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The path getting here was straight out of a Bob Ross painting, and my husband and I watched, mesmerized, as miles and miles of the scene flew by.
Suddenly, the satellite connection somewhere far above cut out, and our connection to Apple Music — and the GPS — faded away. As a result, the soundtrack for the 75-mile drive from Colorado Springs into the wilderness was the steady hum of car tires on pavement. Everything was going wonderfully — that is, until we got behind an old Subaru who was driving at least 25 miles below the speed limit.
After a few minutes, passing seemed like the best option. After all, without navigation, who knew how much longer it would take to get to The Broadmoor Fly Fishing Camp’s 5 miles of secluded streams along the Tarryall River?
As it turned out, we made the wrong decision. A small wooden sign was around the corner, and we missed it — but, behind us, the Subaru pulled in. It was our guide, Sandi Roberts, and she had the combination to the unimposing metal gate. Perhaps it was a metaphor for slowing down for the weekend, or probably a sign from above, near wherever that satellite cut out.
Even if relaxing or fishing isn’t your forte, the camp gets visitors up to speed — which is just below 25 mph if you ask Roberts.
“People are constantly passing me,” she said. “I’d rather be safe than sorry.”
That’s why every fly-fishing lesson for beginners and experts alike starts with the safety drill on the central lawn near a communal fire pit. After receiving a few tips such as how to angle our wrists, we were off and clopping toward the private streams that are visible from The Broadmoor Fly Fishing Camp’s seven cabins. (Fly fishing rentals are all included in the cost of a stay.)
Featuring two double or two single beds, each cabin consists of either a single large room or a suite. While some accommodations are a bit older than others, all are comfortable and feature classic camp decor. (Note: For the newer cabins, guests must use a shared bathhouse with tile-lined spa showers.) Wooden-hewn beams, log furniture and accent pillows in plaid or embroidered with rainbow trout all add to a cozy ambiance. Outside the main lodge, there’s not a lock or a TV in sight. On our visit, the only thing we heard was the creak of screen doors — which let in some lovely breezes — and the rustle of the camp’s fluffy golden retriever, Blue, meandering around to greet visitors.
During a communal dinner, we also found Blue underfoot, with his chin on our knees, waiting for a nibble. Craft beer and wine were paired not with fish — it’s all catch and release here — but with savory steaks and toothsome pork chops.
Scott Tarrant, the camp manager, grabbed a beer as he chewed the fat with fellow guests about what the property’s recent certification as an Orvis facility means (essentially, Orvis has high standards regarding the quality of facilities, guides, etc.) and where they managed to lure the day’s prized trout. Each personal guide escorts up to three anglers, and there are plenty of hideaways and nooks to hunt for telltale burbles on the water’s surface. Like Roberts, most guides are driven by instinct and familiarity with the property, as well as insights shared by colleagues and guests from evening chats like ours.
The party can continue in the lodge den — where there are board games, an open wet bar and the only semi-strong Wi-Fi signal at camp — but during our stay, guests usually headed to the cabin where Tarrant told us all about giving up a life as a scientist for the great outdoors. It wasn’t difficult to picture him in his previous role, due to his microscope and magnifying glasses — but those items are now used for the art of tying lures.
As his storytelling captivated our group well into the late-night hours, we found ourselves forgetting our own day jobs. No matter how many fish we caught, this was the reason we were here.
The DetailsThe Broadmoor Fly Fishing Campwww.broadmoor.com