Summer to Fall (off the mountain)

Wow, the time flew. Between great fun with Astra Heights at cool events such as Venicestock and guiding in the Sierra with Sierra Fly Fisher, I also worked on flying my jeep off of the roadside in Yosemite. Oh and don't let me forget Nicaragua with Rebecca, Quinn and Megan followed by a wonderful trip with Alexis and Jeanette to Mexico then a trip with Noah Snyder and Jim Lowe into the Bob Marshall Wilderness, Montana. 52 miles round trip on foot! So summer had all sorts of lessons learned such as highsticking the Merced at low elevations for hidden pockets of unusually strong wild bows to correcting a vehicle's direction to avoid rolling it! *See photos below* As many of you may know, Oprah recently went camping in Yosemite National Park. She apparently did some fly fishing too. I work seasonally in the Sierra and often enter the park. In the middle of summer, after a fun day of guiding, I went off the road. I walked away unharmed. I am very lucky.




That very evening, a rather brazen tow-truck driver pursuaded me that using his pulleys and chains, he could "stretch" the vehicle back out to a functional state. I was too exhausted and upset to even protest. The next day I used the jeep on a guiding run and the following day I drove it to LA! Feeling the little jeep's spirit, I began plotting the salvage process.

Jesse, in Corona, has a yard full of parts and this began the "healing" process. This photo below shows him pulling a hood off on an old Samurai for my wounded Sammy. I also had a favored mechanic inspect the frame, alignment and state of the hubs along with many other essentials.

A few weeks later, with all parts in hand, I had the vehicle taken to the doctor.

And, alas, voila! The happy jeep is rolling again looking sexy.

Now, you thought it'd be so easy? Of course the National Park Service's law envorcement division hit me with a ticket...(no I was not drunk). Did you know that they have a cute little court house right in the heart of Yosemite!!!???? Click on the image below for a slightly larger look. I ain't joking.

After my hearing, I got the fine reduced and they also offered traffic school. I am about to wrap up my online course. I am re-visiting important lessons such as "Don't stall your car on a railroad track".

This entry is being posted as I waltz again into the phonebooth of rock and emerge on Monday in Berlin Germany as a member of a great band The Fuzztones. I'll be roll-casting a guitar cable in Italy and Greece to name a few. Never a dull moment and 2010 is far from over.

Mini-Streamers for Mini-Predators

This heavily shaded local stream is truly fascinating. Some areas are rife with bows while others host just browns. The size of the fish can sometimes vary seasonally as well. Larger fish seem more cagey and hunker down while the frigid shady zones are not yet warmed by the onset of summer. Seemed like the smaller fish reveled in this. Some pools held nothing (hint hint) others coughed up a fish. Dries and an occasional baby-streamer rocked the place. Little yellow sallies were coming off in numbers but some fish were welcoming larger protein. I had one follow by a monster who held off from taking the streamer. Last time I saw an image like this was a few years ago, also locally, and the fish took on the second cast (not common with big browns from my experience). This fish appeared almost as large (17" inches+?). Anyway, this Nessie didn't cooperate. Not one to complain (a big fat lie). It was a good day and I needed the workout.

Nature Wins

Just like a plant forces its way through the asphalt, one local stream has gone "richter" with quality fish. Plants are in bloom and I grabbed some wild onion for an experimental omelette. Life is good in the So. Cal. mountains this year. Thanks Noah and Rob for good company.

The Price of a Brown

This blog entry is an homage to one of the most bizarre and remote So. Cal. waters I know of. I have been there very few times and timing can be key to avoid overgrown jungle-like bushwhacking, bugs, snakes and summer heat. It's also one of the most obscene workouts I know and my buddy and I pondered whether or not we'd ever return. Recent training for a run (race) had me a bit better off fitness-wise than I feared but it was still a brutal trek of off-trail terrain and elevation issues. Let this serve as an indicator that 2010 is going to be an amazing year for So. Cal. trout fanatics.
Take a close look at this shot. Click to enlarge. This adorable trout stream has a line of PVC in it. Middle of nowhere. Not cool.

The "Black Diamond Trout Society" tradition lives on as we scrambled down impossible banks to find fat butter-bellied browns.

Be careful and go get 'em!

Blinded Me with Science

Technlogy, like a thermometer, has me salivating. We've had a good year and the locals are going to be great! Observe the dleightful daily dance as one of our local streams ebbs and flows with snowmelt. As this smooths out and the temps warm, one of our beloved friends will be rejoicing; The Trout!

The Beatles Go Fishing

That one lyric: Rain, I don't mind

A recent conversation with a local fish had it giddy like a little school-trout...

Shasta Soda

An overdue visit to the Shasta/Upper Sac/McCloud area had me marveling at moss, dripping ferns, fall colors and fading indian rhubarb by the side of streams rich in spring water. Last time I was up here was around 1977 or 78 on a fun road trip with my dad which, despite me being just a kid, was memorable and the beauty of the region has stayed with me ever since.

This trip was real treat from a scenic perspective if not from an angler's perspective. Also, I brought back numerous bottles of the water from that region. No wonder Nestle had their sights on this area for a water-bottling facility. This area is oozing yummy water from crags of dark volcanic rock and moss. Frequent light rains punctuated our trip and kept everything slippery as #$%^& but also seemed to keep the fish happy. Fungii abounded.

Day one had a big brown flipping me the fin as it migrated upstream. A long hard day of flogging with a few bows had me sitting streamside when suddenly this beast surfaced in front of me. It was one of those porpoise-like surface visits of a fish that was clearly migrating. It was amazing to see. I could count the spots. It reminded me of seeing salmon move up the Klamath way back when. The fish was just a few feet away and was a few feet long I might add. I later saw huge browns on redds and even had a nice one almost land on my feet as it tried to jump a plunge by which I stood. Oddly, as the trip wore on, the allure of this European invader was quickly replaced by an appreciation for the magnificent native strain of bow for which the region is legendary. Hard fighting, plump and willing to take a massive "Noctober" caddis pattern that Joe and I were developing. Since it gets dark early, we had ample time to sit around and tie each night while still getting a good night's sleep. This may be THE biggest secret of fall fishing: time and energy management is taken care of by the elements themselves. You actually get some rest in! Perhaps one of the best slaps I have ever been dealt was when I shared this "Noctober killer" fly with one of our team ("Nish" as we like to call him) who went on to catch a nice brown on it! Boy, the trout gods were on a roll! My face still stings. I have included the photo below.

In addition to the generosity of Jimmie Morales and the great company of several guides-on-hiatus, we were treated to some streamtime with historian, photographer and "patron-of-the-trouts" Craig Ballenger. Craig is a true man-of-the rivers with an engaging personality that we initially were as much perplexed by as entertained by and a knowledge of the region that was, well, deep as the river. Visit his website: craigballenger.com One of my fave moments that can't be forgotten (solid sarcasm about to kick-in) was having some dormant yellow jackets slip into my clothes. As I warmed them up, they got active. Two stung me; one in the armpit and another on the forearm. I shook two or three others out of my clothes as I picked up a discarded aluminum can of Shasta soda. It was all too surreal. At almost the same time, Joe and I were both looking across the water when a large fish jumped for a huge caddis. We both saw it and let out a classic fisherman's "woah!". All this in a 10 minute window. Oh and I fell in a few minutes later. Never a dull moment and definitely huge fun despite the stings.
As the trip ended, my only brown was about 5" long! Oh but who cres when you have "the strain". What can be better than catching a wild native fish? Mr. Trutta, we will meet again someday to square off properly. Bows were the theme for the majority of this trip and we honor you humbly with flies the size of hummingbirds.

I'll let the photos tell the rest of the story...