After two days of rippen the fish on the Taylor, we headed to my friend's other cabin on 60 acres that has almost a mile of private water on Spring Creek. I can't believe it either, two cabins on vast amounts of land with private trout infested water on each. Talk about lucky.Spring Creek is completely different than the Taylor, Gunnison, or East. It is much smaller in size with much smaller fish but still a dream to fish. After getting our fill of big fish on big water, it was nice to try something different. Spring Creek is a natural mountain snow runoff and spring fed creek. It originates at a high mountain lake near Cottonwood Pass and meets the Taylor River just a couple of miles up stream from where we were fishing on the Taylor. The majority of the creek is very tight technical water with a lot of elevation change meaning lots of small waterfalls and fast moving water. Just like the Taylor, there were a ton of people fishing it.
The road up to the second cabin was tight and twisty and turned to gavel about halfway up. We eventually popped out nearly above treeline (10,000 feet) and into a beautiful grassy valley with mountains on all sides. The property was devoid of any trees but had a few nice rock formations. The cabin was just as rustic and looked identical to the Taylor River cabin.
I quickly headed back to the truck to suit up. Given the water was so small, I opted not to wear my waders or boots and wet wade in shorts and sandals. That was where everything started to go wrong. As I put on my water sandals I felt a bite on the back of my leg that felt pretty painful. I was expecting to see a bee or wasp but nothing but a few harmless looking flies hovering around. The pain was pretty easy to ignore with the thoughts of numerous small trout just waiting to be caught. As I pulled on my other sandal and reached for my rod and reel, another incredibly painful bite. Mother f#$*er!!! Again, I looked around and nothing but a few more of those harmless looking flies. I closed the door and headed for the water looking over my shoulder a few times on the way. As I approached the creek, I stopped to look for holding fish. Again another bite. This time I felt the culprit smashed in my cupped hand resting on my neck. I brought my hand around and opened it up. There in my hand was one of those harmless looking flies. After close examination, I noticed it was not just a harmless house fly but a deer fly known for their painful bites. I also quickly noticed there was a swarm of hundreds more all over my shirt and shorts. I ran back to the truck and showered myself in the last remaining can of Off bug spray I had. This seemed to do the trick and now the swarm just seemed to hover around me instead of on me waiting to take their turn at the buffet. I headed back to the water and resumed my visual hunt for fish.
Just up stream from where I entered was a really nice deep slow run at a bend in the creek and the fish were surface feeding like crazy. I crept up slowly and quietly and threw my first cast. Immediately I had a nice hit and a small brown on the line. Before I was able to release the fish and throw my next cast, another bite on the leg! After releasing the fish and few choice curse words, I noticed my shirt and shorts were covered in flies again. So much for Off. I shook off the flies like a horse and resumed my casting hoping I didn't scare off all the fish after my shake. Again another great cast and another fish on. Not much bigger than the first but these little browns were as aggressive as the piranhas. Before I could get the fish in, the flies that I shook off attacked with a vengeance. I ended up accidentally releasing the fish on its own with my convulsions to shake the flies off. My next couple of casts were not so pretty. Every 5 seconds I had to shake my whole body to get the flies off and lessen the number of bites. Between my horribly wild casts, violent body shaking and leg stomping, I managed to trick one last small brown before I gave up. The flies won.
I headed back to the truck and saw my buddy, or what I thought was my co-fisher, heading toward me. My friend was covered head to toe in every article of clothing he brought with him on the trip. He had wrapped himself up just like a mummy with only a small slit uncovered for his eyes. As he approached I also noticed he was covered in flies like something you see on Ripley's Believe It Or Not. Without saying a single word, we both knew it was time to go. Spring Creek was a blast to fish and I would love to try again but I will remember to bring something with DEET and a bee keepers suit just in case.
We rubbed our throbbing bites and drove up stream to check out Spring Creek Reservoir just a few miles farther up stream and on our way to catch Cottonwood Pass home. The reservoir was beautiful and would make a perfect place to camp. We didn't get out for more than a minute or two to snap a few pics and relieve our bladders in fear that the flies may have followed us. As we headed past Taylor Reservoir and headed for Cottonwood Pass, I reflected back on the trip. Overall it was another great fishing trip with plenty to remember and learn from with the scars to prove it.
