Backpack Expedition to Anna Lake 7/13
The great philosopher Steven Wright once professed, there's a fine line between fishing and just standing on the shore like an idiot. The few trips I took since November I was that guy. All my usual techniques that gained me success for decades suddenly disproved themselves.
I switched tactics. Instead of local runs to favorite holes once or twice a month, I spent the first half of 2014 prepping for a major High Sierra backpack run, to an area I have never visited before, Anna Lake. I have most of the equipment, I just needed to shape up to the proper fitness. This body of water is high and far from the trailhead. Last week, for the final conditioning, my pal Dean and I summited Mt. Baldy up and down in 12 hours. Also my front yard looks nice.
For Inyo Forest wilderness permits you go to recreation.gov, fill out an online form, pay a few bucks on your credit card, then pick up your paperwork at the Eastern Sierra Interagency Visitor Center just south of Lone Pine.
. Where we will find ourselves this summer is the next forest north, The Humbolt-Toyiabe. Their system is somewhat antiquated but fully functional. You go to their site, print out a wilderness permit PDF form, pencil it in and mail it with a three-dollar check. They mail you back a confirmation, you stop by the ranger station along Hwy 395 south of Bridgeport by four o’clock in the afternoon the day before the hike or by ten in the morning the day of the hike to pick up your permit.
Sunday when I walked in with my confirmation the two rangers were all smiles that someone had taken the time to make a reservation. One minor glitch: when I filled out the mailer form back in March, I indicated I wanted to start my walk at the trailhead along the Little Walker River. When they replied back the form said trailhead Leavitt Meadows near the West Walker River. I cannot reach the objective from there. I mentioned this to the nice lady, she changed the trailhead on the fly, I was in and out of the ranger station in five minutes. Good job guys!!
North past Bridgeport I found a lovely developed site at the $12-per-night Obsidian Campground at the confluence of Molybdenite Creek and the Little Walker River. I set up my big tent in case the gathering monsoon wanted to pour down in the middle of the night, then drove around looking for the trailhead. The river road turned right across a bridge and headed away from where I thought the trail started. I put on my Rite-Aid 2.5x glasses I keep handy in my truck’s glove box and studied at the forest map. I quickly located a dirt road to the left that climbed a ridge and ended up at a gate I hiked past to find a patch of private properties in the main river canyon.
Now that I am oriented it is time to stuff the pack. The first item you put in is the filled 100oz Camelbak. I looked around but did not see a spigot in the campground. I asked the only other campers three sites away if they know where it is, they said there isn’t one. I said dang, $12 for a site and no running water, not even one of those old fashioned lever pumps. I drove to the river and filled my five-gallon jug by holding it under a deep riffle. Back at camp I was ready to filter pump the water into my Camelbak when the neighbor popped by.
Dude, he said, I brought you some water, don’t drink the river water. He handed over four bottles of the standard Safeway fare, which filled the bladder all the way. I said thanks, slipped it securely into the pack and proceeded to install all the other items into the top compartment to their assigned positions.
Check this out, he added, holding his giant camera backwards so I could view the screen. He had photos and videos of his two-year-old daughter catching these massive fourteen-inch brook trout from the river about a hundred yards from camp, using her little pink bunny spin-cast outfit with salmon eggs, truly amazing! I thanked him for the tip, saying 15 years from now (quite possibly sooner) when I cannot backpack anymore I will park my ass on that rock and catch big brookies all day.
Once I had all chores completed and was ready for the sack, I drove into town for dinner, having the beef burrito and a cheeseburger from a quaint stand on the main drag. I would prefer to cook out but then I would have to store my food-smelly BBQ and stove in the back of the truck all week at the trailhead. Unlike most places I hike, this canyon definitely is a bear zone.
Monday up by 05:30, tent taken down, truck repacked, I was back in town for a nice big sit-down breakfast consisting of a large bacon/sausage/egg burrito and a sizable cinnamon roll warm with butter at the Sportsman’s Grill.
Back at the trailhead there is parking near the fork in the road by the bridge but if you drive to the gate and park it will save you a mile of walking, which will be handy due to the distance I am to cover today.
At 09:30 I strapped on the 75 pounds and was off. As I walked past the cabins a nice lady on the porch waved and said hi that I took as a gesture of good will toward me as if I were going to need it.
I noticed the mosquitoes were in full force, about seven of them buzzing around me at any given time. Ben’s 100 DEET proved to be the solution.
For the first mile-and-a-half you walk on your basic dirt road in a meadow parallel to a meandering small river, then the road turns right into a wooded area of someone else’s property. The trail was a little tricky to follow, as you have to go straight through some grass then pick it up again where the pine trees start.
An hour and something in you reach a wooden fence indicating the wilderness boundary, constructed to keep the neighbor’s livestock out.
Since I never been here before I brought a map I printed out from my Delorme Topo-USA software. I see on the right there will be 2 creek crossings before turning up to the lake. By noon I crossed one, then by two the other. Just passed that I thought I would see a sign and another faint trail heading up. Coming across none of that, I checked the left side of the canyon and compared the topography to the map. Once I regained my bearings I found I was still at least two hours before the turnoff.
A little after four I alas made it to the sign directing you to the lake. At this point some decisions must be made. The variables are: thickening monsoon in the afternoon, six-and-a-half hours of calorie burning has passed, a 1,300-foot ascent to 10,600 awaits, I don’t know where the campsite is. To climb that many feet within a mile will take me four hours, that will deposit me at the lake at dark, in the rain, wandering around looking for somewhere level to set up my tent. I didn’t feel hungry and still had plenty of gas left. After ascending a mere 1,050 feet in the past five miles I actually felt energetic and didn’t want to stop. I like to reach the objective the first day and set up so that I don’t have to stop, unpack all my sleeping gear, then roll up and repack in the morning.
Four more hours to the lake sounded about right, I kept going, up and strenuously up until 18:30, which put me at nine hours without taking my pack off. I was only about half way up the final climb when the weather blackened. Safety first, I found a reasonably level spot for the tent, set it up and threw in all my bedding before securing all rain flies. A nearby creek supplied ample water, some of which I boiled for dinner. A 33-gallon trash bag over the pack, I was in bed by 19:30, nodding off to the sounds of pitter splatter against the top of the tent.
Tuesday I was up by nine, fed, rolled up and packed, and huffing and puffing onward. I wore long pants today, as yesterday in hiking shorts my legs were scratched by the many bushes poking over the rarely used trail. The monsoon remained present obscuring the sun, the air cool, perfect hiking conditions as I climbed, and what is this I see? A large fresh bear scat in the trail a half-mile from the lake. Maybe this trip I’ll make a new friend after all. The regulations here in the Hoover Wilderness require bear canisters. I have my Counter Assault Bear Keg strapped on, as much as I hate carrying it. The thing weighs like four pounds and it only stores four days of food. For my seven days I keep my bag of jerky, cookies, Tang and as many Mountain House freeze dries I can stuff in there, the rest of the freeze dry pouches I keep in a stuff sack and use that first.
An hour and 45 minutes later, approaching 13:00, I had my first glimpse of the lake, completely full with an outlet, which is amazing considering the general California drought and there is no inlet. It is fed only by immediate snow pack.
I guessed to the right inside the limber pine grove overlooking the lake would shelter a descent campsite. This place is so lightly visited there was no discernible trail through the tundra across the outlet creek. Once past the grass a small trail led right to a site I will go ahead and name The Hilton. It had all the amenities, a large flat level tent area, a bench made from a log, level rocks to cook on, and a tree with rock niches that will serve well for pantry and tackle storage. It took me over eleven hours of walking to get here.
I set up camp then ventured out to a vista point to look at the lake. What breathtaking beauty lies before me. Remote, lightly visited, deep clear nutrient rich water, and remember that Eastern Sierra Back Country Fishing Guide I been yackin’ about the past few years? It says this lake contains golden trout and Lahontan cutthroat trout. My guess was there are big ones in here. I know the goldens will do well at this altitude, not sure about the cuts. Their range is rivers below 8,000 feet. We’ll see.
After food and a nap I was ready to launch the big J-13 rainbow trout pattern Rapala from a comfortable grassy point at 18:00. First thing I noticed were the rather large golden trout speeding by about five feet from shoreline. Every one of them were over fifteen inches. I thought I have found Shangri-La. I really didn’t expect to catch anything with the biggest lure in my arsenal but if I did I would tie it to a cord and place it in the water to keep it fresh. It would be killed next Sunday morning before I walk out.
The moon rose over a ridge to the east, to the west in the draw I saw a shiny white thing I surmised was a glass object reflecting the moonlight. As the moon rose the intensity of the shiny white object never waned even though the angle of the light changed. Very curious.
By eleven and predictably no hits using the big lure, I retired back to camp for the night.
Wednesday I got up around ten, ate, put my Nalgene bottle and water filter pump in my fish creel, and wandered off. I hiked along the lake toward the north, wanting to circumnavigate, but I knew I couldn’t due to the steepness and the three glacierettes at the south end. Try to climb over one of those and slip? It’s all over.
Instead I scrambled over a saddle to the north, from where I could view the West Walker River drainage. I hiked along ridge tops and saw Sonora Pass. At one zone at the headwaters of Paiute Canyon I found quantities of chalcedony, chalcopyrite and a green igneous rock indicating copper. Don’t get any ideas with your gold pans and excavators, you can’t mine in the wilderness.
After food and nap I was back at the lake casting a smaller J11 Rapala brook trout pattern farther back in the north end cove where the previous night I saw more surface rises. Around 19:30 AM stations start tuning in on the radio, I sat there listening to the Giants game while lure tossing until the end at 22:30 with no hits.
The moon was obscured by clouds but that light on the other side of the lake was on. It is not something shiny over there reflecting moonlight but another kind of solar gadget, I guessed.
Thursday after breakfast I set up a rod with a 1/8th ounce rainbow trout Kastmaster to cast all over the lake to find the deepest water accessible along the shore. The first stop is the saddle to find the source of the white light I have been seeing each night. As I walked I saw footprints on the same trail I used yesterday. I thought, hmm, I don’t remember seeing these yesterday, I look up and I’ll be dam, i spotted some dude over there fly casting from a rock at the north end.
Hey man, I said, surprised to see anyone up here today. He said he, just like me, took two days to get here and arrived a couple hours ago. He said the camp host at one of the drive-in campgrounds by the highway alerted him to the large goldens that live here. So far, he said, he has not been disappointed. Even though at this point he hadn’t one hit, he has seen many big ones speeding by.
There are some bruisers in here, but they are moving fast, in groups of three, he proclaimed. I know, I saw a bunch all along here and over there the past two evenings, I directed, pointing over to the grassy lounge-casting point. Haven’t caught one yet either. I’m using a big lure in case there are any giant cutthroats in here. He said he heard there are only goldens. I told him what the DFW guide stated.
The dam fish are swimming by fast, I never saw that before, he perplexed. Normally they would be cruising by slowly looking for snacks. I don’t know what they’re up to, maybe they’re spawning. Goldens spawn in the spring, I countered, right at ice-out, the spawn should be over. I don’t know what’s up with’em either.
I explained I was walking over to the saddle to find out what was shining all night. I also mentioned it looks like rain soon as already at ten in the morning thunder clouds were accumulating.
At the saddle I found the light source, a Westinghouse solar lantern some wise guy planted in the crack of boulder.
One odd thing I noticed was there wasn’t a log jam at the lake’s outlet. Looking around you don’t see many trees by the lake due to the elevation but after a million years there should be wood piled up. I looked down into the very northwest corner of the lake and I found it, a large stack of dead trees on the bottom with hundreds of fingerling trout feeding on the bugs living off the detritus. Instead of a current taking the trees to the outlet, they blow over here with the prevailing winds and eventually sink.
Since there are so many little guys in one spot I figured the big guys would know this fact too. I flung the Kastmaster to several depths, letting it sink to the bottom then jigging it in. I actually had two nice hits, which were actually half-hearted bumps that didn’t stick to the hook.
I worked my way back along the lake shore toward camp, casting here and there looking for the deepest spot. So far the countdown was 38 seconds at the most. I had another bump but that was about it in the next hour.
At eleven I heard the first boom of thunder just west of the local peak, it was time to wrap up inside the rain suit and to make sure the tent and bedding is secure and the pack is covered with a trash bag.
I stood on a promontory steps from camp overlooking the lake to get a feel of the thunderhead that had arrived in full force. The booms came from the direction of overhead every thirty to sixty seconds but I never saw lightning, meaning the bolts were shooting straight up. In this case, I surmised, it will be safe to venture to the other end of the lake where the topography shows the deepest water.
So off I go, boom boom boom, rain is pouring down but it isn’t bugging me at all. I just kept tossing the Kastmaster, finally finding an area where it took over seventy seconds for the lure to hit bottom. This is where I will start fishing tomorrow morning, my first serious fishing day. Whenever I hike back into The Sierra for a week I cull fish the last two days before hike out day so they will be fresher than, let’s say, if I had caught them on the first or second day of the visit. I keep the cleaned catch in Ziploc bags wrapped up in a trash bag in the cold waters of the lake held down and kept out of the sun by several rocks.
An hour or so working fifty yards of deep shoreline produced no hits, off I hiked to the far south end to investigate. By this time the T-storm had rolled out over to the West Walker drainage, leaving behind sunny skies and still water into which I could see yet more and more BIG goldens milling about in groups of three or five. The area was very shallow, you could see the bottom many yards out. The Kastmaster failed to produce anything here either.
After food and nap I was back over to the north end, casting a yet smaller J9 Rapala in brook trout. The night was into the fourth inning of the Giants game before I finally caught something, a very small golden that managed to put the tail hook in its mouth but also found a way to stab itself in the heart with the belly hook. I would normally toss this size back but it died instantly.
I cast here and there along the north end, even back in the zone where the water logs lie but never had another bump until nine. I quit early tonight so I can get up in the morning for the start of serious action.
Friday at 04:00 the watch alarm sounded, I slept fully clothed boots on, all I had to do was put my water bag into the pack, install it to my back and march. Today I will be using two outfits, one with four pound test rigged with a 1/8th ounce egg sinker, swivel, two pound test leader and a #6 Gamakatsu baitholder. At first light I pinned on a baby nightcrawler, inflated it with an insulin syringe and tossed out to the depths. It took a count of sixty to hit bottom.
With the four pound rig in a holder bell attached, I tied up last night the six pound rod with a small Cast-A-Bubble, five feet of two pound leader and the same hook. The object here is to fill the bubble with the precise amount of water so that it sinks slo-o-o-o-o-owly. That way it covers many depths, then when it hits bottom the inflated worm will rise above.
The other trick with the bubble rig is once it reaches a level where you detect action, you reel it in slo-o-o-o-o-owly to cover more area at that same depth. Today as I reeled the rig about halfway in at a depth of maybe fifteen feet I felt a tap-tap. I opened the bail, let it run for a count of five then started reeling. You don’t want to yank hard to set the hook when using a small diameter leader, just reel in with a loose drag. The fish I hooked wasn’t making any drag burning tuna runs but it felt lunker heavy nonetheless. I gently played it in, as soon as it saw the net it took off in short bursts left and right, I battled for ten minutes to tire it out, it looked like a nice sized golden but I didn’t realize how big it was until I netted it out of the water. This thing looked at least two pounds. I freaking did it, I studied, discovered a remote lake I knew would house big goldens, trained hard all year, strained all the way up here and made it happen! A large hook-jaw male golden held up high. My life is complete.
After I calmed down somewhat I hung it from the Rapala 50-lb electronic scale, it pulled down one pound eight ounces, not as weighty as I fantasized but nobody else I know will ever nail a golden that big . Statisticians take note this ties my personal best golden of 1-8 from Secret Golden Trout Lake back in 1997.
I kept using the nightcrawler on both outfits. Throughout the morning on each I had bites but the fish managed to rip the bait off the hook every time without getting stabbed. Also I lost four bubble rigs to bottom rocks. I figured if I caught a big one first thing, fishing would travel downhill from there the rest of the day.
And it did. As the sun hit the water I tried casting deeper, shallower, using the inflated nightcrawler and a change to a small unit of Gulp! Chunky Cheese dough bait formed to a #16 treble, which has brought me much success in The Sierra the past two years. Nothing touched it.
Around eleven I tied on a half ounce egg sinker, swivel, four feet of two pound leader and a large treble hook. Around the hook I wrapped a nightcrawler then squished a wad of dough bait to form a combo wad. I injected the worm with air and cast out as far as I could. It took sixty seconds to hit bottom. Now the wait begins. Two years ago at Secret Brown Trout Lake I nailed many nice rainbows using this set-up in deep water, however each lake is different. I could tell that here the fish are not hanging out deep and they don’t like dough bait.
I gave it up at 13:00 for a well deserved nap, still proudly hosting my big guy on a chain to show off to that other dude who was supposed to be fishing this morning. I never saw him again and a quick glance to the tree cluster where he camped showed no equipment. I figured yesterday’s weather chased him out. Cool.
At six I was back over to the north end casting the medium Rapala same as yesterday but no bites were detected by nine.
Saturday morning again I was up at four and fishing soon thereafter. I started with what gave me great success the previous day, two outfits rigged with worms. The Steven Wright line kicked in today. I stood there looking like an idiot for six hours, no bites until around ten I heard my bell go off and I reeled in a standard size twelve-inch golden which I inserted into the creel. I worked hard all day, re-tying, using a wad of dough bait, tossing a Kastmaster to different depths all along the shore. Nothing.
If I felt really energetic, I would have taken all the weight and swivels off the four pound pole, used a blood knot to attach a length of two pound leader and walked along the shore sight fishing, fly-lining a worm out to a fish’s face when I see them. This takes a lot of walking, time is running out this trip. I will just stick to the plan of still fishing in the morning and Rapala flinging in the evening. I will try sight fishing if I don’t get too old to huff it up to this lake another time.
Back at camp a dude and a righteous blond chick appeared. They saw I had already snagged The Hilton and asked if I knew of any other good campsites. I said I never really looked, there might be one over there across the inlet. As I pointed I saw another couple walking up into those tress. By the size of the four packs all of them carried I could tell they were only staying the night, no competition whatsoever. I don’t know why anyone would spend 2 days to get here just for one night.
Now that I have gotten the feel of this lake after five days, I know there are more fish at the south end as opposed to the north end, so southward I aimed with the Rapala on the six pound rod, and the floating nightcrawler 1/8th ounce egg sinker on the four pound stick to fish the breakline between deep and shallow.
The first thing you see is how many bugs are floating on the surface. These fish have endless food, which is why they’re so big and fat. Also I noticed starting Thursday a hatch of small stoneflies began. The stomachs of the fish I caught were stuffed with the emergers. While you’re standing out there casting they blow in the breeze and get all over you. I suppose you could use a fly that resembles a stonefly but it would be the millionth one floating out there with the rest. I did try a bead head nymph for a while, soaked in Pautzke’s Krill juice, but nothing was interested.
Another something noticeable was as soon as the stoneflies appeared, I never saw another mosquito. I do not propose one is related to the other in any way. It was just a phenomenon I realized.
So I just kept casting the Rapala while the worm soaked. I checked the worm periodically, yup it still floats, all night, nothing biting.
Good news is, as soon as the sun was off the water, which is around 19:00 on this end of the lake, the Rapala started to produce. First hit was a very nice sized male golden in its full spawn blazonment. About thirty minutes later a fourteen-inch hen hit the Rapala, when I grabbed it eggs spewed all over. Wow, looks like there really are a few late spawners in here, as homie surmised the other day. I tossed handfuls of eggs into the water in front of the rock I was sitting on, moments later several trout stopped by, turning on their sides, picking up the eggs from the bottom.
Just before dark I caught another golden with the small Rapala, a twelve inch female again attached to the chain stringer. I stayed out until 22:30 hoping for whatever comes but nothing did. I reeled in the worm, the status was unchanged since I first cast it out four hours previous.
I never saw any of the other four visitors out fishing. Seems they spent the day recovering from the hike.
Back at camp I eviscerated the three fish, leaving the heads on for display purposes, before wrapping them up with the other three already in the lake. My last night has concluded.
Sunday I awoke by eight ready to pack it up and hike out. I put on a clean white T-shirt and used the filthy smelly white T-shirt I hiked in with to store the fish on the way out. I removed the goldens from the trash bag they had been soaking in the past two days, rinsed them off and put them in a clean trash bag, then wrapped that up in the soaking wet T-shirt that will keep them relatively cool on the hike out. I used the slimy old trash bag store the many used food pouches and stuffed all that into the bear keg. I ate the usual scrambled eggs with ham breakfast, five home baked seven-layer cookies, all washed down with a cup of Tang and a vitamin. I was out by ten.
The first mile downhill of the trek just about wore me out. You can’t get going too fast due to the weight on your back, tripping and falling would not be good. You just have to take it easy, moan and groan all you want, nobody will hear. 90 minutes passed, I was at the lake sign, it is all gradual downhill from here.
I had it in my mind to stop at a certain point about half way back to the gate, take off my pack and have a refuel snack of the remaining four cookies and the four-ounce elk salami I picked up at Mahogany Smoked Meats in Bishop. Once I reached that point I felt pretty good and just kept going. About an hour later I was wearing out. I had to stop every thirty minutes or so to sit on a log or rock. I noticed if either were to low it took a big effort to stand back up. I had to use great strength against my hike poles and legs to do so. After I raised myself from whichever resting rock I said dam I need a rest from taking a rest. Whew!
Another two hours I felt worse. I didn’t bother eating like I knew I should because look, I’m almost there, why bother now? At 17:00 I reached the cabin where I saw the nice lady who waved hi last Monday, I went just past and found another comfy rock to plop upon. Just then up the road comes the lady walking her dog. We had a nice chat, her hubby on one of those little dune buggy gadgets drove up. I showed them pictures of my fish, they asked if I saw any deer. I said yup, a big one about three miles back, the size of a horse. I asked if they know they have a bear back in there, they said oh yes, we’ve seen him many times, he walks over there, through the trees, and along the river. He got into our neighbor’s barbecue a couple months ago. I said I noticed his evidence but never saw him like I thought I was going to.
We said our goodbyes and ten minutes later I was at the gate, throwing my pack into the back of my truck by 17:30, a seven hour miserable walk. I don’t know why I think backpacking for fish is so much fun. I probably will after I review at the pictures.
*****
Went bass fishing at Diamond Valley Lake 3/24, sucked.
Falls Fire Burn Area Wildflowers 4/6
Hiked Black Star Canyon 3/31. Jame's photos.
Hike to West Fork to check on the native trout population 5/26
Summited Mt. Baldy 6/30
*****
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