live.

So the trick is to catch the fish early enough in the contest and in such a fashion that it reduces the fish’s propensity from releasing itself.  In most other watercraft, the need to fill this requirement is nicely accomplished with a net.  In a float tube, nets are usually not an option. Their bulk encumbers, their nettings tangling with reel handles, treble hooks, shore and underwater cover.  Nets in a float do not work over the long run.

The greatest feature about the fishing industry is that where there is a need, there is usually a product invented for it.  Such is the case in this situation, the fishing industry has provided.  It is called a Boga grip.

It is a stainless steel precision machined jaw gripping tool.  Its dual grips are not serrated, but curved at the tips and no amount of pressure can reopen them when the spring loaded trigger is down in the locked position. The trigger is finger operated from any position making easily released and engaged.  Its length is less than ten inches and will land any fish.  Its handle is foam padded and mildew resistant.  It also weights the fish with a surprising accurate scale that is easily read.  It is the perfect fish landing tool when I am my tube, especially when the fish’s mouth is loaded with treble hooks.

The rod is doing its job.  The fish is tiring quickly.   Now is the time! I transfer the rod to my other hand and quickly unzip the compartment housing the Boga grip.  I slip my hand into its strapped handle to prevent from being dropped overboard. With the Boga secure, I quickly reel the fish towards the tube.  At arm’s length, I extend the Boga towards the fish’s huge open mouth.  I release the trigger and feel the grip tighten around the fish’s lip.

I lift the bass out of the water.  The Boga registers the weight. Not quite seven and a half pounds.  Wow, what a fish! I marvel at its color, its huge mouth and body mass.  I reach for my hemostats tangling on a cord around my neck.  I quickly removed the crank bait’s hooks.  One last look! I turn the fish, sideways and back again, viewing nature’s work with the eye of a true admirer.  With a single finger movement to the Boga’s trigger, I release the fish into the water.

The adrenaline is coursing through my body.  My breaths are shallow and rapid.  My heart feels like it is racing and my hands tremble.   I think to myself that the day I stop feeling like this after catching a large fish is the day I stop fishing.

Suddenly, from shore, not too far away, I hear “Hey, mister, what is that you are fishing in?” “Are your feet in the water?”

I answer. “It is a float tube and yes, my feet are in the water” all the while patting my tube with an affectionate “Atta boy!”