Fishies and Freshies

I'm usually playing catch up and posting on old trips but I thought I'd switch things up and add a recent post about my recent days at the ever so popular Pyramid Lake. As this Christmas we were out to California to celebrate with my in-laws, I had the opportunity to spend three long days on the large, sandy-bottomed lake. The forecast for the week predicted some snow and overall cold conditions. Usually this is a good thing, but being so late in the season I figured that this would not increase my chances of hooking up with what the locals refer to as "big red".

My in-laws graciously let me post up at their cabin just outside of Truckee and I set out for the lake on Monday morning, stopping first at Reno Fly Shop for a license and any odds and ends that I still needed. Much to my dismay I lost my stillwater box on my last trip so preparing for this trip involved tying a lot of bugs. After getting a few things and getting some last-minute advice I set out for a popular starting point - the nets.

Just as I had imagined the "nets" area was lined with fisherman posted up on ladders of all kinds. I rigged up, grabbed my ladder, and got out in line. Casting was a little different than I'm used to, but I quickly got comfortable double-hauling out the entire fly line. It was cold. The waves came in and conditions overall seemed somewhat bleak. There was about 20 fishers lined up across the beach and I later found out that the fish the guy next to me landed was only the fifth pulled in by all twenty guys all day. The word was that the recent cold spell turned the fishing off and kept the fish holding deep and not cruising through the beaches. Regardless, I was determined. I fished the entire day without so much as a bump and was the last to leave the water.

Day two was forecasted to be the worst of the weather. It was just as cold as the day before but a storm was supposed to come through. Word of the tough conditions must have gotten out because I only saw one other fisher as pulled up to the nets area. The waves were bigger than yesterday but the sun made conditions more bearable. The waves churned up the sand bottom and the usually clear water was clouded up. After fishing for hours with no results, I felt my line stop and before I could even think I instinctively set the hook hard enough to make Roland Martin proud. I almost couldn't believe when I felt something wiggle on the other end. The fight was relatively short as he hit probably twenty feet off my ladder. Finally I netted my first Lahontan Cutthroat. It was a beautiful male that would probably be considered small by Pyramid standards - a "meager" twenty inches or so. Seeing that taking a picture while solo, on a ladder, in crashing waves, while trying to not lose my gear seemed too daunting I refrained from pulling out the camera.

Awhile later I looked to the north and saw the wall of a storm that seemed just as wide as the lake moving in. Great, I was in for it! Fishers had come and gone and the horizontal snow and growing waves the storm brought sent all but one other and me headed for home. I continued casting into the storm until it let up and gave rise to some good lighting. I took a break from fishing to take some pictures. My subject? My ladder and fishing gear. Despite the odd subject I think that some of the pictures turned out pretty well. Hopefully at least, those that frequent Pyramid would appreciate them. I continued fishing and after no further action I moved and fished Wino Beach. Long story short....fished till dark and got...nothing. Here are a few of my favorite shots.



Day 3. After putting in long cold two days with one fish to show for it I was ready for today to be the day. Weather was to be sunny all day and in this case I thought it would be good in that hopefully it would bring the water temps up enough to make the fish more lively and willing to cruise for food. Long story short...they weren't. I spent the day at Wino Beach. I enjoyed this area as it felt somewhat secluded and it had a pronounced shelf that lined much of the beach. For most of the day it was only one other and myself that tried to tempt the fish. Early in the afternoon that I noticed the other guy bringing in a fish. He looked like he was struggling a bit and I called over to him to see if he wanted help. By his response I could tell that he could probably use it so I let my cast settle and I grabbed my net and waded to the beach. When I approached I saw that he indeed had a really nice fish on the line. I coaxed the blunt-faced beast into the net and I could almost feel the man let out a sigh of relief. With good reason too. Despite the fish's somewhat deformed face the fish stretched to over 31 inches long. What a beast. I helped him with a few quick shots (he had only a camera phone) but he eventually opted to keep the fish.

Soon thereafter the man left and a group of three took his place. I assumed my post and continued to fish into the evening. I missed a hit and had a follow but remained fishless after the sun had set. It grew cold quickly and I gave myself five more casts. On the third I felt a bump and set the hook. My line went slack. Dangit! That was what I was waiting for. I couldn't believe it. I made my final two casts and decided that I had to make one final cast in the direction that I got the hit in. I counted to forty and began my slow retrieve. Halfway through I felt another bump and I set the hook hard enough to scare Roland Martin. I felt something alive and I stared at the sky in unbelief. This fish felt good as it put a bend in my rod. I got it on the reel and after a good battle I netted a slim 24 inch male. I was stoked. A reward on literally my very last cast after three days of cold temperatures, strong winds, and waves. It was three days that definitely helped adequately introduce me to this desert lake and leave me wanting more. I knew that I had to come back in the spring as everyone had told me in search of big red.

I had a quick minute to hit some water. With the lady and little man in tow we set out and began walking the banks. I was setup with a beefy streamer and ready to find a hog. The water winded through some fields and at first I wasn't really seeing much great water. It was all shallow and flat. Finally, we came to a deep bend that looked promising.

I got in position to make my cast - I knew that on this slow quiet water I wouldn't get many chances to slam a big nasty bug down. The fly splatted on the edge of the far bank and I began stripping it back. As my fly came into view in the slow deep of the bend I saw that it was being followed by a nice fish. I sat in suspense and after the next strip I saw the white of his mouth engulf my fly. I set the hook and the game was on. As he flashed and fought he had so much color I thought it was a tiger trout, but as we got it into the net I saw that it was a nice bow. The sun was low in the sky and gave us some nice light for a couple shots before we headed home. Nice little quickie seek and destroy mission!

Zev is a little wild man. He already loves being outside - just like his dad. Almost from birth, going outside seemed to calm and soothe him. His curious eyes could never seem to get enough as he surveyed the world around him. He often went hiking and on other adventures with his family. And sometimes when mom is away he goes fishing with his dad. He's not old enough to cast a fly or to wade in the water, but there's no doubt this boy was born to fish. Out of all the toys and other items he loves to play with around the house nothing gets him more excited than the site of one of dad's fly rods. When he catches a glimpse of a rod, nothing else matters. He'll throw fits that will melt your face if he doesn't get to lay his little fingers on it. This boy was born to fish.



On this particular day Mom was away and Dad decided to go fish a favorite local stream. With the baby backpack, snacks, and the child Nalgene bottle in tow Zev was ready to hit the water. It was a beautiful day and the fish were willing. Zev gazed at the little slimy creatures in wonder - didn't really know what to think of them. After some good fishing, he was all tuckered out and took a nap on Dad's back. I'm sure he dreamed the same dreams as his dad: dreams of beautiful fish in beautiful places. It's a good thing that this would not be the last of the fishing adventures with Dad.

Zev is my little man. And he's my sprouting fishing buddy.
(Thanks for the pics, Derek!)

After a week of pure sweetness we were down to our last day. We traveled back to "Jurassic Lake - the place that had shown me the biggest bow of my life. I was stoked. We wouldn't have all day to fish it, but much of the evening - which we hoped would offer us the best fishing. Jurassic was void of people and we began fishing where we had picked up fish the time before. Occasional risers helped us narrow down the active fish. Derek picked up the first. It was a super dark colored male. Then later he hooked into another that felt much bigger. It took him in some weeds and busted him off. After Derek saw some action I hooked up with a beast! It jumped after the hookset and I saw a bow that again had to be one of the biggest trout I'd ever seen. I played him in close and unsuccessfully avoided a large mass of weeds. He got stuck then busted my 3x tippet like it was nothing. Dangit! That's it. I subscribe to the theory that fisherman can fish larger tippet size than they usually do. I believe the main concern that one should consider is that of drag and your fly moving naturally and NOT that the fish is going to see your line and shy away from your fly because of it. After breaking off what would have been a great fish I clipped my tippet and tied on some 0x. This should be interesting. If I could pick up a fish using 0x tippet under an indicator with a size 12 hook then that would be more personal confirmation to this theory.

We moved to another spot. After some moving around and variation in methods we found ourselves fishing in a small sharp bend in the lake. There was a good chop on the water blowing my bugs right back toward me. My indicator drifted towards me and about fifteen feet out it slowly tanked. I set the hook and felt a strong pull. Dang man, I had another really nice fish on. When Derek netted it I was astonished by its size. It was much bigger than I expected. After carefully taping the beast it came out to be one inch longer and about a half inch bigger around than the big female that started out the trip.

After releasing the fish I had an overwhelming sense of satisfaction. I couldn't have asked or hoped for a better trip. Starting it off with the biggest trout of my life and ending it with one that was even bigger. In between were many memories of other beautiful fish and beautiful places. We walked back to the car with a gorgeous sunset overhead and felt full of gratitude for the lives we lead that allow us to take this time and enjoy such beautiful moments. Life is good.

Prior to our trip Derek had agreed to take a family friend out for some bullies so we made the journey back to some familiar water. While we had already been blessed with some good fish, we had caught brief glimpses of fish at and around the 3ft mark that called us back to these commanding waters. How could you ever get sick of fishing in a place like this anyway? The crystal clear waters cutting through the rock and littered with rounded stones of every color. This place is nothing short of amazing.



Today was very similar to the last time we were here. Whitefish and West Slope Cutthroat skittered about cautiously in the big current. They would occasionally take bugs off the surface as they swam around in small pods. The whitefish would sometimes coast down the heavier, bubble-filled current often with their bodies breaking the surface. This seemed sketchy due to the savage takes that we frequently witnessed. All the whities and cutties seemed perfect munching size with the occasional larger cutt. The bullies ranged from 22ish up to the 36+ inch fish that Derek had spotted on the last trip. The action was about the same with the fish (and water) making you work for each hookup. Hookups would come in all manners. Some as you fished deep and some shortly after the fly hit the water. We both were able to witness one take that was particularly jaw-dropping. Derek chucked his meat to the opposite cliff wall in a DEEP, bubble-filled run. The instant the fly smacked the water a bull charged from his unseen holding place and chomped his prey as he rocketed out of the water. Insane. This is the rocket himself (followed by a couple of his friends).













My most memorable part of this trip was one of those that will forever be filed under "the one that got away". It all began in utter chaos. I'm fishing the upper part of the hole where the bubble water dumps in. I feel a hit deep in the channel and I set on what feels like a great fish. Very shortly after I find that my excess fly line has tightened into an impossible knot! I yell to Derek that I would need his assistance as I now frantically battled the biggest trout of my life. Derek works furiously to untangle my knot as I do my very best to keep pressure him hard enough to keep the fly in and the fish in the slower, deeper water and yet light enough to keep him from turning the fight on and heading to the faster tailout of the pool. After literally two or three minutes, Derek has successfully un-knotted my fly line. As I now begin applying more pressure the fish comes to life and intensifies his protest. I played him for a few brief minutes in the preferred water until he made his way for the faster tailout of the pool. This is the point where the fun begins.

Once fish reach this point it is necessary to chase them down the cliffed-out banks. At this point where the river dumps down into a longer, calmer stretch, the cliffs rise up and away from the river making it necessary to climb, rod in hand (or mouth), and play the fish from an elevated 20-30ft above the river. More than once we found ourselves climbing and chasing bullies in a manner somewhat reminiscent of Frank Smethhurst in "Running Down the Man". On this occasion, Derek climbed first with the net and I handed my rod off as I quickly joined him on top. Thank heavens for Chacos and stealth rubber! Once atop I continued to play the fish in this slower water as I walked to the top of the cliff. It was here that I realized that I was indeed in battle with the largest trout of my life. Not gargantuan, but definitely a fish of size. I hoped that I would be able to tire him out here so that Derek would be able to net him 50 yards down where the rock descended back down to the riverside. This was because right below that point there was another point of no return where the river again dumped into a new stretch. Unfortunately, the fish decided not to play nice.

After a few minutes of working him in this stretch he gradually made it down to where Derek was but avoided the net. I scrambled down the rock as quickly as possible while frantically taking in all the line I could. After the water dumped it maintained a healthy current as it entered a deep channel between 30ft cliffs on either side. If I was to follow the fish past this point it would have to be by either swimming through the scary-deep channel or by scaling the cliffside (a harder/longer climb than before) and fishing from the top.

The fish made his way quickly into the deep channel. I swam to a small perch at the mouth of the channel. Here Derek and I put up our last battle. Derek waded deep to the edge of a rock shelf that dropped off into unknown depths. I applied as much pressure as I dared - knowing that this was my last chance. We had him to the net, but Derek was unable to negotiate him in as nothing short of a perfect head-first dive into the net would suffice on a fish this long. It was when I brought him up out of the deep one last time and Derek made his final swipe that the hook finally pulled from the fishes mouth. I could do nothing more than hunch over like Gollum and tightened every little muscle in my body. I couldn't believe it! I sat in unbelief and couldn't help but burst into laughter. What an adventure it was! Climbing and swimming with my homie, Derek, to chase an amazing fish over 150 yards downstream and then losing him at the net! I loved every minute of it. To my suprise Derek's friend, Richard, had even grabbed my camera and caught some of the moments on film. Priceless. One of the sweetest moments I've ever had fishing. I take it as the fishes' invitation to come back for more. Now that's an invitation I could never refuse!

Time was limited, but we both wanted to get up and hopefully get into some golden trout. We drove to the trailhead and started our hike to a lake that holds some good size goldens. The views were amazing as we hiked through the pines. Mother nature hooked us up with some treats which made the hike take a lot longer. Wild huckleberries were everywhere. I'd never had them and let's just say they're amazing. We stripped them from bushes along the trail and stopped periodically to fill our hands and mouths with them.


After some amazing views and delicious berries we finally arrived at our destination. The scene was calm. No risers and no cruisers visible in the shallows. We walked the bank line and headed to where a small stream cascaded into the lake. Not knowing how the lake had wintered or it's activity in recent years, I was a bit pessimistic after no real signs of fishiness. Finally after a while we found a fish feeding intermittently feeding near the inlet. It was clearly visible through the clear water and dark lake bottom. After it rejected my bug Derek gave it a go which resulted in an eat. He missed the hookset. I've never seen him so upset while fishing. I chuckled inside even though I REALLY wished that either of us would have gotten the sizable golden to hand. The sun was getting low and I was able to get some of my favorite photos I think I've ever taken. After seeing and losing another battle with the only other fish we saw, we started our hike down. As not to go home skunked we stopped by a lower lake and fished for some cutthroat/golden hybrids.

Although I had hoped to catch my first golden trout on this trip, the hike was awesome and I guess it gives me a good reason to come back next year...as if I need one.

With some changes to our original plans we set out to fish for bull trout in a new area. The river itself was beautiful and it was cool to see bullies of all sizes holding in the deeper pools as we snuck along the banks looking for prime lies. Overall the fish here were smaller and seemed less aggressive; however, what these fish lacked in size and aggression they made up in beauty. The colors on these fish were much more vibrant than the fish we had caught earlier. Bright pink spots and peach bellies. Amazing. These were the fish I had literally dreamed of seeing. Part of my fascination with bull trout is their combination of notorious reputation and their remarkable beauty. I can definitely say that they were just as awesome as I thought they would be. Because bull trout are so precious we did our very best to ensure that their quick and safe return to the water was of up-most priority. The following are some of my brief attempts to capture some of their beauty.

This was the day I had been waiting for. Today we were to hunt bullies. The trip was already off to a great start, but I could hardly contain my stoke-level to chase these fish. The drive was a long combination of pavement and dirt. The drive was followed by hiking through trees, across water, and over rocks. The surroundings were much of what I had imagined, and definitely more. This place was truly awe-inspiring. The deep, clear waters flowed over rocks and boulders of all colors.

The first bully was spotted cruising in some deep slack water. It was so crazy to finally see one - especially under such beautiful circumstances. A fish close to thirty inches lazily cruising calm, crystal clear water in search of food.













Another hundred yards or so upstream was the hole where we would begin to tempt these beasts. The "hole" was one unlike one I'd ever fished before. The river was roughly 40ft wide, about 30ft deep, and surrounded by rock. The water was passed through a narrower, steeper channel and dumped into a wider, deeper pool. We chucked our meat from atop the small cliffs above the pool. My first fish came seconds after a cast to some calmer water on the far side of the main current.

The take was ridiculous. My streamer slapped the surface and almost immediately the fish appeared from below and destroyed the fly. The fish wasn't the most impressive of specimens, but it was a monumental fish, nonetheless.



Another highlight was seeing a large bull trout with an 8 inch whitefish in his mouth being chased by another large bull trout. It was incredible to see just how gnarly these fish were. Later in the day I once again faced the first fish we spotted that day. In my eagerness I had pulled my fly from its mouth earlier in the day and I now had another chance. Derek had a fish on and this fish had come back out to investigate. From an elevated position, I tossed my oversized streamer out and stripped it passed him. I'll never forget how awesome it was to see his huge jaws and the white of his mouth envelope my fly. It was a great way to end yet another awesome day chasing trout.

My infatuation with bull trout started a little over a year ago. A mysterious fish that grows to immense size. They inhabit pure waters in wild places. Besides their size and the beautiful places where they're found, there were two other characteristics that pulled me in. The first was their sheer beauty. To me it doesn't get any better than the char family and bull trout are definitely no exception. The second thing that captivated me was their incredibly aggressive nature.

My homie, Derek, comes from bull country and it wasn't long before a trip was in the works. Unfortunately I'd have to wait a whole year to meet one of these predators in person. We tied big, nasty flies in preparation, as well as a myriad of other bugs to meet the needs of the other fish we'd be pursuing. What started as a bully trip turned into a week-long trip chasing trout of all shapes and sizes in all sorts of beautiful places.

Day 1. With the car packed up with camping gear, tons of rods, and everything else you'd need to fish like mad for a week we began our journey. We passed the time talking fish as Derek tied flies. We arrived to our first destination as it began to get dark. We squashed our original plan to toss big bugs in the dark and decided to get some grub and hit the hay so that we'd start the trip off with energy. It was to be a long week.



I felt like running, I was so stoked. Today was to be a day chasing big bows at a place we dubbed "Jurassic Lake". The name is very fitting because like the lake it's nick-named after - it holds very large fish. I'd seen pictures and none of the fish were under 21 inches. However, it was already mid-July and I was a little nervous that this stillwater would show us who's boss. We began casting and my nervousness grew as the weeds were a constant nuisance. As I attempted to find weed-free water I was amazed by the amount of bug life in these fertile waters. Scuds flurried about and congregated on my waders. Dozens of damselflies fluttered off bushes along the bank as we made our way through to find the right spot. We found what looked like a promising spot. There were less weeds and what looked like a good cruising zone.

Though fishing was tough, it was very possible that one fish would make it all worth it. The only signs of fish was the very occasional rise and a cruiser that we saw swim buy at a leisurely pace. Now, I've seen cruisers and I've seen some big cruisers; all of which get me super excited. But this fish was the BIGGEST trout I had ever seen. I literally could not believe my eyes. We tossed in it's cruising path with no results. I stood their shaking.

Derek was the first to hook up. We were in the heat of the summer so the water was relatively warm: making the fish somewhat more lethargic. While everyone enjoys a good fight, it definitely was easier on the nerves as bringing a fish back from your backing through sporadic death traps of thick weeds would be nearly impossible. The fish still fought with power but I soon netted the first fish of the trip. A beautiful silvery female looked up at me. Her rosy gill-plate glistened in the sun. Dang, that was a nice fish! We snapped a few pics and sent her on her way. We estimated that she was around 24 inches and probably 3 or 4 pounds.


It was about twenty minutes later that my indicator tanked - an image that will be burned into my memory forever. The feeling of seeing your indicator tank when fishing waters like this especially exhilarating because that split-second before the hookset is filled with excitement and anticipation of just how big the will be. I set the hook and was met with the strongest pull I'd felt since Alaska when I was younger. The power was simply incredible. Although my flyline sliced through the water, it couldn't keep up with the monster flash I saw below. To my relief the runs were relatively short, but the power was undeniable. I screamed and giggled like a little girl. I knew that this was finally the fish I was looking for. For the last year or so I'd be actively pursuing a fish over 24" and this fish was without a doubt over that mark. I prayed that my 3x tippet would hold up as I did my best to keep this beast from ending my excitement in one of the many large masses of weeds. After an epic battle, we got the gorgeous slab of rainbow love into the net and I yelled in excitement and relief. What a fish. Not a bad way to start out the trip.

We set out from my wife's family cabin on motorcycles to go explore some streams in a nearby canyon. We were hoping to explore a larger stream that I'd seen on the topo map. Upon arriving to where the stream crosses the road be discovered that the water was private for something like 6 miles upstream and 6 miles downstream. I was so bummed. The water looked EPIC! So clear and it looked like it probably held some good-sized fish. We continued on to see what else we could find. We later came across a trickle of a stream that we decided to stop and check it out. I found the first likely spot and looked for signs of fish. It didn't take long before I spotted a small trout. Sweet! I grabbed my 3wt and still felt over-gunned.

The water was gin clear. It was no more than four feet wide in most spots and no more than two feet deep in most spots. However after further exploration we found some small waterfalls and plunge pools that were up to eight or ten feet deep. It was truly a gem of a stream and I soon found out that the fish it held were equally special. Looking back, I wish we would have had more time to explore and wish I would have done better at capturing it's beauty. Luckily, I did come back with one shot that I'm pretty stoked about. Now I can't wait to get back!

My wife and I had been put in charge of a youth conference and the spot that had been chosen was the good 'ol Green. We wanted to scope out the group spots beforehand so that we had an idea of the lay of the land while planning things out. That meant a quick over-nighter at the Green.


Now, some may know me as an idiot. This was a time that I proved my slowness. I don't really like camping and established "campsites" but it seems it's pretty restricted in the areas surrounding the Green. In looking at some of the places to camp I came across some info on spots on the B-Section. I figured that they were like most designated camp areas - drive up and setup camp. I chose our spot and it was only upon arriving that I realized that these spots required a hike in. Shiz. This wouldn't have been a problem, in fact, both my wife and I love backpacking...only we hadn't planned for that so we weren't exactly packed in a way that was conducive to backpacking. I'll let the pictures do the talking.













After a sweaty, uncomfortable hike we got to our spot and it was a cozy little spot right next to the river. We enjoyed to solitude. We setup camp and I used the remaining light to toss a line before we prepared our dinner. I wasn't expecting much out of this trip, but hoped that I'd be able to get my first Green River Rainbow. It wasn't long before I felt the wiggle at the end of my rod, and I was stoked to see that this first fish was in fact a gorgeous little bow. Check! Snapped a couple and went to make some food.

I have no pictures to show for the next bit of excitement as it was a mix of good and bad luck. After debating whether to hit the sack and go toss a few in the dark, my lady agreed to come with me to go toss some bugs in the dark. I started with a streamer. After a few minutes and no luck I decided to try my friend Mickey Mouse. I was posted up above a slow eddied-out pool. I cast down and across into the current and let my furry friend carry over into the slower water. I was caught by total suprise when a fish slammed my fly on this the first cast. I blew the hookset. My wife was so excited after hearing my stories of mouse fishing. She had heard the splash. A couple casts later my stripping was interrupted by more bumps. The second was solid and I had fish on. Only moments later he came unbuttoned. After all the excitement I had four sets of hits, one fish on, and none to hand. I was stoked nonetheless.

The next morning the lady slept in and I went in pursuit of feesh. After spending too much time on spooky fish, I found some good water. Candice found me just as I was landing my third fish. Good timing. I continued casting to no avail and she got behind the lens. It seems she finally got a decent grasp on how to work my camera as she got some pretty good shots.

Our day continued with some scouting, a little more fishing, with nothing too eventful going on. The rain on our way home brought a double rainbow that included the brightest rainbow I'd ever seen. They both extended all the way to the ground. I didn't really capture it (out my car window) as well as I had hoped and there were no signs of gold or leprechauns in the shots so we continued home. After a fiery sunset we capped off the trip with a burger from my favorite spot in Duchesne.
They taste better and better every time.