fishing for words

(and tossing out random thoughts)


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what California water shortage?

Thanks to climbing flows, plans for the club fishing trip this Saturday to the Stanislaus River have been abandoned. Guess I’ll clean the nine months of accumlation from my desk instead.

We were to hit the Two Mile Bar section after flows hovered just above 200 cubic feet per second; eminently fishable. The flows climbed to 225 cfs on Oct. 8, to 425 cfs on the 9th, peaked at 669 on the 10th, and seemed to have settled around 655 cfs; definitely not fishable.

The "Stan" was good until last week.

The Stanislaus looked good until about a week ago...

Seems a bit odd to see so much water flowing downstream. It’s been a heck of a year for our reservoirs — the average level stands at 59.6% of capacity and as low as 21% — so one would think we wouldn’t see massive releases.

Seems I’ll have to head upstream when I’m fishing the foothills next month…


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catching up

I’ve been remiss in posting. But I’ll claim the excuse that it’s easier to get into the swing of a quick vacation than it is to get back into the swing of everyday life.

The previous post hints at the end of my visit last week to the Evergreen State. It was a good visit that began on the previous Friday. The wife and I dropped the last kid off at school and barreled down the highway to Oakland International…expecting traffic but instead arriving with plenty o’ time to read the newspaper.

Maybe it’s a sign of the times: our flight was at 70-80% occupancy. The two of us shared three seats. A little turbulence was followed by the always surprising decent to Sea-Tac. This flight was an experiment of sorts for me. It was the first time I hauled my fishing gear through the air.

Voula's Offshore Cafe

Voula’s Offshore Cafe

Mom & Dad’s Taxi Service picked us up. Next stop: Voula’s Offshore Café.

After seeing it on Food Network’s “Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives,” we volunteered a late lunch at Voula’s on the way home. Nothing like breakfast for lunch. My dad went for one of the hobo scrambles, mom for the salmon scramble and the wife a plate of biscuits and gravy. I opted for the amazing and very savory Eggs Benedict, made with pork smoked on the premises and chipotle hollandaise.

Once in Duvall we met my cousin Bill and his wife Laura, for the first time, then tried to walk off some of Voula’s excellent chow with some dog walking. The weather was good, but before I left we’d experience everything from sunshine to hail and downpours.

Saturday was the manufactured excuse reason for our visit. Though I lived there for a short nine months I missed out on the Issaquah Salmon Days Festival and during the summer decided it was about time I got up there to see what it’s all about. The day was full of drizzle as well as fun in the sights and sounds. Just your normal festival with craft booths and monstrous salmon plowing up the nearby creek. The Issaquah State Salmon Hatchery is a great facility that speaks to the success of a grass-roots effort. That evening my brother and his family invited all of us over for dinner and entertainment (provided by my two nephews, Levi and Kaden).

Sunday started with mass at my parents’ parish, followed by a breakfast spread that apparently only comes out when visitors descend on the house. I swear my dad was missing the usual morning meal composed of twigs and pebbles. After another visit with the nephews and their mom, it was off for an early dinner with mom, dad, the nephews, my sister-in-law and my cousin and his wife, before delivering the wife to the airport.

Monday saw me on the forks of the Snoqualmie River with fly rod in hand. Unfortunately, the upper reaches of the South Fork of the Snoqualmie were a little bigger than I envisioned. I flogged the water best I could…may have had only one take…but not a fish to hand. Spending a day on the water is always good, and I was treated to sporadic sunshine near Snoqualmie Pass and drizzle further down the hill on the North Fork. After stumbling upon a couple of camouflaged gentled carrying rifles, it was time to call it day.

Tuesday and Wednesday were typical of the best types of vacation days…days without any plan and composed of reading the newspaper, running into town for a turn signal bulb, visiting with a gentlemen who repairs microscopes and refractometers and hanging with the bro’. And as you know, getting a rather unique ride to the airport.

P.S. I haven’t processed the pictures yet…I’ll put ’em up soon…probably in a separate post.


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reflection on a summer of firsts

Summer’s official end — not the one marked on the calendar — came crashing down this morning with the standard fall overcast and threat of rain.

I’m relieved that our Indigenous Summer was short lived, giving way to crisp autumn air, fresh pressed apple cider and that last hustle to any water high enough to keep trout on the pre-winter feedbag. Things have been busy on the fishing front this trout season, with a lot of firsts.

Tied my first flies. Caught the first fish with one of them flies. Landed my first brown since picking up fly fishing in earnest. The first group fishing trip organized by yours truly came off well. (My strategy counted on keeping everyone stuffed with good food in the event fishing was poor. Got lucky. It wasn’t.)

And I made a first attempt at mentoring a gentleman considering joining the sport. The downside is that he’ll now have to unlearn the bad habits I taught him.

In a month I’ll inaugurate the first of hopefully many end-of-season visits to the cabin to do the last bit of trout fishing before the mid November close. I’m trying my level best to balance the need desire to remove myself from the world via fly fishing with daily commitments and responsibilities, but dates in my mind increasingly are filtered by the opening days of various rivers or Sierra Nevada passes. The wife already knows that any suggestion of travel prompts my immediate inquiry about the inclusion of a fishing day.

Leaving tomorrow for the Seattle area will mean visiting family, gazing slack-jawed at spawning salmon and probably tip toeing between raindrops. And like fly fishing, planning and anticipation is half the fun.


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fly fishing the eastern sierra: great weather, good fishing, no crowds

As I and eight members of my fly fishing club can attest, fall is creeping into the Eastern Sierras. The mornings are crisp, the sky a cloudless blue, the crowds gone and the aspens beginning to shimmer yellow. Throw in a dose of good fishing, great camaraderie and conversation, and solid home-style meals aided by “adult beverages,” and you know a good time will be had by all.

So it was on this quick trip on the Friday, Saturday and Sunday beginning Sept. 19th. The three days went by mighty fast, but the fish were willing to play, and all of us ended up with some outstanding memories. Our group also instituted our own version of a Sierra Fall “Slam”. More on that later.

Soon after Jim, with whom I shared transportation, and I passed the Highway 108/395 junction, we warmed up for the outing with some drive-by fishing on the nearby Little Walker River. It was wonderful to be greeted by some willing wild rainbow and brook trout.

After most of our group met at Tom’s Place Resort later that afternoon, we unloaded and geared up. Then it was off to Hot Creek. Winds typical of the Eastern Sierra barreled through the small canyon but those who managed a good drift, using small Caddis and Stimulators with Zebra Midges, were rewarded with this creek’s beautiful fish. I, however, was not one of them.

The descent of darkness sent us scurrying back to our cabins. The evening was capped off with a spread of appetizers, homemade beer, wine and a rib-sticking, one-handed meal of runza.

With the dawning of Saturday our group broke into smaller two- and three-person squads that would cover each variety of the available waters: creeks and streams, rivers, and lakes. The waters covered included the Upper Owens River, Rock Creek, Mammoth Creek, Hot Creek, the Mammoth area’s Lake Mamie and Crowley Lake.

Two other club members and myself headed to Crowley Lake to stillwater nymph for that lake’s famed fish by boat. Though the lake was low, the wind was conspicuously and thankfully absent nearly all day. We began by working the West Flats area, accompanied by a handful of float tubers and boats. While we were there, only one tuber hooked, then lost, a fish. A move to the Leighton Springs area of the lake proved fortuitous as one of our group, who only started fly fishing this summer after taking the novice seminar last spring, hooked and landed a beautiful 20-inch cutthroat. The fishing wasn’t crazy, but we all had a number of takes and drive bys and at the end of the day, I could lay claim to four good rainbows, but will (jokingly) insist that I lost the biggest trout of the day after it dramatically jumped a few feet into the air and, as everyone stood slack-jawed in the boat, crashed into one of our cohort’s leader and broke off.

The plan for the late afternoon was to meet on the Upper Owens to fish into the twilight hours, when the winds typically subside. The threat of darkness cut the fishing short, but I managed a couple of rainbows. And while it wasn’t a secret that I was after a brown on this trip, I didn’t expect my third fish to be an Upper Owens whopper of a brown measuring six inches.

This fun day full of fishing, punctuated by a good amount of catching, ended on another high note, with a wonderful pasta dinner and the obligatory selection and toast of the best “fish story.” As the tales were told two standouts became quickly apparent. The 20-inch cutthroat was an obvious choice, particularly with the “catcher” being a new fly fisher. While not involving a fish, her husband’s yarn, to which I can testify, ended up being a co-winner. To sum it up, trout eat midge nymphs. So do long-eared grebes. If your indicator moves just after a grebe dives next to it, you shouldn’t set the hook. It was. And out his mishap arose the new Sierra Fall “Slam,” for collectively our group caught brown trout, cutthroat trout, rainbow trout, brook trout and, yes, the aforementioned grebe.

We parted ways on Sunday as some folks would head home through Yosemite while others would cross Sonora Pass. Before heading over Sonora Pass Jim and I flung flies into Hot Creek that morning, again amid numerous caddis hatches. Jim used a small orange Caddis to entice a number of takes and got a nice rainbow to the net.

After struggling with a nymph under larger stimulator, I too opted for a size 18 Caddis and after what seemed like 50-plus casts deceived, hooked and landed a healthy and brilliant 14-inch rainbow. When Jim moved downstream, so I slid into this spot, where a pod of fish was running deep, and cast a Stimulator with a size 22 “Crystal” Zebra dropper. Three casts later and I hooked then had in hand the brownie I was looking for; about 13 inches worth.

A great trip!


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catch Catch Magazine

The act of fly fishing arguably offers as much as visual feast as it does frustrating wind knots and finicky fish any thing else and the new online Catch Magazine exquisitely plays to this aspect of the sport. Calling itself the “Official Journal of Fly Fishing Photography & Film” — smartly avoiding the label “fish porn” and the stereotypical man-holding-fish composition— Catch Magazine is one of a handful of fly fishing Web sites offering almost painfully beautiful images related to the sport.

The first issue premiered this month with an interface that a remarkable page-turning interface. (My thanks to the Feed Fish Flies Blog — an offshoot of Creekside Angling Co. fly shop in Issaquah, Wash., for pointing it out.) Catch Magazine is the brainchild of Powell Butte, Oregon-based angling and outdoor photog and Scientific Anglers tackle rep Brian O’Keefe and Sprit River Studios partner and ESPN Fly Fishing the World Camera Operator Todd Moen. Mr. O’Keefe tackles the still photography while Mr. Moen slips into the role of video editor.

The current/premier issue includes photo essays of fly fishing, of course, in Belieze, Russia’s Kola Pennisula, Alaska and Argentina, with video mixes (be warned of long load times) and a steelhead video.  The bit-longish loading time is worth it. Sprinkled sparsely with reflective narrative, Mr. O’Keefe and Moen wisely let the photographs impart the story.

Worth more than just one look.


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going fishin’

Fly fishermen tend to be a hopeful crowd, anticipating the next trip, the next river, the next cast.

No different, I saw time slow to the proverbial crawl the past few days as my countdown moved from days to hours, then minutes. But by now, me and my gear are headed in the general direction of Hot Creek, Crowley Lake and the rest of the Eastern Sierra.  So y’all will get a break from me.

Looking downstream on Rock Creek.

Looking downstream on Rock Creek.

The plan is to fish when we have daylight and regale our cohorts with stories when the drape of darkness descends from the Sierra Nevadas. That and enjoy one of our fishing partner’s home-made brew. No, the beer wasn’t the reason for his invite.

Tonight means a stay at the cabin, telling myself to get some shut-eye early but instead bouncing off the walls with expectancy. Truthfully, I’ll probably fiddle with the gear, add tippet to leaders, pore over the inventory of flies, and finally submit to staring at the ceiling waiting for Mr. Sandman.

Then it’ll be up at sunrise, eager to load my gear in the truck that will be shared for the 152.4 miles to the bump on the side of U.S. Highway 395 called Tom’s Place, our home for three days for myself and eight fellow club members.

Weather looks good. The scenery will be grand. Fishing could be great. Can’t wait.


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fly fishing leads the way

Leave to the fly fishing industry to set an example of deciding what’s best for the sport, i.e. consumer, with the bonus that it’s more environmentally friendly.  A calculated risk to be certain, but I’d call it a smart mix of business acumen and anticipating an audience’s needs.

On day two of the Fly Fishing Retailer Show, Simms Fishing Products announced that it would stop using felt soles on its wading boots by 2010. While other boot makers offer rubber-soled wading boots, I think Simms is the first to ban felt from their entire line. The press release on Specialty News Web site sums it up:

[Simms President K.C.] Walsh said Simms’ decision to do away with felt is a result of the material being implicated in the spread of aquatic nuisance species and fish-killing disease. Walsh noted that anglers have always been among the nation’s first wave of conservationists, and with options to felt now on the market, anglers had a responsibility to both the resource and the tradition of angling to cease their use of felt.

Granted, the decision wasn’t made in a vacuum:

Late last week, national conservation leader Trout Unlimited asked at its annual meeting that wading boot manufacturers phase out felt by 2011.

While anglers are noted for an environmental consciousness and Simms professes to be “…eager to lead the charge” in leaving felt soles behind, it didn’t have to do so. The fact is it did.

Wonder if American auto makers might have benefited from adopting this approach a few years ago? Scary to think that because of a lack of forward thinking or opting to build what consumers might need — instead of selling them on bigger and faster — that we can no longer apply the idea of “too big to fail” to the big American auto makers, or, for that matter, any industry. Just ask AIG or Lehman Brothers.


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I can’t afford the rising cost of being a “bum”

While it’s becoming increasingly clear that the cost of wanton economic growth over the last decade may be escalating prices on nearly everything (except homes) — now the outlay required to appropriately outfit one’s self as a trout bum appears well out of my reach.
Where you too can spend a bunch to be a trout bum...

Where you too can spend more than I would to become a trout bum...

A swift click on a link promising that I could “Win a Free Loop Rod Here” quickly gave way to the LoopArmy site and, later, quiet snickering. The site reads thus…

Win the rod that was designed by the AEG Media “Fish Bums”. Loop Tackle of Sweden is proud to have collaborated with the “Fish Bums” to create the ultimate trout rod series and is pleased to be offering you a chance to win one.

Loop Tackle’s goal was to build a Premium fly rod that would normally retail for closer to $700.00, but make it “Fish Bum” affordable. Mission accomplished and Loop Tackle of Sweden is proud to introduce the “AEG Signature Series”.

Sure, the one of the rods I no doubt will might win are touted as “Incorporating the latest graphite’s and glues…” to “…recreate what is arguably the greatest 5 weight ever built…”, while the other “…was designed from the ground up to handle big trout and summer steelhead…” and “…is a pleasure to cast all day long.”  But look up the price…’fish bum’ affordable at $370 and up? 

Understand that I’m a cheap responsible guy with a wife, kids, a dog, a rabbit, a fish tank and a mortgage, and the cost of any fly fishing tackle is paid with whatever pocket change might be lying around. My first fly fishing outfit – rod, reel, line AND case – was a $124.95 two-piece L.L. Bean 5 weight.  And it’s still catching trout for my son.  My latest rod upgrade alone still cost less than that.

So, while other fly fishermen argue amongst themselves over the differences between $400 and $700 rods, I say adequacy is fine, silently telling myself that I’d prefer a full tank of gas for the trip and an abundance of willing trout, figuring no fish stops to check a rod’s price tag before inhaling my fly.


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best sport/hobby after kids?

Is fly fishing the best sport to take up in the kid-less years?

Neil Ulman makes a good and well-written argument for it in his recent article prophetically titled Wading into Heaven in the Wall Street Journal. He describes many fly fisherman’s experience:

Perhaps, like me, you retired to a land of hills and cold-water streams and found a friend to teach you how to cast an artificial insect into a flowing river. When the first trout grabbed the fly, jumped and danced in the water, bending your slender rod into a quivering bow, you thought you had hooked the fish. Actually, the fish hooked you.

Worth a read.