East River, CO
Jubilant laughter and festiveness greet me as I step out of the chilly late-spring darkness and enter the aging cinder block hatchery building. Cigar smoke wafts upward, bathing lines of purple-tinged, occasionally flickering fluorescent bulbs. A cacophony of spilling water, jovial conversation, and Lynyrd Skynyrd sets the soundtrack for the evening, as Ronnie Van Zant’s vocals and Southern guitar licks crackle from a worn-out 1990s-era stereo, and the overpowering stench of fish takes center stage.
I immediately recognize Al, with his aged, sun-weathered face and sinewy arms—a long-retired hatchery worker (and the source of the billowing stogie smoke) who tonight is hard at work as if he’d never left his post. He fervently guides a squeegee along the blue-painted bottom of a concrete hatchery trough, shooing the last of the silvery 2-inch-long salmonid stragglers toward the drain and ultimately to freedom. A few local dignitaries mill about, struggling to feign interest as they hobnob with the peasants. The whole spectacle conveys a sense that something big is happening. And indeed, it is. Millions of kokanee salmon (landlocked sockeye) fingerlings are being emancipated into the East River. In a building that is witness to equal measures of birth and death, tonight we celebrate birth. And outside, in the cold blackness under a new moon, the trout in the East River rejoice right along with us.
The East River begins as an inconsequential trickle of water escaping lovely Emerald Lake, a few miles north of the quirky ski and snowboard mecca of Crested Butte. Below Crested Butte the East ambles southward toward a rendezvous with the Taylor River to form the famous Gunnison River in the tiny fly-fishing hamlet of Almont, churning through some of the most stunning, cottonwood-lined ranchland on Colorado’s western slope in the process.
The East River isn’t the Gunnison Valley’s most renowned fishery. That distinction goes to the Gunnison River itself. The East River doesn’t possess the area’s biggest trout, nor is it the most aesthetically pleasing—the Taylor River and the Lake Fork of the Gunnison River win those awards respectively. However, the East checks all the boxes: charming beauty, big-fish potential, strong insect hatches, and even the rarity of prime wintertime fly angling. But the East never received the unfettered love and admiration lavished on the area’s other major trout streams. Unfortunately, as a fishery, the East River is hobbled by its lack of public access. You can pay to fish fantastic private stretches leased to area fly shops, but the overwhelming majority of public angling on the East River happens on the 2-mile swath flowing through the Roaring Judy State Fish Hatchery property.
To access the East River at Roaring Judy, head north from Gunnison on State Route 135 for 15 miles (passing Almont at mile 10) and turn left at the colorful sign mark- ing the entrance to the hatchery. Park at the bridge or take the next left and proceed to the hatchery ponds (end of the road) to access the river from there. About two-thirds of Roaring Judy’s stretch of the river is downstream of the bridge, leaving one-third upstream. The river upstream of the bridge forms mostly long, shallow riffles that generally hold relatively small fish, typically making this reach less crowded. The water below the bridge also mainly consists of shallow riffles, but possesses a few trout-friendly pools and bends to attract more and bigger fish. Unfortunately, Roaring Judy is frequently bloated with fly fishers, espe- cially during the tourist months.
Where the “Wild” Trout Roam
Colorado Parks and Wildlife (CPW) designates the East River, downriver of the Roaring Judy bridge, as “Wild Trout Water.” And the East’s brown trout are as wild as a mustang in Nevada’s arid high desert, but so are the browns finning in virtually every other trout stream in the Centennial State. Most of Colorado’s brown trout populations are self-sustaining, so browns are rarely stocked. And while rainbow trout aren’t stocked directly into this Wild Trout Water, hatchery-born ’bows end up in the East nonetheless. After all, with a hatchery operating on the banks of the East, rainbows escape from the concrete jungle into the river with the same ease that the North Atlantic flooded into the post-iceberg Titanic. In addition, rainbow trout are stocked en masse directly into the hatchery ponds and have easy access to the river from there. And finally, egg-crazed hatchery rainbows stocked into Blue Mesa Reservoir follow squadrons of spawning kokanee salmon (more on this event later) into the East River each fall. The Wild Trout Water designation is virtually meaningless, except that it does bring with it special regulations: bait is banned from Roaring Judy’s upstream property boundary downriver to the confluence with the Taylor River; anglers can kill two trout less than 12 inches long. The larger trout are protected.
Here on the windward side of the Continental Divide, Old Man Winter doesn’t release his frigid grip until late March at the earliest and usually not until April. However, at Roaring Judy the East River seldom freezes over, so a rare February day when the mercury climbs above 32 degrees can be stellar for catching trout. If dark, pewter skies unleash a deluge of wet stuff, a torrent of midges will probably hatch, possibly producing deliberate sipping rises. Midges hatch all year, but from winter into early spring, they are the only show in town. My favorite subsurface wintertime midge patterns for the East River are size 18 through 22 Zebra Midges, McCannel’s Demon Midges, and Miller’s D-Midges. Because the East River is known for its bloodworms—red Chironomids colored as such due to the excessive amount of hemoglobin produced in their bodies in response to the oxygen-poor, silted streambeds they inhabit—most of the time I prefer crimson-colored midges, although I do use more natural hues as well. Roy Palm’s Special Emerger is lethal on willing risers.
One of the East River’s best late-winter/early-spring angling locations is the Eagle Tree Hole, located about 200 yards downriver of the Outlet Hole. To find the Outlet Hole, follow the tiny stream channel (which also holds trout, albeit excessively spooky ones) as it leaves the southwestern-most hatchery pond. Where the outlet stream hits the East is the tiny Outlet Hole (which itself may hide a trout or two). The Eagle Tree Hole is the first hole below that. Another quality cold-weather spot is the Raceway Hole; park at the end of the long string of race- ways and head east into the willows to the river. When the stars (and conditions) align, you can have a 15- to 20-fish day on the East, even in the frigid early season. The winter fishing at Roaring Judy ranks as some of the best in the entire Gunnison Basin.
Incidentally, Roaring Judy also offers phenomenal wildlife-viewing opportunities, especially during the snowy months. Large herds of elk (and plenty of mule deer) winter across the highway on the Almont Triangle and are also occasionally seen along the East River. Bighorn sheep frequently loiter along the highway just north of Almont. Foxes, coyotes, bobcats, and mink are also familiar sights. And black bears occasionally lounge in the streamside willows during the salmon run in autumn.
The hatchery property (and its salmonids) also draws an impressive array of avifauna, most commonly bald eagles, golden eagles, owls, an occasional osprey, other raptors, and great blue herons. As an added draw, duck hunting is allowed along the river (pay heed to the well-signed no- shooting zones) and at the ponds at the hatchery. Jump shooting for mallards can be surprisingly good. You could suffer an ego-injurious trout-skunking at Roaring Judy, but the trip would still be worthwhile for the wildlife alone.
Later in the spring, up until runoff begins, I add a size 18 or 20 Mercer’s Micro Mayfly, Barr’s BH BWO Emerger, or a small black/coffee Pat’s Rubber Legs to my arsenal of nymphs, still targeting the deepest water I can find. Once the river is fully turbid with runoff, beginning sometime in May and lasting throughout June, I’ll try a dual-nymph rig consisting of a big black Pat’s Rubber Legs and a bright red San Juan Worm, but you’d likely be better off fishing a nearby tailwater like the Taylor River or a clear headwater stream. Runoff can be especially long and belligerent on the East River.
Summer is incredibly busy at Roaring Judy. Guides working out of local fly shops flock to the East River for its convenience, comparatively easy wading, solid hatches, and willing risers. Do-it-yourselfers congregate there for the same reasons. Golden Stoneflies emerge as runoff recedes, and a size 6 or 8 Pat’s Rubber Legs (noticing a theme?) or golden Chubby Chernobyl can dupe trout. Beginning in early July, mayflies—Blue-Winged Olives, Pale Morning Duns, and Green Drakes—become the crux of the bug buffet. Effective summertime dry flies include a Parachute Adams, Furimsky’s BDE BWO, Furimsky’s Foam Green Drake, Furimsky’s Fluttering Foam Caddis, and any type of Chubby Chernobyl. An effective nymph- ing arsenal includes a Soft Hackle Pheasant Tail Nymph, Sparkle Wing RS2, and Buckskin. Once upon a time on the East, the Green Drake hatch was the stuff of legend, but Drake hatches have been diminishing in intensity throughout the Gunnison Valley since the 1980s and have almost (but not quite) reached the point of irrelevance.
Salmon Spectacle
With jaw-dropping autumn colors also come waves of salmon. Much to the delight of anglers, kokanee salmon were introduced into Blue Mesa Reservoir—Colorado’s largest man-made body of water—in 1968, shortly after the reservoir filled. They’ve been making the 20-mile spawning run up the Gunnison and East Rivers to Roaring Judy ever since. Kokanee (Oncorhyn- chus nerka) are the freshwater landlocked form of sockeye salmon. When Meriwether Lewis and William Clark encountered sockeye salmon in the spring of 1806 beneath Celilo Falls on Oregon’s Columbia River, the explor- ers named them “red charr.”
The word “kokanee,” which means “red fish,” is derived from the Okanagan language of the indigenous people of the Okanogan and Columbia River basins in Canada and the adjacent United States. Kokanee are native to Oregon, Washington, Idaho, Brit- ish Columbia, the Yukon, western Alaska, the Kamchatka Peninsula, and Japan. Blue Mesa’s kokanee salmon are vitally important economically to both the Gunnison Valley and the state of Colorado. Kokanee produc- tion and fishing is estimated to infuse $29 million per year into Colorado’s economy, with $5 million of those greenbacks enriching the Gunnison area itself. Without Blue Mesa’s salmon, Colorado’s kokanee fisheries would struggle, because an overwhelming majority of the kokanee eggs that ultimately stock lakes and reservoirs across the Centennial State typically come from Blue Mesa Reservoir.
In a good year, the salmon run up to Roaring Judy is oftentimes the biggest ko- kanee spawning event in North America, with upward of 80,000 fish making the journey. But now, after record salmon returns in 2016 and 2017, Blue Mesa’s kokanee population is circling the drain, flatlining, deathly ill, limping along, and giving up the ghost. Desperately low water levels in Blue Mesa, which increase both disease (currently gill lice) and predation by lake trout, is the most frequently fingered culprit.
The recent lack of kokanee surging up the East River each fall has had a negative impact on angling on the East. The decrease in salmon running also decreases the numbers of large, egg-eating trout dogging salmon pods up the river. Fewer kokanee and trout in the river is bad news for fly anglers. And as far as salmon go, to counteract low kokanee numbers, CPW has resorted to stretching a salmon fence across the East to forcefully direct more salmon into the hatchery ponds and ultimately into the raceways where their eggs can be collected. The downstream half of the Roaring Judy property is closed to angling from August 1 to November 1, and there aren’t many kokanee available to fly fishers in the legal water above the salmon barrier. A few salmon do get past the fence, but it’s a pittance compared to years past when the legal upstream water at Roaring Judy was a kokanee salmon angling utopia.
Currently the best options for getting a fly in front of a kokanee is to angle for them downstream on the Gunnison, pay a rod fee and fish on a private lease on the East River below the hatchery, or wait until after November 1, when the lower half of the hatchery property opens.
However, it’s really hit or miss whether there will still be solid numbers of kokanee left when the Roaring Judy water reopens on November 1.
Despite not actively feeding during their spawning soirée, kokanee salmon will attack a fly out of aggression or territorialism. Fly fishing for “koks” is riotous fun, as they are strong fighters and acrobatic leapers, and are often caught in droves out of a single pod. Koks will angrily mug a Theo’s Gold Bead Bomber, a beadhead Western Coach- man, or an egg pattern, but crimson San Juan Worms and Squirmy Worms are the most consistently successful.
Alternative Angling Areas
The Roaring Judy property offers other angling options. The four hatchery settling ponds are surprisingly fun fisheries. The ponds host a mix of wild brown trout and both wild and stocked rainbow trout. These ’bows and browns see a ton of flies and aren’t pushovers. And you might find a big fish or two. In fact, the current Colorado state-record brown trout—a 30.5-pound, 38-inch brown troutzilla— was corralled in one of the hatchery ponds in the fall of 1988. Although this feat isn’t likely to be repeated, solid browns (and ’bows) still end up in the hatchery ponds by following egg-spewing salmon pods.
Additionally, immediately above the fenced-off kokanee spawning raceways near the parking lot is a short, slow- moving slough that is the effluent from Roaring Judy’s raceway system. This comparatively warm trough is often choked with watercress on its edges and is über-difficult
to successfully angle due to its slothful spring-creek-like qualities, but it’s loaded with big rainbow trout (with sev- eral substantially larger than 20 inches) that escape from the fish factory as wee little fry. These hatchery escapees are often exceptionally skittish and difficult to dupe, requiring small flies (a Mole Fly or D-Midge is often my weapon of choice), light tippet, and a competent stealthy presentation. These slough trout are some of the toughest trout targets in the entire Gunnison Valley and have deflated the egos of many fantastic fly fishers. Farther up toward Crested Butte is another fun swath of public access on the East River. About a mile of meandering bends and riffles is accessible by hiking the East River Trail. Hike about 0.6 mile past the private water before leaving the trail to fish. To get to the East River Trail from Crested Butte, head south on State Route 135 for 2 miles and turn left (east) on County Road 738 (Brush Creek Road). Travel 1.9 miles on CR 738 to Brush Creek Trailhead, where East River Trail 634 begins. This stretch of fly water is home to mostly small brown trout but holds a few surprisingly stout rainbows, especially near its junction with Brush Creek. Another 7.5 miles of stun- ningly beautiful public water is available surrounding the town of Gothic, upriver of Crested Butte. Brook and brown trout inhabit the serpentine bends of this scenic stretch of the East.
Despite a dearth of public access and a struggling salmon run, the East River is exceedingly popular with local fly fishers. As a bonus, a day spent exploring Crested Butte’s shops, restaurants, and natural wonders is time well spent. No fly-fishing excursion to the Gunnison Valley is complete without casting a line into the East River.
Doug Dillingham is a freelance outdoor writer and the author of Fly Fishing the Gunnison Country, available at www. gunnisonflyfish.com. He lives in Ohio City, Colorado.
