It was calm when I pulled into the parking lot outside of the Flies & Lies Fly Shop in Deckers. This contradicted the weather bureau’s forecast for blustery winds. I didn’t go into the shop, but rather headed straight across the highway to the bridge that crosses the South Platte River.

I do this every time I go to the Deckers section of the river to fish. Maybe it helps me shake off the drive to the river, but what I really go there for is to try to spot trout. It’s a ritual more than anything else, but I often do see some fish. As usual, there were a few fly fishers plying the water.

After a bit, I walked off the bridge and headed up the dirt road that follows the river upstream on its south side. I spotted a nice-sized trout finning the deep water across from an angler that was nymph fishing. He wasn’t fishing to the nice-sized trout, and I momentarily thought maybe I should point the fish out to him, but decided not to intervene.

After a few minutes I walked upstream a way, spotted a few more trout, one of which rose once, and then headed back to my truck. I’d gone to the river in the afternoon mostly on a whim with the idea that I’d cast the John Bradford 7-foot, 5-weight bamboo fly rod that my friend, the late John Gierach, left to me in his will. It wasn’t really a fishing trip I told myself, but any time you take a fly rod to the river, tie a fly to the tippet and cast it, what else can it be? So, it really was a kind of fishing trip, but maybe without the usual intensity.

With that in mind, I drove upstream on the dirt road to look at more water and maybe spot more trout. Once there, I did see a few more fish in all the usual places. I can say that because I’ve fished that section of the South Platte for close to 50 years and the places where trout hold hasn’t changed that much.

I should also say I spotted fewer trout than I would have seen 30 or so years ago when that section of the river was loaded with fish. You can probably chalk up the fewer numbers of trout to heavier fishing pressure, whirling disease, trout that die when mishandled before release, higher summertime water temperatures and a host of other calamities.

Nonetheless, you still must admit for a river located so close to the large population centers along Colorado’s Front Range it remains a close-to-home refuge for fly fishers trying to get away from it all. On this day I was one of those fly fishers, too.

However, besides just waxing poetical I had a fly rod to test cast and eventually made my way downstream toward Trumbull and a location that I often fished with John. A breeze was riffling the rivers’ surface as I was joined the sections of the bamboo rod together. For those of us familiar with Front Range winds this is a clear sign the wind is on its way. I took those signs seriously enough that once I had the rod pieced together, I started walking toward the river. I’d string it up once I was standing on the bank.

As much as I told myself I was there just to see how a new fly rod cast, I couldn’t help feeling the excitement I always feel when I go fishing. I hadn’t checked the water volumes before I left for the river, but I estimated them to be around 150 cubic feet per second (CFS) which is good for the early season.

I was giving the river the once over before I strung up the rod and spotted a single rise in a slick across the river. I then fumbled around more than usual getting the fly line through the guides. A rising trout can do that. Once the line and leader were threaded through the guides, I took another look across the river. The trout was still rising. There was a possibility it was coming up to a hatch of Blue-winged Olive mayflies that happens this time of year, but I didn’t see any in the air maybe because the breeze had escalated to a light wind. After several nervous attempts, I tied my go-to Blue-winged Olive dry fly imitation to the tippet and waded out to a casting position upstream-and-across from the trout that was still making sporadic trips to the surface to feed on whatever was hatching.

The light to moderate wind wasn’t too much of an impediment to my cast and I managed to get a few decent drag-free drifts over the rising trout one of which it took with authority. The Bradford rod, which had been comfortable to cast also proved to be an excellent tool to play the trout. It wasn’t a huge rainbow trout, maybe a foot or so long, but a gift for sure. The wind picked up a notch or two while I played and landed the fish. I released it and went straight back to casting.

I didn’t see any other fish rise and it wasn’t long before a strong gust of wind had me hanging on to my wading staff to keep from being blown into the river. I stuck it out for another 15 minutes and headed back to my truck.

I came to the river on the spur of a moment simply to get out of the house and to test cast a new fly rod. In a matter of minutes, I found out that I liked the way it cast. This rod would surely go into my rotation for future fishing trips and to be a reminder of a dear angling friend.