Bob & Hozer's Big Adventure


by Bob Untener

My buddy Hozer and I were honored to participate in the annual Superfly competition in Almont, Colorado, hosted by the Gunnison Angling Society. We have been members of Trout Unlimited a few years, and of all people our chapter sent us.

Arriving in Almont late Friday, we set up camp on the Taylor river waiting for the Superfly reception at 7 that evening. The lodge was just a walk up the street in town and probably has about 12 residents, including “Drifter,” the hound dog. Drifter believes he’s a fish, maybe a duck, which he proved many times the next day.

Almont consists of 1 gas pump, 2 fly shops, 1 camp, and a general store along with “the Lodge.” Almont hosts three spectacular rivers. The Taylor and East river come together to form the Gunnison River. 

At the lodge we met many folks who have been a part of fly fishing for some time. We chatted about the next day’s event as they put teams and members names on a board and picked our “beats” for each team to fish—one for the morning, one for the afternoon.
Then they explained the rules: morning beat is fished 8:30 till noon; afternoon from 1 till 4:30. You meet your guide at each. So far so good. But neither Hozer nor I had any idea what we were looking at as our beats came up.  First beat, “Gunny 1.” Afternoon, the Lazy F-2 on the East river near Crested Butte.

During the evening you register your team and receive a nice fishing shirt and a hat. Most importantly, you think about what flies you will be choosing for the next days’ fishing. This is the Holy Grail of secrets to some. You only get 2 flies for the entire day.  You lose your flies, you fish for fun.

The competition is simple: each fish landed is measured and released. The team with the most measured inches wins. Sounds easy. But the key word here is “Landed”.  Trust me on this one.

Saturday at breakfast we had our two flies registered by the judge, where he looked over them with a jeweler’s microscope to ensure that they were barb-free. I chose a Flashback Pheasant tail and left some antennae uncut to allow some doctorin’ if not successful, thus dubbed the “Phunky Pheasant.” The smile from the judge made me wonder though. Second, a large #14 Adams Dry. This turned out to be a great fly—almost. Hozer put all his money on one fly. A medium flashback tan hares ear sort of thing dubbed “The HozerFly,” hoping his tag would bring luck.

The Gunny is a wide river and runs quite fast in places. This river holds cutts, bows, and browns. This time of year, salmon are in the water, and if you hook one you might be down one fly after a short fight. The Gunny was difficult to cross and I was shown up a few times by “Drifter, the swimmin’ hound,” who crossed quite easily as he swam back and forth. Drifter was a hoot to watch. He really does think he’s a duck. Maybe he is—who am I to say?

I fished hard on my “Phunky Pheasant”- hooked 6 fish in 21/2 hours and thought I had the Superfly won! But that’s when I learned that “hooked” is not the same as “landed.”
Hozer, hooked a few as well, but again, landed is the key. Landed means “caught” and “measured,” so if it slips from your fingers before the judge gets a good rule, it doesn’t count.

That’s exactly what happened to Hozer, at least once, and he even chased one down with his net, but to no avail.  We ended the morning beat at about 78 inches. And most of the credit for that goes to Hozer.

Our second beat and our new guide was on the East River. He worked us thru a drainage ditch, down a cliff, thru waist deep weeds to the top of the East River. Our guide told us there were some 16’s and a 20 incher landed that morning.

I started at the bottom with my #14 Adams and was amazed at myself for picking this fly. Fish after little fish rose trying to take it. Thought for sure I had the “Superfly,” and we were on our way to victory. Behind each rock, a fish; behind every eddy and slack water, a fish. Little fish hit everywhere, and I was working this creek like a pro. I lost the first one after a few seconds, then the second one and the third as well. After the 7th lost fish I landed one in my hand and was proudly getting it measured and swoosh, out of my hand, into the water. “Don’t count,” the judge said. From here on he was chuckling as I counted. 
I lost the 9th ,10th and the twentieth as well. I lost 27 stinking trout on that #14 Adams all the way up the stream. On the 28th fish, I pulled it out of the water and I swear—ask the guide—I caught it in mid air with my net.  9 inches in the books. Then the next one, 10 inches recorded. I was so excited I headed back down stream and started over, and then it happened.  Not one more rise the rest of the day.

Poor Hozer, looking everywhere for a pool to drift his “HozerFly” as the runs were small. Found 1 hole late and just big enough to drift for 3 or 4  seconds. Time was running out. Hozer spied a log and was determined to get underneath it. He had nothing to lose. Sure enough 15 inch brown took him for a run. Under, around, up and back trying to break free. Hozer would have none of that and landed that mighty fish.

Next cast for me, 20 feet in the alder tree.

The banquet that evening was wonderful. Our compliments to the hosts. We came in fifth out of thirteen teams.  If only that #14 Adams was an #18 Adams, our chapter might have been proud of us.
 
About The Author
Idaho Bob (Untener) and his buddy “Hozer” live in Morrison, Colorado. They are both married with kids (“teenage girls—that’s why we fish!”) Bob and Hozer have been fishing together for years, and dream of someday going pro. Most of their free time is spent on the river doing “market research” toward that end. You can write to them via our editorial department at: frank@hcamagazine.com.