San Juan in New Mexico has gained national attention for its trout fishing.
Published: Aug. 5, 2007
FARMINGTON, N.M. | Well-tanned and with an easy-going demeanor, Curtis Bailey doesn’t strike you as a workaholic.But as a fishing guide on the San Juan River in northwest New Mexico, there’s not much down time.
“I guided 232 days last year,” Bailey says. “I’ve guided on Christmas, New Year’s Day.”
The San Juan is arguably one of the best fly-fishing rivers in the United States. Because the average high temperature in January is 40 degrees, the fishing never really stops.
And that’s just fine for Bailey, a guide for the Soaring Eagle Lodge.
“My dad says, ‘You still don’t have a real job,’ ” Bailey quips, ” ‘but you have a great office.’ ”
Bailey’s “office” became a fisherman’s dream with the completion of Navajo Dam in 1962.
“Before the dam was built, it was a really highly fluctuating, silty river, like most of the rivers in the Southwest,” says Marc Wethington of the New Mexico Department of Game and Fish.
Catfish and pike minnows (which were known as squawfish) were in abundance at that time — but not trout.
But the dam has helped create perfect conditions for trout.
“It’s a deep-release reservoir, so you’ve got cold water year-round and you’ve got clear water, because you’re losing your sediments,” says Wethington, the fisheries biologist for the San Juan River. “They’re all being deposited into the lake before being released out of the bottom of the dam.
“You’re releasing cold, clear water that’s fairly nutrient rich. … It is a nice spot and a very productive fishery.”
That’s helped the San Juan earn a rating as one of the top tailwater fishing spots in the country by Field and Stream magazine.
On a beautiful June morning, Bailey and I started our float trip about a mile from the reservoir. We put in at Texas Hole, a popular spot among those in boats or waders.
Water recycles constantly in the eddy, and three channels feed into Texas Hole, which at 15 feet is the deepest water on the river. By 9 a.m. there were four drift boats at the spot, along with a couple of guys up to their thighs in water along the shore.
I’ve informed Bailey that the extent of my fly-fishing experience is repeat viewings of “A River Runs Through It.” He smiles and assures me not to worry as he ties a size 22 midge and size 16 red San Juan worm.
“It imitates an aquatic worm that lives in the water,” Bailey says. “You see these tiny midges flittering around, they look like little gnats.”
We use a 5-weight fly rod with a 9-foot leader, tying a 5X tippet to a 6X tippet (3 1/2 pound test).
“Most rivers you use heavier stuff, because the fish aren’t as smart, they don’t get as much pressure and the water isn’t as clear,” Bailey says. “This is a very clear river. So it’s important to use light tippet. It’s a big mistake that people make who don’t get guides who have never fished here before. … A river in the middle of the wilderness you could use thick line and get away with it.”
We get a couple of hits in the first few casts, but I’m too slow on the trigger. And with water as clear as a high-definition television, it’s all too easy to see what we’re missing. There are fish all around.
Wethington estimates there are 70,000 trout over first four miles, mostly rainbow and brown.
Technically, the first quarter-mile below the dam is the only catch-and-release area, but you’re allowed to keep only one fish per day, and it has to be 20 inches or larger.
“In truth, it’s basically catch-and-release fishing,” Wethington says, “because the number of legally harvested fish that I’ve seen in the last 12 years is probably less than 15.”
While 20 inches sounds large, keep in mind someone landed a 30-inch rainbow there in June.
Still, these fish are heavily pressured and smart. For a first-timer, it helps having someone like Bailey, who’s been guiding on the San Juan for the last 14 years.
Larry Johnson, who fly-fished in the likes of Iceland, Ireland and Scotland while working in marketing for Polaroid, has owned Soaring Eagle for nearly six years. It was a rough start for him.
“I closed on the deal on Sept. 10, 2001,” Johnson says. “The next day, nearly everyone cancelled. They’d call and say, ‘I can’t do anything about it; I’m stuck in the airport.’ ”
But things have worked out fine. He’s living the good life on what he calls the best fly-fishing river in the country.
Bailey’s story is just as interesting. Born in New Jersey, he went to school in Brooklyn and moved out West in 1979.
“I was a typical hippie story,” Bailey says. “I drove a ’61 Volkswagen bus from New York to California and found Mammoth (Lakes) and the beautiful girls that go with it.”
Bailey taught skiing and fished on the side. An earthquake convinced him that California wasn’t the place for him, so he loaded up and moved to Santa Fe, N.M.
Finding work in whitewater rafting, Bailey began guiding on the San Juan on the side.
“I fished here for years before I started guiding, and I saw this is where the business is,” Bailey says. “We have people come two, three, four times a year because the fish are big.”
Including the 16-inch rainbow I caught on a black midge at Three Island Run, just beyond Texas Hole. The fish put up a good fight, taking nearly 10 minutes to land before Bailey gently returned it to the river.
This catch looked nothing like the ones shown in “A River Runs Through It.” For starters, we cast just once and used a dead drift.
“It’s the Hollywood thing, casting back and forth a lot,” Bailey says. “You do that on some rivers, but not here and not as often as they do. They had a lot of line out. You don’t really need to cast that far for trout.
“The presentation, how you drift the fly in the current, is way more important than the correct fly.”
We cast just a few feet and had a nice mend in the line. Then it’s a matter of watching the strike indicator.
“The reason you mend is if that indicator drags unnaturally, the fish usually won’t hit it,” Bailey says. “You want to have a dead drift here with an S curve and slack in the line. … A lot of rivers you’ll have a guide tight line and you’ll feel the fish nibble. Here, the fish don’t grab it like that. All they’re doing is staying in one spot, opening their mouth, grabbing the fly. They’re not running with it or running to get it. They’re very lazy here.”
A short time later, there’s a brown on the line. A couple of inches smaller and with a little less fight, but it’s still a nice catch.
The San Juan lived up to its reputation this day, and not just because of the fishing. As we glide downstream, there is beauty all around, from the sandstone and shale rock outcroppings to such wildlife as goslings, swallows and kingfishers.
It’s easy to see why New Mexico’s nickname is Land of Enchantment.
“This part of New Mexico, the Four Corners and southwest Colorado, is hard to beat if you like the outdoors,” Bailey says.
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