High Sierra 5/25
In the mid 1980s The Breakwall Crew discovered a 4x4 road in the Eastern Sierra that accesses four lakes at an elevation over 10,000 feet. Each has its own ecosystem and different species and size of trout. There’s the big rainbow trout lake, the small rainbow trout lake, the golden trout lake and, last but least, the brook trout lake. In previous stories I have added the word Secret to their pseudonyms in order to not alert The World to the area’s splendors.
During the prolonged drought of the 1990s, the two rainbow trout lakes dried up, the golden trout lake was low but still alive and the brook trout lake’s level never varied no matter any winter’s snowpack.
In previous years I have spent weeks at a time exploring every cranny of this over 100,000-acre zone, using my truck, dirt bike and boots to find every type of fish, frog, lizard and vista The Sierra offers. Since the access road is long, steep and rough, you rarely see anyone around. After spending so much time getting to know an area, nowadays I can accomplish a lot in just four days by focusing on a goal and synthesizing all activities toward attainment.
Back in 1989 while the whole B. Crew was camped at Secret Big Rainbow Trout Lake a troop of six Boy Scouts happened upon our camp. Their fearless leader dumped them off above Secret Small Rainbow Trout Lake a couple miles away and told them in order to earn their hiking merit badge, they would have to navigate on their own how to make it to the Outhouse Truck Camp near Secret Golden Trout Lake. These boys were in rough shape. Already their lips were so cracked they were bleeding and there were fifteen miles more to go.
I was a boy scout whose leaders took our troop backpacking the Sierra out of Big Pine in 1971 but they never left us for dead like this. Jack Higar and Jack Perkins were right there the whole week sharing their knowledge and wisdom of the mountains with us unwaveringly.
After these now men told me where they were to reunite with their leaders, I mentioned to them they will never make it before dark; if they can even figure out how to get there. I unloaded all the equipment out of my camper shell, put four of them back there and two in the front for the delivery.
Again, the road is long and rough, 90 minutes over boulders and through creeks, not very comfortable in the truck bed but better than walking. One of the men, who looked to be thirteen asked, so you know where the outhouse is? I said yeah, I spent many weeks the past three years camped there exploring, hiking and fishing. He added, so you know about Secret Brook Trout Lake, it has big fish. My Dad told me not to tell anyone but since you’re cool taking us to the outhouse, you can know.
I said hey thanks for the tip but I have checked Secret Brook Trout Lake and its close-by neighbor Secret Golden Trout Lake extensively and the latter wins the big fish award, as in those days the goldens we landed were all twelve to fifteen inches in length. Brook Trout Lake only contains them puny eastern brook vermin I despise. They grow to no more than six inches and spawn like rats.
My man said, yeah I know Golden Trout Lake has nice ones but Brook Trout lake has three and five pounders, we’ve seen them and caught them.
After I dumped them off at the outhouse I contemplated my new fish buddy’s tips. Secret Brook Trout Lake is small, maybe 30 acres and shallow. Since Secret Golden Trout Lake was so good for sizable goldens, I never gave myself reason to revisit.
Zoom ahead 21 years, in 2010 I visited Secret Golden Trout Lake. Fishing was great, only the fish are smaller now due to conditions I speculated about in my writing. One of the days I took a break, packed some water and jerky and wandered around the canyon, stopping by Secret Brook Trout Lake for the first time since 1987. Of course I saw the lake is still full of six-inch brookies but as I walked along where the shoreline cuts a bank into a small meadow, I saw a larger than usual fish swim out as I approached. I said dang, looky here, that’s something I’d like to catch, as it was the size of about six of your standard brook trout.
Second thing noticeably different was the spotting pattern. It's neither brook, golden nor rainbow trout but something I’m not that familiar with. It looked more like a rainbow but instead of many small dark spots it had maybe twenty large dark spots. Very peculiar. I didn’t fish that day, instead making mental notes for future study.
Once home I found some information on the California Department of Fish and Game web site. In the right column under ‘Where to Fish’ they have a fishing guide link listing all the lakes in the state and what variety of fish they contain. Specifically for the Eastern Sierra there are two PDF links that lead to back country guides. I found something amazing – Secret Brook Trout Lake, the notes say, has brook trout and Lahontan cutthroat trout, which are known to grow to large sizes and have that same spotting pattern I took note of earlier.
Quick sidebar, as you all know, the lakes, streams and rivers of the Eastern Sierra Nevada historically were devoid of trout. European settlers started stocking the waters in the 1870s upon the conclusion of the Owens Valley Indian War. The nearest indigenous were golden trout of the Kern River drainage, Southern Sierra and Lahontan Cutthroat trout of the Walker and Truckee river drainages, Eastern Sierra, north of Bridgeport. Also there is one stream with Paiute trout and of course further north, the Eagle Lake rainbow trout. The King Kong of them all was the Pyramid Lake strain of the Lahontan race of cutthroat trout, growing in excess of fifty pounds.
Are you now motorvated for a third look at Secret Brook Trout Lake? I am. I have just spent two years studying and prepping in order to come up with a plan to solve the puzzle at hand, which is, how do you get your offering past these overly aggressive six-inch brook trout so that you have a chance at a sizeable cutthroat? What will a cutthroat take that a brookie won’t?
I suppose you could go around with a fly tied to one rod, dangle the bug in the face of a four-inch brook trout then once you catch it, pin it to a 1/0 live bait hook tied to your 10# outfit and cast that out there. Effective but illegal.
The plan I devised is pretty simple. Log into the Cabela’s site and order some jointed Rapalas in brook trout pattern in a size that will scare the six inchers and entice the six pounders. I bought two size J-9s and two J-11s. I use the big J-13 at my Secret Brown Trout Lake.
To beat the holiday crowds, I took the trip this past Tuesday through Friday. We’ve been up there on Memorial Days before when there might be twenty other trucks full of crazies participating in the big three in’s: drinkin’, fishin’ and shootin’. As hoped, this time I didn’t see anyone the whole four days.
Tuesday I left home at 08:00, made Bishop by 13:00, then after some supply shopping I was making camp near the old outhouse a little before 17:00.
Winter 2011 produced a record snowfall in the Sierra, making this area inaccessible until mid July. This year we received hardly any of the white stuff and it shows in the terrain with all the usually summer-long lush green meadows now a somber brown. Even a scenic stand of tamaracks I’ve admired through the years as I’ve passed by have now been decimated by bark beetles. As I turned into the canyon I saw the snowfields resemble September, not late May. On the bright side, the earlier in spring you can fish high lakes, the hungrier the trout.
The local radio was reporting high winds and cool temperatures the next four days. They were spot on. As soon as the sun vanished behind the mountain crest, the air turned cold. All night my tent flapped thunderously, requiring the use of Flents Quiet Times.
Wednesday morning I cooked a batch of local Sheephearder bread French toast and mahogany smoked bacon before finalizing the stuffing of my Kelty West Coast 4800 backpack. From Outhouse Truck Camp it is only a one-mile trek to what was once known as Secret Brook Trout Lake; now Secret Lahontan Cutthroat Trout Lake. The wind died down some and that combined with the warmth of afternoon made for perfect, coatless hiking weather. I was at the lake in an hour.
I quickly set up camp then tied the Rapala to a spool of fresh Trylene XL Armor Coated 8 lb test spun onto my Shimano Aero 3000. I walked around trying to locate a deep spot next to a breakline ledge, which wasn’t too difficult in this typical crystalline Sierra water. The plan was to keep the wind to my back to further casting distance but unfortunately that put me in the shallows. Plan B is to make casts to where you want between sideways wind gusts. That’s nothing unusual for ten-and-a-half thousand feet.
At 18:30 after dinner with the sun off the lake I was back at it, studying the terrain to find a small sweeping point to cast from near deep water, into an area containing more little guys upon which big guys presumably feed. As I faced south, the wind blew right to left and between gusts I could see the most brookies surfacing to my left. That makes sense, as any bugs that dared to take flight blew over that-a-way. And over there went my lure, cast after cast as I walked back and forth covering a hundred feet of real estate until 21:30. The whole time my exposed hands were half numb, half painful as wearing thick mitts while fishing isn’t convenient. Relief came after I crawled into my sleeping bag and incubated my fingers with my hot ass.
Thursday morning I would liked to have gotten up around 04:30 to be able to start casting at five, but it was so cold and I was so tired I didn’t make it out of the tent until six. Once I strapped on my pack and started walking, enough warmth was generated that I could barely tolerate the icy air. The winds were down to a very occasional 10 mph gust, allowing every cast to hit target.
I spent a couple hours walking around the whole lake familiarizing myself with every submerged tree, deep gap and rock pile to be seen, casting my lure to every likely spot. I ended up right back at the same point I cast from last night.
I set up my four-pound outfit with a dough-bait rig to be cast and soaked while I rehydrated a scrambled egg with bacon and peppers breakfast. Survey says… they (the small brookies) like Berkeley Gulp Trout Bait the best out of Power Bait, Sierra Gold and regular Zekes.
With fresh stomach contents renewing energy, I started fan casting the Rapala once again. Fifty tosses into it I’m thinking, this is stupid, there’s nothing but these little guys following it; this trip is turning into only a time to enjoy forest surrounded by alpine peaks and it’s not that delightful what with all the wind and cold. I’ve had frozen margarita headache and a sore throat since all day yesterday. I had more fun watching my lure swim. The Rapala people really build a quality wiggle.
At 10 o’clock, well past big fish hour, as I monitored the slowly jerked lure, I saw a big head swim up to it about five feet from shore and clamp down. Kids, this is a lesson. I have hooked many big ones right at my feet. Don’t lift the lure for your next cast prematurely. Shocked, I yelled oh $#!t and set the hook. The thing looked big but didn’t fight. It came right into the net. I held it up and saw it wasn’t is such good health; not much meat on them bones. The last brown trout I caught with this size head weighed over five pounds. This hook-jaw male was built like a sea serpent, 22 inches long and weighing in at 2-14, just shy of three pounds. How ‘bout that little bastard was right all those years ago. There are big ones in this relatively small, shallow lake after all! Log this as my very first Lahontan cutthroat trout in life, I got'er done.
With renewed interest and full of confidence I put the fish on ice and walked around the lake again, making hundreds more casts to every deep spot I noted earlier until I was beat fishless and could hardly walk anymore.
After nap I had dinner then cast until 21:30. The radio weather reports were right, the wind picked up to sustained gusts over 50mph this afternoon and the temps dropped even further. All I caught through this tormented effort was more six-inch brookies that bit the lure.
Friday morning as I poured water into a pot to boil to rehydrate breakfast, I noticed the contents of my two-gallon utility jug was still half frozen at 8:30. The radio said we had rain and snow near Lee Vining this morning but skies here were cloudless but windy. Since I had a few hours to kill, I was going to roll up everything and pack up, then make some casts before I leave around noon but by the time I had everything ready to go I looked up to see clouds of ice crystals blowing over the crest along with a dusting of small snowflakes falling before me. I put my rod back in the tube, strapped on the pack and ran like hell back to the truck, where at 11:30, that late in the day, the grasses near the spring were still encrusted with ice.
*****
Fish News:
Poaching inside the MPAs will bring jail and fines
How the fish business crosses state lines
Elsinore shad die-off a good thing
Paiutes trying to save native pupfish
Paiute pupfish habitat complete
Shark attacks girl off Catalina - don't go swimming in the ocean during your cycle!
Packers granted access to High Sierra backcountry inside National Parks
video of an osprey nabbing fish