A Colorado discovery leads to slashed waders and dances with water wolves for the Mile High City’s late master of outdoor writing.

Words: Charlie Meyers

“Like so many of my favorite fishing tales, this one begins with a good, stiff drink.
In this case, however, the beverage never found its way to anyone’s lips, let alone those of the roly-poly man who staggered in the general direction of the fireplace, snagged a toe on a well-worn carpet, and then performed a brief, but entertaining gyration before splashing the contents across the only comfortable sofa within 200 miles.”

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