Show Me The Bugger!

 

We've all been there in some shape or another...

Labrador Ain't The Only Place...

Miles Driven: 500

Zip Car: $304

Food: $75

5lb Brook Trout: Price less

So apparently Labrador Canada isn't the only place to find trophy brook trout.  California fly fishing is a tough puzzle to solve, but these days she's starting to show me a little bit of skin. Whoever says California fly fishing sucks, just doesn't know her secrets and that is fine by me. Like my buddy Walt says; "leave if you're not willing to pay your dues." This is coming from a man that already has over 200K miles on a 2007 Toyota FJ Cruiser that only drinks premium.  Yeah San Francisco is "hella" out of the way from the beaten path for fly fishers, but heck - I live in a beautiful city that is conveniently positioned close enough to a variety of different types weekend fishing trips. With that said I'm going to start my story...

We got a late start on Friday last week because we were held up at a bar entertaining one of our international customers from New Zealand. Of course we crushed a few on his tab and talked fishing so I'm not complaining. This just meant a long trip ahead.

After climbing over a 9K ft summit pass through the Eastern Sierras in the Honda Civic we rented for the weekend, we pulled up to our trail head at around 1am. Under the cover of darkness we filled our packs  and embarked on our hike toward the hidden lake in the mountains. After starring down at our 15 foot illuminated radius for the past three miles, we finally arrived to our final destination at around 3 am.

The game plan was to set up camp and get our fishing gear ready for first light, but by the time we finished pumping up our float tubes, it was almost sunrise. Casey and I decided not to risk missing first light so we stayed up the extra 45 minutes we estimated while Alex slept in the tent.

Before we could see the other side of the lake, we could already hear the deep splashing sound of rising fish in the distance. This was music to our ears and was stronger than the most powerful of caffeine to wake us up. Excited by the activity, we paddled out in our donuts and forgot to wake Alex.

We fished hard until 11am before my body told me to take a nap. Got these two bad boys on a shrimp/scud pattern.

 

Sleeping was pretty much impossible with the sun overhead in such a barren landscape. I managed to doze off before Casey woke me up to go fishing again. 

We paddled out to go meet up with Alex at around three. The wind had picked up that afternoon so we hugged the tullies for relief. Alex got his first bite of the day and the fish damn near wrapped itself around my fins! I kicked a few time to scare it away from the shore line so Alex would tangle up. Trying to wrangle the fish, Alex moved away from the cover of the tullies to fight the giant in deeper water.  Just as it seemed like Alex had some control over the fish it darted back to the shore and broke off. I guess you gotta expect that to happen when you're fishing to 5lb obese brook trout with 6X! I don't know if he even thought to change to something a little stronger, but I shouldn't be making fun because immediately after I got farmed just as bad on 4X.

With two lost fish in that area, I paddled away from the tullies and tried my chance at fishing some deeper water. I gave my type 4 sinking line a count of 10 sec and stripped my seal bugger fast. Out of nothing, I get hit hard and the fish takes off. After a surprisingly long battle I finally land the toad Lahontan Cuttroat and it just maxed out the net.

 

After landing one more brookie I called it quits and went back to base camp to fry up some fish tacos and dink some whiskey. The next day we slept in and pack out to fish the East Walker...

Sorry no pics of the Walker but it was fishing really well despite the high flow. Every fish I pulled out of there was on average 17"-18" and I lost one of the biggest brownies of my life that day. 

The Eastern Sierra is my new favorite place to be in California for 48 hrs. Too bad gas isn't free, but I guess it kind of is when you rent a zip car...

Oregon Ode

Salmon Flies

Fat RedsideRainbow on a Bow and Arrow Cast

Cows Grazing

Mt Hood I think

Metolius

Little Redside Rainbow

Campsite view of Middle Deschutes River

Steelhead Falls, Middle Deschutes River

Awesome run on the Middle Deschutes River

pretty amazing...

A year in the business from Ben Paull on Vimeo.

Venture Out

[81435] from felt soul media on Vimeo.

The Petting Zoo

I started fly fishing last year with Jon Ng on the Trinity River. It was January and we were hunting steelhead, and as everyone expected, I got skunked. I slowly started to catch more fish as my love for the sport grew, but I was still catching mainly 10-14 inch fish. It was fun, but I wanted more. In April of this year, I decided that I ought to go on a road trip for my spring break from the University of Montana in Missoula. I had no real plan, but figured that I would visit my brother at his dorm in Boulder and stop at my uncle's ranch, on River X (sorry). I packed up my gear and headed East. After two days of driving I finally got to the ranch house. I told my uncle that I had checked the fishing reports, bought a bunch of midges and 6x, and “should I bring them?”. He laughed and said, “not if you're planning on catching anything”.

My uncle has a name for each spot on the river. “Bay of Pigs” and “the Petting Zoo” are two that I remember. These are not playful names; they accurately describe the fish living in his stretch of river. That first afternoon, my uncle started up the ATVs and we headed down to the river. I caught a nice rainbow on a nymph and was real happy, but as we headed back to the house for dinner, he apologized for the size of the trout. I assured him that I was quite satisfied with it. He told me we'd try again the next day and he'd put me on something bigger.

The next day the weather was a little gnarly in the morning so we used his truck to get down to the river. It was snowing slightly but it wasn't uncomfortable since we had an abundance of gear. We rigged up and he stood by my side in the river and told me where to cast and when I had a “fishy drift”. Inwardly, I chafed a little under the instructions because I fancied myself an alright fly fisher by then, but I knew that was just my ego and his forty years of experience could help develop my nascent fly fishing passion. I caught a couple decent fish, easily among the biggest I'd ever caught, but struggled each time I had a trophy size trout on the line. I started to get a little frustrated, but he calmed me down and we tried spot after spot. I hooked up a ton of times with what felt like huge trout but lost them because I was used to horsing in small fish quickly on my Sage 9' 6 weight z-axis, and I actually had to have skill to land these big guys. I lost them quickly, before I could see the silver rising out of the snow dappled depths. A storm started to move in and he asked me if I wanted to go back. If you're reading this blog you know the response I gave. We fished for a couple more hours, and then took a break for lunch.

When we were back at the ranch house eating lunch the weather took a turn for the worse. Several inches of snow had accumulated in the time it took me to eat a bacon and cheese sandwich and the conditions were nearing blizzard levels. Since the snow had gotten so deep during the day, we had to take snowmobiles down to the river. After a couple hours of fishing the weather became even more of an issue. We could hear thunder overhead and the snow was flying sideways. It was a driving, piercing snow that turned my hands so numb it became an ordeal to tie on flies.

After fishing for a little while in a new spot, I felt the biggest tug I'd ever felt. I was using a streamer, and when I set the hook, the fish was so strong that I had to use two hands on the rod when the fish went on a run. I narrowed my focus and felt like I was doing really well. Each time the trout went on a run, I let it take line, and when I felt it turn its head I countered it (with more skill than I knew I had). Eventually, I started to gain ground. My uncle, standing a little deeper in the river, saw it before I did and yelled “you're not gonna believe this”. Then the rainbow breached the surface. It looked like a fucking shark. I was honestly a little scared that it would swim toward me and try to eat me. I fought that fish for I don't know how long, but it felt like forever. It was my first real battle. I fought that bow with a mixture of confidence and fear. Finally, I brought it within a few feet of my uncle, and right when he put the net in the water to scoop the fish up, I felt a release. The line had broken. I felt like I was going to throw up and had to put my hands on my knees. My uncle smiled a smile that told me he'd felt the same way many times. I tied on a new fly and casted again.

We fished a lot more that weekend, and I caught some amazing fish, but there was nothing that tested my fishing prowess the way that hog did. The bigger fish I caught later were the result of him taking me to a slow spot in the river that he knew held big fish, but it wasn't as dynamic and didn't feel as true as when I was in the middle of the rushing, obstacle laden main flow. Every day I fish now, it's with the goal of getting my skills to the point where I can go back to the ranch and meet that bad boy once again.

3 Weight Paradise

 

Ok-California is freaking amazing! I went to a mini New Zealand this past week minus the 10 pound browns. I used an old school Sage SPL Center Axis 3wt 7'3" and had absolute blast catching these 4-8 inch wild rainbows on dries and swinging streams under a 5 foot sink tip. Thanks Josh for letting me barrow it for the weekend! 

The fish were small ~ really small. Some of them couldn't even fit the feathered hooked morsel into their mouth. Normally I wouldn't think twice about fish of this skimpiness, but this place was different. Everything was on a miniature scale, sight casting to an 8 inch trout was all of a sudden like fishing to an 18 inch brown on the East Walker. This type of fishing was eye opening and was almost like fly fishing therapy because of its simplicity.

These fish were naturally more grabby than other fish that I have cast to in California, but that is just because they don't see a lot of fishing pressure. Although naive by nature they did not eat everything we served them. They needed a well presented fly within the realm of cuisine they were in the middle of dining on. A stealthy approach was necessary considering the gin clear water they live in. 

There was one fish in particular that I know I will remember forever as dorky as it sounds. Photographed on the right, obviously I wont remember her for her size. What made her stand out from the rest were the steps that it took to land this picture. I skated my way over the uneven stream bottom to cross the river to get to a bolder the size of a mini school bus. Not knowing what watery terrain lay on the other side, I carefully hugged the massive rock and peaked around its corner to scan the water. Starting from right to left, I studied the gushing white water that gradually calmed itself into small deep pool that teetered over a water fall. Looking deeply into the sunlit pool I spotted this solo fish holding in a pocket just before the drop off.

I watched as she effortlessly swam against the current rising up and down the water-column to snatch the tiny insects that drifted overhead. Carefully, I unhooked my fly from its keep and pulled line off my reel to cast. I dropped the fly just far enough ahead not to spook her and not too far away where the current would affect my drift.  My size 16 Royal Trude was lined up and she turned up to suck in my fly. To my excitement I set the hook too soon and pulled the fly away before she could get a hold. Upset that I might have blown my chance I waited to see if she had spooked. Fortunately she continued to to feed. 

Knowing that my previous cast was well presented,  I dropped my fly in the same spot and let the current take control. She posted up to my fly once again, but this time she wizened up and refused the false meal. A slap in the face.

I tied on a trusted size 14 Parachute Adams and made the same cast for a third time. Knowing that a new fly would certainly spark her interest I anticipated for the take and watched as she swam up to the surface to grab my fly. Waiting a split second longer, I watched her swim down with the fly until I placed my set. I couldn't help but feel nervous as I danced the fish against the current to avoid certain doom if she were to be swept away over the drop off. She darted back and forth across the pool before she surrendered to the palm of my hand. After a quick photo shoot, she was quickly released back into her world.

Fishin' Local Part 1 & 2

Part 1

Miles Driven: 44

Gas: $4 per gallon
Parking: $8

Ariel, Jon, and I departed mid morning sometime in April to a local reservoir to see if we could get in on the early spring bite... of recently stocked rainbows. Trip was successful. Many nice sized hard fighting bows were really willing to take anything. We caught them on the surface and below. A slowly stripped leech made the tug a bit more exciting while some of us, I'm not going to mention who, thought indicator or bobber fishing was the way to go. Both equally fun in my opinion. Who doesn't like to see a bobber go down? The birds nest was a hot fly, with an AP nymph almost as good.

Above you will see one of the many double hook-ups of the day.

Ultimately, the fish were stocked, the fishing was good, and we decided fish tacos sounded pretty good. It was a great day fishin local.

Part 2

Miles Driven: 65

Gas: $4.15 per gallon

There is a creek in the East Bay that supposedly had carp in it. It didn't, but it did hold suckers and bluegill. Exploring is always fun, and it will eventually pay off. Until next time, this is fishin local.The day ended up like any day of fishing does. With good beer, good food, and good company at Ariels place in the heart of the Mission, SF.

The Take takes the Cake: Berryessa Bassin

Miles Driven: 173

Gas: $20
Launch Fee: $21 


There really aren't too many reasons I can think of that will get me out of bed at 4am unless its for fishing... This trip I prepared a lunch the night before and packed the car early so I could get that ever so needed 30 minutes of extra sleep. Everything went to plan for once: left the house at 4:15; picked up Casey at 4:30; met Jim with the jet boat at 5:30 in Sonoma. Things were shaping up in to looking like we were going to hit first light on Lake Berryessa - or so we thought.
  

Things don't always run so smoothly if you ever try to get first light when your 90 miles away from a lake you've never been to. Needless to say, we drove to the wrong body of water. Mistake? Maybe... Maybe not? Maybe we found our next blog post location? Either way we had missed first light and we needed to stick to our original plan so we broke out the map and back tracked our 45 minute detour. 

We pulled up to the boat launch at around 7:30 and started fishing by 8:00. Despite our little directional set back, we basically had the whole Northwest corner of the lake all to ourselves. We cruised the clear shallow water along the edges to spot some bass before we got our lines wet. It wasn't before long until we started spotting bass at all angles of the boat! 

There were bass everywhere ranging from 3 to 15 lb with the majority of them in the 5lb class! It was almost too good to be true, and unfortunately it was... Cast after cast, it was only rejection after rejection. It was almost like looking into a fish tank at the aquarium because all the big fish you dream about catching are right in front of you, but you can't hook them. The excitement of these uncatchable fish soon wore off as I began to blind cast towards shore. Just as hope almost ran out in the heat of the early afternoon, one of my subsurface strips came tight and I pulled out this beatiful hen. 

As time passed,  the Spotted Bass and Smallmouth Bass bite began to turn on. Consistantly we watched nervous water turn to a boil as threadfin shad broken the water's surface to flea the jaws of hungry predatory fish. The speed at which the bass would ambush and smack the baitfish on the surface would send vibratrions into the air that sent ringing in my ears. These hungry fish would practically run the shade out of the water and on to land. The aggressivness of the fish soon turned into some pretty heart stopping takes on the fly.

Spotted Bass Busting on Treadfin Shad

It seemed like the faster you stripped, the better chance you had at triggering a fish to follow and bite - very similar to saltwater fishing. Every time we saw a bass bust on bait, we could cast to it and were almost guaranteed a take. Gorging themselves on shad, each fish we hooked would throw up half digested shad parts as we fought them towards the boat.



Casey's Sex Dungeon Catches Bass Too!

 Bassing really isn't about the size in my opinion, but more about an aggressive take. Granted catching an 8 pound bass doesn't happen too often,  they always make a fishing trip look and sound more exciting - especially if you saw the take. Although there was a big fish on this trip, It was more fun fishing to 3-4 pound spotted bass and smallies busting on shade right on the surface.

They're Heerrreee....

Miles Driven: 150
Gas: $35
 
This past week we finally got some warm weather here in Nor Cal and it has been a while since my last post. I haven't been holding out on you guys, I just haven't been fishing for the past month. As sad as that sounds, there isn't much I can do. Pretty much all of the trout rivers are blown out from all the winter run off, but the drought is officially over for California. All this water will most likely keep me away from any trout water for the next month so I need to find other fish to target.

All work and no fishing makes Jonny a dull boy and this blog was going out of style fast! So you can imagine how big of a relief  it was when good ole Walt gave me a ring last Sunday to go sniff out some American Shad.  It's still pretty early in the season for targeting these anadromous fish that like the warm water temps late Spring brings, but heck - it's fishing and there's only one way to find out when the fishing is good.

Nick from the evenings line-up

I didn't really know what to expect for the evening since it was my first time fishing for shad, so I was a sponge to Walt's experience. On our way up through winding back roads that he insists are faster, Walt gave me the low down on fishing edict and technique on this river. Basically you fish in a line up of 4-14 angler because there aren't many spots on the river where these fish like to hold. Sharing these holes with fly fishermen and spinning gear sounds like a recipe for tangled lines and frustration, but I soon found out that it's quite a pleasant way to fish.

The fly guys use shooting head systems that sink and swing all at the same speed to prevent tangles, and when you fish shoulder to shoulder with complete strangers, you soon find how much you have in common with them. It was good way to share information and make a few friends at the same time.

My last fish of the night

Back to the fishing. Needless to say the fishing turned out to be ON and it was an uplifting feeling to have a bent 7wt and a screaming reel once again. These 2-4 lb fish have more fight in them than one might think and they're not all that easy to land. Their grab on the swing can be a light tap or a violent line pulling rip that can leave you with your jaw dropped. There is no magic to getting these fish to bite, its just finding the school and sinking to the right depth that makes these fish a challenge. When you do get them to bite, their mouths are as thin as a plastic bag so you lose a lot of fish.

Shad are definitely on my radar and the bite should continue to improve as we get more warm weather.  Bassing has also made a blip on the radar this past week so look for the next post coming soon! I promise the fish porn will be worth it...