2016 Sierra Adventure: Lee Vining Creek, Upper Owens River and Hot Creek

This is going to be a short post because I didn't catch very much. In fact, the only picture I have is one of a trout flopping back to freedom.

The fish got away while my sister was taking the photo.

Lee Vining is the first river you encounter once you exit the East entrance of Yosemite national park. After taking Poole Power Plant Road you happen upon Manzanita campground.

There are two situations: the river has been stocked or it has not been stocked. If the river has been stocked, prepare yourself for awesome fishing with trout in the 12-14 inch range.

If the river has not been stocked things are a lot tougher since the fishable area is small, and there aren't many places to hide. I managed to catch two trout on salmon eggs and a split shot, but fishing was difficult. In any case, Lee Vining is a good place to stop by, and the nearby town holds Niceley's restaurant, which serves amazing fried chicken.

I also visited Hot Creek and Upper Owens River, supposedly one of the best fly fishing sections in the world. Unfortunately, all I can say is that late July is not the time to visit these rivers.

Both are shallow and meander slowly along through meadows and canyons. Both are choked with weeds by late July, making fishing difficult. Also, they are especially windy in the evening.

I fished at Brown's Owens River Campground, where the steam was only 10-15 feet wide. Perhaps I was fishing at the wrong place. If you guys know where to go, then let me know in the comments.

In any case it was nice to have the opportunity to fish these esteemed rivers, but it would have been nicer to catch a fish.

A panorama of the Upper Owens River. 

Equipment and Catch Summary

• Three-weight Reddington Classic Trout fly rod with 6x leader 
• #8 Woolly Bugger 
• #20 Parachute Adams
• 2 trout; afternoon (salmon eggs) at Lee Vining

Total: 2 trout

Trip total: 41 trout

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2016 Sierra Adventure: May Lake

May Lake, located in Yosemite High Country, offers large, plentiful brook trout in addition to stunning vistas and easy access. It is a must-fish, particularly for novice anglers looking to score some easy trout.

May Lake is small, not usually mentioned in most fishing books or guides of Yosemite National Park. However, it offers consistently excellent fishing at all times of day, which makes it low amount of fishing pressure baffling.

There is a 1.2 mile hike to the lake from the parking lot, which is steep and dusty. This alone discourages many families from hiking up. Those that do usually forgo fishing equipment and instead opt to bring a camera or swimming gear up to the lake.

Upon reaching the small lake there is a granite cliff that extends into the water on the left side. This area is your best bet during the morning and afternoons, as the cliff allows easy access to a steep drop off populated with what seems like hundreds of fish.

My 11-year-old sister and I managed to catch six trout in under an hour with white Power Eggs during the middle of the day. However, you have to use an extremely long leader to avoid the weeds that line the bottom of the lake. I fished a standard sliding egg sinker rig with a 3-4 foot long leader. The longer you can make the leader, the more success you will have.

A mid-sized brook trout caught on the fly rod. 

The lake changes in the evening, and the fisherman has to change with it. The fish rise off the bottom and begin feeding off the plentiful bugs on the surface, meaning that the sliding egg sinker stops working.

Small flies become the things to use. I used a #20 Parachute Adams and by casting directly to the hungry fish, was able to catch the three biggest trout of the trip during this time. Kastmasters are occasionally effective, but you have a better chance if you use a fly rod, or even a fly/bubble combination.

You'll notice the fish here are larger than the average high-sierra trout, in the 10-12 inch class on average. This is in part due to the huge amount of insects, which include mosquitoes. If you choose not to bring insect repellent, be sure to cover every inch of exposed skin with mosquito netting or long sleeves. During evening the mosquitoes are relentless, and can ruin an otherwise pleasant fishing expedition.

May Lake is one of Yosemite's gems, boasting gorgeous views in addition to great fishing in a unique setting. Stop by with a fly rod in the evening or a spinning rod in the afternoon, and see it for yourself.

Equipment and Catch Summary

• Eagle Claw telescopic spinning rod spooled with four-pound test
• Sliding egg sinker rig (egg sinker, swivel and #8 baitholder hook)
• White Power Eggs
• Three-weight Reddington Classic Trout fly rod with 6x leader 

• 6 trout; afternoon (white Power Eggs)
• 3 trout; evening (#20 Parachute Adams)
• 7 trout (4 = Kai Oda, 3 = Craig Oda); morning (white Power Eggs)

Location Total: 16 trout

Trip total: 39 trout

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2016 Sierra Adventure: Tuolumne River

July 22, 2016 - July 23, 2016

Tuolumne River is difficult to pronounce, but a great place to catch wild trout in the 6 to 10-inch class. Located within the highly trafficked Yosemite National Park, parts of this river are very heavily fished, yet still provide abundant numbers of trout to the crafty angler. 

The river is about 40 miles from Yosemite's West entrance (one hour), and situated at a breath-taking (literally) 9,000 feet. Food is scarce at this high altitude, leading to smaller trout. 

If you've ever driven through Yosemite High Country, you have most likely passed Tuolumne Meadows. A campsite, small grille and wilderness permit station parallels Tioga Road, and the Tuolumne River runs through it all, complete with a large concrete bridge that allows interested onlookers to peer down at the numerous trout below. 

Unfortunately, this part of the river is heavily fished, and it can be extremely difficult to catch fish here, especially during the middle of the day. 

However, by using a combination of dry flies (Parchute Adams) and streamers (Crystal Flash Woolly Bugger), my dad and I were able to catch nine trout below the bridge. 

The Lyell Fork in the morning

But if you really want the best shot at catching trout, I recommend visiting the river in the evening. The mosquitoes are especially vicious at this time, but so are the trout. Fishing small dry files such as a Parachute Adams or Mosquito will almost certainly produce fish. 

I took my car and drove about two miles upstream from the Tuolumne campgrounds to the Dana Fork (There are two forks: the Dana Fork and Lyell Fork that converge at the bridge). Here, the river is more narrow, about 10 feet wide, and pours from pool to pool at great speeds. You might be tempted to use sub-surface nymphs or salmon eggs. If you come here in the evening, just stick to the dry flies. 

Six of my fish came on dry flies in 30 minutes while I only caught one trout with the Woolly Bugger in an hour-and-a-half. After driving back I caught another trout at the bridge. 

In the morning I hiked 1.25 miles from the campgrounds to the Lyell Fork, where the John Muir Trail and the Pacific Crest Trail converge. The river was about 25 feet wide, and slowly flowed across a sand bottom. The trout were concentrated underneath the banks, and the Parachute Adams was largely ineffective. I caught two trout using the fly like a nymph, and pulling it through the few deep pools.

All in all, the Dana Fork provides fast, dry fly action, the Lyell Fork caters to nymphs and streamers pulled near the banks and the Bridge provides easy access and fair-good dry fly fishing. 

Equipment and Catch Summary

• 3-weight Reddington Classic Trout fly rod
• 6x leader
• Kai: 7 trout at Bridge; afternoon (#20 Parachute Adams)
• 7 trout at Dana Fork; evening (#8-10 Woolly Bugger and Parachute Adams) + 1 trout at Bridge (Parachute Adams)
• 2 trout at Lyell Fork; early morning (Parachute Adams)

• Dad: 2 trout at Bridge; afternoon (#20 Parachute Adams, Woolly Bugger)
• 4 trout at Bridge; evening (#22 Mosquito, Parachute Adams)

Location Total: 23 trout
Trip Total: 23 trout

A small rainbow out of the Dana Fork

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Bass Fishing at Foothills Park

For the duration of this blog I've kept my bass fishing techniques a secret. Boronda Lake, a small pond within Foothills park, is only accessible to Palo Alto residents. Granted, the gate is usually only staffed on weekends so you could probably drive right in during the weekdays if you are willing to take the risk.

Boronda Lake has mediocre bass and sunfish fishing, but both species are mere apparitions during bright, sunny afternoons. The lake is only eight feet deep at the deepest point, meaning that heavy weed growth and warm temperatures make it difficult to catch both bass and sunfish.

To make matters worse the lake is hit hard by many skilled fisherman, and this has made the bass that reside in this pond quite wary. The entirety of this small pond can be fished in 45 minutes.

July 24, 2016: Caught five bass (released)

To give myself an edge over other fisherman I fish in a float tube and cast a six-inch Roboworm to back of the tules an hour before the park closes. The fish become much more active during this time, and my dad has even managed to catch a plethora of bass on a round black popper.

I have also found that trolling a Roboworm at the edge of weed lines in the morning can trigger a strike. The key is to constantly check that your worm is at the edge of the weed bed — right before it drops off into deeper water.

In terms of tackle I use:

• #1 Baitholder hook (barbless)
• Six-inch Roboworm (weightless)
• Spinning Rod spooled with 12-pound monofilament

Because the lake is so small I must advise catch and release to preserve the population of bass.

I've fished at Boronda for 12 years (since I was five), and I've caught some of the biggest bass of my life here. While not the best or biggest bass lake, it can certainly turn out the occasional surprise for the persistent angler.

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Carp Fishing in Drainage Canals

I have long lamented the lack of quality fishing close to my house, but in the past few weeks I have come to realize a plethora of large carp that reside in a drainage canal behind my house.

The canal is named Matadero "Creek", and is essentially an avenue for excess storm water in Palo Alto. Because the the creek feeds into San Francisco Bay, it is subject to the ebb and flow of the ocean tides.

The banks of the canal are steep, and made out of pavement — limiting access and making it difficult to cast. Additionally the carp are only present during certain tides, when water levels allow the carp to move into the upper reaches of the stream to feed. 

I have found sporadic success with a six-weight fly rod, 6-pound test and a #4 crayfish fly. The fly is a very dark red, and composed more of plastic than of feathers. If I ever find where I bought it from I'll post a link. 

The trick is to visit the creek often and scan for fish. If fish are present a well-placed fly will almost certainly result in a hit. If the fish don't hit within the first 10 minutes, the chance of getting a carp to hit are greatly diminished. 

Landing the carp is extremely difficult, since the steep concrete banks coupled with the size of these fish make it near impossible to land the fish without a net. The logical solution? Bring a net with a long handle. 

Finally, if you ever land these mighty fish I would advise catch and release. From an ethical standpoint it is always better to release fish so that others have an opportunity to share in the excitement. From a health-oriented perspective it is probably unsafe to eat the carp. They feed off the sediment at the bottom of the creek, accumulating parasites and toxins over their long lifespans. 

So locate the nearest drainage canal and start fishing!

My biggest carp from the stream (I think I was 13)

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Lingcod Fishing in Half Moon Bay

Giant lingcod, threatening whales and an old friend are subjects of this post. Blood and heartbreak are prevalent themes. Still interested? Then read on.

As the 21-foot Boston Whaler crested sharply down the backside of the wave, I tried to quell a rising sense of vulnerability. Unfortunately, the size of the vessel was the least of my worries. The GPS computer on the boat would turn on and off, leaving us stranded in the middle of the ocean, praying for the computer to reconnect. Pervasive fog surrounded the boat on all sides, giving a sense of isolation. However, these factors only added to the building excitement as the boat neared the GPS coordinate named “lingcod_2”.

But how did I end up on that small boat in the middle of the ocean? I was contacted the day before the trip by an old friend named Francisco. You can check out my other adventures with him here: Rockfish, Lingcod, and Crab abound at the Farallon Islands, Rock-Fishing Cruise: The Farallon Islands, Fishing for Rockfish off the coast. The bottom line is that Francisco helped me foster my passion for fishing during my youth, and is one of the most influential people in my life. So when he invited me fishing for the first time in nearly two years I jumped at the chance. Never mind that it was only with two other people I had never met before in an area that I had never gone out in. I was just excited for the chance to go fishing again.

Back on the boat I dropped my double shrimp fly rig down to the bottom of the ocean. Seconds later, a fish began dancing on the end of my light bass pole. After reeling up through 150 feet of water, I was greeted with two healthy yellows. Placing the smaller one on the top hook I dropped the poor fish down to his inevitable doom. Hopefully, that yellow was going to catch me a lingcod.

The 13 pound lingcod

In hindsight this was a terrible idea. I had 170 feet of line on my bass pole and I was dropping it into 150-155 feet of water with a live yellow rockfish on my hook. But when the tip of the light rod was pulled sharply towards the water I instantly realized my mistake. The lingcod pulled out twenty feet of line before I was able to stop it. I watched in horror at the knot where the braid attached to the metal spool of my reel. With my rod between my legs, left hand gripping the line and right hand cranking furiously I was able to recover zero feet of line. So began the stalemate where neither boy nor lingcod was willing to give an inch. Luckily for me, the lingcod gave in first. After a grueling battle that literally spanned the depth of the ocean, the lingcod was within sight. The net scooped down, the head entered the mesh and seconds later a thirteen pound ling was flopping helplessly on the deck.

The twelve lingcod

Up until this point I had only caught three lingcod in my entire life. Francisco congratulated me as I shakily traded in my bass rod for a heavier blank and a reel with more line capacity. The same shrimp fly rig was attached and another live yellow rockfish was placed onto the top hook. Down went the poor fellow. A couple minutes later the rod was bent over double again.

And once again I had another lingcod at my feet. As I reached behind the gill to pick it up the lingcod thrashed, raking the gill plate across my fingers. Blood instantly welled up across the thin but deep cuts. Pulling on gloves I simply placed it into the fishbox. Putting another rockfish on the line, I dropped the rig down again. And once again I had another lingcod on within a few minutes.

By the time the third lingcod hit the deck, Francisco and his friends were beginning to figure out that live bait was working well. After a quick redistribution of the bait we were all fishing rockfish, and all getting hits. Unfortunately the lingcod were hitchhiking off the rockfish. This meant that they were not actually hooked, and instead were holding onto the back of the rockfish with their razor sharp teeth and refusing to let go. But when they saw the surface they often got scared, releasing their prey and darting back into the azure depths. Luckily for me, I seemed to be getting the lingcod on the trailer hook, giving me a higher catch rate. Eventually Francisco caught three, while his friends caught three total. Believe it or not I caught six lingcod all over 25 inches during the trip. After we limited out on lings we made a couple of drifts, picking up a rockfish or two on every pass. After four hours of fishing, we decided to call it a day and head back.

We ended the day with around 37 rockfish and 12 hefty lingcod. This trip to Half Moon Bay turned out to be the best fishing in my life.

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Yellowstone Fishing

The Old Faithful Geyser 

As I trudge through the calf deep mud and bison excrement, I hold my fly rod high above the muck with one hand. With the other I thumb the orange safety clip of my bear spray, listening for a rustle or a growl to warn me of an imminent attack. As I approach the river, a cloud of steam obscures the surface. Then, a sudden gust of wind lifts the steam and I see a dozen of twelve-inch trout sipping insects beneath the surface of the water. Wait.... Bison excrement, bear spray and crystal clear water full of trout? Where am I?!

Well, I took a trip Yellowstone National Park with my family. And the river I am about to fish is the famed Firehole River, one of the most prestigious dry-fly rivers in the world. Complete with underground hot springs and abundant insect hatches, trout grow fast here. But can I catch these wary fish after nearly a year since my last fly-fishing excursion?

Back at the river I slide onto my knees and instantly feel the moisture from the grass seep through the water-resistant pants. Holding the rod low to the ground I inch my way towards the river bank. I can see the trout swirling, flashing and darting just under the water’s surface. Unhooking my caddis dry fly, I make a sloppy cast towards the head of a slow-moving pool. The fish are not impressed with my presentation and swim away. Frustrated, but not discouraged I move down to another slot.

Here the water is faster, and the trout hopefully less wary. After applying flotant, I cast my fly just beyond the fast moving water. It drifts into the flow and suddenly a large brown trout erupts out of the water in pursuit of the fly. I swing the rod and miss the hookset. Dang it….

A 13-inch brown trout

This scene repeats itself over and over. A perfectly placed cast results in a hit, but no fish. Finally, I find a pool where the water moves fast, but slowly enough where I can easily keep track of my fly. I cast, make a perfect drift and… BAM! It’s on! It jumps a good foot out of the air, writhing back and forth in fury, to no avail. I bring it to shore, snap a few pictures and release it back into the river.

I landed around 23 trout in four days but only two were rainbows

It is a special moment seeing your catch swim away towards its slot in the river. In Yellowstone, this moment is compounded by the natural beauty that surrounds you. And now, for the first time, I can experience it in isolation. This was the first trip where I was left alone. Not even my parents accompanied me on this journey. As a result of my age, they have decided to entrust me with new responsibility. So now my fishing experiences include just me, my fly and the fish dancing on the end of my line. And I have rarely been more happy.

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