To anyone driving up or down the Canyon at the moment, it will probably come as no surprise that the caddis hatch has arrived. Thousands of bugs smeared on windshields are witness to one nature's most prolific and spectacular examples of birth, renewal and the urge to survive against the odds, at least on the fly fisherpersons calendar. Having spent the last twelve months living underwater as small caterpillar like nymphs, the caddis are now hatching in order to find a mate or three, lay some eggs back in the stream and pass the flame on to the next generation.
For a fisherperson, this is almost nirvana. Most other rivers in the state, on account of their lower elevation snowfields, are blown out, running high and murky. Here on the Arkansas, an average of four thousand hungry fish per mile are ready to begin their own cycle of fattening up after a long, lean winter by gorging themselves on this regular seasonal bounty.
When a guy drives a couple of thousand miles to fish with you because you told him six months ago that if here was here at this time he would have great dry fly fishing, the pressure is on. So it was when Cliff rolled into town. I had the good fortune of meeting Cliff on the Big Horn last year fishing with Jeff Porter, Salida local who is living the dream - skiing, biking and fishing almost daily, with work getting in the way from time to time.