There are a thousand fishing jokes, many times that, actually. But fishing’s no joke to the millions of men and women who’ve done it for centuries for work, sport or sustenance. Kevin Terry’s one of them. So, too, is retired Colorado judge Bill Lucero. They also both agree that Colorado’s one of the best spots on earth for passing the time doing something that checks all the boxes for recreation, bonding, solitude, even dinner.
Terry, Southwest Program Director for the 300,000 member Trout Unlimited, has been connected with the sport since childhood. It was one thing, he said, that connected family tissue. “My father took my brother and me out,” said the Taos, New Mexico native. “We had the opportunity to engage in the woods…it became a special place for us.” The place where he grew up remains a place he still returns to for the one thing that has never grown old.
Today, working for Trout Unlimited, a national non-prof- it organization whose mission is “conservation of freshwater streams, rivers, and associated habitats for trout, salmon, other aquatic species, and people,” Terry gets to combine his lifelong love for the sport while proselytizing to thousands each year on fishing, its joys, now and then frustrations and its palliative effects on mind, body and soul.
Just like it is for countless others, Colorado, while maybe not Eden, is as close to it, he says, as any place he’s ever fished. Without divulging any secrets, Terry says you can’t do better than fishing the state’s Conejos and Rio Grande Rivers for the sheer enjoyment of the sport.
“Both rivers have incredible diversity,” Terry said. Despite no guarantee of reaching your limit or even coming near, you’ll marvel at the fish, the food chain’s insects and the pristine nature of the water and all that surrounds it.
With summer here—though seasons blur with the sport—fishers are in their moment. In some ways, they’re like the fish they catch. Once hooked, they can’t get away. It is blessed surrender.
“I had an acquaintance who invited me to go fly fishing,” Lucero recalled. “We went dry fly fishing.” Dry fly fishing is basically the first step in learning the technique, he said in an earlier LaVozColorado interview. The invitation and moment became an epiphany, the beginning of a beautiful relationship. It’s now been “35 or 40 years.”
It’s also become a family affair for Lucero, who intro- duced his then young son to the sport. It paid off handsomely. The bond was sealed and, today, said Lucero, the pair still sneak away to ‘drop a line’, though the son now serves not only as company, but as guide, too.
Today, for people like the retired jurist or fishing prophet, Terry, there is no location too far, too rugged or too remote if the reward is the sound of a spinning reel or the rhythm and melody of a flowing stream. Of course, the battle between fisher and fish makes the adventure all that more special. “Your senses almost come alive,” swears Terry.
For Terry and long-ago Pueblo native, Lucero, fishing is a different sport than what is practiced by ‘once-a-summer’ anglers. To them and millions of men and women who worship at these wilderness cathedrals, it’s science, technique and outthinking the adversary.
“Fishing is mimicry…cerebral,” Terry says. “You mimic insects that live in the region, amazing, aquatic insects,” he calls them. One in particular is the salmon fly, an insect he’s studied for years. “They live two to three years in the larvae state,” but when they hatch, “they create a feeding frenzy.” It’s also the moment, he said, to step into the water for the battle to come.
A fly, made to look identical to the salmon fly or any other insect that might attract a fish, is step-one for a skilled fisher. Of course, any two-legged aquatic hunter also weighs other variables in the contest. It’s river flow, time of day, water temperature and sunlight. “You just become part of it,” Terry preaches. “We’re tying flies to mimic all that.” Rivers are just the venue. The performance pits the pair—one that has swum the waters for millennia, the foe, only a recent arrival.
For Colorado fishers, three species are the quarry most often sought, said Terry. Rainbow trout is the species stocked most in Colorado. Cutthroat, a native species, and brown trout are also valued catches.
Terry said the Conejos River, a tributary of the Rio Grande, begins in the San Juan Mountains before ultimately flowing into New Mexico. It, like the Rio Grande, has been a life source for flora, fauna and, most recently, man, for centuries.
But Terry and Trout Unlimited, wouldn’t mind seeing a lot more fishers along their banks, especially women and people of color.
“We’re struggling with that and have been for decades,” said Terry, speaking for Trout Unlimited. Adding to the tapestry of Trout Unlimited, said the native New Mexican, is a core principle of the organization. “We have a ton of White males,” he said. Long time members, while adding to the mission of TU, are aging and want to give back, grow the body. “It’s a long game…we want more women, diversity, people of all colors.”
Colorado is “almost heaven,” for fishers with not only two of the longest rivers in the country, the Arkansas and Rio Grande, but scores of other places, too. From high mountain lakes to urban lakes and rivers, there is a place in the state for every fisher, young, old and in between. And there is equipment for every budget. You just have to look.
Fishers can spend as much or as little as they have to get in the game. On the high end, there are rod-and-reel combos that can exceed $10,000. But there are also sporting goods stores and second-hand shops where starter kits are far more accessible. You can find something affordable,” he said. And it doesn’t have to come from the ‘Tiffanys’ of fishing stores.
