A Low Fish Day on the San Juan River Is Still A Great Day
Fly fishing the San Juan River in murky and in less than ideal conditions proves to be a way better day than most.
The San Juan River, located in NW New Mexico, is a fly fishing gem. Like a diamond or a sapphire, everybody’s drawn to it and wants it! Its crystal clear aquarium waters are stacked with massive trout. I mean, you walk through it’s easy wading waters and you can’t help but stumble into tons of fish, it’s that stacked.
My problem was that when we lived in Telluride Colorado 12 years ago, any easy four hour drive from the San Juan, I didn’t care about fly fishing. And every winter we’d take a five day weekend off in January, stay at Abe’s Motel and my husband would winter fly fish his brains out.
This was not something I was into. It was super cold, I didn’t know or care that much about fly fishing at the time and I thought a five day weekend meant time with my husband. Nope, it mostly meant time reading a book or watching crummy TV in our motel room by myself.
So, the four years of us living in Telluride consisted of a trip every winter to the San Juan with a new book.
Then things changed. Hehe!
We moved to Bend Oregon and my husband became a full time fly fishing guide. And I realized that if I was going to see this man that I promised to have and to old in sickness and on health andoin rivers and in drift boats that I better learn how to cast a rod, land a trout and have the same experience (insert passion, obsession, ritual and routine here) that he did.
So, I gave it go. And guess what, I love fly fishing!
Just another typical day of fly fishing in Oregon. Ok, not really. Both these browns were major treats for us. I’m on the Owyhee River and my husband is on Miller Lake.
We fly fish as much as we can together and living in Bend Oregon gives us plentiful opportunities for epic fisheries and trout. But, in the back of my mind was the unconquered, uncared-about-at-the-time and now desired river, the San Juan.
So two years ago we decided to take an entire two weeks off in late April through mid May and go visit our old stomping grounds of the Southwest. We’d go see our dear friends Brand and Sarah in Colorado, we’d play the part of sun worshipping lizards in the Moab area and we’d fly fish the Gunnison River.
Wait. What about the San Juan?
Ok, ok so the San Juan wasn’t concrete on our agenda. If we have time, depending on what the weather was doing, etc.
We booked it to Telluride and stayed with our friends who were unbelievably kind enough to put us up in their home and feed us for three days. All while their house was under some major renovations and Sarah being seven months pregnant. To this day, we still owe them and love them so freaking much!
After a fantastic visit with those two we made our way to the Lower Delores River, a magical place that we both felt connected to.
On our drive to the Lower D, we managed to stay ahead of the rain and thunderstorms that followed close behind. We got to camp, the only one open that time of year, and set up a canopy off the back of the truck, got firewood out and geared up for some small river fly fishing on the lower Delores.
Ba-Bam! Not 10 minutes into fishing, the thunder and lightning show caught up with us. So, that night consisted of a beer drunken party for two at a wet campsite with a raging campfire while pouring over maps trying to decide what our next move would be.
A before and after on the Lower Delores. Sun and high spirits followed by rain and high spirits. That’s my man, “always look in the bright side of life” Monty Python.
My husband was set on the East Portal at the Gunnison Gorge, truly and amazing place for fly fishing and anyone that appreciates epic scenery. But the problem was temperatures were in the 30’s and snow accumulation was expected. Nope, said I.
The East Portal on the Gunnison Gorge in late Spring, the complete opposite of what it was going to look like on our trip.
Umm? What to do, where to go?
“I know!” said my husband (because he thinks he knows everything) “Let’s go to the San Juan.”
The weather looked good, decent temps in the 60’s with some sun. Fuck yeah, let’s go!
We made our way Southeast to the San Juan River. This time we managed to stay ahead of the clouds and followed the sun.
We made a quick and memorable stop at Abe’s for some flies, a souvenir hat and some intel. The local word on the street wasn’t good. Murky waters and not great fly fishing. No worries, we were here and determined to make the best of it!
We happily found some BLM camping that to this day is some of my favorite and I have camped in every state. Seriously, I had traveled to all 50 states by the time I was 13 and did a lot of camping in each state. Regardless, this site was magical. Nestled up against a massive red rock wall, with cactus sprinkled about, no other campers, a pit toilet with a friendly black window that kept to herself and my dream river a five minute walk away. I was home for the next three days.
One of my favorite camps. Our BLM spot on the San Juan, complete with sunshine, a campfire and these two sexy fly fishing studs!
The first morning we woke up to a light sprinkle on the tent, which in a tent always sounds worse than it is. After coffee and a quick hello to my friendly black widow we were geared up and ready to fish the San Juan. And wouldn’t you know it. As soon as we hit the trail, the rain stopped, and the weather cleared.
The sun came out and continued to highlight the natural beauty of the San Juan area.
We bushwhacked for quite a while. I’ll admit, it’s not one of my favorite things. My sloppy wading boots and need for an obvious trail that leads me to the right destination made bushwhacking a little frustrating. But, we made our way and as always my husband’s sense of direction was spot on.
We emerged along the river to a nice little beach with some rocks poking out of the water, perfect for standing on and casting from.
My husband walked down river and I sat down where I was, looked around, and felt a little frustrated about the walk here and the blue-ish murky water. But, I persevered.
I tied on a San Juan worm (crazy, I know), stood out on my rock and made some casts. I felt good, on my own, doing my thing, with a bunch of dudes fishing and floating by and most likely I was the only women out on the water. I wish there were more of us.
And then it happened, all on my own I caught a freaking fish on the San Juan River!
Happy days and happy catching for me on the San Juan!
It wasn’t massive, it wasn’t the most graceful fight, but god damnit, I was the first one to catch a fish on the San Juan that day. And in those lousy conditions.
And you know why I caught it? (Probably dumb luck) Because of confidence, instincts and not giving a shit whether I caught a fish or not. Seriously, I think those are valid and real reasons for catching fish. Yes, skill, practice, experience and having a guide make a massive difference, but most of the time it’s all in the noggin and how we greet the day, the water and the fish. And that day I greeted them well and they in turn did the same for me.
Our next day’s fishing weren’t filled with many other fish, but I continued to cast, fish and catch a few more. I caught more than husband and no it’s not a competition, but damn it felt good! And he was also so proud of me, that felt really good (insert super happy smiley emoji face here).
My husband surrounded by the beauty of the San Juan.
All in all, this trip still lives in my mind as one of the best fly fishing and camping trips I’ve had with my super-duper fly fishing husband. We persevered, we kept our heads high even in crappy conditions, we fished, and we did all of it together (key in sappy mushy music here).
Plus, location, location, location! Our camping site was stunning, close to the river, and even had a trail that led to ancient Native American Ruins. That was the icing on the already delicious San Juan cake for me!
Native American ruins. An ancient lookout that was a short hike away from camp. The original peoples of this area were no doubt intelligent, cultured and creative.
Even now, I feel myself getting excited and wanting to plan our next trip to the San Juan. It won’t be the same, but who knows, it might be just as good and just as fishy.
Thanks for traveling and fishing with me!
xoxo Erika