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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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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Braving the Cold at Del Valle and Shadow Cliffs

Del Valle sunrise

The Wind coming in at Shadow Cliffs

My dad and I have accompanied Chang throughout his entire fishing career. I was there when he caught his first fish, I netted his first bass, and instructed him on how to catch his first trout. Now the man has grown into a fine fisherman, and accompanies us on a few trout hunts every year.  As the sun climbed shakily over the surrounding grass covered hills three fisherman began hiking into the Narrows of Del Valle Reservoir. The air was a biting 28 degrees without wind chill and heavy frost covered the ground. Those three fisherman freezing on the wet banks of Del Valle Reservoir were me, my father, and our friend Chang. We were fishing a traditional sliding egg sinker rig with powerbait on the end. My dad had a bubble bobber rig and Kastmaster rigged up on a different pole. We were ready to catch three full limits of chunky rainbow trout.

A surprise largemouth bass at Shadow Cliffs

However, the fish and the weather had other thoughts. After two hours not one of us had a single bite. Trout fisherman know that this can be a typical day, so I settled into my chair, pulled up my hood and began to wait. Suddenly Chang made the day saving decision and demanded that we instead fish at Shadow Cliffs. Through consistent pressure from Chang, my dad and I reluctantly packed up our gear and headed for the car fishless.

My dad bundling up against the wind

The first thing I noticed when I got out of the car at Shadow Cliffs was the numbing temperature. Shivering I set up my rig and laid out my chair. Everyone around me was hunched inside their coats and talking about the one fish that had been caught over an hour ago. And then the wind began to pick up, with 20-30 mph gusts whipping through the canyon. The anglers around me began to shiver a little harder and their teeth began to chatter. Then the clouds came over the sun, plunging the temperature back down to the depressing temperature of 28 degrees. I began to lose feeling in my hands and feet even though I was wearing gloves and heavy boots. Hypothermia was causing my body to centralize blood around my core. Gritting my teeth I sunk deeper into my ski jacket. I still had no trout to show for my suffering. Six hours later people were leaving the lake with blue faces and no fish. Chang had long ago disappeared and my dad and I were the only ones left standing on the metal dock. Dead birds lined the shoreline and my stringer lay sadly in my bag. And then Chang sprinted onto the dock screaming about two trout that he had caught. My dad and I looked at each other.

The final reward

Thirty seconds later we had conquered an adjacent dock by pushing the other people to the side and setting up our poles in the middle. Since my dad had a two rod stamp, we cast a total of three pre-rigged poles into the water and nodded to the stunned anglers around us. In the meantime Chang was displaying his limit of five trout and dancing on the dock singing, "There is a new Troutmaster!" Nine hours after we had started fishing the bite had begun to pick up. With three rods I began to rapidly gain on Chang. With every fish that either of us caught we held it up to the other, smirked, and placed it on the stringer. Finally the sun began to plummet from the horizon and the temperature plunged. Smiling we placed our fourteen trout onto the dock and began to pack up our gear. While many other anglers would have left hours before, Chang's instinct and our persistence led us to the fish.
When I was a kid, the first fish that I understood were the rainbow trout. I would spend hours pouring over books and visualizing in my head how the trout would interact with the changing conditions of the lake. And yet as well as I think I understand these fish they continue to surprise and challenge me. Trout have taught me patience and self discipline. This trip tested my control and revealed to me that persistence can be the path to success. As the chirp of the crickets called out and the honks of migrating geese echoed around the reservoir, the falling sun illuminated the silhouettes of three fishermen jumping on the dock and singing, "WE ARE THE NEW TROUTMASTERS!"

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May Lake: High Country Backpacking Trip

Brook trout at the small creek

It has been nearly a year of waiting, but summer has finally returned. This means that I am able to journey to the granite cliffs of Yosemite high country with my dad. We decided to fish at May Lake, a small placid piece of water located just a mile-and-a-half walk from the road. Despite being inside Yosemite where thousands of tourists enter every day, surprisingly few people fish May Lake. However my father is unusually susceptible to altitude sickness, making May Lake the perfect place for us to camp and fish.

As many fisherman have come to learn the worst thing about going fishing is the drive. My dad woke me up at an early 4 A.M. and pushed me into his Subaru 4WD station wagon. I then spent the next five hours trying not to throw up over the interior of his car. W

Instead of going directly to May Lake, we took a detour to rest and fish at a secret spot.  We went down a dirt road,  ascended winding paths, took stomach wrenching turns, and hurtled down steep hills. When the dusty Subaru finally stopped several miles from any major trailhead I quickly opened the door and burst into a thick cloud of mosquitos. For some reason high-country mosquitos love my blood and within seconds the bloodsucking insects were on my face, hands , and neck. Swatting them away, I tore through my pack looking for my mosquito netting and shirt. Groaning, I realized I had left the gear at home. The trip was not getting off to a very good start. 

My dad with a brook trout from the creek

To make matters worse my dad was getting comfortable eating his lunch inside the car. It would be a while until we moved to another location to begin our hike up to May Lake. I decided to make the best of the situation and go fishing at a tiny creek I spotted near our car. Donning a raincoat and stealing my fathers fly rod I strode into the trees. When I arrived I found that the creek was barely three feet wide, hardly the place you would expect to find trout. Sighing I cast a #16 olive wooly bugger into the lazy current of a shallow pool. Suddenly trout rocketed out from under the banks to attack my fly. Smiling I landed the first brook trout of the day. 

Over the course of an hour I caught twelve brook trout ranging from six to twelve inches. Eventually my dad came down to check the action and caught three himself. The highlight of the hour was when I spotted an unusually large pool. To approach the trout I needed to crawl on my stomach, inching forward until I could cast into the pool. When my fly hit the water a twelve-inch brook trout devoured my fly and disappeared back under the bank. Setting the hook, an epic battle commenced. I held the rod and tried to avoid letting the brook trout get under the numerous trees, undercut banks, or stumps. Eventually I maneuvered the trout to a sloping bank and landed it. The fishing at this creek was excellent, with fifteen trout landed in under an hour. But my father and I still hadn't started our trip to the fabled May Lake.

Nightime fishing at May Lake

We moved to the trailhead to access May Lake and began our hike.  It was late afternoon when we finally reached the top of the mountain. The hike up to May Lake requires an elevation gain of nearly a thousand feet in a mile. This made my dad weak, and I struggled up the mountain carrying nearly all of our gear. I set up the tent near the lake grabbed my spinning rod and declared I was going fishing. I had four rods set up. They were all fitted with ultralight spinning reels spooled with four pound maxima green. One was rigged as a bait fishing pole with a sliding egg sinker rig, a #10 hook, and white power eggs. The second pole was also a bait pole, but was armed with orange power eggs. My third pole was outfitted with a silver Kastmaster. And the last pole was the fly rod complete with floating line, a ten foot leader, and a #16 mosquito. As soon as the bait poles touched the water the line shot out and the rods bent with the promise of trout. I landed fish after fish, keeping three for dinner and releasing the rest. My dad and I enjoyed a hearty dinner of fried brook trout and beef stew that night. I fished again after dinner and caught seven wild trout ranging from ten to twelve inches, all on the Kastmaster. Then the mosquitos came out and I was driven into the tent, pursued by their insistent buzzing. We landed twenty-eight trout that day.

Mosquito protection

The following day passed much like the first. I continued to land trout after trout, each one averaging about twelve inches. I was enjoying some of the most consistent trout fishing of my life. As evening approached I was hovering on the cusp of catching fifty trout in one trip. There were fourty-seven trout that had already been released, I only needed to catch three to reach my goal. But to catch the last three I knew I was going to need to fish in the heart of the mosquito swarm. To prepare against the bloodsuckers I put on a thick fleece jacket. My dad then helped tie a T-shirt around my head and wrapped my hands with wool socks. Mosquito repellent was applied thickly on patches of skin beneath my cloth armor.

Brook trout caught on fly rod + 50th fish

By eight P.M. the mosquitos were out, but so were the brook trout. I had to use my fly rod to catch the trout that were feeding on the mosquitos that buzzed above the water. By 8:30 P.M. I had already landed two trout. I just needed one more brook trout to fulfill my goal. My eyes struggled to locate my tiny dry fly among the cloud of real insects that bit the skin around my forehead. Then a brook trout breached the surface of the water, engulfing my fly. I set the hook and battled the trout to the log I was standing on. As I unhooked the brook trout by the fading light and released it back into the lake, I realized that I could recall each and every fish and battle. Riddled by mosquito bites that had somehow found their way through my shirt, I turned my back on the lake and returned to camp.

Sunset at May Lake

Score:
18 fish on flies
10 fish on lures
23 fish on bait

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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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Sierra Adventure: Graph of Fish Catches

The graph above is the summary of my family's trip to the Sierras. Conway Ranch is not included due to the fact that trout are heavily stocked in the areas we were fishing.

Individual reports:

• May Lake in Yosemite National Park - brook trout mania
• San Joaquin near Devil's Postpile National Park - wild trout dry fly
• Hot Creek and Crowley Lake - big brown trout on fly rod
• San Joaquin and Tuolumne River in Yosemite National Park - dry fly action continues
• Yosemite National Park small creek fishing - eleven wild trout in one hour

 

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Sierra Adventure: Conway Ranch - The Last Episode

A giant rainbow

Here it is, the last episode of the season. In just a few days I will be heading back to school, where I will be busy with homework. Over the summer, I have documented my many adventures in the form of a blog. Although I will continue to make entries, the posts will be far and few between. Still, I have one last adventure from my time in the Sierras for you.

The family posing with my sister's fish

The entire time my family has been in the Sierras there was one place that was always in the back of our minds. That place was Conway Ranch. Conway is the home of the legendary Alpers Trout, a modified version of the rainbow trout that fights harder and grows bigger than the average rainbow. The Ranch grows the trout to be shipped over the Eastern Sierra, but they also have a couple ponds which they stock with the trout they raise. We were about to go to one of those ponds.

Me fighting a fish

My family arrived at Conway Ranch at 11:00 A.M. There we signed the necessary paperwork, and began to set up our rods. I would be using an olive wooly bugger tied onto two pound tippet. My father would be helping my younger sister catch fish with a bobber and bait. As soon I threw my fly into the water, a fish jumped up and snapped my two pound tippet. That was how big the fish were. Switching to four-pound tippet, I cast in again, and hooked up with another Alpers Trout. Meanwhile,  my sister also had a fish on her line. We both landed our fish, and took photos. Over the next hour and-a-half I proceeded to catch six Alpers Trout, my dad caught one, and my sister caught five for a total of eleven Alpers Trout. By the end we all had broken our fair share of lines, and were fatigued. We fed the trout as a chore for the managers, piled into the car, and drove back to the Bay Area. My family ended the Sierra Adventure with a combined total of sixty-one trout, a mix of brook, brown, rainbow, and Alpers trout.

The biggest rainbow of the trip

This trip was a truly remarkable experience for me. It will stay in my mind as the best trout fishing excursion I have taken so far. The amount of fish we caught, the unique places we visited, and the people we met made the entire trip appealing and captivating. Whether it was fishing in a high mountain lake, or pulling a giant brown trout in from a float tube the fishing was special because of the memories that I will take with me from this trip.




However, this trip brings me back to one of the reasons why I started this blog. Many of the places that I have gone to in the past weeks may not stay open for more than ten years. Although the people of today try hard to preserve the lakes for future generations, the future generation may not preserve it for themselves. It's hard to compete for attention with the flashy game console or iPod. Many kids will not get outdoors as much as they need to. They will not make the connections with nature as previous generations have, that leads to the conservation of special places. Fishing was my solution to this problem.  There is something  about fishing that most children instinctually like. Therefore, it is one of the easiest tools a parent can use to get a child familiar with the outdoors. And when a child gets familiar with nature they will want to protect it, like they would an iPod or Xbox. So push yourself to get outside and see what it does for your child.

Preserve Nature!

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Sierra Adventure: Secret Creek

The biggest brook trout for the day

As our grand Sierra Adventure begins to near the end, my dad and I are starting to go to some of the best fishing spots in the area. We have been saving the best for last, but now the best is here. Today, we visit Secret Creek, a small creek that feeds out of a fish rich lake. The creek holds massive amounts of good sized brook trout, along with a abundant supply of mosquitos. However, the creek's small size and delicate fish has prompted my family to keep the creek a secret. My dad and I only fish the creek twice every year and the fish become skittish on the second trip. Without further adue, here is my experience at Secret Creek.

Another nice brookie from this year

On our way back from Tuolumne meadows my dad suggested a stop at Secret Creek. After confirmation from the rest of my family, we turned the car down a dirt road towards the Creek. Arriving at a dirt pullout around 10:00 A.M., I donned my mosquito netting, gloves, jacket, hat, and pants. In the past, I have had twenty mosquitos land on my cotton gloves, stick their mouth through the holes in the cotton, and suck my blood. That does not happen anymore with the correct gear. Back in the present, I held my three-weight fly rod in my right hand. Attached to the leader was a #14 crystal flash wooly bugger. As I dropped my fly into Secret Creek a four-inch brook trout immediately charged it. Unfortunately, a bigger six-inch trout got there first and gobbled my fly up. During the hook-set I pulled the fly out of the fish's mouth. Then a 9-inch trout swam up and grabbed the fly. I landed the nine-inch fish. The brook trout have never seen a fly before, so when something drops into the pool all the fish go for whatever has fallen in. Sometimes, it is my fly. I enjoyed a happy fourty-five minutes, catching ten brook trout and missing many more. My dad caught one with a California mosquito dry fly.

When I said "happy" earlier in my blog, there was one point in which I threw my rod across the meadow in frustration. To understand my pain, we have to travel back one year.
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It had been a good half-hour and I had caught eight brook trout with my crystal flash wooly bugger. Now, I dropped my fly into a large pool. I was hanging onto a large boulder with one hand and holding my fly rod with the other. If any fish was to hit, I would just pull it up onto the meadow behind me. Then I saw the fish. It was a lunker of a brook trout. Estimated to be around fourteen-inches from head to tail. It saw my fly, and made a savage lunge. I managed to hook the fish, but could not drag it onto the meadow. I stripped the fly line with my teeth, hoping to tire it out. After half-a-minute the fish turned onto it's side. I tried to drag it onto the meadow, but the brook trout made one last jump. The fly tore free of the mouth, and the fish swam back under the bank.
------------- Back in the present
I can see the same fish from last year. It's about an inch bigger, with a scar on the left side of the mouth. The fish has moved down from the big pool last year, making it possible for me to land it. My cast is perfect, with little splash. The fish makes the savage lunge I remember so well. My hook-set is a little off, but the point digs in. Realizing that it has been hooked, the trout breaches clear out of the water, flops across a dry spot, and dives back into the bigger pool. My fly pops loose from the fish's mouth.

Total catch was 10 fish for Kai, 1 for Dad.

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Sierra Adventure: San Joaquin - Relived + Tuolumne River

Biggest fish of the San Joaquin expedition

Wednesday was our last wild trout fishing in the Eastern Sierra. To end the trip on a good note my dad and I decided to fish the San Joaquin River. However, we experienced some difficulties early in the trip...

My dad and I woke up around 6:00 A.M. to get breakfast at the deli. As we began to cross the shopping square we saw a scary sight on the left. A 300 pound mother black bear and her cub were eating out of an improperly closed trash can. We tried to scare the bears away, but they refused to move, and began to snarl at us. Terrified, my dad began to flee towards the hotel with me right behind him. We took an elevator down to the parking lot, got in the car, and went to a different bakery.

A colorful brown trout

After the bear scare, my dad parked around 6:30. I immediately started to catch fish, but the bite began to heat up with the water temperature. My dad and I were fishing a #20 Parachute Adams and a #28 Caddis. Trout were only hitting very small dry flies the entire day. Also, my dad hiked up and down the river, but only a small stretch produced fish. After five intense hours of fishing my dad and I ended up with a combined total of eleven fish (eight for me, three for dad). There was a mix of brown, brook, and rainbow trout that was caught all on dries before 10:00 A.M.

San Joaquin Fish Total = 20 (9 on day one plus 11 on day 2)
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 Brook trout at San Joaquin

We left the Eastern Sierras on Wednesday, but our fishing adventure continues to be productive in Yosemite Park. One of our first fishing trips in the park was started at Tuolumne River. The river runs East to West through Yosemite's high country. Large populations of small wild trout swim through the Lyell Fork and Dana Fork of the river.

The biggest brown trout caught in San Joaquin

My family left for the Lyell Fork of the Tuolumne river around 10:00 A.M. We were going there mainly for the hike, but there was a fly rod stowed away in my backpack. After a short hike, the Tuolumne River was within sight. After a quick lunch, I proceeded to catch a small brook trout with an olive green wooly bugger. Satisfied, my family returned to the car. 

The following morning my dad and I went to the Dana Fork of the Tuolumne River. Although the early morning was slow, fishing       began to get better as the sun's rays warmed the water. I caught two brook trout while using a bubble-fly combination. There was a small mosquito on the end of the line, but action could have been better if my dad had a smaller fly in his fly-box. 

Tuolumne total = 3

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Sierra Adventure: Hot Creek + Crowley Lake Action

The beginning of the wild trout section of Hot Creek

It's not all about the fish. Any angler has heard that phrase hundreds of times. I had that lesson pounded into me at Hot Creek. The creek is generally regarded as one of California's best wild trout stream. A single mile of the creek contains about 11,000 trout per mile. However the average trout at Hot Creek is caught about five to six times a month. This creates very smart, but very large wild trout. Hearing the praise about Hot Creek, I decided to fish there.

Me and my brown trout that I caught at Crowley

A sixteen-inch brown trout

When we arrived at the stream the first thing I noticed was a giant sign that said, "0 fish limit". Despite the sign I still noticed dozens of anglers trying their luck. At most places I go to people fish for the food, not the fish. However, Hot Creek is a special place where anglers come from miles for just a glimpse of the fish. These anglers are in a special class of people that are hardcore catch and release fishermen. Just being at the river and walking through the meadow was enough for them. Fishing is all about the experience of enjoying the river and the nature around you. Whether you choose to enjoy it or not is up to you. Nevertheless, I hooked a nice sized rainbow with a green wooly bugger. While fighting it against the current, I was just about to net the trout, when the fly popped out of the fish's mouth. Seconds later, it disappeared back into the middle of the creek.

Hot creek

Luckily, I had a chance to redeem myself the following day while fishing at Crowley Lake. The lake is one of the best trout fishing areas in the state. Note that it contains no wild trout. All trout are stocked at fingerling size, and grow about an inch per month due to the abundant food sources in Crowley.

Unfortunately for me, the fish seemed to avoiding my lure. During the past two hours I had been fishing from a float tube with a rainbow pattern Kastmaster attached to four pound test. The hits had been far and few between, and I was getting slightly frustrated. Anglers around me all had at least one fish with their fly rods. In a moment of desperation I switched my spinning rod to a fly rod. The fish soon began to strike the midges I was fishing under a strike indicator. Then a trout grabbed my fly and ran. I set the hook and settled in for the fight. Two intense minutes later a nice sixteen-inch brown trout was netted. I returned to the car a happy angler.

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