“Some men fish all their lives without knowing it is not really the fish they are after.”
-Henry David Thoreau
I still can’t believe that the Flyathlon exists. It feels like something that would come out of an awesome drunken dream…
As I was leaving the Upper Crossing Guard Station (our Flyathlon headquarters) this morning, I felt a total mix of emotions. It’s hard to explain it, but I’m going to try.
I just spent 4 hours on the road, talking it over with Jason Isbell. As I was composing this post in my mind, two big hot tears rolled down my cheeks, then a whole flood more. Why? The Flyathlon is awesome. It brings together like-minded people, who want to make a difference in the world. I can let my guard down, and not worry that my concern about native trout water and the science behind our predictions will be dismissed by folks who don’t believe in data. There is quite a variety of attendees- from serious athletes to weekend warriors, seasoned anglers to excited rookies, and beer brewers to whiskey connoisseurs. These are people who spend their lives caring for our water and land working for government agencies and nonprofits, either for a paycheck, simply in the time they have left after punching a clock somewhere else, or both. I wish the Flyathlon was several days long, so I could have enough time to soak in the knowledge and stories and conversations with everyone in attendance, but that’s what keeps me coming back each year. These amazing people raised over $27,000 for Running Rivers from this race. ❤
In fact, I’m writing this post from the gorgeous back porch of a friend that I made last year at the race- we crossed paths at the turnaround point and drank whiskey together up there!
This is Kelly and I last year…
…and this year!
Thank you for your continued hospitality, Kelly. You’ve always got my back (or a sandwich or a cold water or a Manhattan, whatever it is I may need). 🙂
I really didn’t want to leave, but I am also terribly homesick. I don’t know how to reconcile the two! I believe that traveling is very important, especially for elected officials. The world is so much bigger than we think it is, and frequent reminders of that are necessary. Mr. Mustache and I have also discovered that absence really does make the heart grow fonder. In any event, I felt like a double tapered fly line- weighted down on both ends. I have a big weight at home in Wisconsin, and it seems that every time I visit Colorado, the weight here gets bigger, too.
As I woke up this morning, in a bright orange tent (thanks, Kouba family!), I was suddenly aware of how achy I was. Everything from my curls to my brookie tattoo was moaning to me. I felt like a raisin; my eyes were dry, my lips were chapped, and my hair was crunchy.
Waking up “outside” feels so special, and I slowly stretched my legs and crawled out of the tent, gingerly easing my way around all my scrapes and bruises. I stood up, wiggled my sore toes into my Chacos, and reached toward the sky. There was this moment when something inside me told me, just breathe.
So I did. I closed my eyes, and smelled the air. It was still, and felt almost sweet, as I tried to breathe deeply up there at 8,000 feet. I heard two sounds: the soft clicking of tent poles collapsing as the early risers started packing up, and the gentle padding of puppy paws on that damp public land. The ratio of people to pups at this race was pretty impressive. I don’t know if anyone counted, but I’d guess it was close to 5:1.
There is a general feeling in the air there that I have never felt before. It sounds cliche, but I really do believe that these Flyathletes are my kindred spirits. No one there thinks I’m crazy for my devoted passion to a slimy creature and the habitat it requires. We share some kind of bond that came on instantly and put my soul at ease. I feel lucky to be able to run a race like this, and lucky to be able to fish this water, and lucky to hang with these folks.
I’ll start at the beginning. I ended up leaving home Wednesday morning at 1:30 am to make it to Milwaukee for my 5:30 flight. Since we arrived home on Sunday from our trip to Vegas, I only had a couple days to try and catch up on work and alderwomaning. Yeah, I’m making up my own verbs now. As a result of having two crazy busy days, Mr. Mustache was up late with me helping me pack, and we didn’t zip up my suitcases until after 11:00.
Enter Fitbit data: the numbers don’t lie.
I’ll be the first one to tell you that Heidi, with not enough sleep, is a crazy woman… and 1.5 hours is definitely not enough. I’m amazed that I made it to the Milwaukee airport with my wits about me. Luckily, those first flights of the day usually mean that airport security is a breeze, and it was. I was from parking lot to gate in under 45 minutes, and I had to check some luggage.
My flight was short, and freezing, so I was pretty tired when we landed in Denver. I snagged my rental car (thanks for the upgrade, Enterprise!), and headed to the adorable city of Golden. I took a cramped but helpful power nap in the backseat of my car, then sleepily sauntered into a Starbucks to caffeinate my tired body and power through some work. A few hours later, and upon the recommendation of the lovely and friendly baristas, I found myself at D’Deli. Go there. It was amazing.
Check out this salad! I think they had 41 sandwich options, and any of them can come on a salad, if you prefer.
A couple hours of work later, and I headed into Denver to meet Mamzie! ❤
I love our reunions! Every time I see her, it feels like no time has passed. That’s a perk of being friends with someone for 25 years, I guess! 🙂 We enjoyed beer from the new brewery in her subdivision, and found some fantastic sushi. It was a rowdy night- we ended up in bed by 10. I needed it- I slept for 12 hours! 😉
I was super excited to have an extra day in Denver this year, as it gave me a chance to sneak in a run. Yeah, the elevation was “only” 5,500′ here, so it’s no race elevation of 8,000′, but it’s closer than my 1,000′ at home. Two miles in, and I totally missed a driveway curb (did you know that’s a thing?) and wiped out. I skinned my knee, bruised my leg, and completely shattered my iPhone screen.
I’ll spare you a photo of my road rash, and instead I’ll show you a picture of the driveway curb. 
I spent the rest of Thursday getting an oil change in my rental car, as it wouldn’t be a Flyathlon trip without some kind of travel difficulty. I went to Walgreens and got the materials to bandage myself up, and I went to the Apple Store to get my phone screen replaced. The most eventful part of the day was when I realized that I needed to meet Mamzie at Roo Bar for the Packer game, but I wasn’t going to have my phone while it was being repaired. This meant I had to actually write down driving directions to get there. I even went to MapQuest, old school style. Luckily, I made it there, and had some faith restored in my ability to drive like we did in the 90s before GPS technology took over our lives.
The Packers won the preseason game, I found some Wisconsin beer to take up to the mountains, and I grabbed several gallons of water to take along. The well up there is unpredictable, so bringing our own water is recommended. My last memory before drifting off to sleep was hearing Mamzie giggle to Brooklyn Nine-Nine. 🙂
The next day was a blur- I packed up all my gear, drove into the city for coffee (Ink!) and lunch with Mamzie, then headed up into the mountains.
You know how it’s weird when you get into a rental car then try to parallel park? I had a bugger of a time the first night I had the car, so I wanted to prove to Mamzie that I could park it. Look at this great parking job! 😉
The drive is incredible- mountains around every corner!
My rental car got amazing mileage- I can’t believe this is the fuel economy, even as I climbed the mountains. You’ll see why I chose to take it in for an oil change instead of swapping it out.
I made it up to the Upper Crossing Guard station during daylight this year, and I saw some familiar faces from last year’s race. It was awesome to see my friends again!
We drank some whiskey and caught up, and I got acquainted with my adorable tentmates, the Kouba girls. ❤
It was a pretty early night, because I was tired and I knew that the race morning would come awfully early. The mosquitoes were also brutal. I found it exciting that the mosquitoes who bit me could have just bitten a moose… but I was happy to crawl into a mosquito-free tent.
Enter: Race Day
My friends woke me up to get ready for the race, and I wasn’t ready. I was plenty warm this year, but I like to sprawl in my sleep, so being cocooned in a sleeping bag was different. I also don’t usually sleep on an inflatable pillow. I inchwormed my way out of the tent and into my race clothes. My amazing friend, Brian from Iowa from Colorado made some coffee for me, so I poured it into my Yeti tumbler and hoped it would keep warm. After all these years, the thing that bothers me the most about not having a thyroid is having to wait an hour after taking my medication to drink any coffee. The first hour of my day, every day, is free from coffee. Oh, the horror!
I bandaged up my scrapes and pulled on my compression socks. I love these trail shoes!
The ride from the campground to the race start was a fun 20 minute trek with two Flyathlete humans and one Flyathlete pup.
I hadn’t left myself a lot of time, so I basically got my race bib (with my name and fish ruler on it), filled up my hydration pack, and prepped my fishing gear, then got ready to run. I love the sign that is at the start- it’s made out of beer caps!
Everyone was lining up and stretching out, and we gathered together for Andrew’s race announcements.
In keeping with tradition, the race starts with Andrew shooting a cheap beer with a BB gun, and as the foam flies, we head out.
Obstacle number one: the river.
I pretended to be Baby from Dirty Dancing and wiggled my way across the log. Too bad Patrick Swayze wasn’t there to cheer me on… ❤
Last year, I stopped to fish shortly after that log crossing, somewhere around mile one. Since I caught a fish on my second cast last year, I tried to find the place that I fished with such success. Unfortunately, I couldn’t find it. At least I took comfort in knowing that I tied up some gorgeous rainbow warriors before I left, and that was the fly that worked for me last year. I found confidence in knowing I had a fly box of money flies waiting for me.
I found a spot on the river that looked similar to last year, and strung up my rod. No luck at location number one.
I broke down my rod, and ran to the next fishy looking spot. I strung up my rod, lost a rainbow warrior, and got frustrated. No luck at location number two.
I broke down my rod, and ran to the next fishy looking spot. I got snagged by some thorns as I made my way down to the river. The area between my socks and shorts looked like I’d gotten into a fight with a feral cat, and the sweat stung in those cuts. I strung up my rod, lost a second rainbow warrior, and got frustrated. No luck at location number three.
I didn’t break down my rod, I just ran a short distance to the next fishy spot, and gave it a go. No luck. I was starting to get straight up mad. I walked to the next spot. More scrapes from some kind of devil bush, and I couldn’t even get my fly in the water. Tons of branches and bushes and all sorts of green and brown evil that overhung the water. I think that between the running and my bad attitude, I seriously started to resemble the red faced emoji.
I broke down my rod, and tied everything down to my hydration pack. I took a big drink of body temperature water. I didn’t even take pictures of the trail on the way up, since I was so mad. Luckily, I thought of Ben, the fish whisperer, and I knew he was waiting for desperate anglers near the finish. I just knew he could put me on a fish.
I hunkered down through the “unpleasant switchbacks” and before I knew it, I found myself at the turnaround point. I looked behind me, and saw this beautiful view…
…and in front of me?
The check in tent with supplies!
Available amenities include:
- curly furry sleepy puppy snuggles
- encouraging words
- fishing tips
- whiskey and tequila
I went straight for the bourbon. Thanks, Laws, for being a favorite race sponsor of mine!
I decided to head on past the turnaround point into the cutthroat water and see if I could find something fishy, but I ran for over a half mile and all of the areas with easy access were filled with a sweaty, happy Flyathlete. I decided to relax, turn around, head down the mountain, and try not to fall on my way to find Ben.
Everything looked so fishy. Open sections of river and beaver ponds just shouted at me to stop and fish, but I couldn’t bring myself to fail again. I kept running, and put more stake in Ben. Honestly, the more I hoped he’d put me on a fish, the less pressure I put on myself.
Switchbacks like the one above were prevalent. I ran down the trail on the left of the picture, then curved around and headed down on the right, and there were lots of rocks. A new running mantra emerged: Don’t Fall.
Are there fish in there? You betcha. Could I get them out? Absolutely not.
Dead animals left their bones behind. I love the little purple flowers. Yeah, my fishing skills may be dead, but I have little purple flowers of optimism in my heart. Ha.
Before I knew it, I found Tim and Ben, two guys who were happy to try and get me on a fish. Tim helped for a while, then Ben took over. I missed a couple strikes, hooked a teeny tiny 3″ trout that flipped over my shoulder and off my barbless hook before hurdling back to the stream (sorry, buddy!), and finally hooked into this guy.
I’ve never been so happy to get a fish in the net. Honestly. I owe many thanks to Ben for helping me. I am not the type of angler who typically puts pressure on myself. If I head out fishing and don’t catch anything, it’s not the end of the world! I love the experience of being there, and the riparian vegetation, and the wildlife, and the fresh air. The actual catching of fish is not the important part. I was so relieved to have caught this fish that I almost cried. ❤
Thanks again, Ben. I owe you one.
It’s a challenge for me to go out West, with all my passion for native trout, and discover that Westerners don’t love brook trout as much as I do. They’re not native there. They’re taking over streams and pushing out cutthroat.
Fear not, friends. I have the solution!
Dear Western states- send all your brookies home with me to Wisconsin where we will cherish them. I’ll build them habitat, and catch all the mean brown trout, and celebrate their pink polka dots. It’s only fitting that I caught a brookie during the race, since they’re my favorite fish. ❤️
It took me so long to finish the race that my carpooling buddies were ready to head out, and so was I! I haven’t plugged in my Garmin yet, so I don’t know my time for sure. I think I was out there running and fishing for about 4 hours. At the finish line, I showed the judges my fish picture, enjoyed a cold can of hoppy goodness from Elevation, then we went back to camp. I was pumped to rinse all the dirt off my scrapes and take off my wet socks and shoes. I did a number on them…
I got myself cleaned up, chugged a ton of water with some ibuprofen, and took a power nap. When I woke up, I was feeling fine! 🙂
We had so many good beers and liquors to try that I spent quite a few hours doing just that. I didn’t take nearly enough pictures of the evening, I was mostly occupied with chilling and chatting with all of my new friends!
The cooler pattern matches the trailer, aptly named Trout Force One. I wanted to document my shirt from Tight Lines that we wear in opposition to the Back Forty Mine. I’ll rep for you guys in Colorado anytime!
I didn’t take many pictures of the take down morning- I was so preoccupied with how lucky I feel that I was just living in the moment. That doesn’t happen often as a photographer, and I cherish it.
I started this post with reflections from the drive home, and I’ll leave you with this image from the drive. I can feel the weight of this experience changing me as I type. 🙂
Thank you, Andrew Todd, and the entire Flyathlon family, for making this experience possible. I will happily raise money for Running Rivers every year.
As always, thank you for reading, friends! I love taking you along with me virtually on my adventures. Thank you for sharing in my passion for native trout! ❤
.:heidi:.
I can’t believe this place exists.
I had no idea what I was getting myself into when I first heard about it: a race with the motto, “Run. Fish. Beer.”
I knew Rich was coming out to CO, I just didn’t know we were on the same flight! I’m staying with my friend, Meredith, and she had mentioned that they were going to see Brandi Carlile at Red Rocks on Sunday. They invited me, and I was excited to see them and to check out that venue. I’d heard such great things!
Anyway, we landed safely in Denver, and my luggage arrived as well.
I told Rich that I could give him a ride into town, since I was getting a rental car. I typically rent from Enterprise or Hertz, but there was a big business travelers’ conference in town, and they had a shortage of cars. I ended up having to rent from Budget. We took the shuttle to the Budget rental counter.
I immediately told Rich that if he wanted to take the train downtown or grab an Uber, that I would totally understand. He did. 🙂 I wheeled all that luggage through the indoor switchbacks, and talked to the woman next to me in line to pass the time. She is a guitar instructor, and was out in CO to teach some masterclasses. Too cool. I’m glad we started talking, since we were there in line for an HOUR. I started to worry when doing the math… adding four plus hours to the current time equaled setting up my tent in the dark.
I unpacked some of my luggage, and discovered that all 12 bottles of Wisconsin beer had survived the trip! We were asked to bring some of our favorite beer to share, so I had to make space among my clothes and gear for the important things.
I took a bubble bath, made some tea, and slept pretty well.
There is serious value in written directions, and having the capability to follow them. I will be the first to admit that I am a GPS addict. Yes, I have a well-worn gazetteer marked with all my favorite fishing spots and little notes, but when I’m traveling, my eyes are glued to my phone’s map. Once I got within a couple hours of the race, I had no service, so no GPS. There was also no address attached to the lodge where race headquarters are located. I was driving in the dark, counting the miles on my odometer, and praying that I didn’t get lost. I didn’t. I pulled up in the pitch black, followed a gravel road, and wondered what the view would be like in the morning. Everyone had already set up their tents, and some people were sleeping in preparation for the next morning: the race.
It was the perfect place to camp. I saw this sign, and made sure the tent was zipped tightly.
…And this is literally the view from my tent. Mountains were the perfect view for my morning yoga.
I had to sit in my car with the heat on to warm up, and I wasn’t really ready for the race. I was mentally making a checklist of required items to take with me- my gear was all rearranged for the flights, so it wasn’t all in one place. Normally, I have a detailed list of the things I need, and I lay everything out ahead of time. The crazy night prior to the race eliminated my routine. I forced myself to get out of the car and get ready, and I was in a hurry. I packed as much in my Osprey pack as I could, and grabbed the rest, including sandals for after the race (brilliant!). Noosa was one of the race sponsors, so I had some kick-ass yogurt for breakfast, with some granola that I’d scooped up at Whole Foods in Denver.
The volunteers left early to drive to the trailhead and hike up to their posts, so I didn’t know anyone around the headquarters. I made my way around, introducing myself to people, and eventually found some nice people who let me ride with them.
We rode through farmland on gravel roads and over cattle guards, until we finally found ourselves with everyone else.
I rearranged my gear and realized that I’d forgotten my forceps and nippers in my luggage. 😦 Luckily, Iowa’d driven himself there, and he was more than willing to loan me his gear. Crisis averted. I checked in, and they gave me my measuring bib, which they won’t give us ahead of time to prevent cheating or pre-fishing.
9:00 am. I looked around at all the mountains surrounding me, and checked out the badasses who were lining up at the start.
Andrew gave a few directions and reminders, then started the race by shooting a Busch Light with a BB gun.
9:40 am. I came around a corner and found a spot that looked super fishy to me, so I veered off the trail and made my way over to the stream.
Oh, wait- that’s my back-up photo, in case I couldn’t hook into one. 😉 Here’s my real fishie.
I wanted to keep fishing, but also knew I’d have a rough time with the “unpleasant switchbacks” nearing the turnaround. I reluctantly packed up my gear, but my spirit was buoyed, so I skipped right along, breathing heavily the whole way.
Can you see the little yellow tent up there? I couldn’t get there fast enough. I ran past this guy, fishing his little heart out.
I tried to run up the switchbacks, but they were so steep that my run was basically a power hike. I loved it the whole way. Challenges, baby.
The view is gorgeous. The air was thin, so breathing was tough, but I was so happy. I almost didn’t want to go back down!
Luckily for me, these three were up there. What a welcoming committee! Look closely at the lower left corner of the photo- they’d brought provisions!
Stranahans for me, and a little Redemption rye for Kelly. One good pull, and I headed back down the mountain.
It was amazing. I tried really hard not to fall, because going downhill is much faster…
I didn’t have anyone take a picture of me on the way back, but the panic button on my car keys really captured my posture as I was running/falling on the way back down the mountain. 
I took one last selfie on the course, then crossed back over the river, and brought it in.
The final point total placed me 15th out of 34, and I’m VERY proud of that.
One of my favorite parts about trail running is the line of dirt from where my socks end, and I knew I’d gotten lots of dirt in between my toes, so I was very excited to take off my shoes…
…and grab a beer.
We stuck around until the race was over, cheering each other in and drinking beer. So much good beer. As I shoveled chips and salsa into my mouth, I was so thankful for all these new friends. And the salt.
1:15 pm. Once we got back, everyone started celebrating! I celebrated in my own way- I took a power nap, and woke up ready to have some fun!
We had a kick ass BBQ dinner with mega salads from Mad Greens (another race sponsor), and I was so hungry! I spent hours talking to and meeting people from all over the country. We came from very different places but shared so many common interests.
A little Minnesota, Iowa, and Wisconsin. #midwestisbest
We hung out into the wee hours of the night, laughing and sampling good beer from across the country. I was definitely ready to fall into bed that night. Tired muscles, full heart. I slept like a rock.
What a view. I sat on the back of my car and drank my coffee, looking out at this.
I didn’t take nearly as many pictures (with my camera) as usual, but I snagged a few of some of the coolest little things I saw, like this.
Now these people- these are some amazing people. The clean-up crew, the kick ass volunteers. The organizers. The planners. The cheering squad. The beer pouring, late-night steak grilling, welcoming team of the century. I love these people.
Best logo ever, on a very full trailer.
I had been waffling on buying a rod vault for the new Subaru, but my need has since been cemented in my mind after seeing Andrew’s. And one on every other truck at the race.
Many hands made clean up swift work, and we were packed and heading out in no time.
I had no service for the weekend, and part of the drive, but I filled my time with some of my favorite tunes.
When I came back into service, my phone exploded, as expected. I couldn’t wait to text Brian all sorts of pictures and updates from the race! He hadn’t heard from me since I’d lost reception on the way up the mountain Friday night.The rough part was receiving the many messages and emails from Chase, asking me to confirm possible fraudulent activity on one of my bank accounts. Someone was using my card number all over the place, and spent over a thousand dollars. Luckily for me, Chase is awesome, and they refunded all my money… but they temporarily froze the account and deactivated my card. I hate traveling without easily accessible money. This trip has just been full of 
And buying beer to give Meredith. 🙂
And getting a little life advice.
We went for brunch in Salida, at an awesome brunch place- Rivers Edge.
The restaurant is right along the Arkansas River, so Andrew jumped in. 🙂
Before I knew it, I was hugging my new friends goodbye, and hitting the road. I’m so thankful that I found my tribe- there are a whole bunch of people who care about wild and native trout as much as I do, who have a passion for conservation, and a love for fly fishing. They love to play hard, trail run, and they appreciate good beer. I found my people.
And last, but not least, here’s Meredith and I. Every time I come to visit Colorado, it’s hard to leave. Thank you for your hospitality, girl! I love you.
The mountains are amazing. I’m going to leave you with a few lyrics from my favorite OCMS song, as they’re just resonating with me right now.
artist & athlete | a glimpse into real life, Heidi style 