Big Thompson Canyon

Whether you’re a Denver/Boulder local or just visiting the area from out of town, Colorado has incredible fly fishing for everyone! Only an hour and a half from Denver International Airport, Estes Park offers world class views and countless fly fishing opportunities. The hardest part is choosing which one!

The Beauty of Big Thompson Canyon

Big Thompson Canyon is not just a pathway to Estes Park but a destination in its own right. The canyon's river winds through rugged terrain, with clear waters that are perfect for fly fishing. The natural beauty of this area provides a jaw dropping backdrop for a day of fishing, where the only sounds are the rushing waters and calls of local wildlife. At any point of any day you’re likely to catch sight of elk, deer, and other wildlife that make the Rocky Mountains their home. Unlike a lot of other locations that require long hikes into the backcountry, this section of the Big Thompson River is not only stunning, it’s also easily accessible. There are endless pull-offs on Route 34 (Big Thompson Canyon Rd) that grant you access to peaceful isolation just a few minutes from your truck. It’s one of those places where you can easily spend a few hours to get your fix, then be back in time for lunch or dinner depending on the time of day. And with so much access, there’s no need to be fishing around other people. Just the drive through the canyon alone is worth the effort!

If you’re in need of a fly fishing guide for a day on the Big Thompson River, contact Front Range Anglers. They’ll take good care of you.

Big Thompson River Fly Fishing Photography

Just outside Loveland, Colorado, the Big Thompson River tumbles through its canyon like a secret meant to be shared sparingly. Here, under the towering rock faces and amid the seasonal flourish of aspens, the trout glide in waters so clear they seem borrowed from another world. It’s a place that refuses to be ordinary, even as it sits just a short drive from the sprawl of Denver and Boulder. Those who find themselves here—rod in hand or simply drawn to the rhythm of the river—know they’ve stepped into something rare.

On a crisp morning not long ago, I joined two Front Range Anglers guides, John Brown and Charlie Schaefer, for a walk along this stretch of the Big Thompson. Both men carried the quiet competence of those who’ve spent enough time on the water to lose the need for bravado. Watching them fish was like watching a craftsman turn wood on a lathe—each cast a practiced motion, each drift a moment of intent. Their chosen method was euro nymphing, a stripped-down approach that trades flashy for effective. The rewards spoke for themselves: trout rising from the depths, some modest, others stretching well past the 20-inch mark.

Walking the riverbank, my camera ready, I couldn’t shake the feeling that this place was built for dreams. The pools, deep and inviting, seemed to whisper promises of trophy fish. The riffles, swift and playful, dared anglers to master their currents. And then there was the light—always shifting, always softening or sharpening the canyon in ways that made even the most routine moments shimmer.

Fall is the Big Thompson’s most dramatic mood. The aspens and cottonwoods light up like fire, a golden warmth against the cool grip of the river. The trout, sensing the change, become bold and hungry, their movements electric against the calm of the season. Some days, the sky stretches wide and blue; others, it crouches low, heavy with clouds or mist. It’s the kind of beauty that demands both attention and reverence, the kind that fills a camera frame yet somehow feels too large to hold.

But fly fishing, as anyone who loves it will tell you, is never just about the fish. It’s a slow-burn affair with the land and water, a test of patience and awareness, a chance to step into the raw pulse of the natural world. For brands and magazines hoping to capture the soul of fly fishing, or for those who simply long to lose themselves in its rhythms, the Big Thompson River is more than a location—it’s a story waiting to be told.

The river has a way of holding onto you long after you’ve left its banks. Its trout, its wildness, its ever-changing moods—all of it lingers like a song you can’t quite stop humming. As a photographer, I find it both a privilege and a challenge to try to pin that feeling down, to turn moments into images that speak to the unspoken connection we have with water, fish, and the landscapes that hold them. On the Big Thompson, I can’t help but feel like I’m chasing something infinite.

Click HERE to check out more of my fly fishing photography and contact me directly to inquire about prints - rob@robhammerphotography.com