out what it would take for me to completely zero out my time, but I dismissed this idea pretty quickly since it would have meant that I’d have to move pretty fast. So, with that strategy under my belt, I trained some more, did some on-line research on Lake Fork fish, water, and bugs, and really started to get psyched for the 24th of September! The week finally arrived. It was a hectic week, and in between a few business trips I assembled my gear and was ready for the big day. One morning that week the Flyathletes were greeted by an email from the organization. It contained the rules, directions, waivers, and all of the usual official stuff...including the beer sponsors. It was during the reading of the rules that my entire strategy came crashing down. My strategy assumed that I would catch 120 inches worth of fish in a six-hour period. What I had just learned is that Flyathlon rules only give you credit for a single fish! Not one to be easily discouraged, I scrapped any notion of competing in the timed portion of the event and began to think about the prize for The Biggest Fish. When the weekend finally arrived I loaded up the car with all of my camping, fishing, and “running” gear. I also filled my cooler with my favorite craft beers to share with all of the new friends I was going to make. It was a glorious drive. The leaves were at
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High Country Angler • Winter 2017
peak color, I drove through snow showers on Monarch Pass, and I rolled into the campsite just west of Gunnison with about an hour of sunlight left. There were tents everywhere, people busying themselves setting up, swapping fish stories, and sharing beers. I settled into a night of great beer, warm campfires and stimulating conversation. I met people from all across Colorado and all walks of life. There was even a guy that had flown in from Nashville just to take part in the Flyathlon! During the evening I encountered at least three other Flyathletes that had calculated their victory just as I had, only to be thwarted by the rules of the event. The next morning everyone gathered at the start line shortly after 8:30 AM. For most of us this was our first trip to the Lake Fork and the water looked amazing! Deep pools, pocket water, and long runs and riffles paralleled the gravel road that we would run. It looked very fishy. Fly rods were required to be “broken down” at the start and Flyathletes stretched their legs and checked their gear. I pretended to stretch and ran back to the car for my midge box and some sink putty. The sacrifice of a non-craft beer with a wellplaced shot from a BB rifle signaled the start of the race. We were off! Some sprinted from the line, others moved out
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