Old School

Bluegill and PBR go together like summertime and lemonade.

Headed out to LMV with Brett for a simple time out on the lake.  I fished conventional gear for a change.  My decision to fish gear was to see how it stacked up to the fly, and also to reminisce on my old days of fishing gear.  Today I was fishing with my Okuma SST UL with a 3" triple ripple purple jig (which proved to be deadly).  Brett was using a two piece BPS Micro-lite pack rod that I used to use for backpacking. Half of this rod is now at the bottom of the marketplace cove.  Rest in pieces.

We launched the boat around 2:45pm and headed to the south coves where I have been getting big strikes recently.   Right off the bat I got a juvenile bass on a 1" watermelon seed squirming jig.  Brett was having some difficulty casting the light jig and we had to cut the bird's nest and re-rig.  The wind was hitting hard and we took refuge in the marketplace cove where it is typically calm.  Within a few casts I hear a "plop" about 20' from the boat.  It couldn't have been the 1/32oz jig head that made that sound? I looked at Brett's line and noticed that the jig broke off at the knot and I followed the line back to the rod and noticed that the tip section was now gone?! I shrugged it off and helped him rig the rod with a heavier jig so it would at least cast for the remainder of the day.  I continued fishing the 1" jig and picked up several bluegill slightly larger than my hand. 

The wind had calmed and we returned to the south side of the lake.  I tied on the 3" triple ripple and began slaying the bass.  Most were typical trout sized bass, however more than a few were 3lb+ bass that all came unglued... including a monster bluegill that swam faster than I could retrieve slack line. I definitely caught more bass and larger bass on the jig versus fly.  Brett connected with a really nice bass that looked like a solid 3-4lber.  The 4lb line failed at the knot and it would have been a nice catch.  It was a fun day fishing gear for a change and eating hot wings at Oggi's.  Just like the old days.

The Mighty Kern River?

On a whim, I decided to head to the Kern River.  Left at 3:00am and drove on a lonely highway for three hours until the morning light began to break over the ridge of the southern Sierra.  I wanted to beat the afternoon inner tube and kayak hatch and my plan was to arrive at first light. 

I was on the Kern slightly after 6:00am and only a few bait fisherman were camped along the banks.  No other fly fisherman was within my sight and the water was boiling with trout feeding on the emerging midge hatch.  I tied some size 18 RS2 PMD emergers the night before, however the trout were selective and rejected the pattern.  I had a few size 22 RS2 emergers in my box that began getting takes from the picky trout. 

Between 7-8:00am I began to notice a caddis hatch and the trout began jumping.  I tied on a size 12 Stimulator with a size 22 emerger as the dropper.  I was quickly getting into some feisty trout and even some small Chinook salmon!  The salmon were small but fought like gladiators.  It seemed that I was fighting at least a 14" trout and I was shocked to see a 8-9" salmon fighting with all its heart. 

Juvenile Chinook Salmon

Average Kern River Rainbow

I had several cookie cutter Kern river rainbow's take both fly patterns and they all fought much harder than I would have expected.  I lost two trout that seemed to be within the 16-18" class however it was a reward just to have my moment with them.  Erika diligently fought what seemed like a good sized trout, however it came unglued when she described that it was head shaking like a bull dog. 

By 9:30am the sun was baking the river and the fish became tight lipped and probably moved into deeper runs.  I didn't feel like nymping so we decided to get early lunch and hit the lower Kern for small-mouth bass.  I fished with a size 10 mercer's crayfish on the lower with no results... Kayak's were beginning to launch nearby and it was my que to hit the road.

Overall, the upper Kern was running low and warm.  The dry fly hatch seemed to be prime between 6:30am-7:30am.  A fly angler has to really work hard to catch fish on this river right now.  I probably wont be back anytime soon...
 

The Wall

I was fortunate to join Fito and Angelica on a day out to the long beach break wall.  It has been a few decades since I have last fished the ocean from a boat. The tide was supposed to peak around noon and I was excited to search for local bay bass with a fly rod.  Erika came along and everyone else fished conventional gear.  Angelica was the first to hook up with a fish on sabiki.  It was a pretty fish that looks related to perch, the colors are reminiscent of blue-gill.  We fished the inner wall and I was casting my fly along the kelp beds, trying my best to allow my clouser minnow to sink.  It seems that I have hit the "wall" in terms of fly tackle since my T3 outbound sink tip takes an outrageous time to sink.  The fish were holding deep despite the rising tide and my fly was only holding in the upper water column despite all my efforts.  It is time I upgrade to a T6 sinking line.

Opaleye Perch? 

We briefly fished the outer wall and became interfered with a constant onslaught of wakes created by a jet ski tournament.  Since the fishing seemed to be slow along the wall, we decided to head back into the bay and I hoped that I could get a few bay bass around the docks.  Fishing the bay was comparable to LMV and I used the same stripping and sinking techniques for LMB.  Erika hooked up with a few fish on sabiki's and I stuck to my guns and persistently fished with the fly rod.  While, I admit that fly rods are not the most efficient tool for catching fish in the ocean, the challenge of it is still alluring to me.

Even the bay was fishing slow.

 Fito invited me to go back out on his boat in the next week or two.  I will most likely put my uncles old Daiwa SS4000 reel to use and fish for larger game in the open ocean in search for yellow tail and pacific barracuda.  My uncle would be proud.

Fito bringing her in. 

Home

Originally, I had intentions to explore the south fork of the Kern river in search for large brown trout this weekend.  It has been a few years since I have fished the south fork  and I remember monstrosities that lived within.  Reading that the water level is frighteningly low throughout most of the south fork, I decided to abandon that adventure for another year.  My most recent fascination has been focused on the Trinity, for my longtime quest for Steelhead Trout and Chinook Salmon.  Being from southern California, it is difficult to find the time or finances to pursue a proper steelhead adventure.  Instead, I get to quench my thirst for fly fishing on some beautiful local creeks.  Always in search for that hidden giant.

The water level was low for the most part.  These boulders were nearly submerged not long ago.

 

 

Overall, the fishing was challenging.  Since the water was shallow, the fish were on edge and spooked easily.   Approaching the water had to be careful and a gentle fly presentation was demanded from these fish.  I managed two brown trout, one was a juvenile and the other was mature and had the signature markings and color of a quality brown trout.  All fish were caught on dry flies and released.

A forest of conifers, consisting of Big-cone Spruce, Sugar Pine, and White Fir.

We took the ski-lift up to the mt baldy notch for our sunset dinner reservations.  This is the first time I have seen this area of the mountain devoid of snow.  This is my favorite local mountain to snowboard after a massive snow storm.

Colorful lichen and a gnarled root decorate this rock ledge.

Halfway to the top.  Its about a 20min ride one way.

Blazing star at the baldy notch with a pollinator.

We ended the day with a few cold one's and a nice steak dinner at the baldy notch.  The enchanting tunes of Hawaiian music set a relaxing mood and as far as I knew, I was thousands of miles from home.  

sun setting at the notch.

Thunder and Lightning

High Sierra thunderstorm moving in.

Reports of monster browns and mutant brook trout in the high Sierra lakes has lingered in my mind for quite some time.   With the temperature rising into the triple digits in the Inland Valley, I could only imagine that the temperature in the high Sierra would be pleasant.  Without much hesitation, I grabbed my four-weight and a handful of flies for a weekend of high adventure.

Wildflowers along a seep

Ranger's Buttons

Monkshood

Pride of the Mountain with eroding foxtail pine

The trail into the high country was sprinkled with colorful wildflowers that seemed to welcome me like old friends.  Names like Monkshood, Ranger's Buttons, and Pride of the Mountain muttered from my lips as I walked past them.  Gnarly old Foxtail pines had retired on life and dropped their ancient limbs to decorate the otherwise barren and eroded mountainsides.  Life is born where the only organic matter is decomposed into the soil where these old limbs have fallen, and wild flowers come alive with vibrant colors.

As I hiked the trail into the upper lakes, Erika and I fished a few sections of the creek.  Most of the creek was covered by willow and difficult to fish with a fly line.  However, the few exposed sections held more trout than it probably should support.  Brook trout and rainbow's were holding in every nook and cranny possible, and their eagerness to hit any dry fly was more than welcomed.  I am primarily a catch and release fly fisherman however when I am challenged with an overdose supply of otherwise invasive fish, I am more than happy to feast on nature's bounty. We collected about five pan sized brook and rainbow trout for lunch and hiked to our final destination.

Staircase to the upper lakes.

Brook trout seasoned with Alaskan potlatch..

Once we arrived to our camping destination, we quickly set up for lunch.  We cleaned the fish and pan fried it in olive oil with a simple seasoning that is typically used for cedar plank grilled salmon.  The brook trout were young and their meat was soft and buttery.  The skin and fins were thin and became crispy, making for some good eating.

We rigged our fly rods and headed up to the upper lake.  The sky was clear and the air was warm.  Why bring a rain jacket? I thought to myself...  Erika and I fished for a few hours slaying brook trout cast after cast.  I was using a Sierra Bright Dot and Griffith's gnat as my primary dry flies.  Some of the ant patterns were not attracting the trout as expected and their buoyancy was lost rather quickly.  Regardless, we must have caught nearly a hundred of these feisty brook trout.

After a few hours of fishing, the wind began to intensify and dark ominous clouds rolled past the mountain peaks.   A thunder clap cracked from the sky and water droplets gently landed on the surface of the lake and I watched thousands of tiny trout rise in symphony.  The air became chilled and my Simms paclite rainshell was conveniently stuffed in the bottom of my pack about a 1/4 mile away.  I have forgotten how quickly a Sierra storm can develop in the high country.  A flash of light reflected off the dark mirror of water in front of me and a crash of thunder shook the ground below me.  Thunder was cracking from the craggy granite spires above and prius sized stones began tumbling my way.  I stood in shock, not able to move or think.  A shout as loud as the thunder itself  came from across the lake.  My two options were to swim across the lake and potentially die from hypothermia or outrun the tumbling stones.  I decided not to become fish food and began rock hopping around the lake as fast as possible.  The air was thin and I was running out of breathe... I returned safely and decided to put the fly rod down for the day. Erika had reported a possible brown trout in the 30" range hunkered down near the shoreline.  She initially thought it was a log however she saw it move and it disappeared into the shadows of the lake.  While I was interested in pursuing it, my energy was gone and dehydration and a massive headache set in.  It was the first time that I walked away from such a challenge.

With a restless night of sleep and a long drive home, we opted not to fish the morning and we packed  and began our downward descent.  The hike down was relatively fast and we fished the creek along the way.  While we didn't catch our loch monster, it was fun in its own right to catch a seeming endless supply of brookies.  The high Sierra is just simply beautiful despite the thunder and lightning. 

There is a brook trout eating monster somewhere in there...

Unicorn Trout

A rare colored rainbow.  Even the pelvic fins were a rare translucent form.

Since exploring a new stretch of water in my local mountains this past weekend I've been captivated by a truly rainbow colored trout.  As I stood above a shallow run, my eyes were captured by colors of aquamarine and sapphire blue oscillating  in the hypnotic flow of the water.  Never have I seen such striking colors in our mountain creeks.  As Erika and Charles stood watch, I stealthy approached the trout from downstream.  With a blink of my eyes the trout had vanished... While many fine trout were caught this day, the unicorn trout haunted me all day and night.  I had to return.

It took me three attempts to hunt this trout and I finally made it rise to my size 12 orange legged stimulator.  What a fitting colored trout for the fourth of July! It was more spectacular than any firework display could offer me.  The trout shimmered in the clear water like a hologram as it slowly slithered out of my hand and back into the depths.  All I can say is that I left the creek that day with a big smile. 

A fine trout Erika caught all on her own.  Awesome job!

Small but beautiful.  Reminds me of the Kern River Rainbows.

One stout socal trout.

Erika working upstream.

My main bug.  The rocks were loaded with size 8 stone fly casings.

Delphinium cardinalis

  

Calochortus plummerae

 

 

 

 

Caddis larva. Approx. size 16-18.  The body is olive green with a black head.

I've had three days of glory on my local trout stream despite some unnecessary obstacles along the way... such as attempting to tow out a dug in truck about twice the size of mine... and nearly shattering my windshield for payment of my effort.  Happy Independence Day!