Del Valle Fishing Excursion

* I am trying to catch up on the many outings I've been on since last summer. Unfortunately, it's now more difficult to check my blog for things like spelling. Please bear with my occasional mistakes.

Del Valle at sunrise

The day is the twenty-second of November, and for me, it means trout time. Fly fishing in the azure waters of a high altitude mountain lake is very appealing, but bank fishing for trout is how I came to love fishing. Sitting on the gravel slope of a beautiful reservoir and starting at a fishing pole for a hint of movement  makes you feel like a hunter stalking prey. It's a wild-card experience that is both tense and exciting. So when winter swung around in the Bay Area, I was more than happy to grab my rod and head to a nearby lake. Which is exactly what my father and I did.

Three rainbow trout that we caught 

Because the trout season was still in it's infancy, my dad decided that taking a trip to Lake Del Valle would be a good bet. We've fished at that lake for three seasons, and just before the water freezes up for winter there is a window of opportunity in the fall where an avid trout fisherman can pull in triple limits of trout.  Plus Del Valle features a plethora of wildlife, including deer, giant turkey vultures, quail, various hawks, harmless tarantulas, two famous bald eagles, and of course fish. Overall, it's probably one of the nicest reservoirs in the bay area, therefore making it a must go for my dad and I.

Our car stopped at the front gate around 5:30 A.M. The air temperature was barely above freezing, and frost covered the ground in an icy sheet. Our poles were already rigged up and ready for action. After trekking through about a mile of frigid landscape we arrived at the Narrows. The Narrows are a point on the lake where the sides of the reservoir our very close together, and the water level drops off quickly. The result is that fish are constantly funneled through the area, and sometimes come onto the flats to feed. Our tackle consisted of a standard sliding egg sinker rig, with a leader of varying length. Instead of a standard bait-holder hooks, I made the decision to use #8 circle hooks. Circle hooks are utilized by salmon boats, and their strength is that the fisherman does not have to set the hook. The unique design causes the hook to slide into the side of the trout's mouth with minimal tension. Finally, the hooks were garnished with chartreuse power bait and cast into the lake.

Two rainbows that were landed in front of the parking lot

Waiting for a trout to bite is an experience like no other. You may have to wait for hours without a bite, and yet still remain utterly focused on your pole. It's a mentally exhausting task that tests your patience and determination. For two arduous hours I waited and waited, and waited some more. Six hours could have passed, and I still would have been frozen in the same position. But after two hours, my line began to shoot out. I was out of my chair and at the pole in seconds.

When a trout takes your bait it is sometimes hard to judge how big the fish is. But that wasn't a problem with this fish. As soon as I set the hook line poured off the reel in waves. I stared at my reel, dumbfounded as line peeled into the depths of the lake. Snapping my head back to the water, I realized I was hooked into a big fish. But just how big? That is the question that all fisherman ask themselves as they reel in their fish. They'll imagine a giant catch on the end of their line. And so caught up in their fantasy, they forget about reality, and the fish slips off the hook and back into the water. Reeling in a large fish requires discipline.

SPIDER!!!

Five minutes into the fight my forearms burn with exertion. The slim trout pole is doubled over and the monofilament line twangs with tension. It's a battle of endurance between me and the fish and I'm determined to win it. Finally my catch comes within netting range. I can't see it clearly but it's massive. And it's only after the fish is netted that I sense something different. See, trout are red, silver, and emerald. This fish is a mottled brown...... and then I see the whiskers and downturned mouth and I realize I've caught a catfish!

It may not be a trout, but its still a big fish, and I'm ecstatic. But after some thought I realize catfish require warm water, and trout are a cold water fish.  It's then I realize that the water where I am fishing at is several degrees above the ideal temperature for trout. So my dad and I pack up the catfish and hike back. By now its almost 10:00 A.M. and we're far from the first people to be at a spot so close to the parking lot. But we decide to cast in our poles anyway. And after only an hour, we have two rainbow trout on our stringer. Satisfied, we pack up our catch and head home in time for lunch. It's been an excellent day of fishing and we're all smiles as we return to the car.

The 7lb. catfish, landed on 4lb. test

I believe that every fishing trip teaches you a lesson that can be applied to daily life. Take the catfish for example. I was fishing at the wrong place, at the wrong time, for the wrong species, doing the wrong thing, and yet I still managed to land a seven-pound catfish. Even though the odds are against you, one can still overcome the many disadvantages with determination, patience and a little bit of luck. And the second lesson I learned from this fishing trip, is that you should put your effort in where it matters the most. Although catching the catfish was great, I wanted to catch rainbow trout. And because I caught the catfish, I knew I was in a location that was not likely to yield trout. So I moved spots, and because of that pulled in an additional two rainbow trout. It was a beautiful day, and I even saw some wild cows waking on the path. Even without the fish, I still would have had a great time. But of course, catching a couple for dinner always makes the experience better.

Results: Seven Pound Catfish
Two rainbow trout (about 14 in)
Tackle: Sliding Egg Sinker Rig, 18 inch leader, chartreuse power bait, #8 circle hook

Air Temperature: 45 degrees
Wind Condition: None

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Soquel Lagoon: Steelhead Survey!

Young of the Year steelhead

It has been quite some time since my last flurry of posts. For me, fall has historically been a lax time of the year for fishing. In central California, the water gets too cold during the fall for the bass to bite at Lake Boronda. Unfortunately, the water is also too warm to fish for trout in the East Bay. Many fisherman pursue rockfish and salmon during the fall months, but to fish for those species effectively you need to get on a boat. However, my Dad is highly susceptible to seasickness which means I'm landlocked for most of the year. But this weekend I had the pleasure of finding a steelhead survey group in a local river.
In addition to my hobby of fishing, my family also enjoys surfing. Many of the better breaks are in the Santa Cruz area, so every other weekend a trip is made to Capitola. On October 12, I was walking down to Capitola beach to check out the surf. As I made my way down the hill towards the beach, I caught a glimpse of Soquel Creek. I suddenly had a flashback to four years ago. I was standing on the bridge going over Soquel Lagoon, looking down into the turquoise water. The water was quite clear, and I could see the bottom, maybe six feet down? Suddenly a disturbance in the lagoon caught my eye, and I turned my gaze. There swimming out from under the bridge, was a giant fish. Nearly twenty-six inches in length, with a dark green back. I yelled for my parents to come see, but the sudden motion of my arms startled the fish, and it darted back under the bridge. At the time, I did not know that the fish was a steelhead. . For the past four years, I have been peering over the side of the same bridge, looking for the mysterious fish. Unfortunately I never saw another fish again in Soquel Creek.
In the present: I walk further down the hill, wondering if the fish I saw was the product of an overreactive imagination, after all I was just a kid. The beach is near, and I can see the bridge which spans over the width of Soquel Lagoon. I peer over the side as I have for the past four years, and I see something out of place. It isn't a fish though. On the side of the Soquel Creek, a bunch of people wearing waders set up a net across the width of the river. Intrigued, I jog down to talk to the people. After a few minutes of conversation, I learn that a mix of biologists, college interns, volunteers are working to sample the numbers of steelhead in Soquel Lagoon. At the word "steelhead" I become ecstatic. A couple of minutes of persuasion later I have convinced them to let me participate in the survey. Score!

Another juvenile steelhead

You may be wondering why I keep switching between Soquel Creek and Soquel Lagoon. See, in the summer the creek cuts across Capitola beach, and flows directly into the ocean. However, in the winter, the city of Capitola piles sand over the creek, damming it and forming a small lagoon. So depending on the time of year, the creek is referred to as Soquel Creek, or Soquel Lagoon. It creates a very interesting ecological habitat for marine life. Right now the the creek is in it's lagoon phase.
Our group makes it's way down to the opposite side of the lagoon. As we amble along, the head biologist gives us a quick orientation of the lagoon. "In the summer, adult steelhead make their way up Soquel creek. They spawn, then return to the ocean. When the fry hatch, the creek has been closed up, and they are forced to remain in the lagoon. There the Young-of-the-Year (YOY) grow until the creek is reopened in the summer. Survival rates of smolts in lagoons are higher because the steelhead grow bigger before leaving for the ocean."    Sounds cool, but all I want to do is pull the net across the lagoon.

Pulling the net across the lagoon

Two groups of volunteers pull the one-hundred foot net across the lagoon. It's a long and arduous process that kills the lower back. But as the net nears the shore, the volunteers crane their necks, trying to get a glimpse of the steelhead. Visions of a net chock-full with steelhead pop into our heads. We pull the net up onto shore, and see....
Thousands of sticklebacks and giant clumps of weeds. Sticklebacks are three-inch long fish with a single spine in the dorsal fin. They have fins, but their not what we want to catch. But as the net is drawn in more, I glimpse the flash of something bigger at the back of the net. Hand nets and aerated buckets are readied. I hold a hand net over the larger draw-net and wait for a steelhead to be placed inside. One of the biologists reaches into the mess of weeds, and pulls out a twelve-inch steelhead-trout. To me, it's like the biggest fish I have ever seen. Finally, my childhood suspicions have been confirmed. There are steelhead in Soquel Creek.
But how many? That is the point of the survey. Now that my initial thirst for knowledge has been quenched, I ponder how many steelhead there are in the lagoon. I decide to stick out the entire data collection process. The hours fly by and draw nets are set and pulled in. The sun rises to it's peak and beats mercilessly down onto out backs and shoulders. My skin has been tanned and toughened by many years in the sun, but I can see painful sunburns on many faces. But we all endure the elements for the results. Finally we are done with the data collection. Our weary group of volunteers makes it way over to the steelhead holding pen, where the fish we had been collecting for the past few hours reside. The biologists began to pull out the steelhead one by one: measuring each fish, taking it's weight, checking for tags, and collecting a small scale sample. For almost three hours of work, the group managed to net thirty-nine steelhead, averaging nine to twelve inches in length.

Collecting a scale sample from the steelhead

The steelhead I collected were not the twenty-six inch fish I saw in the creek four years ago, but to me the experience was just as rewarding. Working with others that appreciate nature as much as I do was an delightful experience to me. I found it comforting that so many volunteers laid down time in their daily lives, to expend their vast quantities of energy to preserve the outdoor world in which we coexist with. The volunteer group was a fortunate find, and I intend to return to Soquel Creek next year.

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