We wade into the trout-rich waters of Colorado for a female fly-fishing retreat.
“I don’t want anyone to mansplain to you,” says Steve Jerman, a long-time fly-fishing guide and retired high school principal.
He’s talking to a group of female fly fishers — myself included — who have convened on the shady banks of Colorado’s Tarryall for a women’s weekend organized by the historic Broadmoor hotel. Wearing our waders, we’re sitting on the grassy lawn of the Broadmoor’s “fish camp” in South Park, a fertile valley surrounded by towering 14,000-foot peaks.
Jerman tells us we’ll be using dry-dropper rigs — a setup that includes both a dry fly that floats on top of the water and a weighted nymph that dips below the surface. As promised, he doesn’t mansplain — not one bit — which is good because, as I soon realized, most of these women are already experienced on the water.
After Jerman’s quick introduction, we pair off with guides and head to different spots along The Broadmoor’s five miles of private water. As I cast my line in the mid-July sun, iridescent broad-tailed hummingbirds whiz by, trilling loudly as they flit between evergreen and aspen trees. A red-tailed hawk circles high overhead, tracing circles below wispy white clouds. My mind — usually a jumbled mess of incessant thoughts and worries — goes blissfully quiet. Singularly focused on the task at hand, I reach an almost-meditative flow state. I completely lose track of time — a welcome change from my typical overscheduled, hyperproductive mode. Cast, watch the fly drift downstream, repeat.
I see my dry fly dip below the surface then hear my guide, Josh Tubre, yell “Set! Set! Set!” I yank my rod straight up and wait for the fish — a beautiful pink rainbow trout — to tire herself out. Tubre scoops her into a net, gently removes the hook, then encourages me to “grin and grip” — fisher-speak for posing for a triumphant photo with the fish in your hands. I oblige and carefully return my trout to the river.
Then we keep fishing.
Women On The Water
The Broadmoor began hosting this retreat — cleverly named “These Boots Are Made for Wading” — in 2018. The storied Colorado Springs resort, which opened more than a century ago, wanted to help boost women’s participation in an overwhelmingly male-dominated sport.
Slowly but surely, these and other similar efforts seem to be working. A decade ago, women made up just 20 percent of fly-fishers in America. By 2023, that number had grown to 31 percent, according to a report from the Recreational Boating and Fishing Foundation and the Outdoor Foundation. In line with that national trend, The Broadmoor has seen an uptick in women booking fly-fishing experiences, either as day trips from the hotel or as overnight escapes at its fish camp.
“You didn’t see many women in the water with a fly rod in hand — until now,” says Krista Heinicke, who leads the women’s retreats. “Male-dominated or not, this sport is appealing to women because, as our guides have expressed, female fly-fishermen are usually better students.”
Women may make good anglers. But we’re not flocking to the sport solely to catch as many big fish as possible. For most women, it’s not a competition, and it’s not about bragging rights.
Instead, like me, they’re often drawn by the elusive sense of peace and tranquility on the water. Fly-fishing is a rare opportunity to slow down, connect with nature, breathe deep, calm the mind, and concentrate — rather than going a million miles an hour and trying to do a million different things at once. On the water, no one needs them — not children or spouses, not aging parents, not pets, not coworkers or bosses or clients. It’s the ultimate form of “me time.”
They may arrive at the river feeling frazzled and stretched thin, but they usually leave feeling rejuvenated and recharged.
And that restorative power is what ultimately gets them hooked on the sport.
A Luxurious Escape In Nature
Still, fly-fishing remains the most male-dominated of all the fishing categories, including freshwater and saltwater fishing. So, The Broadmoor keeps hosting the event — and women keep showing up, including many who return year after year.
After I attended last summer, I could easily understand why. The retreat is heavy on fishing, of course. But it’s also a chance to eat gourmet cuisine (prepared by a classically trained, live-in chef), disconnect from devices (there’s WiFi, but no cell service), and bask in the beauty of nature (the camp abuts 120,000 acres of the Lost Creek Wilderness in central Colorado).
Participants stay in seven restored cabins, some of which date back to the 1920s. For meals, there’s a spacious main lodge with a stone fireplace, a wraparound deck, and a well-stocked, self-serve bar. Though the fish camp is 60 miles northwest of The Broadmoor, it has all the same upscale touches you’d find at the historic hotel — impeccable service, plush bathrobes, upscale toiletries, thoughtful interior design, and more.
But, perhaps most important, the weekend is an opportunity to connect with other women — on a more meaningful level than I’d ever imagined.
"I Think Of Nothing Else"
After dinner one night — a surf-and-turf feast of steak and
Lobster — we all refilled our wine glasses and headed out to the main lodge’s front porch. The sun had long ago dipped behind the mountains, making it so that all we could see were the shadowy silhouettes of the camp’s many trees. Twinkling stars were just beginning to emerge in the clear, dark sky. We got to talking and began sharing why we’d signed up for the retreat in the first place.
The conversation got deep quickly. One woman fought back tears as she explained that fly-fishing was her version of self-care — an opportunity to take a break from caring full-time for her husband, who had dementia. “When I’m on the water, I think of nothing else,” she told us.
Another shared that she didn’t want to lose touch with her adolescent son as he got older, and that she hoped fly-fishing might be a way to stay connected with him. A pair of sisters from California had come to celebrate the younger one’s 60thbirthday — and the older one’s surviving a mass shooting. A single woman in her 30s explained how fly-fishing gave her confidence at a time when she was feeling extra insecure, because everyone else her age was getting married and starting a family. We laughed, we cried, we nodded and murmured expressions of affirmation.
We were complete strangers. And, yet, surrounded only by other women, everyone felt safe and comfortable enough to be spontaneously vulnerable. It was as if they knew, almost instinctively, that no one would doubt or dismiss their experiences. A day on the water together had created and solidified an immediate bond of fast friendship.
"A Quiet Sense Of Confidence"
After three days on the water, my fly-fishing skills definitely improved — and I’m eager to take up the rod again next summer. But what I’ll remember most about my weekend at “fish camp” is how inspired and energized I felt in the presence of other strong, capable, complex, multifaceted outdoorswomen. When I mention this to Heinicke, she smiles.
“The women who come to this event are looking to learn a sport that has been male-dominated for years,” Heinicke says. “But then they find something they weren’t looking for when they signed up — camaraderie, under- standing, and a quiet sense of confidence that radiates from the attendees. They come to learn to fish, but they end up learning more about the women who share their lives and stories.”
To learn more about These Boots Are Made for Wading or to book a stay at The Broadmoor’s fly-fishing camp, visit Broadmoor.com or call 719.577.5708.
PHOTOGRAPHY: Courtesy Sarah Kuta.
