Truth be told, we caught very few carp that day. My own--and only--moment in the sun happened after we'd snuck down the service road leading through one of Denver's oldest cemeteries in order to park by a hidden honey hole. Having grown slightly impatient with the muddy water and fickle fish, I rigged a 13-foot, two-handed rod with a Babine double-egg fly, so I could at least practice some Spey moves in the slow current. I noticed a wake, fired a shot, made a few strips of the line, and soon hooked up. My landing a carp on an egg fly with a Spey rod soon became urban legend--even beyond the brotherhood of the pink bus--and remains my proudest catch to this day.