Tag Archives: highway 80

Lake Almanor and Deer Creek

Yum does this funny thing with her fingers, “air quotes”, every time the subject of “camping” comes up. She doesn’t think that I camp. Or rather, she doesn’t think that I’ll ever take her camping. So I decided to fix that.

Last Wednesday morning we loaded up the Yaris and left Vacaville along the road to fun.

We drove up 80 and 99 to highway 70. Then we drove all the way up the Feather River canyon on highway 70 to where it intersects with 89. Then we drove along 89, made a quick stop to hike down to Indian Falls, then drove through Indian Valley to the 147 junction, and then to Lake Almanor.

Ahhh, Lake Almanor. The best place in northern California to watch raptors swoop and hunt. Bald Eagles and Osprey can be seen snatching trout in their talons. Or so I’ve been told–didn’t see any this trip. Bald Eagles, that is.

We camped on the northern shore, just a few miles from the city of Chester. Our campsite was *right* on the shoreline. We angled the entrance of our tent to have a beautiful view of Mt Lassen in the morning. Thank you North Shore campground, your facilities are top-notch.

After setting up our tent and sleeping stuffs we drove into Chester for a snack. Chester is the land that time forgot. There are no corporate entities in this town, save for a Chevron and Union 76 gas station. No McDonalds, no WalMart. From all appearances this place hasn’t changed since the ’50s–and that’s a good thing. Chester is one of those quaint little mountain towns where little things like community and helping your neighbor are still important.

Yum and I had a burger and a shake at the Pine Shack Frosty on the main strip. Dee-lish. Then I took Yum to my favorite fishing spot near the intersection of highways 32 and 36.

Yum must have caught 20 fish–way more than I did. I fly fished the entire time. I knocked ’em dead with my dry flies. There was a nice hatch going on, and I was busy slapping my line down on the water and catching nice rainbows–whooping and hollering with every trout I caught. We kept a couple for dinner.

So, Yum decides that she’s just going to throw the fish on the coals to cook them. What? Are you crazy? You’re going to ruin the fish, Yum! I wanted to say that, anyway. I’ll just keep my mouth shut, and when she ruins the fish she’ll learn her lesson and I’ll get to smile and cook them in aluminum foil next time.

But a funny thing happened–the fish came out perfect. Yum lifted those trout off the coals and peeled the crispy skin/scales back off the meat and revealed perfectly cooked and seasoned trout. Crow, oops, I mean trout, never tasted so good.

And now I beg Yum to cook our fish her way. Good ol’ Yum =) But I digress…

After dinner we made S’mores. Yum has never had S’mores! Yum doesn’t know the goodness of S’mores! Poor Yum. All those wasted years…

In the morning we broke camp and headed into town. We had some coffee at a nice little place and checked our email on the free wifi. Then we headed over to the Kopper Kettle for some breakfast. Then we drove back to upper Deer Creek for some more fishing. Yum knocked ’em dead, catching a lot of fish. We kept 3 for dinner–3 big, beautiful rainbow trout.

We took 32 back to Chico. I felt a little homesick as we drove through my old stomping grounds. Ahhh, Chico… good times, good memories.

No trip through Chico is complete without a stop at Burger Hut. And then, sadly, we drove home.

And so here we are, the end of my post. And here are the pictures from our trip =)

Fish on

So last year was the first year of my life where I didn’t go fishing at least once. I didn’t even buy my fishing license. Sigh.

Determined to not let this happen again, Yum and I set out yesterday to catch some fish.

Me 'n my Yum

First we drove up highway 80 to Auburn, where we turned onto highway 49 and drove over to Coloma. We parked at the Sutter’s Mill area and took lots of pictures. I mean, we fished a lot. No luck. Not even a bite. So we left.

We drove down to the confluence of the American River near Auburn and fished near the bridges. I caught two huge trout, one of them was 15 inches (we ate both tonight).

Yum didn’t catch any fish, but smiled and laughed and had a blast. It makes me happy to see my Yum in her Teva sandals and cargo pants, taking pictures of pine trees and smiling from ear to ear.

Today we went fishing again, this time to Silver Fork. We drove up highway 50 and took Silver Fork road, just past Kyburz. We parked and camped at the Haytown Posse’s old Memorial Day weekend camping spots along the river. Nobody was up there today. Maybe it’s because the US Forest Service went in and blocked off all the OHV areas–nobody can get off the main road, not unless you have a dirt bike. But I digress.

Me fly fishing in Silver Fork

I did some fly fishing and managed to catch a little 6 incher, which I threw back. Yum was skunked again, but like yesterday didn’t care. She smiled and laughed and took pictures. She got her line snagged in the river more than once and just shrugged it off. All that mattered to her was that we were in the mountains together. That’s all that mattered to me, too.

I sure do like living on the road to fun. Last year this wouldn’t have happened. This year we’re 60-90 minutes away from cold Sierra mountain streams and fishing and pine trees and mountains and fun.

And it just wouldn’t be a teebiss-approved adventure without photos, so here they are!

The road to fun

When I was a kid, highway 80 was the road to fun. I would get sooo excited when we made that turn off 680 north and onto 80 east. Because I knew that we were on our way to do something really cool. I knew that we were going to Walt’s cabin in Truckee, or we were going skiing, or going to visit mom’s family in Sacramento.

When I got older, highway 80 was the road we took to No (Reno). “I wanna go to No, dude!” Dave or Scott would say, in a drunken stupor at 2 in the morning. Reno meant gambling and drinking and hotels and skiing and more stories to make and tell and retell.

When I moved to Chico, 80 was the highway I took when I was going home. Home, meaning *back* to Chico. Because for the short 3 years that I lived there, Chico felt more like home than any other place I’ve ever lived. And highway 80 meant that I was leaving the Bayarrhea, and that always feels good.

Highway 80 still means the road to fun. It means that Yum and I are off on another adventure. Walt’s cabin, Truckee, Lake Tahoe. Now I live in Vacaville, and I’m a stone’s throw from highway 80. It means that I’m now less than an hour’s drive up highway 80 to Scott and the boys in Roseville.

I take 80 every day to work. While I’m driving I think of all the fun times and good memories that highway 80 reminds me of. I’m thankful that I’m so lucky, that I get to live in such a great place. I arrive at work feeling peaceful and happy.

Thirty six years of driving highway 80 and I still get excited–every time. Because finally, I *live* on the road to fun.