A Day In The life Of A Breckenridge Fly Fisherman

Alarm Goes off at 5.30 am. Quickly knock it off and head downstairs to gather all the necessities for a day of Breckenridge Fly Fishing. Grab Waders, Rod, Reel Tackle Box and the packed lunch I prepared last night. The next step is indicative of the digital age we live in. I pull up the latest Fishing Reports on my iPad and check the flows on all my local Breckenridge fly fishing spots.
I spend a few minutes on various Angling Facebook Pages getting the lowdown from my fellow fishing enthusiasts. Of course I pay a visit to the Cutthroat Anglers Facebook Page to see what flies they are tipping for this week.
Digital research complete I grab my gear and load the pack of my Tacoma pick up while balancing my coffee and trying not to scald myself. It is just beginning to grow bright as I pull out of the driveway with the sun peeking over the top of Red Mountain spraying pinks and oranges across the sky. It is still a bit chilly and there is an early morning dew evaporating fast on the front lawn.
Today I have chosen to fish Tenmile Creek as from my earlier Fishing Report perusal I had surmised the conditions were decent while also having close proximity to Breckenridge. I had taken my 15 year old son here for some fly fishing lessons at the beginning of the summer and he had enjoyed the fishing immensely (if not the early rising).
I waded to my favorite spot and began casting just as the Sun completed its climb . The mist was rising off the creek and I used my attractor patterns while avoiding the overhanging branches. Although occasionally used by outfitters for fly fishing lessons Tenmile Creek is usually serene at this time and I soon had caught and thrown back 3 trout all in the 8 to 10 inch range.
After fishing for just over 2 hours I decided to head back just as the local Breckenridge fly fishing company arrived with an advanced class. I swapped fishing news with one of the guides I recognized and left them to it, glad yet again that I had made the effort to be up with the sun.
Driving back I reminisced about the time I fought a 18 incher that had more than likely made its way down from Lake Dillon. It was a pure man versus fish tale and when I finally reeled him in I was able to snap some photos with my phone, upload them to Facebook and bid my adversary good day before most of the Breckenridge fly fishing community had brushed their teeth.
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