Recently a friend of mine, Bryan Finocchiaro (Fino), asked if I'd help him with a little project he was working on for Osprey. He had mentioned that he wanted to do a story about alpine fly fishing so we would need to do an overnighter at an alpine lake and he needed a photographer. Apparently, it’s hard to fly fish and try and take photos at the same time. I could see that. Needless to say, he really had to twist my arm to get me to go.

I had a couple of shoots that dates got bumped and so as luck would have it, it lined up perfectly. About a week before, Fino sent me some ideas of different locations. The first spot was Gore Lake in East Vail, Colorado. A gorgeous and 6.25-mile hike one way to a lake high up in the Gore Range. It’s been a long time since I’ve done that hike.

The second was called Mohawk Lake(s), located down near Breckenridge, Colorado. Nestled amongst the peaks in the 10-Mile Range, this is a spot I hadn’t heard of before. I did a quick little survey on google earth, seeing 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6 LAKES! All spread across what appeared to be a beautiful meadow above treeline. Seeing this (and that the round-trip hike was less than the one way to Gore Lake) my preference had been decided and I informed Fino as such. We decided on some logistics and got everything ready the night before.

Fino picked me up in Avon and we started towards the trailhead. Before we hit the dirt road, we stopped at a fly-fishing shop where one of Fino’s friends works who is very knowledgeable about the area. Through the conversation, we learned which of those lakes would be the most active for fish. I also heard a lot of words that I have no idea what they mean as they relate to fishing, something I don’t do (maybe one day). All the same, it was nice to have a local of the area give us advice on which lake to actually go to. His call: go to the last lake. Fewer people and hungry fish.

We parked the car a little way before the trailhead due to avalanche debris from the last winter and we started uphill right out the gate. You gain about 1,600’ in elevation but most of it is at the start of the hike. As we climbed up past cascading waterfalls and old mining cabins, we had to stop to check out the view with every few steps, it had nothing to do with me being out of shape...

Climbing above the first lake en route to the next 5.

Passing the last of the cabins it was just a few more steps before we came around the corner and there was the first lake. Shallow and clear, reflecting the sky above, we made our way past the other lake goers eating their lunch. We didn’t linger long as we still had some more climbing to do and many more lakes to enjoy.

The second lake we walked by couldn’t have been more different than the first. Where the first lake is shallow and looks as if it’s sitting on a shelf, the second lake is deep down in a crater with dark blue colors showing off its depth. While Fino and I were taking in the view, Fino’s dog Luna decided to run over to a snowbank and roll around before she got her harness stuck. Luckily it wasn’t too tricky for Fino to cross the snow and get her untangled.

Fino heading over to help out an excited Luna.

Climbing a little higher, the trail then meandered between two more small and beautiful lakes with the shrubbery surrounding them growing ever sparser and more twisted from constant winds. Looking back from above the lakes the mountains dropped away and the valley opened up to Red Mountain standing tall in the distance.

The midday sun was beating down overhead as we reached the large meadow between the last two lakes. My lips were already starting to dry out from the sun and high dry alpine winds. One thing you should never do is forget your Chapstick. However, every time I go backpacking, I forget it. Never leave home without it, except for when I’m going on a trip.

Hiking up through the meadow we passed the second to last lake with cliffs plunging into its blue waters, then the final lake came into view. It was an incredibly serene sight. The meadow gradually gave way to the shoreline and its beautiful blue-green waters. A large rockslide plunged into the southwest corner with Volkswagen Beatle sized boulders stacked on top of each other. As the boulder field ended, it made room for a naturally terraced meadow that climbed up the slopes of the mountain. The best part, the lake was full of trout.

Once we caught our breath, we found a spot between the two lakes with the cliffs in the background to set up camp. There would be absolutely no protection for the winds that were fairly constant. No trees, no areas to hide behind, we would be completely exposed to anything that came our way. Thank God the forecast was clear, but in the mountains, you can never be certain that it won’t change.

Not a tree in sight to hide behind. But Red Mountain made for a pleasant backdrop.

After taking a few minutes to have some snacks and relax, Fino and I decided to walk around the lake and scout for fishing spots to go to when the time would be better for hungry fish. We didn’t make it far... As soon as we got to the shoreline, we saw fish everywhere, going up to the surface and looking for something to eat. Fino and I looked at each other and then he took off to exchange his camera for his fly rod.

We made our way around the lake to the large rock slide and scrambled onto some large boulders along the water. This was the deepest area of the lake. As you looked down you just saw blue with streaks of light trying to reach the bottom, until what started as just a brown shape, slowly came into focus from the depths and you could see a trout coming to the surface looking for food.

Luna just waiting to make some new friends.

Large boulders the size of houses were everywhere.

This was the spot that Fino first started to practice his art. Within his first 3 casts he had a fish on the shore for Luna to sniff and say hello to. I was very impressed with the precision of his casts and putting that fly right in the face of the unsuspecting fish. I couldn’t help but think, “man, Fino’s pretty good at this.”

Flowers were popping up high in the mountains.

As he fished his way around the lake catching fish after fish, I scrambled from boulder to boulder looking for cool vantage points and finding some of the largest spiders I’ve ever seen. I guess they’d have to be hearty to live in the environment that they call home (and no I didn’t take any pictures of them as I’m already having a hard time trying to forget them).

Soon we got across all the boulders and were at the head of the lake where the fresh snowmelt trickles in. Wildflowers dotted the grassy landscape that rounded the other side of the lake. Bugs swirled around us as Fino made cast after cast and continuing his ploy of momentarily inconveniencing the fish. He probably made quite a few late for wherever they were heading to.

What was supposed to be about a half an hour to 45-five-minute scouting mission, turned into a two to a three-hour fishing exhibition. Fino asked me numerous times if I wanted to try and make a couple of casts and I always said no. Not for a fear of not catching anything or because I hadn’t fly fished before, but because it was incredibly fun watching him fish.

Luna was starting to get tired so she just decided to chill.

When you get to watch someone, who knows how to fly fish it’s like watching an artist with his paints. The bright line cutting through the high mountain air like a warm knife through butter, skipping across the water creating the slightest of ripples slowly stretching out with every glance by the small hand-crafted fly. Doing whatever you can to make that little fly look alive and like an actual bug to fool those witty trout.

Not just the action though, the selection of the fly is just as enthralling. Each one made by hand with care to look like some sort of tasty bug for a fish to snack on. Different colors, different feathers, all having their own distinct personality and flare in the quest to outsmart our underwater friends.

When I know I can’t do a craft justice, I’d rather try and capture the beauty with my camera. Besides, I’m extremely clumsy and would have hooked Fino, Luna, as well as myself, probably with one cast. It’s not that I don’t want to learn, I do, but I was there to help him get photos of this adventure and honestly, I was having way too much fun running around (gasping for breath) taking photos of an activity I hadn’t shot before.

One of the things I’m constantly working on is expanding my portfolio of work into new areas of outdoor activities. If you want to work with certain industries, you’ve got to have a body of work to show them that you understand your subject. I can't say I fully or even partially understand fly fishing, but I’m trying to learn and understand more which is one of the big reasons I decided to go on this trip in the first place.

Heading back to camp after Ryan and Naples showed up. Not a bad spot to camp.

Before we knew it, we had almost completed fishing the entire shoreline of the lake when we heard a voice carried over the wind. Our buddies Ryan and Naples had shown up. Earlier in the morning, they had texted Fino that they would meet us up there and started hiking probably by the time we had started fishing.

We saw our friends getting their tents ready, so we wandered over to see how their hike in went. Fino and I were walking when Luna saw her friend Rocky and took off running. Before we even got back, they were wrestling on the ground with excitement and making all of us laugh. While we were sitting there chatting and the dogs were being ridiculous the light started to change. As the sun lowered in the sky and started to duck behind the peaks, everything started to glow.

Fino enjoying some well earned bootless time.

I looked at Fino and he grabbed his rod and took off towards the lake. Ryan let me borrow his telephoto lens so I could get some different perspectives than I had on my first trip around the lake. As the shadows slowly crept across the valley the temperature inevitably began to drop. I don’t know if it’s because I was running around or if it was because of the beautiful early evening light, but I didn’t feel cold at all. Seeing that warm glow cascading down the terraced meadow and the light shimmering off the lake, I couldn’t help but feel warm (no I did not wet myself during this trip).

The evening light was warm and stunning as it came down the terraces.

With light show number one over and us thinking it was time to make dinner and just relax, light show number two started taking off. Though the sun had long disappeared from our home high up in the mountains, it hadn’t finished for the day. The sky started glowing orange, pink, and purple casting a pink light over the entire area. Without seeing any clouds in the sky, it was quite a surprise for us.

The light seemed to linger forever, slowly going from pink to purple before darkness finally fell over us. We all ate our backpacking meals and geeked out over what we just saw. Ryan, Fino, and I are all photographers and so I’m sure Naples was all sorts of overjoyed to hear our technical babble. I had to slow myself down in the conversation as my lips were on fire.

It was starting to get really cold out, and as we couldn’t have a fire due to 1) a fire ban and 2) nothing to burn anywhere near us, we decided to call it a night and all 4 of us crawled into our individual tents. 4 people. 4 tents. We could have each shed some weight by sharing tents, but there’s something special about your own tent. For me, it’s a mini sanctuary to reflect on the day's adventures. A place lay there and solve all the world's problems (and tell no one) in your head before you drift off to nothing but the sound of the wind, from mother nature or your camping partners.

The pink light lingered far longer than any of us expected.

However, this night I was restless, tossing and turning and not getting a wink of sleep. Numerous times I thought about getting out to take photos but I knew my last battery was low and I needed to get some shots for Fino at sunrise and I didn’t want to wake anyone so I remained in my bag. I closed my eyes for a while, opening them again to darkness. After what felt like an eternity, I opened them and there was a weird orange color cast over my already orange tent. I poked my head out of my tent to one of my favorite sights. The pre-sunrise orange glow on the horizon while the rest of the sky is dark.

The first light in the morning is my favorite, I just wish it wasn’t so early…

The contrast in the light versus dark is, in my humble opinion, the absolute best time of the day. Fino crawled out of his tent and we both ran around to capture these fleeting moments as the sun continued its daily march across our skies. I had mentioned to Fino a shot I had in mind for him fishing at sunrise and so we went about trying to create it. Fino put down his camera and grabbed his pole and we ran toward the rock slide.

The sun was creeping up over the horizon as Fino started casting into the lake. He didn’t catch anything, but we did catch a beautiful sunrise coming up over the mountains. We stopped fishing pretty quickly as it was a bit cold to be messing with anything in the water (Fino would know, he caught 3 fish). Our buddies had crawled out of their tents by the time we stopped fishing and were working on making coffee to start the day. I’ve got some great friends.

Sitting there sipping on our coffee and snacking on some breakfast we were in awe of the beautiful morning we were getting. The dogs were running around playing and the sun was quite welcoming after the cold night. The meadow was awash in golden light, lighting up the grass that had already lost its green color causing everything to light up with that morning hue.

We all felt filled up after breakfast, not just on food but our souls refilled. We felt that we could leave and be happy that we had gotten everything we needed from this place. However, this place wasn’t done showing us it’s amazingness yet. As the morning sun continued to glow a beautiful yellow, down the trail a way we thought we saw something on the horizon. As we got closer it came into a view, a mountain goat was sunbathing on a rock just off the trail.

With the dogs on shortened leashes, we continued down and past the goat, taking pictures of this incredible creature scurrying about its rocky home. It felt as if the Mohawk Lake valley was wishing us well and inviting us to return.

Heading back down after a successful trip.

Our knees were thanking us when we returned to the cars after the steep hike down. My legs tired and lips fried (and slightly swollen) I climbed back into the front seat of Fino’s car for the trip back. I couldn’t have been more pleased with how the trip went. I got to explore a new type of project in an incredible setting to grow my portfolio and learn more about something I’ve always been curious about but never really pursued.

I had no regrets about not grabbing the rod myself because I was enjoying learning from a distance to start. In order for me to truly understand fly fishing and have the ability to shoot it properly I’m going to need to pick up a rod, learn what parts are important, what motions, what an actual fly fisherman/woman would be looking for. I can see why people are drawn to it though.

The biggest take away I got from watching Fino was to appreciate just how meditative it is. How you need to shut other things out and just focus on what you’re doing. Having that focus, blocking out everything else that’s going on, all the noise and nonsense from our daily lives, is what we need more of in our lives. Activities that help us appreciate the moment and task at hand. Fino’s task was to try and catch the fish, mine was to take photos of him. We were both able to block everything out and just enjoy the moment.

I thought I was just going to learn some good shots to take of someone fishing, but instead, I walked away with a whole better appreciation for the art of fly fishing. I felt like I was doing Fino a favor for taking photos for this trip, but the truth is he was doing me a favor. Helping to teach me about an activity that he loves and allowing me to help share it with others. He was definitely the one doing me a favor.

Trip Report: Mohawk Lake

Trip Report: Eleven Mile Reservoir

Trip Report: Sopris Lake