JEFFERSON, Colorado – “If you don’t get a bite,” said Scott Tarrant, wading out into the Tarryall River, “remember the old timers’ advice. Foam is home. Follow the bubbles.”

“Sounds like a beer drinker’s election slogan to me,” said Josh, my neighbor in the next cabin at the Broadmoor Fishing Camp, in Colorado’s South Park, in Park County. Fly fishing for the first time, he leaned over to peer in the water and dropped his hat.

“Over there,” said Tarrant, the Camp’s lead fishing guide, pointing at the ripples beside fallen tree trunk. “The bubbles where the two currents meet. It’s like a conveyor belt, sweeping the fish and the floating insects together. That’s where you drop your fly.”

Fishing with Scott Tarrant I realized how much I didn’t know. After watching me for fifteen minutes, he showed me how to cast farther and more accurately by powering the rod from my elbow and not from my shoulder. “Remember,” he added, “the secret to fishing is simple. It’s knowing where the fish are.”

Ask around and find out which insects are hatching – it varies – and when the fish usually eat. This tells you which fly to use. Then look for the trout, which swim up against the current to get oxygen. When they need to rest, they find ripples and eddies where they can tread water and wait for an insect. This is where you drop your fly.

Casting again I aimed for the bubbles, but the bait – a menacing looking dry fly called Amy’s Ant – flew out and into a bush. Not that it really mattered. I’d been daydreaming, imagining the area’s early explorers, adventurers like Kit Carson and Jim Bridger, fur trappers who camped and hunted here in South Park in the early 1800s. They might have camped right there beside the river.

I wouldn’t have been there either, if a friend in Colorado Springs hadn’t invited me to her wedding reception, held at the Broadmoor Hotel. Checking in, I picked up a brochure describing the hotel’s new back-country adventures, including Fishing Camp. I hadn’t been fishing since my dad died, but I decided to take a look.

My dad loved talking about his childhood, fishing with a bamboo pole and catching sunfish and bass on a lake in Wisconsin. My favorite tale was the one about the bass so long and heavy he could hardly hoist it up and into rowboat. He got it up and nearly there, he said, when a giant snapping turtle suddenly lunged up out of the depths and grabbed it, skinning his fingers. That brochure reminded me of what I was missing.

Reading it, I wasn’t surprised to find that the Broadmoor had a couple of off-site camps, projects introduced by the owner, Phil Anschutz, a western history buff. After all, with the Rocky Mountains practically in the hotel’s back yard, why not offer guests a couple of western adventures, the kind that travel industry surveys say is what today’s more experienced travelers want?

The first camp to open, the Ranch at Emerald Valley, in 2013, was a former cowboy outfit in the trees adjacent to Pike National Forest. Then Cloud Camp opened, at 9,200 feet elevation near the top of Cheyenne Mountain. An enormous, authentic log lodge, with a restaurant, sundeck, guest rooms and additional cabins, it boasts a fabulous western art collection, an archery court and hiking trails.

Meanwhile, the idea of an old-time fishing lodge with a covered front porch, pine plank floors, rustic guest cabins and family-style dinners sat on the back burner, percolating until the day that Anschutz happened to spot an abandoned cabin on the Tarryall River, in South Park.

Finding the cabin was so unexpected it must have been in the stars. A historic log house, it was usable enough to restore. The site, with 76 acres and five miles of private frontage on the Tarryall River, ranks among Colorado’s top-five trout streams. Promising a first-class fishing experience, it’s close to Colorado Springs, convenient for single-day trips. And the location, in South Park, the valley that western historian Bernard DeVoto called a “paradise, the last place in the mountains where the old life could be lived to the full,” borders the Lost Creek Wilderness.

Fishing Camp has all the charms of an old fashioned log cabin, but spartan it is not. Not only is it restored, but it’s been re-chinked, reroofed and enlarged. The utilities are upgraded to current standards, it has a new kitchen, bigger windows light the rooms and improved pine board floors resist muddy boots.
Navajo rugs hang on the walls between western paintings and a collection of western memorabilia that crowds the empty spots: snowshoes, buckets, cowboy hats, antlers, arrows, duck decoys, lanterns, antique fishing rods and woven wicker creels. A canoe and paddle straddles the rafters.

Individual log cabins, in the trees around the lodge, sleep two to eight. The logs are re-chinked and the doors, screens, porches and hand-crafted rocking chairs are new. The interiors are small but comfortable, with lots of windows, modern bathrooms and framed fishing-themed art.

All meals and beverages, served in the dining room, are included. Since most menus are planned by chefs at the Broadmoor Hotel itself, in Colorado Springs, ingredients are delivered daily and prepared, cooked, and/or assembled at the lodge.

Clearly, trout are what Fishing Camp is all about. But don’t pass it up because you don’t fish. Bring a fisher-person with you and explore the Lost Creek Wilderness from a network of trails that wind though rocky outcrops and open meadows. For would-be cowboys, the Tarryall River Ranch, off the highway three miles south of Fishing Camp, leads guided horseback rides.
For beginners and experts alike, the Tarryall’s combination of quiet pools and shallow rapids offer a variety of challenges, even for Tarrant, who loves a quiet hour at the stream. Asked about it, he says he’s a catch-and-release sportsman by choice. But, he adds, “Fishing Camp is a stream-to-table resort.” If you yearn for that old-time taste of just-caught rainbow trout, fried in the pan, feel free to ask.

PLANNING: Fishing Camp, open April 1-Oct. 31, is between Jefferson and Lake George, 3.5 miles south of Tarryall Reservoir on Highway 77 in Park County, Colorado. For more flexibility bring your car, or use the Broadmoor Hotel’s daily transportation service. Rates per night may vary, but start at about $830 for one and $950 for two sharing a room, and include all fishing gear, guiding, meals, snacks and alcoholic beverages. Half and full-day rates are also offered. Book at the Broadmoor Hotel, at (866)334-3693, or see www.broadmoor.com.

©The Syndicator/Anne Z. Cooke; Photo credits to Steve Haggerty/ColorWorld.

The post ON CLOUD NINE FOR ANGLERS: Colorado’s Broadmoor Fishing Camp appeared first on Traveling Archive.

Friendly Enemies

Joke of the Week

Thanks to Nani of San Juan, Rizal, Philippines  for sharing this joke.

Video: Crazy Hula Hoop

Thanks to Belen of Buena Park, California and Charlie of New Jersey

Video: Dog Torture

Thanks to Don of Kelowna, B.C.

Video: Hand Fishing

Thanks to Maling of New Manila, Philippines
Interesting way to catch a fish. Hard to believe.

Don’s Puns

Thanks to Don of Kelowna, B.C. who sent these puns.

Parting Shots

Thanks to Maling of New Manila, Philippines

Thanks to Tom of Pasadena, CA

Thanks to Don of Kelowna, B.C.

Thanks to Mel of Washington, DC

The post Murphy’s Law appeared first on Traveling Archive.

The hike was one of four daily activities during our 8-day adventure exploring Amazonia. Calling the Motor Yacht Tucano, an 18-passenger river yacht home, we traveled over 200 miles along the River Negro where the only other waterborne human we saw was the rare fisherman in a dugout canoe. For our daily excursions, we clamored aboard a small power launch which took us hiking, bird-watching, and village hopping, and on night-time outings that dramatized the allure of the river not experienced in any other way. But more on that later.

Souza demanded quiet during our launch rides, using all of his senses to read the forest, listening for the breaking of a branch or a flutter through the trees, sniffing for animal odors, scanning leaves above and below for motion, or the water for ripples… and alerting us at every junction of what he has discovered.  On our own, we would have heard, felt and discerned nothing.

Souza’s most amazing talent was his ability to identify the multitudes of birds traversing the river and forest, many of whose calls he could replicate precisely.  What to us was a dot on a limb was declared a green ibis. Then a snow egret, crane hawk, red-breasted blackbird, jacana, snail kite — so many I just stopped taking notes. So confidently did he identify the inhabitants, we would have believed: “That’s a green-tongued, red-beaked ibirus with one brown eye and a pimple on his right cheek…”

He could imitate more birds than the most gifted comedian can impersonate movie stars. He carried on such intimate conversations, that halfway through a lengthy discussion with a blackish gray antshrike, I think they became engaged. Then Souza, fickle male that he is, romanced a colorful azure blue-beaked Trogan perched upon a dead branch high in a tree. Birds have a surprising preference for dead tree parts. As one of my travel companions observed, “If you don’t like birds, you might as well take the next flight home.”

Back to Machete Man. Our forest walks also were a time for observation, not conversation. On a stop to view teca ants swarming over the bark, Souza wiped his hand across it, proceeding then to rub the ants over his forearms. Instant mosquito repellant — handy tool in the Amazon.

At one point, I looked down and saw a long brown twig draping a log. Souza saw a snake. I looked again and still saw a twig, albeit one that now had an eye. I stepped more gingerly.

We learned of the many medications the forest supplies to the natives; of vines for baskets and brooms; bark for strong rope; plants providing poison for arrows. As we heeded orders to be quiet, the dried leaves below screamed in protest at being trampled, the buzz of the horsefly the most persistent sound.

And then there are the leaf cutter ants! A long assembly line of tiny leaves paraded up a hill, as organized as a marching band. A closer look revealed leaf cutter ants to be the burly carriers. Hard to believe something so fragile can carry so large and unwieldy a load as much as half a mile to its colony.

Surprised at how much he learned about himself on the trip, Ritesh Beriwal, a 23-year-old worn-out Wall Street trainee, noted: “I didn’t realize how interested I’d be in the little things, like how insects such as the leaf-carrying ants build homes. Before it was just an ant; now it’s an ant with an entire life and work history.”

Each day brought new revelations and insight into our surroundings whether on land or water. Our visits to several villages only reinforced that impression.

Commonalities among villages: a dance hall where residents party once a month; a soccer field where youth exercise once a day; a school room where students of all grades learn; a clinic that caters to the medical needs of the community, 2-3 requisite churches where parishioners of different persuasions pray — and a generator. And that’s about it. But the differences are notable as well.

I found the contrast particularly interesting between one village of no more than 30 families producing one farm product and a larger “company” town in which thrives an asphalt industry. In the larger village, there is a convenience store, a small café, a bakery. Each hut has its own outhouse and there are several satellite dishes throughout the community.

The entire economy of the farm community revolves around manioc — a product made from grain that is the mainstay of the Amazonian diet. “If there is no manioc on the table, there is no meal,” explains Souza.

There are no stores in the village, no satellite dishes, and there are no outhouses. Using the woods that border their village as their toilet, it was clearly the largest bathroom facility I had ever seen. On the other hand, the men don’t have to worry about remembering to put the seat down.

Although every day was an adventure, nothing compared with the nighttime jaunts. Our post-dinner sojourns, beginning around 8 p.m., pitched Souza and his searchlight against the dark horizon, scanning shoreline and trees desperately searching for something to entertain his charges.

An all-pervasive quiet loomed, yet everything, including the sounds, seemed magnified: dolphins snorting, fish jumping, caimans slithering, monkeys howling — all vying for attention.

Eventually the flashlight, seemingly darting randomly above, below and beyond the trees, alighted (so to speak) on a caiman in the brush, his whole snout protruding for a moment before slinking away. Or perhaps instead the light reflected off a kingfisher’s eyes, temporarily blinding him so that we could drift in almost close enough to touch. Then for an encore, we watched a spider grab a dragonfly from a crack in a tree directly in front of us — and diligently devour it. Did I mention it was pitch black?

Once again, the refrain in my head: “How does Souza do that?” Either he has a seventh sense about the animals, or the Amazon Tourist Board set them up ahead of time.

Whereas during the day, the trills, tweets and twerps of the birds dominate the landscape, at night it’s the croaks, caws and throaty outpourings of the frogs and caimans.

In between our first launch at 6 a.m to our final return sometime after 9, we pretty much spend the rest of the time eating. The native foods, beautifully prepared and presented, are a surprise this far from civilization.

As much as that is a typical day, so are the exceptions. One particular day we got to sleep in until 6, still early enough to watch the sun pull itself over the forest, and late enough to feel the already oppressive heat seep into my lightweight, washable. anti-bug-treated blouse (though overall, the weather was much more comfortable than anticipated). We were going fishing.

I sat with my Tom Sawyer fishing pole thinking the Amazon’s a long way from the Mississippi. I attached the chunks of beef to the end of the line thinking this was strange bait until I remembered our prey. Watching Souza rattle the water with his pole, I remembered that being quiet was the order of the day on most fishing sojourns. Still, I followed his lead — make the quarry think there’s a wounded fish thrashing about — and within a minute I knew I had snagged the big prize: at the end of my line was the famed carnivorous predator — a 6” piranha.

Souza held it up to a tree and used it like a scissors to cut a branch in two. Just looking at its imposing teeth, we knew it came by its reputation honestly. Still, piranhas get a bad rep. The truth is unless they’re starving, or you’re bleeding, we’re really not in their food chain. Nonetheless, the fried piranhas we had that night as appetizers were scrumptious, their tiny bones crunchy and the meat flaky, proving the wise adage that more people eat piranhas than piranhas eat people — at least in Amazonia.

If You Go

I flew United, one of several airlines that go nonstop from several U.S. cities to Sao Paulo, then transferred to TAM for the hop to Manaus. American Airlines and LATAM Airlines also have daily non-stop flights from Miami to Manaus.

When to go. The January to June rainy season brings heavy but relatively brief downpours. Rivers rise dramatically — often as high as 45 feet. The high water enables small boats to reach areas inaccessible at other times of year

During dry season, roughly July to December, rivers run shallow, and while white sand beaches — excellent for a refreshing swim — appear, most of the area is more arid and less lush.   Best time to visit is April to September.

For more information, contact Latin American Escapes or call 800-510-5999.

Some Caveats

• If you’re looking to see a lot of four-legged wildlife, go on a safari.
• If taking a nightly hot shower is important, stay at a hotel (although the river water is tepid enough so as not to be too uncomfortable). There are hot water showers during the day on the vessel.
• Although we didn’t experience any, the pre-trip information warns of glitches, inconveniences and delays and advises to bring along a lot of tolerance and patience.
• Post-hike showers are required, including the need to wash out your clothes to prevent any insect mishaps.
• There is a certain sameness to the daily activities.
• There is also a 5 day/4 night option.

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