Secret Golden Trout Lake 6/4
Saturday I reached Bishop by 9am and completed
all required in-town errands by 11. After deflating Li’l Miracle’s
tires from 50 to 30 pounds at
the bottom of the
22-mile four-wheel-drive
road leading up into the High Sierra, I guided myself safely to
the
primitive truck camp in another three-and-a-half hours.
As I set up camp at the most level site, I heard shooting down the slope a little way. I peered through the tamaracks and saw four other trucks hanging out having a good time enjoying the surrounding majestic views.
I fired up my Kaboom and listened to the local country music station while assembling a camp kitchen of three-burner Coleman stove, Weber portable grill and folding table. Once ready to cook I relaxed a bit as I prepared my backpack for the next two days of wilderness fishing.
After a hearty meal of porterhouse steak, steamed broccoli and tossed salad I was horizontal in my big tent and out within minutes.
Sunday at 04:30 I was up and warming the coffee percolator over the stove. Coffee tastes its best when fresh perked. Just be careful not to burn it. As I sipped I slow-cooked Mahogany Smoked thick-cut bacon while rolling up truck camp. Periodically turning the strips under low heat allowed time to pack most of yesterday’s equipment back into the camper shell. When the bacon reached my standard of done, somewhere between gooey and crunchy, I laid three sizable slices of Sheepherder Bread French toast onto a griddle over one of the other burners. Served with butter and grade A maple syrup from Trader Joe’s, this ‘Bishop Breakfast’ was not only the savory best but will serve to power my pack and me in the next hour up the mountainside to Secret Golden Trout Lake.
Once the rest of camp was crammed back into the shell, I moved the truck out of the campsite and over to the side of the road under a tree. I locked it, strapped on my pack and off I went down the hill, through the meadow and into the forest. The off-road dudes at the lower site saw me depart with a large amount of crap on my back, including a 56-inch rod tube sticking up and probably wondered, where does he think he’s going with all that stuff? I’m pretty sure only a fraction of the rough riders who use this road know there’re two lakes with good fishing only a mile-and-a-quarter effort away.
All the hike training since December has paid off nicely, as I motored up over the moraine no pain no strain. In barely past an hour I approached the lake’s outlet and saw at some point since the last time I was here twelve months ago the lake filled and had an outflow. Now all you see in the ravine is the desiccated white powder of what used to be a thin film of algae in flowing water.
Up and over the last small snowbank, the lake was in view and I saw it to be only six feet low, as opposed the 15-foot dip of last year. As I walked along the exposed shoreline toward hike camp I could see what happened the past three years. The lake drained far down and almost died during the five-year drought that ended Winter 2017 as seen from this satellite view. When I look at this picture I think of thousands of golden trout concentrated into what seems to be a mere puddle. I knew they survived because last year they were back to their old selves, fat and happy spawning like crazy over whatever exposed gravel they could find.
While the lake shrank during the last drought, many plants sprouted below the high water mark. Now what you see are dead sticks mixed with the white powder because the lake filled last year and drowned them. This is a good thing. When there is lots of decomposing organic material in the water, it means more bugs, which equates to well-fed trout. And yes I saw hundreds of healthy ones frolicking all around, still this late in springtime in spawning mode.
I installed camp at a fine practical clearing then sauntered down to the inlet creek to fill all water vessels. I saw only one male golden in the flow. I figured there weren’t more trying to spawn here because the lake bottom was cluttered with pine tree debris, small cones and needles. The inlet creek wasn’t moving sufficiently for any to jump up into the clean gravel. Also, this low flow is why in 2018 the lake level is down somewhat.
Trout need two things to be able to spawn; cool aeriated water and clean gravel. Some folks think aeriated means the anadromous fish must swim upstream to find clean oxygenated creek water for their eggs to survive and hatch. This is not my experience. I see the goldens at this lake sweep junk from the bottom with their pelvic and anal fins and make their redds over gravel and spawn every spring. The eggs survive, as there are fish of all sizes in the lake at any given time: fry, fingerlings, smolts and adults. According to California Fish and Wildlife, the lake was stocked once in 1968 and has held a self-sustaining population of Volcano Creek goldens ever since.
I shot GoPro underwater video of that one
male in the
flow then cruised the shoreline
to find scores of fish playing grab-ass just about everywhere I looked. I
was hoping since the Eastern Sierra had a less than normal winter this year, they would
be done with the spawn by now and have gone back into feeding mode for the
rest of the season.
Later in the afternoon I rigged up my six-pound spinning outfit with a brook trout pattern J-9 Rapala to cast at the other side of the lake near the deep hole just before the sun was off the water. I could catch all the eleven-inchers I wanted all day long. With this lure I hoped only the larger sized fish will rise from the depths and hit once the direct light is out of their eyes. One thing about June is the sun isn’t off the water until around 19:00. Thirty minutes past under the auspices of a bright Venus and Jupiter I felt hits, with the third strike sticking to the hook, a basic twelve-inch female released, the only one landed the rest of the night until nine.
Monday I awoke to my watch alarm at 4, strapped on all my gear and headed back to the deep spot to cast a 1/8 oz silver Kastmaster with a hot pink stripe. Way back in 1997 I caught my biggest golden here with this technique, tipping the scales at a whopping one pound eight ounces. Early this morning we have The Moon, Mars and Saturn all up shining brightly, so in the dark those big dudes can easily spot your flashy lure. I cast as far as I could, let it sink to the bottom then slowly retrieved with a slight jerking motion. On the first cast I counted down to 20 then all subsequent casts I let it sink to 17 or 19 depending on which way I tossed out. That way you can get real close to the bottom without snagging and losing your lure.
At 5 I hooked the first one, yet another cookie cutter eleven-incher released. I had many hits and landed two more as the sun rose, all released, before eight, nothing larger than anything else I had caught already.
After nap and lunch I rigged my #4 flyrod with a
twelve foot, two pound leader and an Adams fly. Yesterday as I scouted
zones to fly fish I saw many at the shallow area of the back of the lake
spawning and also inhaling bugs that landed on the water above. When the
tarn is low it is easier to cast, as all the obstructions behind you are
twenty feet away from the waterline. On my third try a golden rose to
the occasion and
I reeled in another of the same ol’ size released.
This was good casting practice anyway, of which I need a lot. Four
more rose and hit the fly but didn’t stick. I thought wow they are shy
or maybe my offering broke off but every time I lifted the leader I saw the
fly still there. Thirty frustrating minutes later upon closer
inspection I saw the hook point had broken off. Sheesh. Note to self;
continually look to see the fly is still tied on and in good shape while
killing time fly rodding.
Around one I was back at camp for lunch and contemplating. As I mentioned earlier I hoped this spawn business would be over by now but no. I have the option of staying here one more night but decided not to. I rolled everything and hiked out at 2:30. That way I can fill my tires back to 50 pounds at the bottom of the mountain with my Slime dual-piston inflator and get home by midnight. If I left in the morning I would hit Tuesday traffic near Ontario at 5pm and probably fall asleep on the freeway. Next year I will return to Secret Golden Trout Lake for a week in August and keep a limit.