Black Canyon of the Gunnison Fly Fishing: A Real Look Inside One of Colorado’s Toughest Fisheries

There are places people talk about, and then there are places that quietly sit on a bucket list for years.

The Black Canyon of the Gunnison is one of those places.

Steep walls, limited access, and a river that doesn’t give much away easily. From the rim, it looks almost impossible to fish. And in a lot of ways, it is.

But that’s exactly why people keep coming back.

An angler hikes steep canyon terrain with fly fishing gear above Black Canyon of the Gunnison — The brutal climb in and out of Black Canyon is part of what makes this fishery feel earned.

A fly angler climbs steep terrain out of the Black Canyon of the Gunnison — The brutal climb out of the Black Canyon is as much a part of the fly fishing experience as the river itself.

Why the Black Canyon Is Different

Most fly fishing in Colorado gives you options.

The Black Canyon doesn’t.

There are only a handful of routes down to the river, and none of them are easy. Going down S.O.B. Draw is just as brutal as the hike up.

Once you’re down there, the Gunnison River feels like it’s yours. The hike in eliminates 99% of people, so there’s a good chance you might have the whole place to yourself.

It’s not a numbers game. It’s a place where you slow down and soak in a landscape that hasn’t changed in thousands of years.

A fly angler prepares gear at riverside camp in the Black Canyon of the Gunnison — An angler yawns while organizing gear at camp just after waking up in the Black Canyon of the Gunnison.

Two tents sit beneath trees at a riverside campsite in Black Canyon — Camp is set beneath the trees along the riverbank, creating shade and shelter deep in Black Canyon.

Access Isn’t the Hard Part—It’s Everything Else

A lot gets made about access—and yeah, it’s real.

But the physical side is just the beginning.

You carry everything in. You manage light that disappears early and returns late. Wind moves through the canyon in ways that don’t show up on a forecast. And the water itself demands precision.

Fly anglers descend rocky terrain into the Black Canyon of the Gunnison with gear — The descent into the Black Canyon demands careful movement over boulders before reaching fishable water.

A fly angler stands on rocky terrain inside the Black Canyon of the Gunnison — A fly angler pauses along rugged canyon rock while moving deeper into the Gunnison’s demanding terrain.

A fly angler fishes the Gunnison River beneath steep canyon walls in the Black Canyon — A lone angler works a quiet stretch of the Gunnison River beneath the steep walls of Black Canyon.

What the Fishing Actually Feels Like

There’s a quiet intensity to fishing here.

You’re not moving fast. You’re not covering miles of water. You’re scrambling over boulders just about the whole time, working small sections carefully, knowing that every fish in this river has survived conditions that make them selective.

When it comes together, it feels earned in a way that’s hard to replicate elsewhere.

A fly angler casts into technical pocket water in the Black Canyon of the Gunnison — A fly angler works precise casts through technical canyon water shaped by powerful currents and stone.

A fly angler crosses large rock formations inside the Black Canyon of the Gunnison. — Massive canyon rock and technical terrain shape every step along the Gunnison River.

A fly angler reaches through canyon rocks while navigating tight terrain in Black Canyon. — Tight canyon walls and rough terrain make even simple movements part of the challenge.

A lone angler stands on river rock surrounded by towering canyon walls in Black Canyon — Solitude and scale shape every hour spent fishing beneath these massive canyon walls.

Why It Stays a Bucket List Fishery

There are easier places to fish in Colorado.

There are places with more fish, easier access, and more predictable conditions.

But very few places feel like this.

The Black Canyon of the Gunnison isn’t about convenience. It’s about immersion—being fully inside a landscape that hasn’t been softened or simplified.

That’s what makes it stick with people.

A fly angler fishes the Gunnison River surrounded by steep canyon walls — A fly angler works the Gunnison River in one of Colorado’s most demanding fly fishing environments.

Foam patterns swirl across moving water in the Gunnison River — River foam drifts across canyon current, revealing the movement and complexity of Gunnison water.

A fly angler stands in the river casting beneath towering canyon walls in Black Canyon — A fly angler casts through canyon water while steep rock walls rise above him in Black Canyon.

A rainbow trout rests in a landing net during fly fishing in the Black Canyon of the Gunnison — A hard-earned trout reflects the precision required in demanding canyon water.

An angler fishes shallow current beneath towering canyon walls in the Black Canyon — Standing mid-river, an angler casts through fast water framed by steep canyon walls.

A Note on Conditions and Planning

If you’re thinking about fishing here, timing matters. Our trip was in July, and the night time temps were rough. Even without clothes on, I was sweating the entire night. Beyond that, flows, access routes, and even basic safety can change quickly depending on the season. This isn’t a place to figure things out on the fly.

For current conditions, it’s worth checking updates through the National Park Service before making the trip.

An angler sits on large canyon rocks rigging fly fishing gear beside the river in Black Canyon — An angler rigs flies and tackle on the rocks beside the river, preparing for another stretch of water in Black Canyon.

A fly angler stands beneath steep canyon walls in the Black Canyon of the Gunnison — Towering canyon walls dwarf the angler as he navigates one of Colorado’s most demanding fisheries.

Fly fishing waders dry on a tree brach after a day of fishing in the Black Canyon of the Gunnison — Waders dry at riverside camp as gear rests between long days of fly fishing inside the Black Canyon.

A close-up shows a scraped shin with fresh cuts at camp in Black Canyon — Scrapes and bruises come with navigating the steep rocks and rough terrain of Black Canyon.

A man sits on the grass in Black Canyon holding a camp stove mug near the river — Morning at camp in Black Canyon, sharing coffee beside the river before heading back on the water.

Part of a Larger Body of Work

This work is part of an ongoing series documenting fly fishing across the American West—focused on real conditions, real environments, and the connection between anglers and the landscapes they move through.

If you’re interested in licensing imagery or working together on projects like this, get in touch - rob@robhammerphotography.com

→ View Fly Fishing Photography Portfolio

→ View Fly Fishing Prints

→ Explore more Colorado Fly Fishing Photography (Fall Foliage)

An angler crosses a fallen log above the Gunnison River inside the Black Canyon — Moving through remote canyon water often means navigating unstable crossings before reaching fishable water.

A fly angler stands on massive canyon boulders above fast-moving Gunnison River water — Technical water and unforgiving boulders demand precision at every step.

An angler casts while wading the Gunnison River in the Black Canyon — A fly angler works a slower stretch of river, casting across clear water beneath canyon walls.

A trout slips from an angler’s hand during release in the Gunnison River — A trout slips back into the current after release, disappearing into the clear water of Black Canyon.

Two anglers fish wide canyon water beneath steep Black Canyon walls — Two anglers work separate seams of water, covering a broad stretch of river in Black Canyon.

A smiling angler stands beside the Gunnison River after time spent in the Black Canyon — Hard miles and technical water still leave room for moments of earned satisfaction.

Steep canyon walls rise above the Gunnison River in the Black Canyon of the Gunnison — Massive canyon walls define the landscape, shaping the river corridor through Black Canyon.

An angler carefully descends steep backcountry terrain above the Gunnison River — Hiking out of the Black Canyon is brutal work, but well worth the effort.

A Fly Fishing Artist Who Honors the Fish

If you spend much time around fly fishing and have an appreciation for art, then you’ve heard the name Martin Gerdin. His hand-blown glass fish are more than just decorative pieces, they’re immaculate tributes. To the fish. To the places they live. To the hours spent chasing them in silence with and without victory. When I had the opportunity to photograph Martin for a recent magazine story, I knew right away this wasn’t just another artist profile. It was a chance to document someone who truly understands what makes fly fishing special.

Photographing the Process Behind the Glass

Martin’s Gerdin’s studio is located in Crawford, a small town in a remote section of southwest Colorado, which tells you a bit about him already. He doesn’t need the fancy street facing storefront, because for him, it’s only about the work. And that’s obvious seeing him in action. He cares. Sure, creating stunning glass blown fish is how he earns a living, but it’s also his passion. Glass blowing is a very delicate art, especially when dealing with a pieces the size of Gerdin’s fish. There are so many steps along the way that can cause each one to be ruined. And when that happens all is lost. Back to the beginning. As a photographer intent on documenting a process that cannot be faked, the only option is to be a fly on the wall and not get in the way. Martin and his team are constantly moving, back and forth from the work bench to the furnace, over and over. For this shoot I wanted to use strobes to light the scene in a way that wouldn’t draw attention to the light itself. Rather as more of a subtle enhancement. So the hard part was finding those places within the studio that the strobes and light stands wouldn’t impede his flow. Which was difficult at times, but he graciously told me when they needed to be moved and everything worked out just fine in the end. To be honest, there were times when I just wanted to sit back and watch. Looking at Gerdin’s work on his website or Instagram is impressive, but to see a final piece come to life before your eyes, is something else altogether.

**If you think creating glass trout for a living is all glamour, think again. It’s well over a hundred degrees in Martin’s studio when the furnace is running.

Where My Work Intersects with His

Martin Gerdin doesn’t create custom glass trout for fly fishing collectors by accident. It started out of his rabid obsession with the sport itself. The assignment to photograph Martin at work also didn’t happen by accident. As a photographer, it’s very important to me that the people and stories I work on, are ones I truly care about and have an interest in. So I pitched the idea to a magazine because I was a fan of his work and am also violently obsessed with fly fishing, which has led to a somewhat unhealthy amount of time on the river with both a fly rod and a camera. Like Martin, it’s my happy place.

See the Full Collection

Want to see more?
You can view my full collection of fly fishing photography prints [here]. Each image is available for purchase, and select pieces are also available for editorial or commercial licensing. If you’re a collector, or simply someone who loves the water, I think you’ll find something that speaks to you.