fishing for words

(and tossing out random thoughts)

Tag Archives: Sierra Nevada


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the challenge of a (personally) delayed trout season opener

It was the ride to the office yesterday that finally triggered that physical feeling that Opening Day is upon us. Despite the early hour — 0600 or so — the ride was comfortable, not too cold and not too warm. The sun was already burning away the coastal overcast, leaving behind clear skies.

Then it hit. Smack dab in the middle of my face shield. The first bug of the season. If I were to guess, I’d say something in the family Chironomidae. Trout food, particularly as pupae.

Until last year, it was imperative to depart Opening Day Saturday, immediately after assisting with a fly fishing class that I’ve been involved with for quite a while.

What changed? I’m certainly not self employed like the Unaccomplished Angler or retired like Mark (@Northern California Trout) and able to traipse off to fish whenever I’d like. I do, however, accrue a healthy number of vacation days at work and now consider it impolite to not use them.

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Stream X

What’s truly changed is my attitude about the start of trout season. Perhaps a modicum of maturity can now be ascribed to my fly fishing. Rather than stand shoulder to shoulder with anglers from “the dark side,” there’s a certain challenge in arriving on the few fishable waters in the western slopes of the Sierra the Monday after the Saturday opener. (According to Mark, this year more anglers may be crowded on less available water due to snow and ice at higher elevations.)

The more accessible waters have been flogged and the fish traumatized by flashy spinners and DayGlo baits, making it all the more challenging and satisfying to hook and land the fish too smart for not caught by these other anglers.

I hope to also visit Stream X, where unmolested wild rainbows likely will attack anything that remotely looks like food. It’s a bonus that this is the time of year when much of the fishing crowd won’t be out during the work week.

So, Opening Day I’ll be helping folks learn how to play and land fish on a fly rod. Sunday I’ll spend time with The Wife. Monday through Friday I’ll be fishing.

See you on the water.


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I’m good enough, I’m smart enough, and doggone it, I’m a winner! (and an Opening Day tradition)

Things are looking up ‘round here.

The countdown to Opening Day stands at 67 hours and 5 minutes, and though I won’t be on the water, that’s fine. It’s become tradition the last few years for me to assist with our club’s fly fishing novice seminar every Opening Day Saturday. It offers an opportunity to pass along an education I received through the very same class and the off-the-water rewards are substantial. Many of the students continue on in the hobby, are involved with the club, and more than a handful have joined the outing I lead in the Eastern Sierra. The class also offers me a reminder of basics that I may have forgotten during a fishless winter. Also, the free lunch is a very good thing.

How Winning Requires New Skills

As ffw followers already know, I’m an unabashed nymph fly fisher. While other uptight purists fly fisherman would rather take a nap than fish with anything other than a dry fly, I go to where the fish usually are: well beneath the surface.

Oh, I’ll toss out dry flies when that’s where the action is, but it’s not too often.

Zudweg-Style Bunny Leech

But now I’ll be going subsurface with a slightly different tactic thanks to Jason over at Fontinalis Rising. According to Outdoor Blogger Network member Jason I should be expecting some awesome looking Zoo Cougars, bunny leeches, and lightweight shiner imitations.

So I’ll have to work on my casting of big flies a bit. These streamers will be good candidates this summer and fall for the East Walker, Upper Owens and West Walker rivers. Then there’s this midsized tributary I know in the Western Sierras, where brown trout spawn in the fall. Anyone have any other suggestions where these streamers might work well in the Central or Northern Sierras?

Thanks again to Jason!

As for what we see this week…


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fishing for words turns five after fourteen years in the making

fishing for words (ffw) was born on April 19, 2006. However and without knowing it, my blogging started fourteen years prior to that.

During the mid ‘90s — the beginning of the end for most grunge bands — I joined the few civilians who could make sense of this thing called HTML to launch a website with the unoriginal title “My Little Corner of the Internet.” It was a kooky little site for which every new entry required incorporating text into hand-coded HTML.

The trend at the time was to post a relatively static website about one’s self, and looking back one can see that the early “posts” — stories about trips or family events — popped up once or twice a year from August 1997 through July 2003. There seemed to be more to write about starting in 2004. I don’t know if was the fact that the kids were growing up and it didn’t take a trunk full of diapers, bottles, food and a stroller to travel more than five miles, or the fact that my new wife actually encouraged me to enjoy some adventures on my own.

My writing was largely directed at family and a few friends. Though a student once thanked me for my page on Aloha shirts (apparently it aided him in writing a term paper), I suffered no delusion that anyone would take an interest in what I wrote if they didn’t know me personally.

The Future of Outdoor Blogging

Perhaps the future will bring a new immediacy to outdoor blogging. (That’s not me...it’s my son with a wild rainbow on Stream X.)

Things changed in 2006 with this stuff called CMS and easy-to-use blogging platforms — both of which coincided with my first experience brandishing a fly rod over a Sierra Nevada stream. It was all in place: a website/blog that could easily be fed and a hobby that could provide material.

Now, 139,512 words and 458 posts later, I still resist defining my blog. It remains a place for family and friends…with a loose definition of “friend.” Over the years, nearly everyone in my immediately family has made an appearance in my blog — whether they liked it or not. Friends run the gamut: fly fishing club members, fellow bloggers I’ve surprised by actually showing up on their doorstep met face to face; folks who thanked me for suggestions on where their kids might have a good first fishing experience; even a few buddies met online with whom I eventually shared a fishing trip or two. Every reader is a potential friend, just like the older gentleman and younger guy wearing waders that were too clean and waving barely used rods.

While ffw doesn’t subscribe to any specific definition, it’s definitely been about sharing a personal story. It’s about stepping out of my little universe to share encouragement, a laugh, an experience, a tip or a trick. And every once and a while I’m pleasantly surprised to learn that my words do encourage or earn a chuckle.

Some folks might lament about how much things have changed in five years. I’d say that it’s only our methods of our interaction that have changed; the folks behind it remain much the same. Take a look at the Outdoor Blogger Network, for example — a group of good folks coming together over common interests. They’ve got to be good folks; they let me and my little blog join in the fun. And fun it’s been, sharing my misadventures and adding a couple of new readers every year.

As for the fly fishing, the places I fish usually are not covered in the slick pages of magazines. These are places that can be reached with relatively modest means and without a 4×4. (I did learn last year that a 4×4 would be helpful on the roads to and from Yellow Creek.)

My hero shots find heroism in fooling small wild and skittish brook trout with a fly tied with my own hands. (This summer, hero shots may include a fly rod built with those same hands.) And though the “body count” isn’t so important to me anymore, it’s still about duping that first dozen fish and the story that comes with it.

I’m hoping that there will be many more fish to write about.


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how bad do you want to meet mr. whitefish? — a few guides’ thoughts on clients bringing gps receivers along for the ride

Guides & GPS

One mid July day my guide both admonished me to maintain a straight line to the indicator and cheered good hook sets even though I missed more strikes than I should have. New to fly fishing then, I remember having a novice’s fascination with the almost magical wisdom guides showed and shared.

More important that day was my education. It’s a simple truism of fly fishing that one day on the water with a good guide can offer a learning experience equal to many trips alone.

But is there a limit to how much a guide might be willing to share beyond techniques, flies and presentation? This question bubbled up in my mind a few weeks ago, when an online poll conducted by Blood Knot Magazine asked fly fishermen for their opinion regarding bringing a handheld GPS receiver on a guided fishing trip. Of 100 random readers asked if it’s “okay” to do so, 41% answered “Hell yeah!” while 40% answered “Hell no!” The remaining 19% had no idea guides might care…

Flipping the question around in an admittedly unscientific and limited survey, I asked the same question of a few fly fishing guides, and the results offer interesting insight into what is a genuine desire among guides to share with clients. As a public service to both sides of the argument, I present in this space what I learned in informal conversations with a guides up and down the West Coast.

Fly fishing guides, of course, understand that they’re in a business that often requires catering to clients, but do so in a sport that’s long recognized as one of the more genteel pursuits. One can attribute the fact that half of the respondents with an opinion in the Blood Knot Magazine poll declared a GPS receiver verboten on a guided trip to this gentleman’s code. Guides’ expectations fall in line with this mind-set, hoping that clients will ask before slipping out a GPS receiver. And, if asked, most guides don’t have a problem with a client using a GPS receiver.

The Fly Shop Director of Outfitters Michael Caranci spent the time to carefully sum up his thoughts, many of which were echoed by other guides…

As a guide, I’ve never had a problem with people bringing a GPS along. As an outfitter, I know there are some guides who wouldn’t mind, and that there are surely some guides who would find it offensive. The way I see it, if you’re hiring a guide just to find out where to go, you’re missing the boat. A good guide has so much more to offer than that. And, at the same time, just knowing where to go isn’t all that much help sometime; the real knowledge and experience of guides is knowing how to approach a spot at the different times of year, times of day, flows, seasons, types of techniques, species, etc. One could GPS a spot they had great fishing one day with the guide, and return another time to the same spot and find it seemingly void of life.”

The reason behind the use of a GPS receiver also plays into a guide’s willingness to allow its use. Emerging Rivers Guide Services owner Derek Young shares that he’d be okay with a GPS receiver used for personal reasons, such as “…safety…or to better remember the experience.” But don’t pull out a GPS receiver if its use involves commercial or financial gain. “If a paying client is going to make a commercial financial gain off of my services, they can find someone else to do it with,” wrote Derek.

Mutual respect is a resounding theme with guides. Chris O’Donnell of River Runner Outfitters underscores this, expanding upon the idea by writing…

Personally, I feel that it is the client’s right to use a GPS to record fishing spots, just like gleaning other information about rigging, reading water, and catching fish. I do feel that using a GPS without asking displays a complete lack of respect for the guide. Just ask. I’ll tell you yes, and I will feel much better about it.”

These thoughts were shared by nearly every guide, though a few are less concerned about the use of GPS receivers, if for no other reason than they fish in plain sight on lakes. Tom Loe and Doug Rodricks of Sierra Drifters Fly Fishing Guide Service often ply the waters of Crowley Lake, Bridgeport Reseroir and Eagle Lake, and as Doug explains,

I wouldn’t mind if clients brought a GPS on their trips. Most people on the boats see us catching fish and will gravitate to that spot the following day. Conditions change and one day differs from the next so we don’t worry about it too much. There are always other spots on the lake to go catch fish.”

Tom gets down to brass tacks, clarifying his feeling that, “Trout migrate and conditions change so often in the areas I guide that it is foolish to get upset or worry about someone being on your numbers!”

Another guide fishing open water, and author of “Fly Fishing the California Delta,” Mike Costello, reiterates the idea of trust and discretion between guide and client, and how the development of a relationship opens the door…

I have had clients bring a GPS on my boat but they have asked me ahead of time and I trusted them that they would be discreet and not try to abuse the guide/client relationship. I am fortunate that the majority of my anglers have been fishing with me for a very long time and I am usually very open and helpful with my guiding information.”

For many guides, the idea and expectation of respect extends beyond the guided trip. Michael C. spells out this view on using knowledge gained with a guide…

…I think it’s important to realize that if you do learn some great spots by fishing with a guide, there should be a courtesy about it in the future. If you return to that place, and the guide is there working, it’s best to let them have it. If guides consistently find their favorite places taken up by past guests, they’ll quickly learn to be careful not to share those secret spots. Respect the information, and the countless hours and days of exploration that it often takes to discover those locations in the first place.”

Mountain Whitefish

If you see too many of these guys while targeting trout, you might have crossed the line with your guide...

Inversely, disrespect will get you nowhere; and maybe no fish. If you break out a GPS receiver without asking, let’s just say that a guide might be inclined to take you only to spots to which he/she wants you to return. Slide Inn owner and Fly Fish TV host Kelly Galloup succinctly spells it out:

We all learn water the same way. We go fish and then we watch other guides set up in the runs and see how they do. It is a time tested, earn-your-right-to-be-there system… If I found them using it [a GPS receiver] with out me having been told, I would instantly…either row out or start fishing in the more whitefishy water and see how few fish I could catch the rest of the day.”

In Chris O’Donnell’s view, a client’s use of a GPS receiver suggests the trip is a one-night stand…

I would not take action, other than possibly taking them to fishing spots that I want them to return to…busting out a GPS on a guided trip pretty much tells the guide it’s just a one time deal.”

Generally, these guides haven’t had too many bad experiences with clients using GPS receivers, perhaps because the majority of their fly fisherman clients subscribe to the same code of behavior and the idea of an “earn-your-right-to-be-there system.” Shasta Trout owner/operator Craig Nielsen has had several folks bring their GPS units but hasn’t had an issue with their use as he was asked beforehand in every case. Chris O’Donnell did have “…one client GPS my fishing spots…he didn’t ask, just started plugging away.” Using your imagination, you might guess as to the fish count on that trip.

At least one guide is considering employing GPS to enhance the guided experience. Derek Young mentions embracing the technology, considering the use of a GPS receiver to tag “…client photos so that they could revisit the experience with both a photo and location.”

With the above in mind and other tidbits I’ve left unshared for lack of room or other reasons, it’s a roll of the dice when you break out a GPS receiver on a guided trip.

But before you do, ask.

Or risk fishing that whitefishy water.


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a blog exclusive you won’t find on my wall

This post brought to you by the photo prompt
“Most Un-Frame Worthy Outdoor Photo You Got”
from the Outdoor Blogger Network (OBN)

Let’s be clear. Fishing small high-country streams means the trophies taken home are usually limited to skinned knees, a sore back or scratches inflicted by any one or multiple species of vegetation.

Those who ask how the fishing was probably won’t understand that the trip is more than just fishing. It’s fishing that entails a walk that, longer than expected, become a hike; the stalking of trout so skittish its remarkable they aren’t afraid of the bugs they eat; and the creation of memories that draw a fisherman back time after time.

Where I fish, at elevations of 6,000-plus feet in the Sierra Nevadas and often above 8,000 feet, there are incredible opportunities to sink back into forests most notable for the lack of human visitation. In the small creeks and rivers found under lodgepole and western white pines, red firs, mountain hemlock and aspens, wild trout live a hardscrabble life during a summer that rarely lasts more then eight weeks. The small size of these trout truly belies their spirit.

But that’s not why they don’t end up in a framed photo on my wall. These trout are so darn small that holding a fish in one handle while using the other to fiddle with camera’s macro setting invariably results in a photo that’s too fuzzy to be called “arty” of a fish that would be a snack for what’s traditionally deemed a trophy trout.

But since so many of these high-country trout to obligingly rise to any of the customary trout flies, seemingly regardless of size, the outcome of a photo op can be a bit unpredictable.

Unframeable Fish Photo

the photo that shall not be framed

However, the one photo that will never be framed I also hesitate to share in the blogosphere. Because the fish is so small? Because the photo is so blurry? Yes to both questions.

…but mostly because I don’t know what the heck it might be it’s not a trout.

Pikeminnow.Squawfish.Hardhead

From the South Fork of the Tuolumne River: Pikeminnow? Squawfish? Hardhead? Your guess?

P.S. I’ve since upgraded to a better and waterproof camera to compensate for my lack of photographic skill.


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on finding what’s not there a little too late

This post brought to you by the writing prompt “Damaged Goods“
from the Outdoor Blogger Network (OBN)

There seems to be a general consensus in the fly fishing community that if you haven’t broken a rod, smashed a reel or torn your waders, you aren’t fishing hard enough or often enough. There may be some truth to this idea. If so, I have to make up for lost time.

Speaking of lost…

It was one of those warm spring days that finally pushed the long, hard, fishless winter to the back of my mind and encouraged thoughts of the season ahead. I’d started early, as usually, setting up a personal roadside staging area behind my Honda, where I pieced together a 5 wt rod, strung line through the guides and tied on those nondescript nymphs that suggest food to fish in the twilight before dawn. I stood on the old rug to slip on waders and boots. Throwing on the vest, I was ready for the short walk from the road down to the creek.

There’s nothing I like better than mornings alone on the creek, when the lack of sunshine renders polarized lenses useless and tilts the odds in favor of the trout. I waded to the opposite shore, from where I could cast towards cut banks and larger fish holding there.

The sun rose. The fishing was good. So was the catching. By noon the body count was well into double digits. Nymphs had been replaced with dry flies.

As usual, things began to slow down during the middle of the afternoon. One last cast led to one more last cast. Then another. And another. Almost without thinking, I’d cast, watch a fish rise, wait a second, then set the hook and bring it to the net. That’s why I nearly fell over when that last fish peeled line off my reel as it raced upstream. This was one of the big ‘uns I thought.

We danced for a good fifteen minutes. Upstream and downstream; into weeds and around boulders. I don’t know whether this particular trout was finally too tired, graciously decided reward me with a close up look, or wanted a closer look at his adversary, but soon we were at arm’s length.

I reached toward my back and grabbed…nothing. Apparently, and unknowingly, I lost my net — formerly attached to a magnetic net holder — sometime during the late afternoon.

No net and a big fish can be bad news. I never saw that fish and I won’t even estimate its length. Let’s just say he’s now referred to as the one of many that got away; an energetic fish that gave me the fin just when I thought the fight was over.

The only thing damaged that day was my pride.


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what we see… (03/16/2011)

  • Write up over at Eat More Brook Trout about a ‘small gesture’ tied to fly fishing that will go towards relief efforts in Japan: http://bit.ly/hM9S7t
  • Wine, fly fishing flicks, demos and gear not too far away from me at the Grand opening of the Leland fly fishing ranch. Best of all, it’s free (except for the films): http://bit.ly/SaiKi
  • Take a gander at Eastern Sierra guide Tom Loe’s winter ride…it’ll get you to the Upper Owens River in style, with lunch and cold drinks:
Sierra Drifters War Wagon

The "War Wagon"


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my style, or lack of…

It hit me shortly after convincing my wife that the latest issue of Fly Fisherman magazine did not include a centerfold of cover fly gal April Vokey. While I sheepishly adamantly pointed out that I subscribe for the articles…my proof being an article by Greg Vinci about Hot Creek, where I wet line nearly every summer…I couldn’t help but wonder if I should try to look half as good one tenth as good on the water as Ms. Vokey.

April Vokey, FF Mag. April-May 2011

Fly Fishing Magazine, April-May 2011 Issue

Dismissing my inevitable hat hair and rather ordinary face, it occurred to me that maybe, to paraphrase Mark Twain: “Clothes make the man. Naked people look silly fly fishing, and don’t catch much.” Goaded by ads from Simms, patagonia and Orvis peppering the pages of Fly Fisherman, out of that initial notion surfaced the thought that beyond basic fishing equipment such as rod, reel, line, flies, etc., and waders and boots that afford some comfort and safety, stylish apparel not only looks better, it’s necessary.

Back when I used to chuck spinners it used to be okay to throw on an old t-shirt (maybe spring for a spiffier look with a collared polo), slip on old shorts that couldn’t look any worse with another hole, and jump into sneakers so worn that water easily drains away. It certainly was fishing apparel on a budget. Not long ago I spent a few hundred dollars on my first big-name rod and reel, but couldn’t crack the wallet to pull out eighty more dollars for a super-light, all-recycled polyester/organic cotton blend long-sleeve shirt with UPF 30 sun protection. Granted, this shirt also offers rod holder loops, vents for air circulation and pockets for fly boxes, but long-held priorities are hard to shake. After all, I built my wading staff with a dowel, a bicycle grip and cane foot for a grand total of six dollars. (Tom Chandler over at The Trout Underground recommends other just as cheap military-style accessories.)

For me, apparel has always been about comfort because I started fishing during camping trips in the Sierra Nevada high country, and much of the fishing back then took place during long hikes. Cool mornings would give way to searing sunshine until afternoon thunderstorms clouded the skies. Layering was a necessity.

If I weren’t such a cheap son of a gun believed everything fly fishing apparel retailers have to say, a simple cool weather “layering system” — composed of a long-sleeve crewneck undershirt, the aforementioned long-sleeve shirt, base layer bottoms, fleece-lined underwader pants and quarter-zip fleece jacket — would set me back over four hundred dollars.

But, for the most part, my fly fishing apparel has been all about alternatives and the belief that trout really don’t care that much. Once I learned that I was supposed to wear something underneath my waders, I found that inexpensive fleece lounge pants from my local Costco fit the bill. Being made of synthetic fibers they wick away perspiration and remain breathable and comfortable all day. Hiking socks work just as well. A shabby Old Navy fleece pullover offers warmth on cooler days and, again because it’s synthetic, the sleeves dry quickly after a dip into the water to release fish.

I have grudgingly made some concessions. I did pick up a wading jacket for rain protection, but it also serves well to block those late afternoon downslope winds in the Eastern Sierra, or during those early morning boat runs when fishing lakes. I will admit that the few fly fishing-specific shirts in my collection were worth the investment (though all were on sale or gifts), offering a bit more room for my often inelegant casting.

In the end, I made a few decisions related my fly fishing garb.

“Grip and grin” photos will only be taken when the fish is large enough or colorful enough to draw attention away from me and my attire. Otherwise, it’ll be only close ups of hand-held fish or their unapproving eye.

Or, perhaps, I’ll just have to hire better-looking guides to hold my fish.

Don’t tell the wife.

Update: Get another, more realistic take on on-stream style over at the Unaccomplished Angler…


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Mother Nature wins, but it’s okay (and accumulatingmy 15 minutes of fame, a few seconds at a time)

The thought last weekend was to get away for a rare five-day retreat, spending some time at the family cabin, entertaining ourselves with visits to wineries in nearby Murphys, squeezing in a bit of fly fishing on one of the few open rivers in the Sierra foothills and generally stepping away — far away — from the everyday.

We had enjoyed three weeks of spring-like weather prior to our departure, but the moment we publicly announced our plans, Mother Nature decided she knew better.

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A better use of snow.

The drive that got us up to Hwy 108 was easy enough, with stops along the way for lunch and gwaking at Bass Pro. It was after the last stop at Covers Apple Ranch that Mrs. Nature gave us fair warning with steady snowfall as we wound the seven miles to the eastern (and higher) edge of Twain Harte. By the time we reached town, the inches of snow that frosted the familiar with a fresh coat of newness also dictated extreme caution.

While I don’t mind clearing the white stuff to pull into the driveway or the nearly two feet of snow that that muffled and covered the world outside the next morning; I didn’t like the resulting power outage, the excavation of that 60-foot driveway a second and third time, and the increased release of water in the only nearby and fishable tailwater. Though we were thankful for the propane-fired heater, stove and water heater, the lack of power for 48-plus hours wasn’t fun. It was dark by 6:00 p.m. and it’s difficult to read, much less tie flies, by candlelight. Fishing was out of the question the next day as flows on the Stanislaus rose in 40 hours from less than 250 cfs to nearly 1,100 cfs.

We surrendered about 42 hours after our arrival. In that time I learned the value of a snow blower after shoveling the driveway three times, clearing an estimated accumulation of four feet of snow. (My arms agreed with rusty mathematics that suggested I moved over 1,900 cubic feet of the stuff.) Proving that Mother Nature maintains a healthy sense of irony, we were greeted by blue skies just as that last of the gear was packed into the car.

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Mother Nature, The Joker. The skies cleared after nearly four feet of snow snuffed out
the power and we went about departure preparations. (More photos below.)

However, we both enjoyed being in a winter wonderland for a while, spending one afternoon tucked into The Rock resaurant with a good draught of Smithwicks ale, a few appetizers and a cozy view of dime-sized flakes floating to earth. I personally enjoyed introducing The Wife, for the first time in her life, to real, heavy snowfall. We also learned that the Prius can do well enough in the snow.

I don’t begrudge Mother Nature for cutting our trip short with piles of snow; it’s the resulting runoff that’ll keep the trout happy and make for excellent Sierra fishing in the late summer and fall.

A Few More Seconds of Fame

It’s nice to know that Orvis Fly Fishing Guide Podcast host Tom Rosenbauer thought enough of my comment on Facebook to mention it in his latest podcast. If you’d care to listen, you only have to wait until about 1:30 into the podcast.
[audio:http://media.libsyn.com/media/orvisffguide/15_tips_on_Sight_fishing_for_Stripers.mp3|titles=Orvis Podcast-2/22/2011]

I responded to Mr. Rosenbauer’s podcast of a week ago, “Gear Maintenance in the Off-Season and Ten Tips for the Aging Angler,” with a personal anecdote that there are indeed exercises that could help the aging angler. Though I have yet to be officially recognized for my longevity, a gym membership put to good use during the last year or so seems to have improved my balance during wading, something I attribute to core exercises, namely crunches, bridge, planks and rotational movements.

Admittedly, as a generally lazy meditative lot, exercise may be foreign to most fly fishermen, and the most widely practiced workout is casting, which coincidently builds up muscles used to also hoist a beer or scotch.

More of what we saw during our shortened stay at The Cabin last weekend:
[nggallery id=77]


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dropping the blogging ball

To the chagrin of some folks I’m not retiring like other bloggers we know, but I am “dropping the ball” this week to spend a little time in the Sierra foothills. It comes down to simple logistics. The family cabin is truly that; a few rooms insulated only by a couple of inches of siding, a simple affair with no connection to the Internet.

That’s not to say it’ll be time away from the everyday without sacrifice. There is a plan afoot to fit in some fly fishing — regardless of weather forecasts that include snow at elevations not too far from where we’ll be chasing wild trout.

I won’t jinx this unusual winter trip with any details, except to say that even The Wife has taken notice of my itch to fish and freely volunteered that I might visit one of the few open western Sierra foothill rivers. Maybe the feverish tying of flies and a continuous parade of fly fishing television shows gave me away.

It’s been more than a year since I’ve tested this tailwater. For the most part, I’ll be going subsurface, mainly through riffles and tailouts. Though this time of year it’s the more imaginative fly fishing technique nymphing that’s more effective bringing up the fish, with some luck late afternoon might include a decent blue-winged olive mayfly hatch.

To anticipate one question; no, I won’t be taking the new rod. Even it were fished, there be steelhead in this river and the one fish that broke me off in 2009 suggests that it’s better to carry a rod with a little more backbone.

Hopefully, I’ll be back with more than a tale of a riverside hike.