In a way, there are special friends to me – although I had to play the adult role sometimes with them for sure. My wise friend, Linda, described family visits in the following way and I must agree. “It’s an adjustment when they come, and it’s an adjustment when they go.” I’m adjusting.

Δ: Our 10 days went too quickly

I drove to the upper reaches of this section of the river, which falls between Elevenmile Dam and Lake George. The landscape reminded me of the famous Cheesman Canyon that I fished in February with Pat Dorsey, author of the seminal book on the South Platte, A Fly-Fishing Guide to the South Platte River. This area consists of “Pikes Peak Granite,” part of an ancient batholith about a billion years old according to Roadside Geology of Colorado. The magnificent boulders made for spectacular scenery and great pocket-water fishing.

Etiquette in the fly-fishing world requires (rightfully so) that you give another angler plenty of room to fish. Unfortunately on the days I visited the canyon, there were few places left to claim where fish would be hanging out. After several attempts at some less than promising looking spots, I ended up at slight riffle that followed a river bend where I was able to land a small number of small fish – not what I had expected from this premier class fishery.

And so it goes. Did I choose the wrong location? The wrong flies? Not enough weight? Had that location already been fished earlier that day? Was my drift unacceptable?

As Albert Schweitzer said, “In the hopes of reaching the moon men fail to see the flowers that blossom at their feet.” I ended up watching the flowers this day.

This is what he says…

“Tal Ben-Shahar, one of the world’s leading Positive Psychologists and teacher of one of the most popular classes in Harvard University’s history, tells us that we already have all the wisdom we need.

He points to individuals who have near-death experiences or life threatening illnesses who suddenly (and permanently) change their lives—creating meaning and happiness that hadn’t been there before that moment.

Essentially, they always *knew* what to do, but they weren’t actually doing it till life gave them a kick in the butt.

He has this BRILLIANT exercise to help us tap into the wisdom that’s already percolating in our consciousness. It goes something like this: You’re 110-years-old. NASA (or Richard Branson’s Virgin Time Travel just invented a time machine. It can take you back to THIS moment so your 110-year-old self has 30 minutes to chat with your current you.

What do you tell yourself ? What are the most important truths/lessons/big Ideas you’d want to share in that 30 minutes?

What if you only had 5 minutes? What would you share? What if you only had 60 seconds? What’s THE most important message you’d want to share?!”

If I had 5 seconds, I would say to consider the words of Joseph Campbell when he said, “follow your bliss.”

A person who is passive can be more attentive to the task. Kate Andreae is a perfect example of a person who listens, is attentive and thus a quick learner. I can attest to her skills as a doctor at Urban Vet Care and that takes hard work and focus. I saw the same focus on the river as we fished together a second time this year.

I love that I can be friends with the daughter of one of my best friends.

+: Having my “office” where it is.

Δ: Wear and tear on the car.

In this post, let’s talk about the South Platte. I fished the section known as 11-mile canyon with my friend, Vet Kate Andreae, and my husband. Kate and I fished another section of the S. Platte at Deckers in January so this provided a completely different experience. Like Cheesman Canyon, this area of the river is characterized by enormous boulders and river rocks that made me glad I had a kind of third leg due to my staff.

Towards the end of winter I dreaded having to share rivers with masses of people, but the masses have not happened – at least until this week. There are numerous camping facilities on this part of the S. Platte that attract not only Coloradans but also out-of-state folks, especially from Texas.

Almost every section of the river where we wanted to fish was already occupied by the time we arrived at 10:00 a.m. or so – especially as we approached the dam. After driving up and down the river for 30 minutes or so we finally landed a spot within a mile of the dam.

I had a lot of fun playing “guide” to Kate, practicing changing flies, unraveling tangles, helping with casting techniques and pointing out the more likely fish hangouts. As a vet, Kate probably knew how to tie the surgeon’s knot better than I, but never let on. She ended up catching a couple fish and I was thrilled to have contributed to the future of another angler.

Wading became impossible on our last day due to the flash flood from the first night of the trip and the water was like pea soup. We turned to streamers as our last hope. Whenever I use streamers I must admit I lose my focus because it’s such a repetitive process – especially in our particular situation.  It proved fruitless as the fish were not to be found anywhere after a flash flood event.

The further we found ourselves down the canyon, the more debris we found stacked up against and on top of the huge boulders. The power of mother nature was impressive.

Although the outdoor shower provided at the Black Canyon Anglers was a welcomed delight, I knew I would miss being away from civilization and the sounds of the cactus wrens.

On the first night we watched a pygmy rattlesnake slither under a bush. The guides had to warn us about those from the get-go, but indicated they had only seen one in ten years. Guess they now had to say two.

The collared lizards were plentiful on one of the banks where we made a stop. They behaved as if having their photo taken every day was the norm. They actually seemed to pose for me while they brought back memories of my pet chameleon, Eleanor. Eleanor was my first attempt at having my own pet and would always change to a deep green whenever I pulled her from her terrarium.

In the heat of the day through the cool down at night there were a multitude of insects carrying on their lives. We observed a wasp stinging a worm until the wasp could carry it away for its supper.

Most interesting was finding ourselves at the top of the north rim of the canyon on the way home among the vultures diving for their prey. At first I thought I had spied a cormorant drying its wings but instead discovered that it was a turkey vulture. Is there anyone among us humans who hasn’t had the desire to soar through the sky and canyons like these large buzzards?

Another thunderstorm accompanied me on my ride home along the north rim. A fond farewell to three days on the Gunnison.

Δ: Three days worth…