I’ve been living in Reno for three years now. And in that time I have really enjoyed the lower population density. When I go shopping it’s not crowded. When I drive to work there is very little traffic on my short commute. Looking up, I sure do love the wide open spaces and big sky. I breathe easier up here in the high desert. Nevada has been good for my soul.

I just spent a few days in Hayward while visiting my dad. I cannot remember being so stressed out. Seems like everywhere I went was stop-and-go on the freeway and I was hitting every stoplight. When I got out of my car it wasn’t any better.

The people…there are so many people.

I went to a big-box store to shop for a computer monitor to replace my dad’s broken one. As soon as I pulled into the parking lot I had to fight for a parking spot. I had to wade through throngs of people at the entrance. Inside, I was overwhelmed by the noise and the crowds, and the…whew…whoa…I’m not used to this…

Sensory overload. I was not enjoying this experience at all. Odd thing…this is life in SoCal, where I lived for 10 years. Perhaps I’ve been gone for so long that I’m not used to it. Whatever. I don’t like it one bit.

I grabbed a cheap monitor and waited in line. “Sir? Next in line, please. SIR?!”

Wait, what? Oh. Me. Yeah. I’m next in line. Jeez. Get me out of here.

How can people live like this? The Bay Area has gotten just as bad as SoCal. SoCal. I haven’t been to SoCal in about 14 years. How bad is it *NOW* I wonder?

Back in the car in the big box parking lot I paused before putting the key in the ignition. I needed a moment. I had to let my brain decompress. Honk honk…HOOOOOONNNNK!!! Wait, what? Oh…someone is waiting for my parking spot. Oh my golly gooly get me out of here.

I fight through more stop-and-go in the huge shopping big-box shopping area to the street. More stoplights and cars and loud music. Back on the freeway now. More stop-and-go. Where is this traffic coming from? It was 2pm on a Sunday. It wasn’t commuter traffic.

Back at my dad’s house. Now I can’t find a parking spot. My dad’s neighborhood as undergone some drastic changes since I left home. All the old folks are gone. All the houses are rentals with 17 people living in each house, and every person has their own car.

Nowhere to park. This place is a zoo. Where did all this trash come from? Everyone has a dog, and each dog has been barking since I left hours ago. What am I doing here? How can people live like this?

Overwhelmed, tired, stressed, unhappy. Finally I find a spot miles away from my dad’s house to park. All I want to do is lay down on my old bed in my old bedroom and sleep.

And once inside my dad’s house that’s exactly what I did.

This month I went on my last camping trip with my dad.

Dad’s still around and his health is okay, don’t worry. That said, my dad is just too old and frail to go camping any more.

White Wolf is a high elevation campground, around 8,000 feet, off Yosemite’s Tioga Pass Road. The road is closed during the winter and the campground is only open for a few short summer months.

When I was growing up our family and friends would spend a week in White Wolf every summer. We swam in Tenaya, got soft serve ice cream in Tuolumne, jumped off the bridge in Yosemite Valley, fished in White Wolf creek and Yosemite creek, slept under the stars, sat next the campfire every night, went to ranger-led campfire programs, called down the aliens at night, stargazed, drank cognac warmed by the fire, and countless other activities–way too many to list. It is the place of many wonderful memories.

I was looking forward to this trip and I hoped that we would have a big group as always. But I when I got there late on Friday night it was only my dad and his friend Marshall. Walt could only stay one night and was already gone. Sadly, the others couldn’t make it.

My dad was struggling to breathe the entire weekend. The elevation is just too high for his old lungs. It was disheartening to see. My dad has always been a barrel-chested, lumberjack of a man that prided himself on his physical prowess. But now at nearly 77 years old he’s lost so much weight–all of his muscle–and he can barely cook breakfast (I had to take over).

It was a bittersweet weekend. It was nice to be in White Wolf again. I reminisced upon all my valuable memories from all the previous camping trips. It was hard to see my dad struggling so. Obviously my dad was not enjoying himself.

On Sunday morning it was time to go. I sat up in my tent and looked out the mesh window. Our campsite wasn’t our favorite, the “Rock” campsite, but we *were* just across from it. The sun was rising and the entire campground was beginning to stir. I took a long look at the Rock campsite. I knew that I would never see it again. I knew that I would never go back.

I packed my dad’s truck with all his camping gear and followed him out of the campground. He drove very, very slowly up that little road. He stopped for a moment at the big meadow. And he paused for the longest time at the final stop sign at Tioga Pass Road.

I knew that he was saying his final goodbye to White Wolf.

It’s almost July and I still haven’t caught a fish on the big Truckee River this year. That said, I’ve only been fishing for 4 weeks this season.

I haven’t seen it this bad in a long time. Although I can’t compare this year to last because the water levels were so low and the water was so warm I just couldn’t, in good conscience, fish the big Truckee last summer. So last summer may have been worse. Whatever.

I hate nymphing but I’m so desperate to catch fish that I’ve been nymphing lately. San Juan worms, Pheasant Tail, Hare’s Ear, Prince, Copper Johns…no bites.

There has been some late afternoon-early evening hatches that I’ve stayed in the water for, and I’ve tried Elk-hair Caddis, Blue Winged Olives, Adams. No top water action at all. I haven’t seen any fish rising in my usual spots. In fact, I haven’t even SEEN a fish at all.

Prosser Creek has good flows and I’ve been striking out there as well. I’ve fished below the dam about half a mile, and above the Truckee confluence about 200 yards–NOTHING! Again, did not see any fish.

I know it’s too early for grasshoppers but out of desperation I’ve been bouncing Hoppers off blades of grass near shady shorelines hoping for some reaction bites from the browns…nothing.

Nevada side Trophy section flows are high and fast. Several trips this month and no luck. No fish seen.

Farad good flows. I’ve seen lots of fishermen but no fish.

Truckee River loop next to hwy 80 between Prosser and Little Truckee good flows but lots of algae. I had to clean off my flies every other cast. No trout seen.

Seeing a pattern here? There’s no fish in the river!

I’m afraid the years of drought have killed off my beloved trout population in the Truckee River. Sigh.

I’ll be in Yosemite in July with my dad. Hopefully my trout in Tuolumne Meadows have survived…