Frozen Eyes, Frost Bite and Tall Tales: Part 3

   So equipped with the knowledge that there are 20" to 30" browns on the Upper Owens I had headed up there the day before to maximize my fishing time on the river, but with that I left the relative warmth of the valley floor at 4,471 ft and headed up to 7,800 ft.  Lets just say it got colder, how cold you may ask? Well lets just say it has been a few weeks since the trip and I still do not have feeling in a few of my toes.  Seriously, not full blown black-toe, cut'em off frost bite, but the stage right before where you damage your nerve endings.  When I woke up in the morning my temp gauge said 7 degrees and I slept in the back of my truck with a sleeping bag and a dog.  The cold part wasn't sleeping mind you, it was when I decided to tie four San Juan worms flies for my morning on the river.  Standing almost motionless in Solomon Trail Running shoes is not a good way to keep your feet warm I found out, even if I was wearing Patagonia wool socks.

  So I lite the fire again and tried to warm my feet back up to no avail, frozen and now starting to hurt very bad.  They were so cold that when I tried to put another pair of thicker Patagonia wool socks on I could not get my shoe back on, because I could not feel my foot at all.  So I cranked my truck and broke camp in a hurry.  All I could think about was get warm and get to my fishing spot so I could get cold again.  Funniest part of the morning is that Boone would hop off the tail gate and do his business then hope back up and curl into his sleeping bag.    Jump down eat and get water, up into the bag again. He'd disappear into the bag and didn't want to come out. Truly comical, but that is my dog he is a little off.

  So I was warming up and driving the five miles of dirt roads to the starting point when about mile 31/2 I started to feel my feet again, not my toes mind you, just my feet. I got to my spot hoped out and started to wader up, and oh man that was cold.  But, it was a necessary step for sure.  As I started to cast out my San Juan with a Pheasant tail special David had given me, I started to run into a problem.  Every time I stripped line water from the line would get onto the eyelets and freeze instantly.  So every few casts I had to break off the ice on my rod so not to bind up my line.  It was strange and yet a really peaceful day fishing.  I caught a ton of little 8" to 10" rainbows and browns on a size 22" BWO, there was a hatch going on that morning, and I almost had my arm ripped off by a fish that broke my hook.  Not broke my hook off, but actually broke the hook off below where the barb was.  It sent my reel flying and when I tried to get some headway, snap and gone.  It was awesome to say the least.

  Well I am cold once again and I can not feel my hands at this point, so I decided it was time to pack up and head to my next interview with the legendary Bill Eddy of Big Pine, CA.  And though there is more to the story of the weekend I am going to save it for another post on another day.  Bill and Irv were great guys and great to talk too.  I had a long, but satisfying drive home that night that made me so excited for my next trip up there.  Good times and really great people.

Thanks again all, hope you enjoyed.

The Bearded Boar

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Frozen Eyes, Frost Bite and Tall Tales: Part 2

 So as the morning rose on Sunday, one I was cold and two I was a little frozen with the 13 degree temps.  But that is life in the mountains and I pressed with breaking camp so we could have breakfast on the river.  My cohort in crime Boone-i-fied decided it was an opportune time to just do his business and hop back inside the bed of the truck to sleep.  I didn't blame him, wanted to do the same for sure.

  After we headed down to the river we found a little spot were we could eat our grub, drink tea and do a little fishing for the morning.  It was not a bad little spot to say the least for the morning.  Boone spent the morning running around and rolling in the dirt like any good puppy should and I tried my hand at pulling some of the Browns that were in the spring feed creek we were next to.  I didn't have a meeting till the afternoon so I had time to do what I wanted for the next 6 or so hours.  So what is a man to day with a day to himself and a river surrounded by public land to explore?  Of course, I went hunting and fishing.  We took the road less traveled and spent the day driving the dirt roads and exploring parts of the Owens river I have personally never seen.  Deer, Elk, Ducks, Quail were everywhere and we shot a few of the latter for dinner and headed to a few more spots to fish.

  I won't say the fishing was great, really it wan't good at all, but you can't really expect to much when you are just exploring dirt roads that finger towards the river.  We did though have a great day of just sitting in the warm sun and at 2pm we headed up to The Sierra Trout Magnet fly shop to talk with the owner, David.  David is a young guy that decided the Owen River is the place in which he wants to set up his life and fish.  As he said while I was interviewing him, "Where else can you fish year around for trophy trout? High lakes in the summer and the valley floor all winter, its perfect here."  We talked for another hour or so and he gave me the skinny of the Valley from a guides perspective and also gave me the low down on some great fishing on the Upper Owens and the Hike lakes.

  Okay the High lakes of the Eastern Sierras, Rainbows, Goldens, Golden-Rainbow Hybrids, Brookies, Browns, oh ya that that one lake where  a 15 lb Golden was caught on a 2wt and yes I saw pictures.  The beast was caught on a pack trip were they used pack horses to haul a boat in.  The guy that caught it had no idea that there were fish that big in there, that must have been the shock of his life. But, I digress, because the Mountain are closed to fishing till April and I went up the Upper Owens.


   So I left the shop and headed up to my campsite on BLM land up in Hot Creek, which is a phenomenal place to fish on its own. We set up camp, fire and started on grub for the both of us.  By now Boone had become accustom to me adding a little hot water to his dry food so that it slid down a little easier in the freezing temps, which they got there that night.  So Boone with his dog soup and me with my shrimp and veggie curry we hunkered down to what would be a good, but really cold night and even colder morning.

Until next time,

The Bearded Boar

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Winter is almost here, it's cold....It's time to fish!

  The "Snow Months" for most people means hunting big Mulies in the mountains, Whitetails in the hardwoods, Elk in the foothills, hunters freezing their butts off in a duck blind waiting for the skies bring forth our favorite feathered table fair or simply huddling around the tv watching football glad we have the heaters set to 85 degrees.  Not me, I think about the four magical months where trout fishing in California can be one of the most memorable adventures an angler can have and not a sole in sight.  Snow shoeing for 2 miles into an area usually does not appeal to many people nor does camping in 16 degree weather.  But for me it does.

  Last January I was introduced to to a new facet to fly fishing by my two slightly insane fishing buddies.  The conversation started with something like, "Hey, lets go camping in the back of my truck in the middle of January in the snow, ya it 16 degrees at night, but hey no one will be there fishing."  Something like that at least, details are a little fuzzy.  Long story short, we rolled in late at night, parked on the side of the road and slept till the morning.  Oh wait, thats not right, we went for a 3 hour snow shoeing death march into the night looking for the hot springs that we never found.  Fun times.

  All that aside, the fun, the camaraderie, the frost bite, the next morning we geared up and trekked into a now isolated creek that seemed to be untouched by anglers.  I wont say the fishing was off the charts, but it was fun to be able to fishing with snowshoes strapped to your back and at times on your feet.  The nice thing about Hot Creek near Mammoth Lakes, CA is that the streams have thermal hot springs and that means the fish are a little more active during the winter.  And after a day of creek crossing, deep snow and tying on the smallest flies in our arsenal we ended with a sigh of accomplishment victory.  We even ended up staying the night in a guys house that we met on the stream that day.  Let me tell you that it is much warmer sleeping by a wood stove then spooning your fishing buddies in the back of a Toyota Tundra.

  So as the fall leaves turn to gold, orange and crimson, and most outdoors men are settling into the doldrums of winter, I am anxiously awaiting the death marches in the snow.  It may not always be the best of fishing, but how many people can say they have been fly fishing in the middle of the winter with snowshoes?  So if you don't here from me from January to March, it is a good bet I am wading a stream somewhere in the Eastern Sierras meditating on the rhythmic motion of the rod and the song of the river.

The Bearded Boar

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