READER REPORT

‘Stream fishing was much better than lake fishing’ - Reader Report Reader Report by Robert WardenPublished: Jul 01, 2009

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SOUTH COAST READER REPORT -Stream fishing Tne following is an excerpt from my blog, Robert Warden's Box-Free Blog at http://www.boxfreeblog.com. Aside from the story about the big fish and the fishing described, I would add that stream fishing was much better than lake fishing. We caught lots of 7-9 inch Brook Trout, and a few Rainbows, in upper Caples Creek. We only caught one fish in Silver Lake, and none in Woods or Caples Lake. Worms seemed to be the best bait. I tried flies from Adams to Zug Bugs without success, and only caught the one Brown Trout on a lure (a Super Duper). We also went fishing in Tahoe Keys, which has been overrun by Bluegills, much to the consternation of biologists. We (including the kids) caught about 20 of them in a couple hours. The excerpt begins next: June 18: Silver Lake Breakdown Thursday was the day when things really took a strange turn. With school out, we endeavered to take Branda and Beverly fishing. As it turns out, their friend Elliot came along too. Since Red Lake's "catching" was not happening, I decided to drive farther, to a reservoir called Silver Lake. This was around a 1 hour drive (and the farthest we went to fish from my brother's home). Rosalie took the kids in her car, while Eunice and I went in our car. When we arrived, Elliot popped out of the car and immediately announced to us"I need to find a cell phone and call my mom to have her pick me up." A sarcastic "wonderful" went through my mind as I rolled my eyes -- the things that little kids will say and do are so funny. Never mind that cell phones do not work at a remote place such as Silver Lake. (We tried.) Six year old Elliot had gotten insecure and wanted to go home. A moment later, Eunice took him to pee somewhere in the woods, after which, Elliot seemed to be cured of his homesickness. He spent the next several hours happily playing with Branda and Beverly, looking at the baby trout near shore, the larger ones farther from shore, and trying to fish with his kiddie pole from which the line refused to go out. We soon noticed numerous fish surfacing, although we were not getting any bites. Shortly after that, schools of fish which were more or less disinterested in any baits began appearing near shore. They appeared to be Brown Trout, and there were so many of them in the 8-9 inch range, that I was pretty sure they had recently been stocked. That might also have explained their reluctance to bite. Newly stocked fish are known for being in a state of confusion, and disinterested in food for a few days. What is strange is that they were Brown Trout, not the usual Rainbow Trout. They were surfacing from time to time, as there were swarms of midges in the air, so I put on a fly that resembles a midge, and quickly got a bite, but missed it. I tried casting for Branda, and letting her reel in. This produced a bite on the fly for her, too, but she also missed it. Actually, I didn't spend much time fishing, because every time Branda or Beverly tried operating a fishing pole, within a minute or two, if not seconds, there was some sort of problem. It was a constant refrain of, "Uncle Robert, the line is all tangled. Uncle Robert, my line is in the tree. Uncle Robert, the line broke." Then I would spend the next several minutes while the kids ran around playing, or found another pole that was working and found a way to make it stop working as well. Oh well! Eventually, I had a chance to fish and decided to put on a lure (a metal lure called a Super Duper). On the first cast, I hooked a fish, which immediately went airborne. This one was clearly a Rainbow Trout. It jumped again a moment later, at which time the lure dropped out of its mouth. Drats! At least the sight of the leaping fish made the kids happy for a moment. Encouraged, I kept trying with the lure, and eventually hooked a good sized fish which stuck to the hook. It turned out to be a Brown Trout of about 12 inches, which Branda netted. I think the kids spent about 1/2 hour playing with the fish. Branda kept saying, "Can I give this fish some water?" (I said no.) Her next question was "Is the fish dying?"(Yes, we are going to eat it, and it's saying "I'm stupid and yummy" I told her.) All of this was very familiar to me, basically the same things that happened when I took Branda and Beverly fishing in April, as described in the "I took two kids fishing" entry in this blog. There was also the hooking of worms issue. "I'm going to stab you; you have no brain" they would say. I taught them that worms have no brain in April, which is true, although they do have a sparse network of nerve cells. Actually, I enjoyed the whole time, as did the kids, despite the lack of catches. My little female fishing buddies, Branda and Beverly, in particular, are children with a very cheerful disposition. They seem to find fun and interest in anything which catches their attention. If something upsets one of them, it is generally not serious, and she quickly gets over it. Elliot seemed to have fun as well doing whatever Branda and Beverly were doing. Anyway, Silver Lake was a beautiful place. Eventually, the kids sort of wore out (or perhaps it was Rosalie who wore out) and needed a break, so around 5 p.m. Rosalie decided that it was time to take the kids home. I decided to head for a nearby fishing spot I had seen on the map, especially since I was not into catching recently stocked fish, anyway. (They don't like to bite, and they don't taste good, anyway, since they taste pretty much like the cheap Purina Trout Chow they are fed in the hatchery.) Soon, we were at a place called Plasse's Resort, near a major inlet to Silver Lake. Eunice took a break in the car, telling me to check whether the fishing in the creek was any good. It was a nice looking creek, around 10-20 feet wide with sparkling clear flowing water. However, nothing bit in the first spot, so I took my pole with a worm on the hook, to a larger pool a little downstream. I had a net, but left it upstream -- big mistake. I cast in the pool, started slowly reeling, and soon noticed a large trout busily moving back and forth on the downward-sloping flat underwater rock in front of me. It took me a moment to realize that the fish was biting my worm, since I didn't know my worm was there. When I did, it was "fish on" and it was a big one. After touring the pool several times, I finally had the fish near shore, but with no net, I had to figure out a way to land it. I was really excited because I could see that it was a really large -- and beautiful -- Brook Trout, a total surprise to me. It was fat, and around 14 inches long, easily my largest Brook Trout ever, if only I could land it. (My previous largest Brook Trout was a 12 incher which I caught during a backpacking trip.) If the net had been with me, I would have had the fish in position to land, but as it was, I had to land it by hand, literally. I got this beauty to shore, pinned it to the rather steep shore with my hand and attempted to lift it, but this slippery beauty jerked, fell into the water, the line broke, and it swam away. At that point, I said a word out loud which I usually do not use, one which resembles the method by which engineers create artificial lakes such as Silver Lake. Anyone who loves the art and challenge of fishing knows the sort of anxious, indescribably poignant adrenaline rush I was experiencing (especially since Brook Trout are one of my favorite fish species). As it turns out, the fish in this pool were not through with me. I retrieved my net and equipment and kept fishing there. Before long, I had hooked two more big Brook Trout (or perhaps the same one again), but the hook came out both times, before I got the fish in netting position. After that, the fish stopped biting. It was frustrating to say the least. I do not usually try to catch large fish, or really worry about that, but when a situation such as that arises, it is distressing to lose the fish and miss the opportunity. I went back to the car, and told Eunice what had happened. I thought perhaps she would have better luck, and she seemed ready to give it a try, so I went to get a pole for her from the trunk of my car. I opened the trunk of my 1992 Toyota Corolla, and the next thing I knew, I was staring at the nub of my car key in my hand; the rest of it was still in the trunk of my car. The main part of the key had snapped off as I opened the trunk. "Uh oh! This is real trouble!" I thought. What made it worse was that this was the only key I had for the car. We got the car from my parents, who hardly ever drove it, and they gave us 2 keys, but the second one must have been mislabelled, because when I tried it, it didn't work. I never thought I would need another key for this car, so I did not bother to get another one made. I went to the nearby resort to ask for help. Two nice employees of the resort tried to help, but they could not get the broken part of the key out of the trunk, with which it might have been possible to start the car, and they did not know how else to help. They joked that we were having an adventure. "A little too much of an adventure" I laughed. Next, I went to the pay phone in front of the resort store. I tried called the National Automobile Club, for which my parents bought me a membership, but they did not cover broken keys. Eunice was talking about sleeping in the car overnight, but I doubted that I could really sleep under such conditions. I had a better idea -- brother Bruce to the rescue. He could take us back to Tahoe, where we could find a locksmith. Around 7:30 p.m., I called Bruce, and fortunately, he answered the phone. Unfortunately, things were a bit confusing and difficult at that point. Bruce was perfectly willing to help, especially since he was taking the next day off from work. (He had been planning to tag along with everyone while we went fishing.) However, he kept telling me that Rosalie and the kids had not come home, and he was worried about them. Soon, our three minutes had run out, and it was time for the automatized phone message "Please deposit 1 dollar for the next three minutes." Anyone who has used a pay phone knows what kind of message I am talking about. Apparently, I did not put the quarters in the phone quickly enough, and the phone was disconnected. I called again, and explained to Bruce exactly where we were. He said he would come to pick us up, but then, we were cut off again. Eunice told me not to worry. "Bruce is on his way," she said. But with the way we were cut off, I was not sure. Over the next hour or so, we waited, walked around and looked at the dusk sky, noticed what a beautiful day it was, and tried to find a wire or something which might be used to remove the broken key piece from the trunk of our car. Around 9 p.m. just as the sky was getting dark, I convinced Eunice that we should call my brother's house again, to make sure that Bruce was on the way. I changed two dollars for 8 quarters in the restaurant, where everyone knew of our dilemma, called, and to my relief, Rosalie answered and told me that Bruce had left about around 8 p.m. Let me see, it took about one hour of driving time to get there, and Bruce had been driving for about one hour, so he was just about due to arrive. Just at that moment, I spotted Bruce's new hybrid SUV he was so proud of, as he arrived in the parking lot just as darkness was enveloping us. Bruce and I shook hands, and we discussed the situation. Soon, he took us home, and we managed to get to bed by 11 p.m. June 19: Randy to the Rescue After waking up, we first tried calling the local Toyota dealer. They were no help. They could not make keys, and asked for all sorts of information, some of which I did not have available, in order to get the specifications for the key. I thought at that point, that it was probably better to call a locksmith, anyway. Frankly, I wouldn't be surprised if the key specifications for my car, given by the Toyota dealer, would turn out to be wrong, anyway, like the second key my parents gave me. It might cost more, but if a locksmith could go to the car, at least he/she could confirm that a new key would work. Bruce got the phonebook out, turned it to "locksmith," and said, "Oh, Randy, I know that guy." As it turned out, Randy's shop was only about 1/2 mile away. When I called his shop's number, his wife (I think) answered, and said he was out on a call, but would be back after a while. Surely enough, after about 1/2 hour, she called back, said Randy was back, and he was ready to go out to Silver Lake to make new keys, to the tune of $200. It was quite a bit of money, but it could have been worse. I actually felt relieved and fortunate at that point. About an hour and a half later, Randy, the friendly travelling neighborhood locksmith, Bruce, Eunice, and myself were at Plasse's Resort. Randy, who seemed to enjoy the entire trip, including the beautiful drive there, used some thin wires with hooks, and some WD40 to remove the broken part of the key from the keyhole. Then he put the pieces together in some sort of mold, made a template, and made two new keys from blanks. He tried the keys out, and they worked. I was relieved to hear the engine start up. Randy filed the keys a little to adjust them, after which he was done with his work. Randy mentioned to me that Toyota keys have a narrow spot which makes them relatively weak, which probably resulted in it breaking. I paid him, and he was on his way. Before we left, I showed Bruce where I had hooked the large Brook Trout. While we were looking, we saw a total of 3 large Brook Trout, right on cue. Bruce, who works for the California Water Quality Control Board, as a scientist who deals with issues of water quality, mentioned that this stream appeared to be excellent trout habitat, with a well-developed ecosystem, including plenty of insects and vegetation, beautiful, clean water, good water flows, holding spots for fish in deep areas, behind rocks and in slow meadow stretches, and spawning gravel (sand or silt is too small to allow the eggs enough circulation). Due to his job, Bruce is now something of an expert regarding trout habitat. As a matter of fact, Bruce is working on a project to protect the native habitat of a beautiful and rare California native, the Paiute Cutthroat Trout, in the nearby Silver King Creek drainage. Both going to Plasse's Resort and returning, Bruce and I talked about politics, economics, and the Phillipines, where Rosalie is from. It seems that Bruce and Rosalie bought a Mango plantation on Rosalie's native island (a small island, not one of the major ones) a few years ago. Since the Phillipines does not allow foreigners to own land, the land is in her name. (They also have a maximum amount of land which a person can own, which limits the size of their plantation.) I found that Bruce and I largely agree on politics and economics, having a progressive, environmentalist point of view. On the other hand, while Bruce is frustrated with Phillipine politics, and their policies do seem rather draconian, I understand the reason for these policies. After all, the Phillipines were dominated and colonized for many years by Spain, then the United States. Even now, international corporate interests would like to have their way with the Phillipines. Bruce and I did agree that any so-called "free market" system needs lots of appropriate regulation to make it more fair and workable long-term. Otherwise, wealth and power become concentrated in the hands of a few, often less-than-worthy individuals. We also agreed that in a free market, it is really the money that has the freedom, and thus the rich people who have the most money and the power to use it, not the great masses of unrich such as us. Since it was well into the afternoon by the time we got back, we decided to skip the fishing this Friday. After lunch, Rosalie, Branda, Beverly, Eunice and I decided to go to Virginia City, which is nearby. Eunice is fond of the old western, Bonanza, so she wanted to see the place where the Cartwrights (fictionally) used to hang out. Bruce, meanwhile, said he was tired, and wanted to stay home, relax, and work some on the yard. Thus, we went to Virginia City, walked up and down its main street, and took pictures. Basically, it is a tourist stop full of stereotyped offerings for tourists, including a plethora of saloons, western souvenir shops, sellers of valuable rocks, and 1800s style restaurants. Mentions of Bonanza and Mark Twain were numerous there. There were some signs of the poor economy there as well. The place where we parked was supposed to be a private, pay parking lot, but it was out of business, and thus, free. There was also a museum which probably had run on donations, which had been closed down. Nonetheless, Virginia City was a fairly pleasant diversion, although there were no Cartwright sightings. Due to our key problem, Eunice and I also decided to change our schedule; rather than returning on Saturday, and stopping to fish somewhere along the way, we would fish around Tahoe on Saturday, and drive more or less straight home on Sunday. Besides, I had an appointment with some rather large trout in the creek at Plasse's Resort. June 20: Appointment With a Whopper Branda was eager to go fishing again, but unfortunately for her, the intense fishing trip planned for this day made bringing kids along a difficult proposition. My number one female fishing buddy, wife Eunice, and I, were both in agreement that really giving our best effort at catching fish would be impossible with Branda along, at least until she gains better fishing skills. Thus, we left a dissapointed Branda and Beverly, and went to keep our appointment at Plasse's Resort, to be followed by various other exploratory fishing adventures. When we got to Plasse's, it was already after 11 a.m. having played with the kids and been cuddled by cuddly Beverly before going. Eunice decided to stay in the car for awhile and eat while I went to catch "The Big Ones." Perhaps Eunice figured this was something I needed to do myself, which was a good assessment. To be succinct, I spotted two of the Brook Trout, and one even hovered around my bait, making me think that it would bite. However, none of them actually bit, much to my dissapointment. Apparently, the fish had gotten "smart lessons" by me and perhaps others in the past few days, and also some of them had perhaps moved, most likely upstream. It is important to note that these Brook Trout were most likely wild fish, since this creek is not stocked, and Brook Trout are not even stocked in nearby Silver Lake. Another possibility is that they had come from Caples Lake the previous year, since Caples Lake, another reservoir in the area, had been drained the previous fall in order to repair its outlet valve, and thousands of fish, including Brook Trout, I think, had been transferred from there to Silver Lake at that time. After giving up on the original fishing pool, I headed downstream. Just downstream from this pool, there was a spot where cars going to the campground on the other side of the creek drive through a shallow spot, mucking up the creek. Bruce had seen that on Thursday and complained about it as something his agency disapproved of. Nonetheless, I headed downstream, crossing the creek on a bridge and walking between the campground and the creek. I tried two spots with no bites. The first was a large, relatively deep, rocky pool, the second, a nice slow, moving meadow pool with undercut banks, both likely spots for stream fish (along with places where fallen trees create a sort of small, natural dam). I was not messing around here. Since I knew that there were large trout in the creek, I was making sure to keep the net with me, and tie good knots. I was using worms for bait, since they seemed to be working the best on this trip (perhaps due to it being early in the season). I also intentionally was using small hooks, because they are sharper and smaller, making them actually easier, in my opinion, for fish to swallow, and easier to solidly hook the fish. If I caught any good sized fish, I was planning to keep them, anyway, and if I caught a small one that had swallowed the hook, I could always cut the line and still release the fish. (The hook dissolves after a couple of weeks in the fish's stomach.) Moving downstream, I found a third pool in the meadow similar to the second, but somewhat larger. I put a "garden worm" on my little worm hook, cast in, and immediately my line started moving from a bite. I tightened the line and felt a solid hookup. Immediately I knew it was a large fish. Soon, it surfaced, and I said out loud "big one." I could also see that it was a Rainbow, not a Brook or Brown Trout, and in fact, I was pretty certain that it was the largest trout I had ever hooked. Strangely, the fish swam straight toward me next, making think that perhaps it had come off, since my line went slack. As it turned out, the fish was still on the line, and it thrashed enticingly on the shoreline next to me for several seconds, once it got there. I resisted the urge to try to net it then, since that would almost certainly result in a surge by the fish, and a probable broken line. I was determined not to lose this one, however long it took. I could clearly see that this fish appeared to be at least 20 inches long. The largest trout I had caught before was only 17 inches long, and I had been fishing since I was a kid, often for trout. I am the sort of fisherman who prefers catching wild trout, even if small, and smaller panfish species, rather than seeking large fish to catch. However, I do like it when a big one comes along. After all, I am not crazy. Over the next, I guess, three minutes or so, the fish went on various drag-screaming runs, literally making my line sing as it took line off my reel and headed to all parts of this large pool. Finally, I got the fish within a few feet from shore. I dipped the net into the water, and the fish made another run, but it was weaker than before. Soon, I had the fish near shore again. I put the net into the water, and to my surprise and relief, the fish swam straght into the net. At last, I had my prize fish, a real whopper, at least for me. It had beautiful colors, and all of its fins were full, indicating that it was a wild Rainbow Trout, even though this species is stocked in Silver Lake. Hatchery trout generally have a clipped fin (including the Brown TroutI caught at Silver Lake) as well as dull coloration and ragged fins even where they have not been clipped. I am sure that Rainbow Trout spawn in the inlet creeks to Silver Lake. In fact, I had seen several baby trout, which appeared to be Rainbows, earlier upstream. It is likely that this fish was in the creek to spawn, although June 20 should be late in the spawning season there, so it had probably already spawned. It is possible that this fish was a transpant from Caples Lake, but either way, it appeared to be a wild trout, which in my opinion, at least, is far better than catching a hatchery fish of the same size. By the way, the fish actually had not swallowed the hook, but was solidly hooked in one corner of its mouth. There was also someone else's line protruding from the fish's mouth, including a swivel. Apparently, this fish had been hooked in the days prior to my catching it, but had broken the other person's line. I made a couple more halfhearted attempts to fish this pool in the creek, in case there were any more big fish there, but nothing bit. Then, I quickly went back to the car and Eunice, my number one female fishing buddy. I joked to her that I had only had one bite, and only caught one small fish. I opened the cooler in which I had put the fish, and showed her my "small fish." A big, surprised smile came across her face as she saw the fish. I had caught bigger fish before, but they were Catfish, Carp, and Largemouth Bass. I got out my measuring tape from the backpack (bookbag) which I use as an equipment holder, and measured the fish on a nearby log. It officially measured 20 1/2 inches. I do not have a good scale to weigh something in this weight range with at home, but a length-weight conversion chart for Rainbow Trout indicates that a 20 1/2 inch Rainbow should weigh about 3.2 pounds -- in other words, around 3 pounds, 3 ounces. Eunice next took her turn at fishing for the "big ones." She had one bite in the same pool where I had caught the big one, but when we saw it, it appeared to be only around 10 inches long, another Rainbow. After that, the hook pulled out and Eunice lost it. That was the only bite Eunice had in this creek. Afterward, we drove back toward South Lake Tahoe, stopping at nearly every potential fishing spot along the way. There were two more inlet creeks to Silver Lake which were near another road. I endeavered to find them, but somehow, I got caught on a one way road through a campground which looped back to its origin. Oh well -- perhaps I will find them next time. We also stopped at Oyster Creek, Kirkwood Creek, and Kirkwood Lake without finding any more fish. In any case, I was already happy with my day's catch. Since Eunice kept mentioning that she wanted to fish in newly refilled Caples Lake, we stopped on the dam there, which provides a convenient fishing spot. We had a couple of light bites there, and kept seeing small fish swimming around, but could not catch any. On the plus side, I was pleasantly surprised that Caples Lake was nearly full already. Apparently, actual snowfalls in the area had exceeded the estimates. Also, the two weeks of rain ending on Tuesday must have helped. Silver Lake, in fact, was so full that it was pouring over its spillway into the Silver Fork of the American River (which, as near as I could tell, was the name of the creek where I had just caught the largest trout of my life). I was also pleasantly surprised by the large number of young trout in Caples Lake. Perhaps some of them had recently been stocked, but I suspect that many of them had been spawned naturally in Caples Lake's inlets and survived the winter drawdown. Since I could see that Caples Creek was quite accessible below the dam, and very "fishy" looking, I told Eunice that I wanted to take 1/2 hour to go down there and fish it, to which she agreed. By this time, it was 5 p.m., so I told Eunice that I would be back at 5:30. Indeed, the creek was fishy down there. In that half hour, I walked down to the creek, caught a 12 inch and a 9 inch wild Brown Trout, and managed to return on time to report to Eunice. While I was down there, I also saw a school of around 50 or so baby Brown Trout in the shallows. There was another family -- a father along with a son and daughter -- who also were not catching any fish in Caples Lake. They saw my Brown Trout, and were encouraged. Thus, all five of us were soon fishing the creek shortly below Caples Lake. To wrap things up fishingwise (at last), I did not catch any more fish, but mostly assisted Eunice, who caught a beautiful, silvery wild Brown Trout of about 11 inches, which pulled like a much larger fish, then proceeded to catch 5 Suckers. Yes, that is correct -- Suckers, which Eunice wanted to keep. She said they were natural fish that God was giving her, so they must be good to eat. Who was I to disagree? Eunice had quite a touch when it came to catching Suckers (Sacramento Suckers, to be exact). I could see them in the water, but they always ignored my bait. Eunice, on the other hand, was able to entice them to bite, somehow. She told me that she would put her bait (a worm) next to them, wait a couple of minutes, and eventually, a Sucker would bite and hook itself. I guess that is why they call them "Suckers." Eunice has always had a knack of getting fish to bite. She is also good at landing the ones that are properly hooker. Her weakest skill as a fisherperson is that she often has trouble hooking them well. With these Suckers, apparently hooking them wasn't a problem, once they bit. We fished until around 7:30 p.m., when the worms ran out. Eunice loved her Brown Trout and Sucker spot. That's my beautiful, number one fishing buddy. Once we were back home, I joked with the kids that we only caught "tiny fish" that day. When Branda and Beverly looked inside the cooler, they became excited. Branda asked me where the small fish were, and I told her that I was only kidding. "We only caught good sized ones today, and if we had caught any little tiny ones, we would have put them back in the water" I explained to her. The girls played with the fish for about an hour while Eunice and I ate dinner, so none of us fel too badly that we didn't take the girls fishing that day.