DS Fishing Blog

Well, ever since my buddy got back from a trip to the Trinity, Lower Sac, and Eastern Sierra waters in early November, I've been dying to get away.  It's been such a warm fall here in my neck of the California woods that I thought (prayed is more like it) that the hoppers would be out until December.  His amazing pictures and stories of savage streamer strikes had me drooling in my day dreams.

I had planned on taking off the weekend before Thanksgiving.  I thought it would be less crowded on the water, and besides, the longer I waited, the more I wouldn't be able to delude myself into thinking "It's still fall and the fishing is easy!"  Well, that weekend just didn't work out, so I thought, my family wont mind if I skip out early the morning after thanksgiving.  I will have done my family and civil duty and gorged myself to discomfort leaving me free to fish guilt free all the way to sundown on Sunday...  crowds be damned.

Now, I should mention here that in the Eastern Sierras there are several blue ribbon trout waters that are open year round with special fishing regulations (most if not all cater to the catch and release fly fisherman.)  So, I did the trek and got to the water near lunch time.  I brought my cameras so I could get some black and white shots as well as some color.  As I stepped out of my car I noticed immediately that it was butt cold and the only hoppers around were in my fly box... damn.  With that unexpected twist (I know, it's late November.  But one can dream.)  I decided to fish some new places that I had heard about but never fished.  As I pulled up I ran into my first crowd... one guy in his waders and his wife who looked pretty upset.  They had somehow locked everything they had in the toolbox in the bed of his pickup... except his fishing gear and the key to the pickup itself.  Once I explained that I wasn't a locksmith, nor did I know one nearby, he sent his wife off to find one.  He was just gonna wait (now that I think of it he might have said "wade") right here while he waited for her to return.   It seemed like a lot of trouble to get his wife to leave him alone so he could fish.  It was also quite a risk since he was looking for a locksmith on the day after Thanksgiving.  He gets and A for effort though.  Man, I'm cynical.  Do you think it really was an accident?

Anyway, it was chilly and there was no hatch to speak of, so I fished little midges.  After an hour without a strike I took off and tried some other water.  I found a nice curvy stretch of river that had a lot of high, thick foliage near the water's edge.  The water looked perfect.  I could see a couple real nice runs and I knew there were some hogs holed up in them.  As soon as I got to the water, someone started shooting.  I swear it was no more than 50 yards away.  Here I am in neutral colors thinking, "Shit! Joe Six Pack found me and thinks I'm game."  I yelled and got out of there pretty quick.  I'm not a fan of drunk fools shooting where there are obviously people  wandering and wading around fishing.  There is a firing range not more than a few miles from there, but these guys had to find a crowd.   Argh.  So, with "Dueling Banjos" behind me, I tried one more spot.  Unfortunately, I could still make out the faint "pop pop" of the guns, so I called it a night.