We moved to Manteca so we could spend more time in the mountains. So far this is all going according to plan. Since we moved out here we’ve been to Yosemite twice, Sonora Pass twice, Carson Pass once, and Ebbetts Pass once. We’ve camped in Yosemite and Hope Valley. We’ve done a lot of fishing–Yosemite, Sonora Pass, highways 4 and 88. Mission accomplished.
So this last Sunday we drove up highway 88 to Hope Valley. We’ve been dreaming about this place since we discovered it late last year. It’s 125 miles from Manteca. It’s full of our beloved granite rocks and pine trees. It has several places to camp. And it has a great little trout stream. It’s majestic. It’s just over the crest of the Sierras so it’s technically the eastern Sierras, Yum’s favorite side. And the PCT goes right through it. So it’s a very special place.
Yum and I camped Sunday night after a long drive and a very late evening of fishing (Yum was still fishing by moonlight). If I hadn’t mentioned bears, Yum might have fished until midnight. We had a great campfire and a quick bite to eat and were off to bed, snoozing before the witching hour.
The next morning we broke camp and drove a quick 25 miles to Minden/Gardnerville. It’s amazing how close Hope Valley is to this part of Nevada. One day Yum and I will live in the Minden area, and Hope Valley will be our playground. Anyway… after breakfast we started home. We decided to take highway 4.
I knew there would be lots of places to fish, and I was right. I must have stopped the car 3 or 4 times to get out and fly fish on the way home. It was a perfect afternoon, one that fly fishers dream about. My grasshopper patterns were killing. Every other cast was granting me a strike. The top water action was incredible. I’m surprised you didn’t hear me whoopin’ and hollerin’ way down here in the city! As the late afternoon became early evening I found myself in the middle of a hatch, and those hungry little trout would snap at anything. At one point, while I was wading upstream to the next riffle, I let my line drag behind me. A brave little brookie rose and took my fly. I wasn’t even looking! Magical.
Highway 4 was the long way home, but it was worth it. I’ve only been back in the city for two days and already I wish I were back in Hope Valley.