TR (sorta) - Eastern Sierra

While Danl was beating himself up at the bottom of a narrow fissure in the
earth, my wife and I had a kinder, gentler weekend in mind. This wasn't
meant to be a hardcore fishing trip, but a couple of rods (OK, five of 'em)
did find their way into the back of the car. We left San Diego on Friday
evening and spent that night in the bustling metropolis of China Lake. Oh,
the things we'll do for trout.

Saturday morning saw us crawling up a southern sierra mountainside on a
twisty little road. The anticipation of goldens in their native range built
with each hairpin turn until we popped up on a high plateau that was covered
with scrubby pines. Snowcapped peaks were visible in the distance, and lush
meadows flew by the car's windows. We sped by the crowds that had
congregated at the better known spots, smug in the knowledge that we were
headed for a tiny creek that an e-acquaintance had told me about. We found
our little brook. Only two to six feet wide, the creek wound its way
through a broad, pine rimmed meadow. Half a mile upstream was another
fisherman, and nobody else. Perfect. The flow was very low, even this
early in the season, but I'm told that this is normal for the region. The
fish were plentiful but extremely spooky in the slow moving stream. A
crawling approach to the water was essential for success, and my "casting"
put down many fish...it scattered many more. We spent only a couple of
hours in the meadow, but what a time we had! The little goldens would hit
just about anything as long as it was well presented, so I mainly used flies
that I could see...#18 parachute adams and E/C caddis in the same size. I
managed to bring several of these little beauties to hand, the largest going
about 8 inches. Then it was back to the valley for the drive to Mammoth.

Check-in at the condo was about 4:00 pm, so we had time to drive up Rock
Creek to Mosquito Flats (yep...they're there). My wife decided to snooze in
the car, but I headed up the stream to see what it had to offer. I spent a
very happy hour or so casting a Royal Trude to some very hungry brookies.
Nothing big...heck, barely anything legal, but my trusty KPOS 3wt made them
seem larger than they really were. On my way back to the car I spotted a
huge (for this creek) brook trout holding behind a rock. The fish was
probably fourteen inches long, and I was determined to catch it. I dropped
to all fours and carefully worked my way into a position twenty feet
upstream. The whole process took maybe five minutes. As I was stripping
line off the reel for the cast, an unleashed dog came trotting down to the
water's edge and, amazingly, the fish didn't spook. Suspicious now, I
slowly rose to my feet to discover that my "trout" was nothing more than a
couple of rocks. Artistically arranged to be sure, but rocks nonetheless.
I laughed on my way back to the car, and we made it into Mammoth in time to
catch the end of the Lakers/Twolves game at Grumpy's..the only dark spot in
an otherwise perfect day. Sorry (or perhaps "you're welcome"), but I'll
stop now and finish this tomorrow.

Cheers,
Bill

Did I mention that the weather was absolutely perfect? High 60's during the
day and around 40 at night with no clouds...aaahhhhhh. We started from
Mammoth on Sunday morning for the road (120?) to Tioga Pass, and enjoyed the
stunning scenery along the ascent. I recently finished reading "Up and Down
California during 1860 to 1864," which details the adventures of the
California geological survey. How this team made it through some of these
passes with no established trails is simply beyond me (A good read BTW).
We paid our $20 at the gate and set off into the eastern part of Yosemite
NP. Five minutes later I was drooling at the river to our left, glimpses of
which were visible through the trees. Couldn't help it had to fish it
stopped and tried it worked it worked it w o r k e d i t nothing oh well
nice damned river anyhow. Onward.

Sensing that other opportunities might present themselves at any bend in the
road, I left the Che Pauss (pronounced KPOS) assembled and tucked under the
wiper blade of the Rav-4 (a neat trick that Danl showed me on the Owens).
At 55-60 mph and with some fairly aggressive driving, the darned thing
stayed in place...nice trick. The only real drawback was the deluge of
comments thrown my way by and endless cast of roadside comedians:
RC: Catch many squirrels with that rig? Hardy har har!
Me: Not much luck today, but I'm gonna tie up a bunch of deerhair acorns
tonight...maybe they'll be biting tomorrow. Aaarrrgghhh! For the
10th time!

Anyhow, the east side of Yosemite was well worth the trip...beautiful in
ways more subtle than the valley itself. Lotsa skeeters though. I tried
the Dana fork of the Tuolumne on the way out of the park...again...and had
nary a nibble. A "dry Reid" woke me up (no nettles to break my fall, hardy
har har), and I called it a day after about an hour. I had promised to put
my very understanding and non-FFing wife onto some fish by the end of the
day, and the lakes were full of stockers...how hard could it be? Stupid
question. The road to Saddlebag was still closed (!), so we settled on
Ellery Lake. This roadside lake at the pass gets HAMMERED, but it's heavily
stocked and I figured it was a sure thing. Falco was reluctant, but I
convinced her to try a few casts from the shore. Remember, she's a
spinfisher...cast reel reel reel...cast reel reel reel...cast reel reel
reel...zip. We tried this for about an hour before she surrendered. I
wanted to get her a fish...even a strike...so I pulled off the road near the
pass.

The creek here contained a nice little run that bounced off a cliff before
if plunged under the highway. Just screwing around I hooked a 13 inch
rainbow that lept three times before I brought it to hand. Falco came
running from the car. I had spotted another fish, and to her credit she
spent the next hour working the damned thing. I was spotting from a high
perch and telling her what her lure was doing, and she would cast
accordingly. The fish followed often, but never struck. Never got the
fish, but by the end of the hour I would have paid a bundle for a stick of
dynamite.

That's about it for the fishing. I left the rod on the windshield as a
pathetic display of my FFing ...well, prowess certainly isn't the
word...passion. Got home through the Vegas traffic and all is well. Until
next time...

Cheers,
Bill

OT: To any eastern Sierra travellers: The Still Life Cafe in Independence
could use your business. French-North African food in the Owens Valley is
worth saving...at least that's what my taste buds tell me. No affiliation,
BTW.

Bill Mason wrote:

On my way back to the car I spotted a
huge (for this creek) brook trout holding behind a rock. The fish was
probably fourteen inches long, and I was determined to catch it. I dropped
to all fours and carefully worked my way into a position twenty feet
upstream. The whole process took maybe five minutes. As I was stripping
line off the reel for the cast, an unleashed dog came trotting down to the
water's edge and, amazingly, the fish didn't spook. Suspicious now, I
slowly rose to my feet to discover that my "trout" was nothing more than a
couple of rocks.


I think we've all done that. It is embarrassing and gets more so the
longer you spend trying to catch the "fish."

Willi

"Bill Mason" wrote in message
...
Did I mention that the weather was absolutely perfect?

[snip great TR]

Cheers,
Bill


Thanks for report, Bill. I'm taking Cindy and my son up to that eastern
section of Yosemite in a couple of weeks. We plan on hiking up that fork of
the Toulemne for a few miles. Hopefully we can find a fish or two. The road
to Saddlebag should be open by then.

Danl