Learn Well/Live Well – CE for the ALL of YOU

What do you find yourself doing when you need to “unwind” from your professional role & responsibilities?

What do you do when you need to “refresh and recharge” after a tough stretch?

Are those “unwinds” and “recharges” the same thing for you … or are they each a little different?

For me, I can enjoy relaxing on a brewery patio with family and/or friends in our lovely Old Town district and that really helps me to unwind and unpack my mind from a hectic day. But if I REALLY want to take care of myself, I “escape” and go on a solo hike, bike ride, or day long fishing trip on a local river.

I was fortunate enough recently to have a recharge day that fully filled up the fuel tank of my soul. As I enjoyed that day, I found myself thinking of YOU as I did so. It is hard to explain, but I so love where I work and play that I frequently find myself wanting to share it with everyone in Vet Med.  As I walked through my day, I took pictures as I thought about how YOU should come enjoy that which I (almost) take for granted.

Here’s what I did. I started the day with a nice 2.5 hour round trip hike to Arthur’s Rock. Though only 20 minutes from my CSUVetCE office, the Arthur’s Rock trailhead is a world away. Truth be told, I started out early … isn’t it funny how you can leap out of bed at the crack of dawn for an adventure, but not for work?  Heed that inner call; it will feed your soul. As I drove up the gravel road in Lory State Park, the cares of my world began to dissolve. Once parked at the trailhead, I laced up my hiking boots in the cool, crisp morning air.  I was struck by how lush everything remained deep into August; it has been a cool & damp summer for us.  My heart raced a bit in the early burst of elevation gain up the walls of the creek gulch that yielded an exceptional view of Arthur’s Rock, the summit of which would become my ultimate prize. The trail took me past a brief space of technical footing in which a haphazard slip would not be pleasant (and would likely cause some bodily harm). Soon I was walking across a field of wild grasses filled with wildflowers as I looked upward toward my summit goal. This led me to a serpentine cool pathway through the pine forest and across the creek until the visual realization that a series of sun-exposed, leg-busting and lung awakening switchbacks awaited me. One switchback, then 2, then 3 and 4 … my heart was pumping, and it was good.  Now let me be clear, this isn’t Everest or anything … many people of varied ages, shapes and sizes, and levels of fitness do this hike, but it IS exercise.

Okay, let’s fast forward a bit. The hike to the summit was a healthy aerobic workout filled with some great up close and distant views. The final stretch is fairly steep and would hurt if you fell, but it is very do-able by watching your step and maybe using a hand here or there along the way.  One of my favorite views and places to relax awaits at the top. Regulars up here each have their own favorite outlook … mine is just a little of the beaten path. Once there, I kick up my feet, take in the sun, and it feels better than any recliner that I’ve ever been in. I take in views of the lake below, the surrounding forest, and where I know to be a few backcountry camping sites.

Only when I am fully ready, do I descend from my summit perch. I re-trace my footsteps on the out & back route and note that, surprisingly, my descent time is not all that different than that of my ascent. Arriving at the car, I acknowledge my breakfast hunger as I trade my hiking boots for my beloved Chaco’s (I may share a story of what my Chaco’s mean to me at some point).

Now it is just a short hop back down the gravel road and a narrow-paved country road before I arrive at Vern’s Place in LaPorte, CO for breakfast.  I take a seat along the patio bar so that I can watch the eclectic collection of cyclists, Harley riders, rafters, kayakers, hikers, farmers, fisherman and a couple in an uber-cool classic car as they arrive at Vern’s.  What member of that collection am I on this day?  I’m both a hungry hiker awaiting my biscuits & gravy and an eager fisherman … eager to drive 15 minutes up into the cool, shady Poudre Canyon to try my luck with my trusty fly rod on the water.  While it is true that I have my favorite river fishing spots earned through trial error, I relied heavily on the online river reports provided by St. Peter’s Fly Shop to tell me what the rainbows and brown trout have been munching as I gulp down the last my own breakfast.

Turning off Highway 287 onto Colorado 14, it is hard to explain the peace that fills my soul. A few bends in the road and I am already in the depths of deep canyon walls and am peering over the edge down to the river to study its flows and color.  The water is clear, but a strong flow remains because of ongoing rains and a slow snow melt from the high country.  I know just the spot where I will try my luck under these conditions.  The river and adjacent road winds this way and that, but after a short drive up the canyon I arrive at one of my “faves”. I pull off the winding canyon highway to a gravel pullout that nobody ever uses. I’ve done well here over the past few years and, yet I’ve never seen another person fishing my spot.

It is hard to explain, but a huge part of this experience is stepping out of my old beater Nissan Xterra with the wildly cracked windshield and breathing in the fresh river air as I study both the water and the rigging options for my fly rod. Let me be clear, I am not expert when it comes to fly fishing … in fact, I’m pretty sure that I am an idiot. That’s the thing, it just doesn’t matter.  This is about living well and what that looks like for me … not for you and not for anybody else.  I pop a 1960’s style fold-out wood and canvas stool from the back of my traveling toy box and I “pull up a chair” in this peaceful roadside locale. It is August, this is not high-tech fly fishing; this is shorts, Chaco’s, a brimmed hat, and polarized sunglasses. I throw my net and my Orvis sling pack over my shoulder, grab my fly rod, and walk toward the river.

As I step into the cool, crystal-clear water, I smile as I reflect upon the fact that I’ve never caught a fish where I’d hang out if I were a fish … instead, I’ve had to learn where fish like to hang out … they’re fish, and I am not.  Nonetheless, I throw a gratuitous cast or 2 in the direction of where I’d be … part to re-test these waters, but mostly to see if I can capture my fly-fishing rhythm. Confident that I can deliver a fly to the water in a semi-natural manner, I work my way upstream to the first deep pool in which I suspect they may be awaiting my delivery.  One thing I’ve learned in this fly-fishing compulsion that I developed in early days of the pandemic is that your best chance to hook a beauty is often in your first cast into a new pool. Placement of the fly on the water and a keen visual awareness are required if you are to pull that first take of your offering from the water.  Much as I’d hoped, the hungry rainbow couldn’t resist the dry fly floating upon the surface in the deep, slow-moving pool in the shadows of the upstream boulder. An upward thrust of the rod, the hook is set, and now it is time to enjoy the skirmish of a feisty rainbow aided by the current flow as I seek to draw him closer to the bank and my awaiting net.  At heart, I am a northwest Ontario bait fisherman who seeks to eat what he catches, but on the rivers of Colorado there is a special aesthetic that causes one to enjoy the battle, capture a picture of the beautiful fish (large or small), and rejoice as you release them and watch them swim back into their familiar waters.

The mid-day hours pass like minutes as I work this spot and that. I catch and release 9 fish this day … a new personal record for me on these waters.  Climbing from the river’s edge up to the road, I discover that I’ve spent several hours having only moved ~ 100 yards up stream. That said, I am tired, relaxed, and simultaneously rejuvenated in my depths. I place my fly rod on my roof top, pull my trusty stool from my beater truck, and pull a treasured “cold one” from my cooler. I study the photos of my catches… they’re mostly rainbows, but a couple of larger, more aggressive “brownies” and then a cute little trout species that I’ve not really seen before. It looks somewhat like a perch crossed with a trout; at least to me.  I make a note to look that one up when I get to a WIFI signal.

I’m torn. I am bit a hungry, but there’s also a few hours of sunlight still to play with.   Do I call it a day … or do I explore higher in the canyon?    Now here’s one that you can’t miss … I drive another 10 minutes up the canyon and pull into the one-of-a-kind Mishawaka Restaurant and Amphitheatre. What is this place?  I’m sorry, but you gotta go there to fully “get” the Mish experience. Here I enjoy a hearty late lunch, a craft brew, and some live music at river’s edge.  Once again, if you’re not enjoying the eclectic crowd, you’re not taking it all in … just sayin’. I take a moment to look up my little mystery fish and discover something called a “golden trout” … I don’t believe that I’ve ever heard of those nor caught one, until this day.

After a relaxing and nourishing lunch, I’m off to prospect one last pool of new water. This is a place that I’ve previously spied, but never taken the time to explore.  My only real question is “with the current river flow, can I navigate my way to the pool on the far side of the river, or do I need to wait another week or two for the flows to subside?”  The daylight and clear water make it relatively easy to assess the water depth from the roadside, but clear water always seems to be deeper and faster moving once you get it in it.  Nonetheless, with the aid of stick that I picked up on the riverbank, I make my way safely across. The water in the center of the river is flowing strongly, but there is a boulder along the bank with a deep, calm downstream pool below. I can’t see any fish below the boulder, but they’ve GOT to be there. Having seen an abundance of grasshoppers jumping amongst the grasses along the bank, I opt for “hopper/dropper” rig in which a grasshopper type bug will float on the surface, suspending a lightly weighted nymph stage bug below the surface.

I study the distance, I feel the direction of the breeze, and I plan my cast. One back cast, one forward cast, one more back cast and I shoot the line toward my target on my final forward cast. I’ve had a lot of bad casts on a lot of days, but this is not one of them. If I had picked exactly where I want my hopper to land, it would be where I placed it. I half imagined an immediate surface gulp of my delivery, but it didn’t come. Instead, the floating hopper held steady in the calm pool as water rushed by all around it … then, the magic happened. My hopper, also serving as a visual indicator of sorts moved erratically … a sure sign that there is action taking place with my nymph below the surface. I gave my line a quick, firm set and the pull on my line was unmistakable. This was not a perky rainbow; this was a substantial fish that would not give in easily. He quickly swam into the downstream current such that my challenge was now 2/3 current and 1/3 fish. I made sure to keep my line tight yet let him run in a controlled fashion as he needed. I did my best to move downstream with him, but his aquatic pathway was smoother than the slippery, irregular footing that challenged me.  Fortunately, he pulled out of the current into calmer waters and that allowed me to bring in some line so that I was moving closer to my prize. He gave another brief run, but I managed to steer him away from the fastest moving current and back toward the calm waters. I caught my first view of this beautiful brown trout in the clear water, and I grew more eager to land him in my net.  I’m not sure exactly what that emotion is, but for those who have caught a few, they understand it. A little back and forth and I tried to lift my rod high and guide him toward my net, but I missed him. Two more missed tries, each of which I expected him to break the fine tippet at the end of my fishing line, …. and then that wonderful feeling of my capturing him in the net.

I like to keep my catches in the water as much as possible and to hold them only enough to get the hook from their lip (yeah, I often use an old, curved, mosquito hemostat for that). Many of my local catches are beautiful, but relatively small, feisty fish. He was more regal. He was solid, he was calmer. It was almost as if he was nodding in approval of a well-fought dual. My hand was full as I gently held his plump body so that I could release the hook. I was surprised how easily the hook came out of his lip. How had I managed to get him in the net?  I held the net rim slightly above the water as I reached for my smartphone camera. I reached once more into the net to hold him gently as I prepared to snap a photo. He paused calmly for a moment as if to say, “not today my friend” and with a quick wiggle, squirmed from my hand sans photo.

I may have lost the fish photo op, but I gained a new fishing spot. There is no photo, but there is always the memory … and I will bring it with me anytime I return to that site.

What about you?  What fills your tank?  Are you a foodie?  Do you love craft beer?  … or is poking around quaint shops your thing?   If you like to be active, what activities best restore your mind, body, and soul?  Which of these might you be able to combine into a single day?

Learn well / live well. CE for the ALL of YOU.  Here at CSU, I LEARN so much from so many great minds seemingly every day, but I also get to LIVE well.  We live and work in such a wonderful place that I am eager to share it with all of you. CSUVetCE really is for the ALL of YOU. You’d be wise to come for the learning but stay a day or two for the living so that you can return to your practice rejuvenated and eager to use those new skills.  No matter what you enjoy and what renews your soul, we’re confident you can find it here and we’re eager to help you do that!

Ross’ career has spanned both private practice and academia. Along the way, he has been actively engaged in orthopedic training of veterinarians for more than 30 years. Ross is a professor Orthopedics at Colorado State University, Associate Director of Education at the Translational Medicine Institute and a frequent educator at orthopedic courses held here at CSUVetCE and around the world.  If you, too, believe that “what if … thinking” is the key to innovation and advancement beyond that status quo, please get to know us at www.CSUVetCE.com because nothing fuels our passion like rubbing elbows with those who are similarly driven.