I know where this is. It was a nice fishery at one time. Putting those Angler report boxes in alerted every poacher in the San Gabriel valley that there were fish there and they wormed them out of there. I remember a time when I would see multiple fish fining in the pools as I hiked the trail. No longer. Those fish report boxes were the worst Idea that fish and game ever came up with. I detest them.
Springtime has definitely hit the San Gabriel Mountains. Monday (the best time to fly fish to avoid the weekend rush) walking down to and around my favorite canyon, there were critters aplenty. A 4-foot-long Striped Racer slithered just in front of my booted feet, giving me a good scare; what I think was an Eastern Fox squirrel jumped onto a thick tree trunk to inspect me (He found me lacking …); and I spotted a pair of what I believe were Yellow Warblers, mistaking their coloring and size for distant Monarch butterflies appearing and disappearing in the forest canopy.
A fellow hiker cautioned me in the tree shadows: “Look,” she said, “can you believe it?” And there on the ground were a half-dozen or more of this butterfly. But, the question is, what’s it’s name? My handy Pocket Naturalist Guide (which you can get at the Audubon Center at Debs Park) lists the distinctive orange Monarch, the Painted Lady, The Cloudless Sulphur and three others, but none has those amazing horns. If you know what it is, please post the answer.
Meanwhile, for fishing our streams, stick with dries only, and tie on some stealthy 7x tippet to your light leader. Any lighter-weight rod will do, but if you’ve got a 2, 3, or 4 in your arsenal, take it. Also 9 foot is a bit much for our water, with its tight canyons and brush. Eight foot, six inches or shorter is a better choice.
Rainbows and browns were going nuts on just about everything I threw in. Keep the sizes small, 16 or better, but I’ll tell you it’s
amazing to see a small fish latch on to a fly half its size when you toss a 10 or bigger! Ants are everywhere, so casting a parachute ant should bring good results. Unfortunately, the annoying small black flies have made a comeback, and I spotted a hatch of something tiny and gray-mosquito-colored coming off the water as well, so dark colors are a good bet. Also, pale or light green are perennial favorite colors. And you won’t catch just minnows. There are plenty of bigger fish in our mountains. Please ALWAYS release the fish you catch in areas that won’t be stocked. These are naturals and once they’re gone, so will be our opportunity to enjoy this beautiful resource.
Jumpin’, that is, everywhere except the eastern Sierra.
Who’s to blame for this atrocity?
Every summer, Bishop, Mammoth Lakes and environs are overrun with bait and fly fishermen, who want to catch as many naturals and plants as possible, from opening day in late April, until season’s end, Nov. 15. You’ll see them wade, float and paddle in the area’s lakes, rivers, streams and private waters. You’ll see them buying up as many worms, dry flies, nymphs and streamers as the sports and fly shops can carry. New expensive rods sell; flashy reels fly off the shelves; tippet and leaders; hemostats and non-felt-bottom boots. Bammo! It’s usually an injection of debit cards and cash for the summer economy.
So this year who’s to blame for fishing that can only be described by this writer as mediocre? That’s after three days on water from the C/R area of Rush Creek, to Hot Creek, to the C/R lower Owens.
Well, here’s the sad truch: It’s not actually who’s to blame, but what.
And that what is Mother Nature.
After a snowpack that was the best in years — 199 percent of normal — and a cool spring, the Tioga Pass, which connects Highway 395 to Yosemite’s eastern gate, finally opened Saturday, June 18. According to the Mammoth Times, Tuolumne Meadows still has a summer blanket of several feet of snow. Rivers are running at ridiculous levels. Maybe some visiting Hollywood producer will make a disaster movie about it in the vein of “2012.”
I mean when’s the last time a guide actually refunded your trip deposit, rather than take you out? It just happened to me.
My son and I watched the white caps on Hot Creek as the water tore through that wind-beaten canyon. You read that correctly — white caps.
So, if you’re headed up for your annual Sierra fix, better check the cfs numbers carefully. The same guide told me he didn’t expect normal flows until August. According to him, last year, which also had unusually heavy snowfall, July was the magical month.
Aside from private waters not affected by the torrent of water coming off the mountains, if you must fish (and if you’re like me, you must), try The Gorge, north of Bishop, off Highway 395. Any fly shop can give you exact directions.
Two cautions: it is hot as blazes — expect the high 90s or more — and an unfriendly plant called stinging nettle certainly will make you miserable if you brush against it. Access to the water is down a long, steep, gated road, which means you have to have something left in the tank for the 25-minute or so trudge back up. Long pants, yes; extra water, please, and sunscreen (try the new spray-on from Trader Joe’s. Good stuff.)
Even with the moderate water flows, fishing The Gorge is tough. We managed to catch several browns in several hours; the lengths were more Southern California average than the monsters you’ll find on any local fly fishing Web site. Much as I hate to write this, I probably wouldn’t do it again this season.
As the world’s most honest guide said to me as I signed for my refund, “You fellas are just here at the wrong time, hell, wrong season.”
Which is great news for thirsty Los Angeles after a string of drought years.
UPDATE: Take Deep Creek off your fishing radar until the drought ends. You’ll find little water and few fish. Also, because this is a protected area, if the native fish die out, that will also be the end of this once beautiful water because it won’t be stocked. Don’t add to their stress by catching them.
With free time in hand, most fly fishers from Pasadena head for the West Fork of the San Gabriel, or roll the dice above the Jet Propulsion Lab in La Canada. Why we ignore Deep Creek in the San Bernardino Mountains is a mystery. After all, it is a state-designated wild trout stream, meaning no farmed fish, only naturals. According to literature, it hasn’t been stocked by the Dept. of Fish and Game in over 30 years. Rainbows are the game; browns, the hope.
Will and I drove the quick hour and twenty minutes to Lake Arrowhead, getting into town in time for lunch. With an Adventure Pass in hand ($5 for a one-day; $30 for a year, available at Orvis on Lake; Sports Chalet or Big 5), we drove the additional 10 minutes around the lake until Hook Creek Road, which turns ugly for autos when it becomes 2N2GY, forest speak for dirt. If you’re not four-wheelin’, watch your oil pan. His FIT made it back to Pasadena, unscathed.
Following the road down a gentle canyon, if you turn right, you’ll hit a concrete bridge with plenty of fishing opportunities, or turn left and you can walk to the confluence of Deep Creek and Holcomb Creek. The creek runs about 22 miles from its beginnings in the San Bernardinos north into the Mojave.
Hikers can spend a fun day walking the Pacific Crest Trail, and, if energy permits, enjoy a dip in the Deep Creek Hot Springs (clothing optional).
Last Saturday, the water temp was 57 degrees, while the sun warmed the air to 80 degrees. Dries weren’t happening, but the nymph action was ridiculous; hungry (wary) fish kept us guessing throughout the several hours we spent coaxing them out of the many holes and riffles on the creek.