fishing for words

(and tossing out random thoughts)

Category Archives: Sierra Nevada


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Eastern Sierra here we come

Cool nights, fog in the morning and a flip of the calendar hint that’s it time to pack up and climb over Sonora Pass.

This time next week it’ll be prime time in the Eastern Sierra. A bunch of us fly club members will attempt to float flies between the weeds at Hot Creek, chase big-shouldered rainbows and browns in Crowley Lake and otherwise whip various waters trying to entice that one or two or seven fish that will grant us memories and a story that’ll keep us warm all winter long. Tying flies will be the mandate for the coming week. (Figure to mitigate the wife’s comment that last time she looked my fly box was full very simply with the purchase of another.)

The only worry is exposing my lack of casting skill to the eyes of others who actually know me and will have opportunity to later comment on the hilarity of it all. Hopefully catching fish will distract them long enough for me to somehow wet a line and maybe, and by the grace of God, fool a fish.


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trout and a/c

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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.

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

Trout live where you don’t need A/C.

1long-distance release, not the preferred method of catch-and-release fly fishing.
2Nick Lyons, Confessions of a Fly Fishing Addict (Atlantic Monthly Press, April 1999).
3Ailm Travler, “Fly Fishing Folly,” Uncommon Waters: Women Write About Fishing, (Seal Press; 2nd ed., February 18, 1998), 208.

 


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interesting surprise

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…

1Pun not intended but left in anyhow.


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the rod that gives and gives…

I was happy to hear the Sean got out on the Truckee River last week during his visit to a cabin on Tahoe’s north shore.

I had set him up last Wednesday with my three-year-old $125 Cabela’s 5 wt. fly rod, the one I learned with. Set him up with leader, tippet and five different types of flies. I did take Sean fly fishing, for the first time, about two months ago, but gave him a quick refresher course. Too bad Sean can’t take the fly fishing course in September…

I’ll be the one (hopefully) teaching Sean more about fly fishing…


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insane fishing

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!


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fishing new water

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.

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.

The biggest fish of the trip was 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!


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a second fly fishing son

[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.


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losing my beejezus

I and the family and my sister’s family headed up to the cabin for the three-day weekend.  I think we all had fun, with Tom and Nick hitting the slopes for some skiing, Luci and Nathan and Karen and Adam enjoying time away from home (and extended knitting time for Karen) and me getting some fishing time.  In the evening it was fun and games, literally.

Saturday morning found me on the Lower Stanislaus River below Goodwin Dam. Only had about three hours there and much of that was occupied by hiking and exploring as this was my first visit. Did drift nymphs through a stretch on the other side of an island below a wide pool and got one strike that gave me a fish on the line for a few seconds. Just enough to let me know the fish were there.

I hit Two Mile Bar about nine o’clock Sunday morning. Amazing weather—a great day to fish regardless of the catching. Best of all, I was the only one on the river until approximately noon. After that there were only two other fishermen there until five o’clock or so.

I first headed to the Oak Tree spot on what I would all the north shore of the river. I began with an AP nymph with a prince nymph dropper, but when I notice a small hatch going on — looked like light-colored midges — I switched to hare’s ear with a zebra midge dropper. (Both were flies that I tied during the last few weeks.) A few more casts and I was into what might very well have been the largest wild rainbow I have hooked so far. He went to the bottom of the swift water and after about a minute battle the stubborn rascal, I had put exerted enough pressure to bring him closer to shore and slow water, but this fish was having nothing to do with that. So he jumped. As in his whole-body-cleared-the-water jumped. And threw the fly at the same time. Now some might say that the size of a fish increases in direct proportion to the distance at which it is LDR’d, but I’d say this guy was an easy 14 inches. And beefy. If a trout can perform a belly flop, this guy did. Great way to start the morning!

After walking downstream to “the bed,” I fished my way back upstream. No action to speak of, but it was nice to be out. The water was just about right, though I think I like it a tad lower.

Along about noon I met up with a fellow fishing above the Amphitheater. After discovering that we both lived in the same town, there was quite a bit of sharing of information on tactics and flies. We went different directions, and after a bite of lunch, I ended up on the south shore of the Oak Tree area. After about an hour of chucking various nymphs at various depths at various seams, it was fish on again. This time I was granted a close just-about-to-the-net look, but again was foiled by a quick release.

The fishermen I had met earlier caught up with me and we fished back upstream and, just as the shadows were hitting the water, ended up at the big pool just downstream from the wooden footbridge. I wasn’t to get any more hook ups, but the other fisherman brought a couple of 10 inchers in hand by throwing BWOs at rises. BTW, we saw only a small, quick hatch in the afternoon.

Oh, besides it being a great day, and besides the pleasure of fooling two trout into taking my flies, I had the beejezus scared out of me during the late afternoon, in the small pool just above the Amphitheater, when what I would identify as a steelhead measuring at least 20 inches, if not 24 or more, decided to perform a full-body breach about a rod’s length in front of me.

No fish to hand, but a great weekend nonetheless.


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quick trip to fish a new place

I made deal with myself to try new waters this season. I’ve done so twice already, but earlier this week got the bug to do so again. I quickly rearranged my schedule for a quick overnight trip with my son. Morning comes and my son needs to do a bit of running around, we stop for Wild Trout from Beardsleylunch instead of eating on the run, linger a bit too long at the local fly shop and mistakenly followed my GPS’ idea of a shorter route. (Led us down some unpaved forest service roads – some of the same roads a friend took us down in his 4×4.) Then, because we were led down the wrong roads, we are faced with a .8-mile walk down a dirt road with at least eight switchbacks. (Does that hint at how STEEP this road is?)

What I had hoped would be an afternoon and evening in the water turns into an hour and a half of twilight wading. But it turned out to be a good ninety minutes.

The destination was Beardsley Afterbay. I had heard hints that the afterbay was a great place to fish in the fall and I wasn’t led astray. I first picked a good pool with a strong seam about three quarters of the way across. After fishing the near water, less than a dozen casts later, a small 6-7” rainbow hint my prince nymph harder that one would normally expect. (I apologize for the blurry images related to this post.)

Without another fisherman in sight, my son and I moved, bypassing some “flats” and ending up across from some undercut banks. I picked up a small, maybe 7-8” rainbow in an eddy behind a boulder. Taking a bit of time to watch upstream, I spotted some subtle rises about two feet out from the undercut bank. Getting lucky, I set my dry/dropper right in the lane. The dry dipped and with a quick strike I had the biggest fish of the evening, an honest 12-13” rainbow.

With bats chasing our dry flies and the sun’s light disappearing, we headed back toward the car and I was rewarded with one last fish, a decent rainbow; wild from the looks of it.

Then the climb began. I estimate it only took 30 minutes, but it was a tough climb. (Remember that before this hike we were wading and boulder-hopping in the river. And now it was nearly dark.) Obviously, we made it up the hill. Panting, we shed our fishing gear and started the drive back. Again, the GPS was looking for the shortest route down these single-lane, rock-strewn forest service roads. Just as it began to look unfamiliar we were confronted by a deep ditch…the same ditch that our friend with the 4×4 had to gently navigate. But I had to turn around. Thank goodness there was a wide turn just behind us. We finally made it to the highway and breathed a sigh of relief.

Saturday morning we slowly showered, dressed, changed the bed sheets, etc., and about 11:15 a.m. were fishing Moccasin Creek. I was counting on some fish still being in the stream even though it hadn’t been stocked in quite a while. Last month, when Sean and I visited, it was brimming with fish.

My guess was correct, and a few casts into a deep pool and I had a chuck ol’ planter in hand. We spent the next hour or so casting ‘n catching. Christopher had a few strikes and brought one fish to shore. I netted about six, with a few lost to LDR (long-distance release). About an hour and a half later we were on the way home.

It was a quick but fun fishing adventure.


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learning on the water

Caught in some shallow riffles on the Stanislaus River at Two-Mile Bar, Oct. 6, 2007.I was invited to join my club’s novice class on the Stanislaus River at Two-Mile Bar on Saturday as a student (I helped instruct part of the class the previous week). The weather couldn’t have been better! With eight fishers and three coaches we hit the water about 9:30 a.m. with a small mayfly hatch in progress. Flows were very good and the fish very cooperative as everyone in the group landed a fish.

This section of the Stanislaus River is limited to barbless flies and catch and release only and is inhabited only by wild trout. I started fishing a near seam in the “Oak Tree Pool” and was rewarded about a dozen casts later with a small but beautiful guy who tried to go deep. He had the dubious honor of being my first trout caught on a fly (an olive WD40, #20) in this section of the Stanislaus River.

A bit later, on the far seam (created by two currents of differing speeds coming alongside each other) and the same WD40 fly, I was able to pick up another small rainbow. Much of the time we practiced – with guidance from our club coaches – various casts, with roll and reach casts being put into use quite a bit.

Upstream a bit, in some shallow riffles near the confluence of the three channels, I was shocked by a 13 inch trout that slammed an AP nymph (#18, a fly that at the same time looks like nothing and everything) and took off downstream, with me following. Unfortunately, my coach who had volunteered to grab the fish, let him go on an accidental quick-release. But I guess that fish’s buddies took pity on me as in short order I was into the small guy below, who also headed downstream and had be led to a pool before landing.
Me and a buddy.
Later in the day we headed to the far downstream riffles, where I fished above the riffles, targeting some bigger fish in a pool just underneath a huge boulder. Didn’t catch any big ones there, but being able to get longer drifts (a new accomplishment for me) picked up a strike at the tail of the pool (behind me in the pictures below), just as the water became a bit more shallow. The result was the little guy in my hands below. (Also on an AP nymph.)

Throughout the day we also mingled with llamas that are found in the area, found a huge crawdad head, observed an osprey dive and claim a decent-sized trout from the river, and watched a few big salmon head upstream. It may be obvious, but it was a great day with good weather, friends and fish.