Waking up early for me and getting set to fish all day, starting at 10 AM, the beautiful morning just beckoned a successful day. I drove the road paralleling the creek upstream for about a mile when a private ranch blocked the road. I don’t know it they can block access along the road, but there was enough available creek to almost guarantee catching a Gila Trout.
As I was driving back downstream I ran into an older couple walking the road who came in the previous night along the 30 mile road where I luckily turned around a couple of days earlier based on the advice of two helpful gentlemen that I had flagged down. It was enjoyable to relay my Google Maps adventure from the previous day, and my almost running out of gas lost in the woods earlier. I told them about OsmAnd and the fact that it worked when Google Maps died, was free, and actually worked in the woods.
We parted after exchanging out horror stories about roads in the forests, and I got into the water by the road and started dapping / fishing where ever I thought a small fish could be. After about 20 minutes I left the creek and was moving up the 4 foot bank to the road when I lost my balance. I fell backwards, tossing my gear, rotating my body, and falling face down from a height of about 3 feet, into the stream. My fall was stopped with the heel of my left hand, under the thumb, landing on a rock and taking the entire brunt of stopping the rest of my body from creating a hole in the creek.
My wrist hurt like hell and became swollen. I didn’t break anything but I was now a one armed fisherman. I drove back to the campground to try again for the three inch fish in the two foot wide hole as well as the half dozen fish just upstream in a pool from the campground. No luck getting a rise from the small fish, and very frustrating as I lost half a dozen flies in the bushes and branches in the area.
Moving upstream to the pool of catchable fish, I stealthily crouched and moved up slowly. Somehow my right foot sunk into the dry soil, slid down a small rise, caused my body to twist and fall, and I twisted my right ankle underneath my body. Since I spooked the pool, I staggered my way back to the campground and my van.
While resting my body by driving along the creek, searching for pools, I found one that had two visible 10+ inch fish swirling around each other, fighting, courting, or both. The soil was soft so I was kneeling while moving towards them, only to spook them eventually. They both slowly moved under a pile of beaver branches to hide. As I was getting up, slowly, my knee landed on my net. Unfortunately, my net was resting on my 2-weight rod and I heard the resulting “crack” that meant the rod had been broken. That was enough for me so I drove the two hours out of the woods to rest and resupply in Reserve.
Finding a shady spot for the van with good Wifi signal in Reserve, I continued searching the internet for information about all the creeks in New Mexico that contained Gila Trout. Most were many hours of hiking to get to, but one really looked good. It turned out that the Gilita Creek entered Willow Creek just a mile from the campground. Gilita Creek was more open and allowed for casting to fish. The author of the article expressed that they caught half a dozen fish easily, missing many more.
New Plan. I drove another two hours back to the Willow Creek campground, ready to start the next day hiking up Gilita Creek and catching my Gila Trout. A good night’s sleep and using all my energy the next day for the hike / fishing trip and all would be well. Til Tomorrow.
Tight Lines!