70+ degrees every day for the last week here in NorCal. I’m a little worried about our drought situation.
It’s been said that snowfall was normal this winter. However, our reservoirs are still rather low.
It feels a bit early for the weather to be so warm and the rain to stop. I’m worried about the pending trout season. I’ll just have to get out early, and often this season.
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.
So I’m back, and I wish I wasn’t. I had 9 days in Trinity this year and it was fan-fucking-tastic. I didn’t want to come home. But here I am. Back to work on Tuesday.
While I was up there I Twittered a few times a day, almost every day. Those updates can be found here or by reading the “Mobile Phone Updates” in my sidebar on this webpage.
All week long the weather was warm and sunny and dry–it felt like summer instead of fall. This was very bad for deer hunting. When the weather is hot the only time we see deer is the first hour after sunrise and the last hour before sunset. So during the day it’s pointless to hunt–unless you’re right on top of the deer, they won’t move. They’ll just sit motionless under a bush or tree all day long.
So I modified my strategy to accomodate the weather. I hunted in the morning and the evening, and did other things during the day–like fly fish.
I’ve always wanted to fly fish Trinity. Over the last 8 years of going up there I’ve always marveled at the waters–it’s EVERYWHERE. Within 30 minutes of the cabin I’ve got my pick of 3 different creeks/rivers/streams. These waters are spring fed and flow year round. Consequently, the trout populations are quite healthy. And the fishing is superb. I got my fill of trout fishing this year. I’m sad that it took me this long to bring my gear and get my line wet. I caught fish every session, and lots of them. Typical California mountain stream trout: 6-10 inch rainbows. Healthy fighters. Beautiful coloring.
I had a spiritual (for lack of a better word) experience in the middle of the Trinity River on Friday afternoon. I had been fly fishing for a few hours, catching fish after fish, playing the trout quickly without tiring them out, and releasing them gently. I had stopped to take a swig from my water bottle and eat an apple and was standing in the middle of the river. The river was cold and the current was strong. Fish rose and jumped all around me. I looked on either side of the riverbank–rows of aspens and oaks swathed a canvas of colors from red to orange to yellow. Above them the Cascade mountains rose, covered in evergreen pine trees. At that moment I felt the most profound sense of peace and tranquility and satisfaction I’ve ever felt. And at that moment I knew how I wanted to feel for the rest of my life.
Didn’t take many pictures this year, except a few of the Trinity river.