There truly is no place like a cold tailwater for hiding from the heat.

A little trout fishery near the cabin offered a (literally) cool escape from the scorcher that hit the Saturday of Labor Day weekend ’08. Willing rainbows and brookies provided the entertainment. They even taught my fly-fishing-student-for-the-day a thing or two ‘bout fly fishing.

Credit for the teaching goes to the trout ‘cause though certainly cheaper that any guide around, limited knowledge and an inclination to flog the water with my own line severely handicapped any willingness to offer long or detailed instruction.

Our arrival streamside fell towards the later part of the early morning, limiting our initial wade-in an oft-ignored but fun and fish-filled run. Narrow and fast, it’s a great classroom for learning the drift-and-lob nymphing technique. Being deeper there’s no sight fishing here and it offers a lesson in keeping they eye on the indicator. Plenty of bank, a few boulders and a nice tailout make for unpredictable takes.

Take those trout did. No more than a dozen drifts and the first lesson of the day was on. We both were students that day. Happy to report, Richard received an almost nonstop tutorial in hooking and landing trout and a nearly unhealthy amount of schooling in LDR¹. My lesson plan for the day seemed to center around the ease with which trout can throw a size 22 hook.

Had hoped to offer a lecture and example of fishing dry flies but insect hatches apparently get a pass for the last long weekend of summer.

But the day went well. We had the creek to ourselves from mid-morn on, the heat was kept at bay and the fish came out to play.

Don’t know if Richard found that “Fly-fishing is the sweetest of addictions.”² or perhaps that “The truth is fly fishing is folly; useless, unreasonable, irrational and without purpose.”³ Mabye a little bit of both.

As for me, I’ll follow the trout in the dog days of summer.

Trout live where you don’t need A/C.

Amazing what open eyes can see. Assuming the brain can connect the dots.

Planning for trout chasing next weekend gets all eight cylinders firing when in comes to research. Water levels are low. Temps may be high. And little good can come of catching and releasing already stressed out wild fish.

So the interweb gets tickled for any insight into Sierra West Slope possibilities. A search gives up an old Mapquest query left behind by an unknown soul. Tantalized by the possibility it might pinpoint good trout water near my Sierra foothills permanent base of operation, a click is made.

I recognize the location. Not near any stream that I know of. But I’ve driven past this place four or five or six dozen times over the last few years, not knowing that Galvan Fly Reels quietly cranked out¹ a modest line of respected fly reels.

Here’s to hoping they offer a factory tour that ends with free samples…

A quick trip to the cabin last weekend, cloaked in the smoke of the myriad fires, yielded a day of insane fishing catching.

The weekend didn’t turn out as long or relaxing as I had hoped. I had to wait at work for the phone guy to switch some lines, postponing my departure Friday afternoon until five-thirty. While traffic was relatively light, my arrival in Twain Harte was later than I would have liked. And five o’clock the next morning came awfully quick.

I was on Moccasin Creek by six-thirty but spinners were being flung and bait drowned in many of the prime locations. But having spent more hours that I’d care to count on this rivulet, I knew a few productive spots were blatantly ignored by the meat fishermen.

My first target was a relatively fast-flowing run — maybe about 20-feet long — where an indicator with a couple of beadhead nymphs can lure a few fish out of hiding. Sure enough, after no more than four casts it was “Fish on!” A nice brook trout to start the day. I proceeded to pull another five fish out — rainbows and brookies — before moving upstream to nice pool that is divided midway by a fallen tree. Fish stack up below the tree at the tail of this pool and above the tree in the cascades pouring into its head. After a bit of catching here, I continued moving up river.

As it neared eleven o’clock, when I was left alone after the fishermen with their limits had headed home or those without headed to lunch, I stopped counting the fish I brought to hand. No real reason to keep counting past forty, I figured.

After a lunch break I switched things up, challenging myself, by rigging up a dry fly with a dropper. (A floating fly with a sinking fly tied onto the hook.) I don’t usually use dry flies, but the trout seemed to be both slashing and slurping, indicating that they were both chasing insect nymphs rising to the surface and sucking in insects already floating on the surface.

I’ve yet to master the technique of setting a hook with a dry fly — one needs to pause just a bit to let the fish turn away, otherwise a set simply pulls the hook out of the fish’s mouth — but it was amazing to see a fish rise to my dry fly and take it. The ones I did manage to hook went wild!

I spent much of the afternoon using the dry/dropper combination. Sometimes targeting specific fish I could see. Such as a fish that would hug an undercut bank and zip out for an occasional snack, leaving me to plan my cast to place the flies in the fish’s feeding lane at the right time. Other times I’d target likely areas though I couldn’t see fish. And more than a couple of fisherman commented, as they waded past me, that I seemed to be hooked up every time they looked.

I ended the day, after more than ten hours on the water, going after a fish sticking close to underwater weeds in an area that would be called a “prime lie”: a place where a fish can get shelter as well as easy access to food floating by. It took good drifts to get this guy to even glance at my flies. Finally an excellent drift and the fight was one. And true to expectations, he was a big one, maybe fourteen inches of brook trout.

The best part of the day? Driving the other fishermen crazy with my constant catch and releasing numerous fish. Ha!

After aborting a planned trip to the Eastern Sierra (Sonora Pass was closed – and opened the day I left for home!), I decided to scout some of the West side rivers near our cabin in Twain Harte. Unfortunately, I was thwarted at nearly every turn, particularly by gates on some Forest Service Roads, as I tried to access some of the waters I planned to explore.

However, I ended up spending two fun days - Thursday and Friday - fishing (and catching) on the North Fork of the Tuolumne River, upstream and downstream of the River Ranch Campground, at the confluence of the Tuolumne and Basin Creek. Since the object of this trip was no-stress exploration, I was on the river about 10:00 a.m., suited up and ready for wading. For those who haven’t been, it’s a nice little stretch of river with both planted and wild rainbow trout.

Looking down to the river:

Boy, did I get lucky on two counts. First, no crowds…only two campsites occupied and I had the river to myself. Second, the recently planted rainbows (confirmed by a visit to a DFG hatchery were Eagle Lake strain…they sure put up a better fight than some other planters I’ve hooked.

In six hours on the water Thursday, going about a mile downstream and a mile upstream, I worked the water with a lot of side-arm casts and roll casts. (No room for even one overhead cast!) Thankfully there were only two campsites occupied and much of the time I was the only fisher on the river. This stretch offers plenty of distinct and easy to reach seams, pools and runs, out of which I hooked 22 and landed 17 (C&R’d), ranging from a three-inch wild guy to a beefy 14-inch stocker that gave me a run for my money. Based on girth and length, this fish probably weighed 1¾ to 2 lb. When I arrived a good mayfly hatch was going on and the fish were feeding.

This was the biggest fish of the trip…14 inches and 1.75-2 lbs!

I decided Friday, since I couldn’t get to another river I wanted to explore, to head back to the Tuolumne. This time I went a bit further upstream, where I got into a bunch of smaller wild fish, and a bit further downstream. This day I hooked 18 and landed 15 rainbows (also C&R’d), with another one in the 14-inch range as the trophy of the day.

All in all, I had a great first time on this stretch of the Tuolumne. I’ll be back!

[Trying to catch up on stuff around here, so this is a bit late.]

While circumstances conspired to prevent my celebration of Opening Day of trout season (April 26) by actually fishing, I did head to the cabin with Sean and Christopher Saturday night, with plans to hit Moccasin Creek. Sure, Moccasin is stocked, but trout is trout. We stopped at Diamondback Grill to enjoy some burgers, then headed for the cabin and hit the hay.

Sunday morning, Hit Moccasin Creek we did. Christopher, Sean (with my old fly rod), and I (with my new 5 wt. fly rod) were on the water by 7:00 a.m. Sunday. The surprising lack of fisher folks allowed us to pick the best spots. Again, the creek was full of larger brook trout and soon all of us had a fish on the line.

Sean did well for his first time fly fishing, even if it was nymphing, which isn’t what one imagines when fly fishing is mentioned. (Nymphing employs weighted wet flies, which are presented to the fish in their feeding lane underwater.) While Christopher left close to mid morning after pulling in a few fish, but Sean and I spent much of the day on the creek, and in about ten hours Sean had landed a dozen trout. I stopped counting at a dozen. Later in the evening, I fished by myself and right about sunset literally hooked ten trout in thirty minutes, all out of a small pool.

Knowing it was to be a short trip, Monday morning Sean and I headed back down to Moccasin Creek to spend a “little time” on the water before we had to head home. Well, a little time stretched into hours. But I blame it on Sean’s illness…he caught the bug. When I asked if he was ready to leave, his response was “One more cast.” We had fun trying to entice some fish in a deep pool by the dam, fish we could clearly see. I think we both pulled a couple of fish out of there, thanks to my expert fly selection!

A busy but tremendously fun two days.