Mountain Casual: Cutthroat Trout in the San Juans

One of the requisite characteristics of having adventurous family members is that they reside in places where adventures can be readily found. This couldn’t be more true in the case of my cousin Spencer, who made the move from the Midwest to Colorado many years ago to pursue his passion for rock climbing and the outdoors. As fate would have it, he found himself an equally adventurous partner (Julia) and this July the family flocked to Durango to celebrate their marriage. 

Regular readers of the blog will know that I am an absolute cutthroat trout aficionado, finding endless fascination in the esoteric nuances between the different subspecies of Oncorhynchus clarki. While the story for nearly all subspecies of cutthroat have suffered the same ill fate, mostly at the hands of once well intentioned fisheries managers displacing them for more “desirable” (non native) species (among other human caused activities), there has been a heartwarming resurgence of late to reclaim their native waters once again.

The particular cutthroat subspecies endemic to the southwestern corner of Colorado is the Colorado River cutthroat trout (Oncorhynchus clarki pleuriticus). At one time this cutthroat occupied considerable expanses of Colorado, Utah, Arizona, New Mexico, and Wyoming. In 2017, I caught my first in Utah’s Uinta mountain range as part of the Utah Cutthroat Slam. Today, biologists estimate that populations exist in only 11% of its historic range. Often when I read figures like these, I feel a contrived guilt of sorts that Man’s insatiable lust for sport fishing pleasure has primarily lead to the demise of so many incredible species of cutthroat trout. And in some ways, I hope that the sharing of these stories and humble pursuits of their existence can add even a pebble sized rock to the scale and somehow help to (if only infinitesimally) move the needle of their future in their favor.

Unbeknownst to me prior to this trip, there’s even more interesting layers to the story of the Colorado River cutthroat trout of southwestern Colorado. And this is when I learned of the existence of the San Juan cutthroat trout. The San Juan cutthroat is a genetically distinct subset of the Colorado River cutthroat; a minor subspecies within a major subspecies. (Actually, there are believed to be six unique subspecies within the Colorado River cutthroat family due to the isolated evolution of species within their respective mountain drainages) Once thought to be extinct, these trout were verifiably rediscovered by Colorado Parks and Wildlife biologists in a remote headwater of the San Juan mountains in 2018 after matching the genetics of a trout that has been preserved in the Smithsonian National Museum of Natural History since the 1870s! Subsequently, this genetically unique population of San Juan cutthroat have been bred and reintroduced to waters within their native range of the San Juan mountains, including several streams north of Durango where I had planned to search for them. (I should note, however, that it is unclear from my research if stocks from these genetically pure population of San Juan cutthroat were reintroduced in the exact stream I would fish)

Research for this trip came in two forms. The first was through a friend of Spencer’s that he put me in contact with over text. His name was Sam (or “Trout Sam” as he will remain in my phone contacts) and he would prove to be a critical piece in the pursuit of these native cutthroat. The other was by way of one of the local fly shops in town, Duranglers. In today’s age, there is much info to be gleaned in the archives and forums of the web, however, I still believe that there is no substitute for true “boots on the ground” intel. And this is what local fly shops are able to provide. I’ve learned that taking the time to chat up one of the trouty shop guides, making your trip objectives and constraints clear, can lead to invaluable nuggets of beta that can turn a memorable trip to an unforgettable one. At the very least, they can usually get you pointed in the right direction or add a vote of confidence to your prior research. Taking me over to a map of the San Juan mountains fixed to one of the shop walls, the shop guide showed me numerous options of quality cutthroat water. Some of these were outside of the reasonable scope of this trip, but I left with a solid plan A and B for nearby mountain streams. And as is customary in fly fishing culture, I returned the favor of his intellectual property by purchasing a shop t-shirt, a pack of leaders, and a Colorado trout sticker for the banjo case.

With my head filled with stream names and access points, now the only part was finding the time and transport to one of the aforementioned streams. I knew that the window of opportunity would likely be razor thin. As I’ve grown older I’ve come to realize that time spent with my cousins, aunts, and uncles is more precious than even time on a stream and that it is always best to go with the flow. With a driveway full of single driver rental vehicles, the logistics of finding a pocket of time and willing driver proved difficult, I awaited my shot. This shot would come on a beautiful Saturday, the day of Spencer and Julia’s wedding ceremony. 

Up in the mountains at 10,000 feet, there was a picturesque alpine meadow where the ceremony took place. The backdrop of sweeping mountain vistas, pops of bright wildflowers and wild strawberries couldn’t have been a more perfect place for the marriage of two adventurous souls. Among the attendees was Trout Sam, already equipped with an Orvis sling pack across his torso. We agreed to meet at the trailhead of a nearby stream for a few hours of pursuing cutthroat following the ceremony.

I left the ceremony with hugs from the newly weds and a rally cry from Spencer, “Go get those cutties!” After hiking out, a group of four of us climbed into a van and made the short trip down the road to a trailhead that leads to the creek. From the vantage point of the trailhead, this creek was already looking like a small stream enthusiast’s dream – a cobbled freestone winding its way through a beautiful valley. We made our way down into the valley and after a short hike, we were situated above an angler and dog duo just as the net was being slid under a beauty of a cutthroat trout. And upon further inspection, it was Trout Sam! I yelled down to get his attention and he lifted the cutthroat up towards us before letting his dog, Zeppelin, give it a soft lick on the nose and returning it to its pool. Observing this was a perfectly timed confirmation that we were indeed at the right place for the species we were after. 

We bushwhacked down to a gravel bar inside the stream bed with slices of cold pizza in hand and rigged up while discussing fly selection, dogs, and the Midwest with Sam. Fishing this particular stream with him was an absolute treat. This is his home stream and it quickly became apparent that he knew the ins and outs of every pool, rifle, and run of the water that we would encounter and beyond. This is a feeling that I know all too well on my favorite brook trout streams in Wisconsin. I knew that we were in great hands. 

It took a couple of pools to get dialed in and I misjudged the timing on a few of the early and hesitant surface takes. I opted to start with a caddis and dropper as a few specimens landed on me in the meadow during the wedding ceremony. It became apparent that the trout were keyed in on a particular profile as I watched them confidently slash at the newly emerged mayflies, prompting me to switch course to a trusty size 16 parachute Adams. This appeared to be the ticket, as at the next run I was soon tight with my first trout of the day! After a short fight, Trout Sam slid his net under a lightly colored brook trout; not the species I was after but a trout nonetheless. It wasn’t lost on me that non-native Eastern brook trout like this one are a roadblock in the path of native cutthroat restoration across the West. While I hope that someday these non-natives will be extirpated from fragile cutthroat ecosystems, I wished no harm on this trout. I held the brookie in my hand briefly as Jill snapped a pic before offering Zeppelin his customary lick and smoothly releasing it back to the run.

Working our ways upstream, Trout Sam and I decided to skip over a shallow rifle section and onto the next major pool. This section contained everything you wanted in a pool; a fast flowing rifle section met head-on with a near straight cut boulder and created a deep recess where a multitude of trout lay in wait in the slower water. The trout in this pool were positioned to have first dibs at the newly hatched insects emerging from the shallow rifles just upstream. Better yet, as we stopped to observe the pool, trout began rising mere feet in front of us! I got down on my knees to keep a low profile and made a series of casts towards the middle of the pool. It didn’t take long before the dry on my dry/dropper rig went under indicating a strike on my trailing nymph. A quick hook set and soon a flash of rosy cheeks from the trout was visible – cutthroat! Trout Sam did the net work once again, this time scooping up a small Colorado River cutthroat trout. I held in my hands a beautiful specimen – the blood orange gash under its gill, the crimson gill plate, and gradients of tan, brown and olive throughout its length. I released the native back to its home waters and fist bumped Sam for guiding me to this spot. Mission accomplished.

Basking in my Cutthroat High, I motioned for Trout Sam to take casts in this prime section as there were surely more trout holding towards the head of the pool. A perfectly placed cast along the flat face of the large boulder produced an aggressive surface take and it was clear from the outset that this was a nice trout. As it came nearer, a brilliant orange belly was visible and an overall size larger than most of the cutthroat I have encountered. Every pool has its Pool Boss; an alpha trout that is exceptionally larger than the others. This was the Pool Boss! Not only was the size impressive, but the colors were breathtaking. A photo can do it no justice, and even words fall short. The best way I can describe it is that this trout was the physical embodiment of the San Juan mountain range; the red rock canyons, the alpine meadows teeming with brilliant wildflowers, and the warm alpenglow against the mountain peaks after sunset. Carefully cradling the trout, Sam held it to Zeppelin’s nose and with a lick it was off to reclaim its high rank at the head of the pool.

Sometimes a trip works out so incredibly seamless that an hour or two is all that is needed to feel recharged and accomplish your objective. Being able to share in the moments of laughter, suspense, and elation with incredible people is one of the finest gifts in all of fly fishing. Along with native salmonids, these are emotions that I will never tire of chasing.

There is also an art in carving out trips like these all the while balancing the responsibilities that come with life. This balance is something that I strive to improve at as I prepare to enter into married life myself. I know that this balance will not always come as easy as it did on this particular trip, but I will revel in the opportunities of both family and native trout that were afforded to me. Sometimes you can have your cake and eat it too.

This will surely not be my last trip to the southwest. As I write this on my flight home to Washington, my mind is swirling with thoughts of cutthroat trout that have somehow, almost miraculously, carved out a cold water existence among the red rock and arid deserts of the American southwest. Just as they have done for thousands of years before the arrival of Man and will continue to do as we work to correct the wrongs of the past. May the San Juan cutthroat trout swim freely in their home waters once again!