Fish Hunter Phil

The Fish Hunters

2012-01-25T14:13:00.000-08:00

Much has happened in the past five months; moved out of smelLA, planted a garden, built a deck and got married. Danielle and I made a quick day trip to the wilderness during our honeymoon and it was reconfirmed to us that there are not many places as special as the Central Coast area of California.

The contrasts and the grandeur are unique; from dry arroyos to dripping rainforests streams, pungent and crispy chaparral to groves of redwood.

On the surface we were not much more than hikers, covering over ten times as many miles as the number of fish caught, but together we are los cazadores de peces, forever.

Giant ferns in a small side gully, water oozing out of a spring.

Danielle in a sea of native grass.

Not a steelhead.

If you look closely you can see the biggest Pajaro sucker I have ever laid eyes on.

The word drought gets thrown around a lot... please rain more.

Secret Falls

2011-08-22T08:48:00.000-07:00

Danielle and I recently made a quick trip to our favorite river in this Golden state and discovered new territory and willing fish. I have been to this drainage a handful of times now and no matter what specific location or time of year it is always rewarding. This day was perfect on every level. I cannot remember if I have ever fished a stream this size where I was able to specifically target fish in the ten inch plus range. It was amazing fun. Buggers, PT hackles, and bushy dries all produced. I was even fortunate enough to get my first double rainbow! A solid twelve incher and a five incher at the same time, which was actually the smallest fish of the day.

The highlight was coming to an unexpected waterfall that had a perfect pool at its base. We reckoned most years this fall would not look remotely like this in August, but with the amazing water year we've enjoyed it was in beautiful form. The pool also held living beauty. I saw a legit fish in the sixteen inch range cruise toward a perfect root ball along one of the banks never to be seen again. I did get his little brother out of the pool though, capping off the fishing for the day.

First fish
The morning sun peeking through

Trout ninja

Very healthy fish here, save the metacercariae

Can you spot the fish hunter?

The secret falls.

About average size for the day.

Little fighter

Covert

One of the nicer specimens

This is the last fish of the day from the base of our falls; he put up a tough fight that lasted longer than his size would lead you to believe and I almost lost him multiple times at the net.

I will be back to inspect the rootball soon!

Rally Hats 'n Reds

2011-07-27T20:30:00.000-07:00

I phoned Danielle much later than usual one evening in mid-June after our planned trip with the Dreamcatchers fell through. I had just found tickets from LAX to AK for 300 bones and was ready to pull the trigger. In no time it was decided we had to buy the tickets and were going to see what the AK anadromous fish highways contained. We had no idea the magnitude of traffic we would find. It was an all time year for sockeye salmon on the KP, literally unmatched in at least a generation. Thanks to Terry's hospitality and generosity we were able to stay right across from the river giving us the opportunity to fulfill our 24hr fishing fantasies. Thanks to Mr. Steve we were able to enjoy a roller coaster of a day on perfectly warm and clear Cook Inlet hunting halibut with Rod Van Saun.

Al with a nice red he caught on no sleep after driving all the way to ANC to pick us up at 2 AM and then driving back to the river.

Me n' my bro.
Danielle and I, about to head out on the inlet. It was so calm and warm you would have never imagined this was AK.

Just before heading out these folks came in with an ~280lb halibut that they somehow managed to get into that little boat without capsizing - expectations were high.

Al, D, Laurel
Mr. Steve and Matt.
Matt all baited up. (sockeye carcass)

The fishing at first was pretty good, were into some decent halibut. But we were expecting bigger fish and released a lot of ~15-20lbers. Then it went south, and by south I mean it was cod city. We caught so many cod it was not even funny. Above is a shot of Danielle reeling in a cod DOUBLE! Then, it went dead all over. The captain got on the radio and phoned some friends and we went searching for fish. Eventually we found a spot and set up shop. We said a prayer and put our rally caps on since it was almost 7pm and had to get back soon (we were 30 mi from home). We had huge fish on fairly quickly, but they both turned out to be skates; instead of reeling them in we left them on and moved them over to port. Then all sorts of rallying happened and we caught our limits in the next hour or so, all on the starboard and stern while there were 2 skates at port and Rod was filleting fish! It was madness and a great way to end the 'but hunt.

Rally hats engaged.

All 'buts on deck.

Pray that you have the ability to heed the captain's orders - rally hats in full effect!

Butt o' the 'but - post rally hat success, answered prayers.

Moose, no squirrel.

Matt's first red.
Kiss it. Gotta love fishing straight through the night, taking a break at 5:30 for coffee and mini breakfast then fishing more.

Gnar-fish.
The bounty.

First hen of the last day.

My hens.

Fish highway.

SUSHI reward.

Danielle and I.

We lived by the saying "sleep when you're dead" for 4 days and now we have fish to share and memories that will last forever.

Killer Kern

2011-07-27T19:29:00.000-07:00

Throwing caution, good reconnaissance and judgment to the wind, myself Danielle, Jen and my brother Matt went to the Kern river for the first time over the July 4th weekend. For weeks I had been looking at the flows, checking the gauge almost daily. It never once struck my heart as a reassuring sign of good fishing ahead, but I was intrigued by the river, the chance at getting the big fish that feed more actively in high flows and with sheer excitement for seeing such awesome whitewater. I have wanted to go to the Kern since I was about 10 years old, first hearing about it from friends who had rafted the lower section.

We hit the trail and made it to our destination a few miles into the GTW in pretty good time, but a fair amount of pain on my part; my new boots gave my heels some serious blisters and it sucked because I thought I had broken them in already. Coming to the Little Kern we saw that the meltoff was pretty serious, definitely more water than last year the same weekend.

The Little K

The meadows along the way were beautiful.

We made it to the flat and set up camp in a superb location. It was superb because we were told it was so by a fellow we met on the trail. Usually I take all advice from strangers with a grain of salt, but we soon found this caution was not only unnecessary, it would be foolish!

The fellow on the trail was soon no longer a stranger and we were his camp neighbors. We quickly learned his name, Keith Smith, and that he was just about to wrap up a week of camping in the Kern backcountry for the 50th consecutive year! He knew the upper Kern like it was his backyard and he waxed poetic about places we'd never been nor heard of, how big the fish were, still are, and how much the place has changed yet stayed the same. I fell asleep dreaming of 40lb browns eating kern river 'bows and giant goldens in the upper lakes.

Mr. Smith Goes to Kern River

The next morning we were guided to all the finest holes in the vicinity by our camp neighbor and Kern river sensei. The fishing was tough. The best fish were in impossible locations, or deeper than I could get my flies. I hooked up with two behemoths on dry flies, but they quickly made the folly and futility of my bow and arrow casting under the oaks apparent to all. It was great fun overall, despite the few fish we were able to land.

We hiked up to Little Kern lake and proceeded to see more snakes in one day then I can remember seeing since I was at my cousins in AZ when I was 9 or 10. 8 snakes and 7 of them rattlers. Looking back the hike up to LKL would have been better saved for a longer trip and really cut into our fishing time, but it was beautiful, except for the snakes.

The Kern, at Killer speed

About as big as they got for us.

A large rattlesnake about to consume a squirrel in the trail ahead of us.

The highlight of the trip was the insane flows on the Kern and meeting Keith, who by my estimates has spend over 1% of his life sleeping in the Kern river back country. In my opinion, there is absolutely nothing wrong with that! Lessons were learned as well, namely that one should always listen to the advice of someone who has been somewhere for 50 years in a row, that you should watch your you put each and every foot step (SNAKES!), that the Kern is downright frightening at 4000cfs on the upper, and that I will be coming back again in the FALL.

Cheers, Phil

The State of Salmon

2011-06-03T12:48:00.000-07:00

Watch the full episode. See more Nature.

Bigcones and Trout

2011-05-31T21:14:00.000-07:00

This past weekend I had heard from our gubbament weather service, and hoped for, warm temperatures fitting of the weekend that marks the unofficial beginning of Summer. We camped on the north side of the San Gabriel mountains, but not really, because we were in cabins and had superb hot meals three times a day. But on sunday we made plans to get into some wilderness in search of bigcone douglas firs and wild trout. The weather did not exactly live up to what was forecast and hoped for; it was icy, but we made the most of it anyway, braving super buttchilling cold and rain and sleet to get to the sun that eventually came out and warmed us up just a bit, just enough. On the hike in I was checking bark and needle stucture and cones like a real live forester and was stoked when we finally came across a BCDF; after the first one they just got bigger and more impressive, the chief being about 4ft in diameter I reckon. After finding the trees and the fun conversation and company the day was already a success in my opinion, everything else afterward was just icing.

I love confluences; our tributary flowing clear and cold meeting the snow-melt-grey main river.

Trout ninjas.

Look at the ravaged tree trunks! 5Star trying to scar up some trout from the torrent.

This gives a nice picture of what the flows were like a few weeks prior; that is a boulder about 4 times as big as my head sitting over 6ft off the ground.

I went subsurface all day, and got lots of fish like this, especially in one small tributary.

An average fish for the day, above average beauty. We came to one series of pools and the fishing was hot for all of us, I think we all caught multiple fish out of each hole, the fish were all stacked up in this tributary that had clear water and good pools to rest in; it was just how things were supposed to work out. Well, after we all got a few average fish out of these pools ninja D and ninja 5star proceeded upstream. I noticed something moving just downstream from one of the bubble curtains in the crystal clear water, a sizable trout I thought! So I tied on the biggest, ugliest fly in my box and chucked it upstream to let it dead drift back. A few more casts, mend, deeper, BOOM. Fish on, it was something special for this creek no doubt.

I got em in, definitely a nice fish, looks to be a male, had some nice teeth on him.

Can you spot the three trout above?

This was my favorite fish of the day, a super colored rainbow that was cool enough to let me take his pic underwater after I released him. These local mountain streams never cease to amaze me and the mountains that protect them are jewels ever-worthy of the work necessary to uncover their splendor.

The Big Orange

2011-03-28T20:55:00.000-07:00

When you say you are going fishing in Los Angeles county it usually entails either fishing in a reservoir or the ocean. This is so because we have a lot of coast and a lot of dams. When I went up to a local canyon to see what kind of fish may call it home I was transported. The day was wet, not just damp. Wet all over though the rains had ceased. Water oozed, seeped, gurgled, tumbled and fell from every side. I felt like it was a small stream on the east slope of the Blue Ridge, the flora being made up in part by lush swaths of ivy covering all it could, namely vinca minor. The last time I dropped into this jewel it was much drier and the year was roughly 1992. I recall how steep the canyon was, most notably because my sister's dog could not make it back up the trail to the car on her own, but rather stuck her butt on the ground like a mule and whimpered, forcing us to carry her back and quit or hike ahead of schedule. I didn't bring a dog because I don't have one but I wish I did if it was a good dog that would rock hop and trail romp without ever complaining.

The water was high, as it is on most every wash, creek, and river in the state. At times this tiny canyon watershed looked to be draining an expanse at least double its size. As for the fish, well they were there. They were there, there were plenty, and they all looked to be taken care of quite well by their fish mothers, I mean these guys were pretty much all a little bit on the fat side.

The coloring of the fish was interesting as it started to become clear that there were rainbows like the one above with a more orange than pink lateral band, mixed in with typical rainbows pink sided.

There were some epic pools as I climbed the drainage to the upper reaches. After each large plunge I passed I expected the fish to be non-existent above it. Instead, not only were there fish, the fish got more and more interesting.

In the above pool I got the Mike Alstott of trout you can see here. Look at the shoulders on this guy.

Go on home, it's time for your real dinner.

A prime example of one of the larger typically colored rainbows I caught.

This was the largest of the pink sided rainbows I caught, just as I was brining her in.

I came to this pool and didn't think much of it at first, until I realized how deep the water was behind that rock. Then, I noticed something moving just down from the whitewater. I had been varying my fishing from dead drifting and stripping streamers mixed in with a short time catching on a stimulator. Here, I diced to just toss in my streamer and dead drift it back. On the first case I placed the fly just where I wanted, toward the left seam and let it skip along back with the current. After a moment, bam! something hit and I saw a better view of what I had previously only halfway dreamed I had seen. He hit, but not hard, I could see a very light complexion on the fish's side, something was different with this fish. I cast again, immediately, to the same spot. Within seconds the fish struck again and this time I set the hook! It was a pretty serious fish, maybe the biggest I have encountered in the local mountains. As I brought him in, I was slightly confused and mostly stoked. The fish was, well, orange, and cream, with dark spots. It looked like a Little Kern Golden trout!

Definitely the most interesting fish I have yet to catch. Looks to be a male as you can see a slight hump on the top of the head just back from the eyes.

After this fish I was ready to go, but hiked and fished a bit further just to see what was around the next bend. This was a really unique place to fish and it is certainly going to be difficult to wait 19 years to visit again.

Spike

2011-03-21T20:15:00.000-07:00

Where I come from Rain is a good thing.

Waters of Mystery & Wonder

2011-03-07T20:00:00.000-08:00

The forecast called for rain, but with relative warmth and the looks of the radar it wasn’t enough to scare us off. We packed in the dark, ready to get decked out in all things waterproof. When we arrived within an hour of sunrise it was still dark and the rain was falling soft and gentle in a mist that reminded me of times in the more humid locales of the South. We suited up and we walked onward.

And we walked on. Past tributaries unfished and unknown. All looking appealing, calling to me, but there was an unspoken destination we know was much further, so we walked on.

The water was high, you could float even the moderate sized feeders. The water had been much higher, just a week past, so most every stretch was cleared out of downed trees, the water thundered below us, and the rain fell from above. We walked with strength and speed and on the air between us there was utter anxiety.

After a fair bit we made it to the turn from the trail to the stream we aimed for. The rain had ceased, the clouds lingered.

We descended to the stream and assembled our weapons of wonder for the day. It smelled of decomposing leaves with a slight hint of fish. Everywhere was moss, ferns, poison oak, and alders just starting to push forth buds. The water here was a force to be reckoned with, running high and clear with a deep blue green tint as the depth increased.

Fishing commenced and I had my first strike from a fair sized native on the first pool I flipped my fly into. I felt good.

It wasn’t long till we had brought in the first fish of the day, a healthy sized future migrant.

We came to places on this creek that knocked us speechless and slapped us senseless.

We fished on.

For moments I felt like I was dreaming, and the dream only got better as we continued further upstream.

We came to one spot that I named Coho Bend. When I saw it I felt like I was going to catch a Coho salmon, though at most only the ghosts of Coho past now dwell in these waters, the logical and modern man would say.

It was the most incredible place I have ever fished. On all sides were cliffs that overhung the creek at the pools far bend. The creek proceeded to do a full 180 degree turn at this spot, a beautiful hairpin curve with a deep dark pool full of mystery and future wonders. The cliffs towering above were covered in ferns, moss, and awesome streaks of various geological age and order.

I worked the big hole at the Coho Bend for what seems like forever or maybe a moment, time telling is inaccurate in dreams.
Just like in my dreams, and many people's dreams, I kept trying and trying and mostly failing.
I would get a big strike on my second drift n' strip, but miss the hookset. I fished on and the incident was replayed like a skipping record.

I decided to cover more of the bend pool. I let out almost all of my 100feet of fly line, letting the fly swim all the way to the tail of the pool at which time I proceeded to start my slow, short, strips back up against the current.
Half way through the pool I had a huge strike and set the hook!
It was a slab of something fierce, angry, and utterly wild. I saw it turn and flash it's broad side at me shining bright with pink and silver. This was bigger than the other fish we had encountered and it fought accordingly.
Just as the fish had turned to show me a mere fleeting glimpse of what I was dealing with the fearless fish charged me like a freight train that was makin’ up lost time.

With all of that fly line out I could not keep the line tight and I fell to the ground, on my back, splayed out in defeat, tangled in a mess of line, leader, and fly.

The ones that get away are indeed the most memorable.

It was a misty, mysterious, and ultimately mesmerizing day which will no doubt live fully in my dreams.

Of Flies, Discipline and Rewards

2011-02-28T19:45:00.000-08:00

It was a cold day after the storm, but the sun made it almost pleasant.

Danielle's Topo tree

Went for a little hike in the local hills with my lady Danielle sunday morning, and just happened to strap my rod to my daypack and throw in a box of the ugly streamers I've been tying. Danielle usually fishes with me, but she didn't bring her gear today; we both thought it would be pretty blown out from the storm and I mainly only brought my stuff because I was rectifying the fact that my gear had lost it's permanent place in my trunk over the last couple weeks.

It was a beautiful day. We started late, had coffee and breakfast and some good discussion, then went up to get a closer look at the snow covered hills. Went up to a place that often looks like a refugee camp and were surprised how few people were there at 10:30am...when I saw the water I knew I had to fish: it was high, but just a beautiful snowmelt blue, and clear, and cold..... and a tip Bernard gave me a few weeks back came into my head...migratory fish?

I disciplined myself to only fish the streamers I filled my box with as we hiked along, Casting upstream then letting the current take it, and then stripping back up along the current seams. Hiked for about 3 hours and fished for less than that.

The really promising looking spots were few and far between. The high flows of this winter have altered the stream a fair bit.
I came to this spot and just felt super about it.

I had a gut feeling that there was something lurking in that shadow.
I proceeded to work the black no8 wb through the run a few times letting it get taken to the end of the pool and then stripping slowly back through that shadow.

On the second retrieve I saw a big grey/black form move up toward the surface at my fly and almost had an eye pop out as it was way bigger than anything I had seen or caught on this stream.

Kept working, varying the retrieve and the position slightly, letting it dance in the current more, again, again...one more time and boom fish on.

I brought this guy in pretty quickly as he did a monstrous jump as I was stripping in and brought him to a pool right in front of me. Danielle was running video and got a real short clip so this is a still from that! She did a great job

I haven't seen any native cal rainbow trout that had this grey of an underbelly. It was weird and cool so we called him the granite trout. He slipped out of my hands quickly and back into the ice cold water swimming away with vigor. We turned toward the car near here as there were some gnarly stream crossings and way too many goldseekers.

It had been 5 weeks since I got out and fished our mountains so it felt great to be up there even though it was a short outing.
All was good; it was the first time I caught a fish on a streamer I tied and the biggest laco trout I've been able to discover yet. Discipline's reward is sure, this time it came sooner rather than later.

January is for Tying?

2011-01-31T19:28:00.000-08:00

What a way to start 2011. First, the December storms charged up every watershed in the state. Then the January thaw was part two of the equation leading me to much weekend distraction up in them there hills rather than at the tying station. The fish hunting, and rambling, took place in the mountains up and down this great state, and it was all good. There was a solo mission and there were team efforts.

But, I was supposed to be tying flies, right? I got a few done, but not boxes and boxes full by any stretch of the imagination.

I am pretty sloppy, and definitely not a "committed" fly tier as I don't have the time to tie all of my flies, or the money to buy all the feathers and whatnot which makes me think I should be starting to hunt sooner rather than later but that's a different story.

Tying resolution: tie more "meat" for the big boys, and COMMIT to chucking these things around. These are supposed to look like some big gnarly crawdads I saw in OR. Got a tip from senor FlyJunkie to splay the claws better, so this one is a work in progress.

Some standard woolly bugger action in olive and brown. Been tying lots of these, in #4-8, and other colors too.

Also been tying a few dries, mostly Adams like the one above and elk hair caddis in various sizes from 12 to 20, ready for the un-pressured fish hiding out in secret canyons who don't care that I am crowding the eye of the hook.

The sights, smells, sounds, tastes, and feeling of fishing in January California-style is new to me. Typical experience: it looks like winter, the leaves are fallen and mostly washed away to the sea, but it's 65 and sunny. A dragonfly buzzes around, looking a bit puzzled, like it showed up to the party all his friends know doesn't start for a few months. Birds sing. The water flows crystal clear. What a place, what a country! Here are some shots that capture it.

First, just as the rains ceased, there was a mushroom hatch.

Chantrelle's: 20bucks a pound in the store, free in the wild.

There is a river in the valley. This spot was burned pretty bad just a couple years back, but is on the fast track.

This guy seemed curious and a little cold.

Another CA creek looking just picture perfect. This one is in Southern California, it was pretty hard to get to the day I went; lots of mud on the road, had to park and then bike it 13 miles roundtrip with elevation gain of 1500ft on the way back.

SNPA has officially replaced Yeungling as the fallback, old reliable, go-to brew.

A baby rainbow eating predator.

Here is a video I put together of all the underwater shots I got from the stream. The brown above is the only fish I took out of the water and photographed, the rest I just did quick releases in the water.

This stream haunts my dreams. There are no fish in it.....and I can't remember where it is haha.

Some sun on the water led to even more fun.

I hooked into some quality native fish like this fellow, and thought I had done pretty good.

As the sun began to sink below the ridgeline of the canyon, I started thinking I might be the only one in the group that had caught any fish or had any fun, so turned tail and kicked dust back to the car, imagining Al, Danielle, and Elyse arms folded across, pouting, and ready to hit the road.

Well, I was wrong. I don't know if I have ever been more wrong about anything.

Turns out that just up from where I turned around Al had hooked, landed and released a steelhead.

Al's steelhead: Looks like a fresh hen, she ran almost 19inches. It is no small feat to get a california steelhead in your fourth time fly fishing!

The streams look good now, but I hope we get some more "nasty" weather soon to keep them strong into the spring time and then summer. If January is any indication, it is going to be a beautiful and rewarding year for exploring the mountain streams of California!

Los Padres Rainbows

2010-12-29T21:26:00.000-08:00

Cold Creek

2010-12-28T19:06:00.001-08:00

Got out to a rather infamous crick on the way back from Mammoth this weekend. I figures I wouldn't have another chance to feesh this place anytime soon, so despite the cold and snow I gave it a whirl.

Usually I don't mention all the times I head out and DON'T catch fish on here, actually I never do, until now anyway. Yea, I got completely dominated by this not-so hot creek. It was real cold to me on this bluebird day. Hiking through the snow, which was a couple feet deep in spots, was worth it though. The peace of the stream buffered by all the white stuff was beautiful. Worked downstream with streamers for the first hour or so, without any action at all. After turning to work back upstream I saw some midges hatching sporadically and quickly dying, falling to their graves atop the white powder. I tied on a #20 midge to 6x, but it was fruitless. I saw one fish rise right next to my fly, but not on it. Time to get real and buy some 7x.

Failing to prepare is preparing to fail...

The creek; I was the only one there.

Mount Williamson et al

Pretty much the coolest thing I saw was this little deer come up about 25 feet from me on the opposite bank, give me a sniff and long eyeballing, then just walk into the middle of the creek and start chowing down on creek weeds.

October in Oregon

2010-10-06T07:27:00.000-07:00

For the second year in a row I made it up to southern Oregon for a church convention. This year, unlike the last, fall didn't arrive early. Las year it even snowed one day, while this year it was about 80 or more and sunny everyday. The contrast didn't stop there. Last year tried to fish a few pieces of water here and there sporadically, but didn't catch a fish. This year I was able to spend some solid time after the convention and focus on some trout water that was basically an organic soup of aquatic life.

The first time we made it out to the water we almost ended up back in CA, lost on an old logging road. We gained our bearings and found some water and a few fish.
They started out like this on the lower piece of the river, the pheasant tail was the ticket.
This guy put up a healthy fight and I was glad to see a fish with a bit more size. In all we worked this piece for 45 minutes and caught maybe six fish between two of us, John on spinners, all of mine on pheasant tail.
I think this is a mahogony dun, they were hatching off the lake almost every day.

Our first full day afterward we decided to fish a section of the river that was rumored to be good, and it was, definitely the most delicious piece of organic soup of aquatic life I have ever tasted, seen, heard, smelt, or felt.

The place was treacherous, yet glorious.

Wading, at first, was not on the agenda due to the fast current and the murky water. That didn't last long. I had fallen in and contused my shins in no time. Wading was not fun. Dirty, stinky, like walking in the dark, almost. The rocks were huge, small, unpredictable, and everywhere. They had moss growing all over them, and some other aquatic plant. The reads and grasses were 4 feet tall, the banks ridiculously overgrown.

I lost tons of flies.

I lost giant trout.

But from the jaws of defeat we snatched plenty of victories and we ended up catching some serious fish.

The average fish was easily sixteen inches, with a couple pushing twenty inches. They were brutes. Their diet consisted of, no doubt, everything from insects, to baitfish, to six inch crayfish.

Danielle, with a nice fattie

Al's first fish on the fly. This fatso was probably twenty inches, didn't measure him, but he was as long as my forearm and that is 19 ...unbelievable that this was his first fish on the fly, he can only go down from here. (although it was on a streamer...)
There were some big rapids, nice seems.
A slightly below average sized trout, but not too bad to look at.

After we had our fill of fishing this amazing river we ate our packed sandwiches and had some coldbeers and went to look at some other area streams.

They looked good, but only produced one more fish.

This crystal river comes right out of the ground just a few hundred yards upstream from here.

This was a real nice piece of water, meandering back and forth real gentle. But, we missed the hopper activity, it seems.

Al, the trout wrangler.
The last day up there was not to be wasted; I had a flight back to CA at 5 so figured it was a good call to make the most of the morning on my new favorite organic soup of aquatic life.

At the last minute, the most interesting Steve in the world decided to join me for some fish slaying.

It was epic.

Two and a half hours of epic.

Dizzying really. Not sure how many fish I lost or caught, it was non stop action, almost equal parts triumph and heartbreak.
Just little porkers, everywhere.

I lost even more big fish this time, and it stung a bit, but really not sure what I would or could do differently. They broke me off going under rocks or right out into the main channel or straight down stream, especially hard to deal with considering the overgrown banks complete with giant boulders which needed to be climbed or rock hopped.

The october caddis and stoneflies in black and brown were working just fine.

...but next time I might need to bring some orange crayfish patterns in about size 0...

This freak hit the october caddis, absolutely thrilling, completely unexpected considering the hatch hadn't started (it was only about 1 pm)

Oink.

The most interesting Steve in the world caught and released who knows how many fish like this...using mepps spinners.

Sunrise over the lake.

October in southern Oregon?

I highly recommend it.

Yosemite

2010-09-11T20:04:00.000-07:00

Made it up to Yo recently with a hearty group of adventurers. It was my first time there and it was hard to not just sit and stare at El Cap losing all sense of time

An atypical view of El capitan.

There is a river, in the valley....What a place!

Got onto the water nice n' early one day and proceeded to have about 3 hours of about the best trout fishing I could imagine. They were hitting everything, yellow stimis on the surface and big PTs about 2 feet deep, it was like a dream.

Personal best rainbow trout. Took the stimi on the surface like a freight train with reckless abondon, there were yellow jackets and bees all over around this hole and maybe he had been feeding on them before I got my fly in his lane. Thought I was going to lose him a few times, glad I didn't

Fumble.

After the water started to warm i figured it was time to give the fish a break, so went for a snorkel in the water and got some cool underwater shots/video. Snorkeling is like the discovery channel, except way better

After lunch, as the sun started to drop behind the ridges and the water began to cool, we fished further upstream and had fun with equal parts bouldering/rock climbing plus fishing.

Lots of juicy critters fer eatin...yellow stoneflie larvae I think

Yosemite Valley

High in the Sierras

2010-07-07T20:58:00.000-07:00

Since moving back to the Goldenstate there's one destination in particular that I'd been itching to get to: the Sierra Nevada mountains and its cool, clear streams. But, with the incredible snow year that they had up there I kept postponing joy for fear of being taken prisoner by the angry rivers. By the time Independence Day came around it was decided to get up there somewhere. A posse was formed, the details were settled, and the fish hunt was about to begin....but first I had to drive through LA and then the San Joaq valley....the valley, for as bad a rap as it gets, was like paradise comparaed to the gnarly grip of the holiday weekend LA traffic

Somwehere north of Bakersfield.

We made it up the mountain and set up camp at almost 8000 feet. The weather was crisp, dry, and calm, a great weekend was ahead of us.

There were substantial drifts of snow in the shade at the beginning of the hike down to the rivers

We passed some beautiful meadows like this

And some very strange flowers that grew in unexpected places

We made it down the mountain into the river valley and proceeded to pick out a campsite and make undt river cooler for our frosty beverages

This is a deep run on the feeder stream we camped next to; it was running pretty high and crossing/wading was not easy or safe, but that didn't matter too much at this point, we were all pretty stoked

Poop, from unknown wild beast

This was a suhweet looking deep run on the main river that I scouted the first day but did not fish; I was sure it would produce some good fish.

There were all sorts of flowers and the forest was real open, it was nice not to have to do a lot of bushwhacking. It was also a lot easier to get our bearings when we were exploring.

The next day started fishing about 7 and had high hopes. The water being pretty high and fast I was fishing hares ear and lightning bug nymphs deep under an indicator, starting at the deep run pictured above. It was slow going, and I didn't land any fish for the first hour or so. As the temperatures warmed and I made my way upstream I shifted to a dry dropper setup and started producing small fish like the one above on the current seams. These fish fought SO HARD that I quickly abandoned the dropper for just a dry fly because they were thrashing incessantly, tangling themselves in the line to my dropper. It was a curious, as high as the water was I only caught one or two fish on nymphs; dries fished on the seems and eddies would prove to be the ticket.

Further upstream we started getting into bigger fish, the royal coachman was consistently bringing risers in almost every pool.

Right before catching this guy I went for a swim in a deep run. Slipping on some rocks right into the main flow I kept my cool and let the river take me for a bit of a ride and then swam/crawled to the opposite bank. As I drifted, I saw 16 plus inch beast of a trout that had been holding up at the bottom of the run lazily swim up to the top of the pool to likely take cover in the whitewater. As cold and wet as I was, it was pretty rad to see that large healthy trout were cruising the depths of the stream

The fish like this fella kept coming; it was one of the most enjoyable mornings I've had fly fishing. I was using my new 6'6" full flex rod, and each of these fish fought like bandits.

Mr. Trout

We headed back to camp to get some grub and shade then headed up the stream we had camped next to. There were lots of fish like the guy above, nothing too big, but fun and it was a beautiful stream.

Parts of the stream were wide and shallow with a solid granite bottom, scoured out here and there with steps every so often.

When I came to the above spot I thought it looked good, as there was a pretty significant bend and the seam looked promising. I proceeded to wade to the position above and found the fish, to my dismay, to be right in front of me about 15 feet away, holding in about 18 inches of water! There was a whole pod of fish, two of which were over 16 inches and FAT. I was not expecting to see fish like this on this creek, but there they were. I was pretty stealth and managed to only scare them once. I must have fished this spot for an hour, trying nearly everything in my fly box; midge pupae, hares ear, copper john, san juans, pheasant tail, dries like BWO, adams, etc.

After all that proved fruitless I moved up to the top of the run and fished it downstream with an assortment of streamers and nothing. It was frustrating, but it helped me remember that I have A LOT to learn.

The rocks at the confluence, pretty cool sight as the sun set.

The stream cutting through the granite, pretty spectacular

On our way back to camp after turning around near the falls we started seeing the biggest mayflies (green drakes I think) coming off. They were about size 14s! I've never seen mayflies come off like this in person, not this big. I got excited, thinking I could get into the bigger fish I had spotted earlier; we put on the olive adams dries, stealthily approaching the spot I had come to earlier. I had some really quality drifts, but nothing. The bugs were coming off, but if they were feeding on them, it wasn't on the surface. It made me realize, again, what neophyte I am: I have so many holes in my fly collection, both dries and nymphs, but especially emergers.

The posse back at camp making feesh tacos, telling stories, resting our feet and enjoying the freedom that comes with living in the USA

Another interesting flower, it was like spring up there

The hike back the next day was pretty strenuous. We managed to make a wrong turn on the trail and proceeded to make our own way through the open terrain, rather than backtracking. The 6 mile hike stretched out a little longer, and the 1280 or so feet we went up in the last 3 miles was tough, but the meadow up top kept me focused on last spot to fish before the trip was through

The stream was an amazing habitat, downed logs all over the place, undercut banks, deep, unusual pools; I caught a few fish this size but wouldn't be surprised if there are some bigger fish in the prime spots.

Almost Paradise Meadow, last stop on the trail. Hustled back to the car and it was back to civilization and a big cheeeeburger at a haunted inn.

Driving through Bakersfield, I saw a street sign that was calling Ol Merle to come back to his hometown.

It was time for me to go back home, to work, to reality, but I was already day dreaming about the streams I had been to, they were already calling me back. They still are.

Sheep Mountain Stream Dreams

2010-06-07T20:49:00.000-07:00

After sometime looking at topos and satellite images it was determined that making a hump on foot into the wilderness would be a decent way to spend part of the memorial day weekend. The area targeted was definitely deserving of the title "wilderness." A place where road building had been attempted twice, and failed twice. It was pretty rugged. The hike in was a beast, but as with most things, that little bit of extra effort you put in, and pain you may endure, generally leads to better results. In our case it was rewarded with an incredible experience and no doubt lasting memories.

Some hippies, for sure, on the hike in

Spin master couldn't wait to wet his line

It's a yucca, sucka

Super fast lizard

We saw some bighorn sheep (these are females).

Many feared these were extinct from the area.

Chasing them up the cliff

Look at the babies, too

Eventually got to a good campsite and started to feesh, started getting dinks right away

The water looked better than the fish it produced for us

On top of that, there was major photo fail. This one is kind of neat though

This was as far upstream as I got, what an awesome run this was. Missed two solid strikes and then had SOMETHING break me off right next to that big boulder on the right. On this hole, Fish: 1, Fishhunter: 0

Makin' some dinner

Stream-cooled dessert : )

The next morning we got on it bright and early and the feesh were awake

The rainbows were darker colored up this drainage, very cool

Snow melt, straight up

Caught tons of 'bows, lost count between us

The spin master's beast

Came to this pool and the day was getting hot. Fished it and then had to feel it's icy waters for ourselves

!Splash!

Flower in the rock

The water speeding up, dropping fast, into the Narrows

Same County, Different Worlds

2010-05-10T06:38:00.000-07:00

Sometimes you get up, get out, and get after it and things turn out infinity times better than you expect. This weekend that happened. Managed to escape to the stream one morning and happened upon icy cold, clear water, multiple hatches, and feeding feesh. And it was in los angles county. Never would have thunk it could be true but I always wondered what was in them hills above the city from the time I was about ten years old. Now I know, and I can't wait to get back.

Typical.

A-Typical.

Water was cold, maybe 50 at most; I was limited in my underwater filming, hands were freezing

First to fall on the dry

Primo

Average for the section we got on

Danielle, Release'n the rain'

Creme de la creme; I got a few fish out of this section, one of which was a surprising catch for this water...I was stoked!

Absolutely chomped the size 16 adams, fought like a brute, somehow even putting a near double over bend in my 5wt, which was without a doubt like bring a gun to a knife fight on this stream (until I ran into this feller)

Fish o' the day.

This guy was mean lookin for his size.

I'll be back soon...

Four hours of hiking, bouldering and fishing in which I don't really remember what happened when or where I was or who I was or if I had eaten or if I was even hungry or thirsty had to end with un grande burrito.

Most Epic Fishing Video I've Ever Seen

2010-05-06T10:35:00.000-07:00

Wild Rainbow Paradise

2010-05-05T05:56:00.000-07:00

I had been looking at a certain drainage on the map for a few days last week. My fish-dar was already starting to ping just looking at this place geographically and hydrologically and when I read some old DFG fish sample reports (over a decade old) I decided it would be a worthy spot to explore. This place does not get fished at all from what we saw and depending on your interpretation of the DFG regulations may be closed, it is kind of ambiguous. Either way, we made it up to where the dirt road ran out before 8am Sunday and were hiking upstream shortly after. No one else was there save the CCC bus. The trailblazers were just ahead of us, scaring up the snakes and whatnot. This made things much easier for us.

The stream was about what I expected in terms of size and quality near the trailhead; about 5cfs, averaging 10ft across with wider pools, gravel and bedrock bottom, and a very shallow gradient.

Our map was innaccurate and about 2.5 miles of road we thought we would be able to drive turned into 2.5 miles of extra hiking. This turned out to be a good thing...

As we moved up the trail we passed several private properties, it seemed these were people who just owned their own personal campsites up in the hills as there were not houses, just tents and a small trailer here and there.

After we made it past the scattered private land, we looked down into the creek bed from the trail and saw nothing but dry rocks and gravel and heard nothing but the wind and the birds. The creek was GONE! I quieted myself, and just said well, it must be flowing underground here and pressed ahead, but in my mind I was thinking "THIS IS NOT GOOD".

Pushing ahead another .25 or .5 mile the water was back in the creek channel, but was barely flowing. I looked back down around the creek bend and could see the creek just dissappear into the porous ground, it was pretty cool.

Heading further upstream the water volume started to increase again, back to near trailhead levels and our spirits were UP! We started to see great holes scoured in the rock, downed trees and stumps and I knew we were in business. My first cast yielded a missed strike about 3 miles from the trailhead. The fishdar was pinging like crazy now. The water was absolutely gin clear and cool, approx upper 50s. Casting into the pocket at the elbow in the picture below yielded the first fish of the day; a really interesting rainbow because of it's few black spots on it's head/back. Things only got better from here in terms of the fish's coloring, and, eventually size.

The little torrent.

First of many.

Tight quarters. (about 7ft across, 6-12in deep)

From the here on up the fishing was insane in terms of the number of fish caught. We lost count within the next 30 minutes. Fish as small as 2inches that were probably hatched this year were aggressively striking sz 16 barbless flies. I am not sure I have ever been to a stream that was more teeming with wild, native, fish of so many different size/age classes before. From what I saw, this may be the healthiest stream I have ever fished; it was a staggering number of fish considering the volume of water.

Keep em in the water...

More of the same goodness

This was the first real real honey hole we came upon. The water channeled really deep through the bedrock here and the fish were living the good life.

There were fish holding all along the right edge of the stream as the water had scoured out a perfect little cave for the fish to hang out in, totally protected.

Vibrant.

Some more size.

Name that fly!

The sweetest hole we came accross.

EHC size 12 was ready for the closeup.

The best colored fish of the day (wish would have turned out better)

Fishing on up above here was still good, but we were hot on the CCCs trail and they had definitely scared some of the fish with all their clearing can grubbing. We came to one amazing looking pool/bend just before overtaking the CCC and I had this feeling in my gut that this was the spot the king of the creek hung out. I doubled back about 20 yards to make a stealthy cast upstream and to my left so that my fly would land in the riffle just above where the deep hole at the bend was. First cast was decently located and got a big strike, but it was immediately spit. Second cast, after a few seconds of perfect drift a fish absolutely inhaled my fly and I knew it was the king of the fish on this day for me, at least.

After a spirited fight I brought him in and snapped some pictures then sent him on his way.

After passing the CCC crew the trail became completely gnarly. Combine that with the facts that we had a) just seen a rattlesnake, b) caught a ton of fish, c) already hiked way more than we bargained for, and d) the creek was tighter that before and almost unfishable, we decided our day was done and headed back. It was amazing how many more fish we saw on the way back when we weren't fishing. The day was nothing short of epic, to say the least.

Coastal Rainbows

2010-04-27T19:19:00.000-07:00

Since arriving in the Golden state I have mainly been consumed with work and getting settled in to my new old home. In between I have been able to set up my vise and tie some flys as well as spend a couple mornings out on some skinny fresh waters near the Pacific. These streams were in the Los Padres National Forest, which is a huge expanse, divided into different sections/districts. It continues to amaze me how much of California is wilderness, how many streams are seemingly never fished, and how beautiful it is. Here are some pictures from these short excursions

Sunset north of Los Padres forest

A kestrel flying away with it's catch (snake or lizard)

A little stegosuarus ridge in the Los Padres.

A horny toad!

Newts doing the natural. Smelled like sulfur all around here. Lots of oil under these hills.

The most exciting fish are those who appear in places where you expect little or nothing.

This lady appeared in a small plunge pool, at the end of Danielles line, when I was about to classify the stream fishless!

Some big falls, maybe an 80footer.

Along the trail...

California may have about 40million people, but it's also home to many wilderness areas

which most hoodads n' city slickers don't even know exist.

Headin' up into them hills

Lupines in the morning sun

This tom wanted to fight, came right up to the car; I would have liked to kill him and eat him,

but we weren't prepared for that

Morning mist and the mountains beyond

John fools one with his spinnah

Another rainbow fooled by the spinnermasters

Big water on the falls

Lots of chutes

A pool chock full of rainbows!

Alex's rainbow;

A little coastal rainbow; look at those colors and marking! Never seen a fish like this before,

almost looks like it's part golden trout.

The UC Santa Cruz mascot.

Down, down, down, down the water falls commanded by it's master mister gravity.

Hmm, wonder what's just around that big rock....

A big hole, definitely some undiscovered mysteries hiding in there.

Drink it in

Moss and ferns drip, drip, dripping.

My first coastal rainbow on the fly! Picture certainly doesn't

do this guy justice. Amazing dark spots almost covering his whole body,

all camo'ed up for the volcanic rock surroundings.

Pacific ocean swallowing up another little creek, as the horizon prepares to swallow the sun.

The Open Country

2010-03-18T20:18:00.000-07:00

Preparation, Fly tying: little midge pupae with my new vise (thanks David)

We hit the road the first week in March with California at the end of the long open road before us. Along the way we weren't too worried about finding distractions.

Mogollon people lived here 700 years ago. Crazy little people farmed corn on top of a 6500foot mesa. Crazy little people.

The Gila wilderness was unwilling and unforgiving; Will have to make it back here sometime when it is hot.

Unforgiving...more fire please

Gila river valley with some fresh winter on top.

This winter has no quit in it

We had to stop once or twice for repairs, basic maintenance...

Welcome to the prelude of the beginning of tomorrow

El Rio San Juan, Nuevo Mexico.... a tid bit nippy, but far from lifeless.

There were midges everywhere, it was disgustingly awesome

Nothing comes close to successful dry fly fishing on the most infamous of Western nymphing water. The griffiths gnat was a decent imitation of mating midge clusters.

Rainbow, release!

Around lunker alley, the surface activity slowed so it was time to strip

Bloodsport from stripping the streamer, sz 4 buggah. Lost a real lunker after this deep in the hole...

Floating past the spirits of the navajo peoples on old route 666

Arizona, lookin at Mount Humphrey, next stop the In N Out burger and california...

If it Rained an Ocean I'd Drink it Dry

2010-01-25T17:03:00.000-08:00

The rain came this past weekend. The water fell and the rivers flowed.

It was high time I got back on some fish, so considering the weather was supposed to

warm up to over 50degrees I figured it would be a good day, despite the forecasted rain.

I got on the river by daylight, but with the clouds thick like phlegm and rain coming down in buckets, I actually had to turn on my head lamp to tie my first fly on. The water was pretty high, and rising.

It was nearly impossible to take a clear picture with the rain coming from every direction including from below.

Since the water was so high I worked upstream. I moved from pool to riffle, to pool, and everywhere in between flicking a sz 14 stimulator on top and a sz 18 lightning bug dropper. I caught a few rainbows as I moved along that were all about like this beautiful feller.

The action wasn't that fast on top with the stimi or below with the bug...on top of that it was freezing, the water was about 38 degrees and the air temp was still hovering at about 40. My hands were numbing up, almost couldn't bring my fingers together at one point. So worked up to the falls and decided to eat some jerky, warm my hands, and work downstream with a different approach.

The goal was to just throw big nasty flies in the raging, rising, waters and get them deep so the big boys could see them. I was warmed up to the point that I could tie on a big sz4 olive bugger and I started swinging the thing in every deep pocket, hole, or pool as I moved back downstream. On the third pool I hooked up with the most beautiful rainbow I've ever seen. It was so dark red on the side it reminded me of pictures I have seen of mckenzie river Oregon redbands. It was maybe 15in, a really nice fish for this piece of water. The fight didn't last long though, on the third jump he shook the hook. Despite losing the fish I knew that I was on to something and kept working downstream with my heart beating a bit faster.

As I moved it seemed to just get colder, and the rain heavier. It was the kind of weather that usually prevents most outdoor activities from occurring.

The ice stalagmites were all over the place along the creek. As I moved downstream out of the higher gradient portion I passed a quintet of kayakers putting in. I watched them and ate some more jerky, looked like fun, but I was having plenty slinging flies. Made it down to some of the big water and it was ridiculously high and stained at this point. I started working a pool with a big tree at the front end of it and got a huge strike on the first cast, but it spits it just as hard and fast as he struck. I saw the beasts side as it turned on my fly and I knew I was in a good spot for the big boys to feed. A couple casts later, I had a huge strike set the hook and was about overcome with joy, but then my line snapped! I saw this one turn too, and it was a monster no doubt. No more fooling around, I tied on a new leader and a big black sz 4 bugger and started swinging my fly like a steelheader, shooting it across the river to my left and then working it down and across towards my right. I worked like this for a while, getting more than a few strikes my heart in my mouth the whole time after losing the big one. After working down toward another downed tree I hooked up with this brown trout!

A real predator, faught pretty good, even a few jumps to show off his skills. By this time I was absolutely freezing, so started working back to the car. Saw a couple other guys swinging big flies and little midges as well, everyone I talked to had landed some big fellas as well.

All in all it was a great day. There's something special about being out on the water, on such a "horrible" day, when most don't even want to walk to their car.

Just another reason to love rainy days, to smile when it's cold and grey.

Fall, done come and gone.

2009-12-02T16:10:00.000-08:00

Fall came and went faster than I wished. The chill on the air, the changing colors, the smell of the leaves, etc....it all slipped away too quick. I was working OT for most of it, and studying to take a test in my spare time so the couple times I was able to get out were brief. Fortunately for my sanity and my fishsense I was able to get into some nice wild trout a couple times over the past two months.One of the streams I was able to get up into was pretty cool...there were ruins of a town in the valley where it flowed. It was all destroyed and more than a few people died when a big flood came about a hundred years ago...skipped a lot of holes but caught some fun rainbows. It was good stuff.... Cold and rainy, but the fish don't mind that. Not trout anyway. It can be 29degrees and they will still eat their supper if they can get it. The other stream was just a few drainage basins over along the Blue Ridge here in North Carolina and I got some decent browns. Met a fellow on the stream who had been makin his own small stream rods for a years and got some good pointers. I reckon I could have twice the fun on the small streams with the smaller fish if I was using a 2weight rod...especially if I made it myself. Ahh, another future project to tackle!
Anyway here are some pictures from my last couple trips!
Enjoy

Cool Mountain Morning

2009-10-12T15:04:00.000-07:00

Here are some pictures from a recent early morning fish slaying session. It is probably one of the best mornings I have had fishing I can remember; everything came together! The water was high, but clear. The air was damp and cool. It had rained the whole day prior, but the light broke through just after sunup and I knew it was going to be a good morning. The leaves were just starting to turn. The fish were in full on feeding frenzy it seemed. I have fished this small creek before, but never brought any fish like the two nice browns I tricksed on the inchworm fly. Dreams, really good dreams, aren't usually as good as the reality of the four hours I spent on the creek that morning.