You may know that wonderful feeling when first viewing a valley that is so beautiful it almost takes your breath away. That is how I felt when I first laid my eyes on the South Fork of the White River curving among beaver ponds and nestled in a lush valley with forests and tall rugged mountains on both sides. It was a five-hour road trip from Denver to the river driving I-70 to the exit next to the Colorado River at Gypsum and a long winding steep climb along a narrow dirt road up the mountainside to a high plateau. The rest of the trip included driving through aspen groves and meadows while crossing several small streams until finally dropping back down in the White River valley on a steep, rocky, and rutted road. The latter part of the trip was slow going but was well worth it when you finally arrived. In fact, one time while driving down this road toward the White River, I managed to high center my car and had to walk for several miles to summon help.
Besides camping near the river, there was only one other place to stay, Budges Lodge, built in 1931. This resort is now called Budge’s Flattops Wilderness Lodge and consists of a dining hall and seven primitive log cabins in a serene setting close to the White River and adjacent to the Flat Tops Wilderness Area in the White River National Forest, and 40 miles from the nearest paved road. Guest cabins are lighted by kerosene lamps and heated with wood stoves. There is a sink and a toilet in each cabin with only a shower curtain around it for privacy and an outside cold communal shower. The resort offers daily meals and horseback rides or pack trips to fish back country lakes in the wilderness area. It is a step above camping out, and the food is good, family-style fare.
My father-in-law, Hal told me about this resort. I traveled to Budges several times during the next few years with my sister’s family and other friends.
The White River was a small clear stream that consisted of beautifully colored nine-to-twelve-inch wild brook trout that were fun to catch. These brookies rose readily to the dry fly, and if you waded carefully, you could also fish the beaver ponds or other smaller creeks located adjacent to the river.
One morning, I remember watching hypnotized as an older gentleman made beautiful long fly casts while he was standing on the shore of the river near a foot bridge. His casting action was so graceful, and he lightly picked his line off the river, played it out behind him and shot it back toward the far bank of the river. During one cast, I witnessed an amazing site. As the fisherman’s line shot forward and played out almost like magic, his fishing fly and a bird met in mid-air, and suddenly the hooked bird flew off with his line and landed in a nearby bush. Fortunately, I was able to offer help, grabbed his fly line, pulled the bird to me, and removed the fly from its back. The bird was not seriously injured and flew off.
I had recently purchased a two-piece Orvis “Trouter” 6-foot, 5 or 6 weight graphite fly rod and added an Orvis lightweight fly reel with six-pound floating fly line. Graphite was the latest material to be used for fly rod blanks and revolutionized the sport. My Orvis rod was slow-action, and it took some time to get used to casting it, but I loved its power and flexibility.
During one of my visits to Budges, I decided to fish a weighted muddler minnow through a long deep pool adjacent to a dammed beaver pond. I made a cast to the opposite side of the river and let my leader and fly sink deeply and carry slowly downstream. As my slack line played out, it was time to start stripping the muddler back toward me. During my retrieve, I saw a large boil in the river, felt my rod recoil with a hard strike, and set the hook. My heart raced as I was sure I had hooked a huge trout as I never felt a fish this strong. It rapidly stripped the line off my reel. There was no possibility of stopping such a big fish.
Trying to decide how I might manage to land this trout; I scrambled out of the river and ran down the shore after it…
This story is continued in the book “Hooked by Fly Fishing: Feel Good Stories of Family and Friends, Life Lessons, Mishaps, and Mayhem” by Graham M. Mott.
