Tales of fishing outings, all true!
Three Days in Mid-January - Trinity River
This is the story that goes with the picture in last month's Fishy Tales. The report was originally written for the Northern California Flyfishing Board by Ed Kelleher of the Monterey Peninsula Flycasters. - Ed.
Premature Poultry Population Polling
Tom and I were practically chortling as we headed north from Monterey for three days on the Trinity, in mid-January. We had had the trip planned since October, and booked since November. For the last ten days the weather in Monterey had been nasty, but nothing near as bad as in Lewiston. A week ago the forecast for Wednesday through Friday had been for 4 degrees F and snow showers. It had improved through 28 degrees and rain showers to 47 degrees and partly cloudy in the last three days. There had been enough rain in that area to add some color to the water, and there were NO reports coming out of the Lewiston Valley. That was a positive indication.
We had lucked into hitting it right smack dab in the groove. The drive up was uneventful. There were enough showers and dark patches to convince us that the weather needed to pull the steelhead up from the ocean and the Klamath was still on. We pulled into Lewiston about 4 PM, checked into the motel, and headed for the river to have a look.
It looked great. It was up a bit since the last time I had fished it in December, and the water had a nice greenish color. There were fish rising both at the Old Lewiston Bridge and at the Rush Creek access. They were just barely disturbing the surface, but they were there. I've fished for those guys before. At those two spots, I suppose the average fish (in mid January) has probably seen two thousand flies since October, and been caught at least once. They are smart, wary, and spooky. We left them alone.
That night, after supper, the guides were around the motel parking lot, discussing the day's fishing. It sounded as though the steelies had abandoned all caution that day and assaulted anything anywhere near them.
"Twenty four fish to the boat, twelve of them over thirty inches!"
"Thirteen fish in the boat, with only one guy fishing!"
"Nothing but wild fish, and BOY are they hot!"
"They all took Red Copper Johns, and I went and bought the whole supply at Douglas City, so don't even bother." (I had tied a dozen red CJ's in preparation for this trip!)
"We had one fish that jumped eight times before we landed her- nice ten pound hen, sea bright, still had the sea lice on her."
"Boy they are in!"
After a few years of "You shoulda been here yesterday," we were ecstatic. We had to have a Guinness or two and a couple of drams of Glen Morangie (Sherry Wood Finish), just to get our heart rates down to where we might be able to sleep.
As we were cleaning up for a siesta, Tom said to me, "Oh by the way, I snore a little. I brought you some Valium and earplugs." He snores a little? The Forty Niners didn't do awfully well? Tim Rajeff has cast a fly once or twice before? I slept for a year fifty yards from a 155MM battery that fired all night, and it didn't make THAT much noise. It's a wonder that no one called the cops. Okay, then, the sheriff. On top of that, Tom is one of those folks who gets up at 0545 to get ready to go to breakfast at 0705. I was awake of course, and I thought "Thank God. Now I can get an hour's sleep." But then he showers, stumbles around the room for a while, thumps bumps and clumps, is completely ready at 0650 (when it is really time to get up), so he lays down for a nap! I should'a' taken the Valium!!
It was a cold foggy morning, not cold enough to have to scrape windshields, but close. We had booked three days with Trent Winlock (Sac River Outfitters). I have fished with him before, and he has never thrown me in the river (or even threatened to, Lonnie!). He is a good teacher, and Tom had yet to catch his first adult steelhead, although he fished with us two days last year. After some discussion, we headed down stream to Junction City. After a little flailing trying to find a put-in that was not already occupied, we found one where there were a couple of Plug Pullers. We figured we'd be fishing different water than they would, so we put in.
The water was down a good eighteen inches from the day before, and most of the color was gone. Once again, we should have been there yesterday!! It was a pretty good day; I landed a brown, a sucker and a nice wild steelhead, and lost a couple more. Tom hooked two nice steelies (probably wild cause they were HOT), but lost them both. He did land a brown trout, his first ever. Between seeing those two steelies doing cartwheels and half gainers and catching his first brown, he was a pretty happy camper that evening. In fact, he was so happy, he had two drops of the Glen Morangie, and repeated his long duration imitation of a sawmill. It was particularly exciting when he would hit a big old knot and the saw blade would scream like a Banshee predicting a death. I briefly considered making the Banshee's prediction come true, but passed out from exhaustion before I could implement it. I thank that was about 0540. Did I mention that Tom gets up at 0545 to be ready for a 0705 breakfast?
Thursday we fished higher up in the river, starting out in the flats at Indian Creek. The results of Thursday are best described by drawing a curtain over the whole day. Tom missed a couple of strikes and landed one quarter pounder (no cheese). I may have had one strike. Trent said my strike indicator moved a fraction of a millimeter once in Indian Creek, but I think that was a gravitational anomaly. It was cold all day. I put on my last layer about 1100, and donŐt recall any sun at all.
Thursday night? Don't Ask!
Friday, after I woke Tom up from his nap, and breakfast was done, we hooked up with Trent, and headed for the Rush Creek put in. That flat water occasionally has as fish or two in it. We were on the water fairly early and floated the still water a half dozen times. We could see a pod of steelhead, maybe a half dozen, but they were having none of anything we threw in the water. I did manage to hook and land a couple of nice browns. That made three browns for the trip, and I was pretty pleased with that. I usually do well to get one. We probably missed a couple of micro-strikes, but eventually we gave up. I think Tom did have a steelhead on very briefly. We also had some rollers, and one steelhead that put on an acrobatic show that would have been good for at least a Bronze at the Olympics. He (or she) came clear out of the water at least five times, each time closer to the boat. By the last jump, I was wishing I had a lariat (and the skill to use it) he was so close. Wonder why they do that? Do you suppose that itŐs because TONIGHT'S THE NIGHT!! YAHOO!!
It was a slow morning after that. We had a couple of hook ups, but nothing to the boat until after lunch. We ate lunch at the Brown Mountain put-in, and then headed down again. Later that afternoon, we came around a corner into a long flat. As we swung out into the flat, I saw a trout splash, JUST AS Trent said "Oh boy. Those fish are rising!" We slid very carefully down to a few feet above them. There were some little BWO looking guys on the water, and the fish were taking them. There were at least three or four rising. I was about to try to get one to take a nymph when Trent said: "Ed! Put down that rod, and fish this." He handed me a very nice Loomis 6 wt. we had been playing with earlier with a brownish mayfly on it.
I cast to one fish twice, then another one once, and Trent said: "Gimme that fly. I'll try one we use in Kaintuck!" He tied on a size 16 grayish brown BWO dun. The second cast I hooked and landed a nice rainbow, who looked like he had been through a roadside ambush. He not only had lamprey marks, he had a couple of gouges in his side. We had seen eagles and otters, and I know there are ospreys around there. He had had a tough life, and went back in the river tout suite.
Two casts later, I hooked a steelhead. What a hoot! I couldn't land it, but it was a show while it lasted. The fish were still rising, and I am a merciful sort, so I gave the 6 wt to Tom. He drifted the fly past a nice riser a couple of times, and then it took, and the show was on!
http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v443/epkelleher/Ecstatic.jpg
The tippet was only 5X, so Tom had to play him conservatively, and he did a nice job, and brought him to hand in short order. It was a nice hatchery steelie, five or six pounds, I suppose. http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v443/epkelleher/OnADry.jpg.
After Tom landed him, I got the rod back, but by then the hatch was slowing down, and at least three (probably four) of the fish had sore mouths. I fished it for a few minutes, but it was getting late, and we had "miles to go before we sleep."
We headed on down river. I hooked two more steelhead, and brought one to the boat. The other one broke the tippet. (Okay, I broke the tippet while the fish was running. It broke at the knot, of course.) Tom was so ecstatic, I am not sure he actually paid any attention to the fishing. I know he did not get another hookup.
Total box score? Three days on the river. That is a winner any way you cut it. Four browns, two resident rainbows, and three steelhead to the boat (and one sucker). I suppose a couple of better fishermen might have done better but we were pretty happy. Not exactly twenty four fish to the boat, but that was YESTERDAY, as it usually is.
We saw at least one or two other boats on the river each day, and Friday was busier than Thursday was busier than Wednesday. It is a beautiful river, and I love fishing it. I even loved fishing it on Thursday when the closest I got to a strike was watching Tom's strike indicator slide slowly under the water at Indian Creek I guess maybe we did count our chickens before they hatched. Chortling indeed!
The best thing about Friday night was that we had to drive back to Monterey that night, because I had a plane to catch Saturday morning. Therefore, I did not have to try to sleep through the bandsaw noise. Tom said he had gotten a good night's sleep on Thursday, so he would take the first driving shift, which he did. I don't think he snored, but I am pretty darn sure I did. Home safe and sound about 1 AM. - Ed Kelleher
To be fair to Tom, lest anyone be hesitant to take a trip with him after reading Ed's allegations about intolerable night time noise, I can attest that some exaggeration is employed above. I slept less than twenty feet from Tom for a week last fall at Mammoth and heard nothing unusual. I was using a CPAP machine to keep me from making the kind of noise Ed complains of, so I couldn't have been masking big noises from Tom. - Ed.