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Dentry: In Gunnison Valley, trout know all the angle(r)s

Published August 18, 2006 at midnight

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GUNNISON - Where to start? Therein lies the Gunnison Valley's grand angling conundrum. This wet vale carpeted with hayfields, sage hills and surrounded by alpine peaks is chief among all Colorado fishing destinations.

It is, or I'll eat my hats. (That would be as many hats as stars in the sky, but not as many as there are places to fish hereabouts.)

An angling family that prefers to fish one way, for one species or for whatever will bite, is ahead of the game. It's easier for those folks to narrow the choices.

A general practitioner, though, could dither until the cows come home and not wet a line. Do you reach first for the spinning rod, the casting reel, the fly gear or, maybe, the lead-core trolling line?

You could try your wits against the plumpest and smartest trout that swim, up at the Hog Trough. That frustrating, "technical" reach of the Taylor River beneath Taylor Reservoir Dam produces state-record released rainbow trout (currently 40 1/4 inches) and, at times, state-record crowds of fly fishers.

You could trailer or rent a boat at Blue Mesa Reservoir, Colorado's biggest impoundment, to troll for kokanee salmon or big brown trout or to jig deep for monster lake trout.

Blue Mesa owns the latest procession of state-record lake trout, including the current mark, 42.6 pounds. That was Colorado's biggest fish of any species recorded in modern times.

But a boat isn't a requisite. With so much shoreline waiting to be explored at Blue Mesa, you might rather while away a day sitting on a rock at the Bay of Chickens, soaking a worm.

Higher up, Taylor Reservoir nestles in a mountain valley framed by stunning ramparts of the Collegiate Peaks. It is perfect for throwing spinnerbaits or streamer flies at northern pike. Taylor also offers lake trout, kokanee, browns and rainbows.

So much to do, so little time. In fact, the willows on the moors up at Cottonwood Pass are starting to get that tired look that precedes autumn red and gold. Soon, snow will close the pass. Then we will have to go around on U.S. 50, over Monarch Pass.

The upper valley is laced all round with crystal mountain streams, beaver ponds and high lakes, where brook trout and native cutthroats grab nearly any fly or lure that comes their way (bait optional, generally unnecessary).

Of course, there are the famed Three Rivers. The Gunnison River starts at Almont, where the East and Taylor merge. The East rises near Crested Butte, the Taylor up at Taylor Park.

The Lake Fork of the Gunnison flows north from Lake City. All are exquisite trout streams, with ample public access.

The choices are bewildering. Maybe the best strategy for fishing your way through the valley is to mind that old saying.

Wherever you go, there you are.

For the trip over Cottonwood Pass on Wednesday evening, it was necessary to put on the blinders and ignore those beaver ponds for the time being. Taylor Reservoir winked below, and we had tied some new pike flies.

When that didn't work out and the sun sank lower, we called it scouting for later. We moved on to the next destination: Hog Trough.

Few fly fishers were there, but the furrows on their brows were deep. At the Hog Trough, the trout are fly inspectors with graduate degrees.

They have no fear of buffoons with furrowed brows whipping at them with graphite sticks and strings. But they insist that any bogus food be scientifically accurate, fitting for the seasonal menu and delivered naturally.

The pickiest trout of the bunch are those humongous swine scholars that lie between the dam and the bridge, a gantlet often attended by hordes of hopeful anglers about to get their comeuppance.

Downstream of the bridge, the current is swifter and more broken. There, in waning daylight, undergraduate trout actually came to play with Elk Hair Caddis and Yellow Sally stoneflies floated on the surface.

Nothing big. Just enough to call it scouting for later.