I hope I’ve managed to put together a helpful book that will bring a lot of value to people.  My premise was that normal travel guides were kind of useless for Las Vegas.  They just go out of date so quickly.  I worked in Vegas for years and saw just how fast things changed.

Not just tearing down and building new casinos, but inside the casinos too.  One day there’s a restaurant and seemingly the next, it’s a poker room.  If you bought a typical travel guide just a year ago, it’s out of date.  Now you need to buy another?  Screw that.

I’ve tried to explain how to use the resources on the internet to not only get the best Las Vegas deals, but to figure out where to eat and what to see and do.  It’s full of advice, recommendations and tips & tricks.  All stuff I learned traveling there for work for almost 15 years.  Hopefully people will find it helpful.

Anyway, you can find Las Vegas – Cheap and Easy on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Smashwords and soon on iBooks, Sony and Diesel.  If you’re headed to Vegas, check it out.  Can’t go wrong for $6.99.  A whole book for the cost of a single bass bug!

Leaning on the Hoover Wilderness Sign.

As some of my readers might know, I had a pretty crappy 2011.  My father-in-law took ill at the end of 2010 and he passed away in March of 2011.  He lived in Oregon and we had to make 8 trips up there to take care of his estate.  That was a serious drain on us fiscally, physically and mentally.  We are still dealing with probate, but it’s almost finished.

I started out the year with every intention of fishing my ass off.  It just didn’t happen.  I just felt like sitting at home and vegging.  But 2012 is a new year and we have a new outlook.  I’m not going to promise anything, but I expect fishing to take a more prominent role in my life.  There are places I want to go and see.  There are new places I want to fish.  There are old places I want to get back too.

Pyramid is first up.  I’m waiting for some weather to stir things up and that should show up next week, finally.  I hope we get a lot more.  This spring I also want to head south and fish the southern Sierra’s and if I can get my back and ankle fixed, do a lot more day hiking.  I can walk, exercise, hike and stand in a river, but after a little while, it hurts.  Day to day I’m fine, but ask me to stand in a river or on a ladder at Pyramid for more than an hour, or walk around Disneyland like I did last week, and I can’t do it.

I should be out fishing within a couple of weeks and I hope that will continue the throughout 2012.  If I get my back fixed, I should be able to fish harder and more often.  In any case, I haven’t dropped of the face of the earth.  It’s winter, but fishing is just around the corner.  Have a great 2012!

The East Carson, wild and scenic, indeed.

Around these parts, there are three blue ribbon streams that flow into Nevada and die.  The Truckee flows out of Lake Tahoe and ends up in Pyramid Lake.  The East Walker flows out of Bridgeport Reservoir and, after mixing with the West Walker, eventually flows into Walker Lake.  The East Carson River flows from the mountains around Highway 4 and, after joining the West Carson, goes to die in the Carson Sink near Fallon, Nevada.  By the way, the other major river system in Nevada that doesn’t flow to the ocean is the Humboldt.

Both the East Walker and East Carson have special regs, while the west forks of each river are put and take.  Funny how that worked out.  I mention all that to preface my visit to the East Carson.  I decided that I needed a little something different, maybe broaden my horizons, so I decided it was high time I fished the East Carson again.  What I discovered, or rather rediscovered, is that there is nothing like fishing new water to make you feel like a beginner.

Looking back and Hangman's Bridge.

I headed out late, arriving at Hangman’s Bridge around 11 am.  That was by design.  It’s cold up there already and I figured a little time with the sun on the water would get the fish in the mood and maybe some bugs too.  I parked near the bridge and proceeded downstream into the wild trout section about a mile and half.  Most of that was walking along the cobbles within the high water mark and by the time I arrived, I was already tired.

I found a downed tree, sat down and tied on a Czech rig because most of the water I’d seen up to that point was faster and deeper.  I then waded across a little side channel, over a small island and found perfect pocket water for a traditional nymph set up.  So I sat on the bank and rigged that up.  Finally, I began fishing.

I fished the section I had found thoroughly with nothing to show for the effort.  It was shallower than I thought, but still looked like good water.  The wind had picked up a little and I was getting cold and hungry so I headed back towards my truck.  I looked for some good water, but now it was all deep and fast again.  I fished a couple of likely areas, but got nothing.  I honestly felt like a rookie, flailing around, frothing water, almost falling in several time despite my wading staff.  Just not used to the river.

The one trout I managed to get in the net.

I ended up back at the canyon section just downstream from the bridge (the area that you’re all but forced to cross the river several times to navigate).  There were a couple of guys fishing a deep pool and I had passed them in the same spot earlier, but then they were up on the rock outcropping above the river.  I figured they were looking at fish then and were now trying to catch them.  Anyway, I found another nice riffle just down stream from them and fished it.

After only a few casts I hooked up with a frisky little rainbow.  At least I wasn’t going to get skunked.  A few minutes later I had another on, but lost it at the net.  It was a little bigger, maybe twelve inches.  I worked my way upstream and then snagged a willow.  I should have waded back, but the big, slimy rocks made wading difficult so I just yanked and lost my fly.

I tied on another but never got another strike.  The two other guys gave up and walked up to the meadow above the river.  I followed them a couple of minutes later, having never been that way.  I was really cold and tired now, but I slogged across the meadow and then up on a rock outcropping until I finally found the end of the fence between me and the highway.  I climbed up and through the narrow opening and then over jagged rock until I found the road.  This way was shorter, but not necessarily easier.

On the way, however, I stopped at the top of that rock outcropping those two other fishermen were on earlier and looked down.  At first I wondered what they were looking at.  Then I saw a small trout.  Then another and another.  Pretty soon I was looking at a couple of dozen trout, some of them pretty big.  It was hard to judge, but a few looked just plain massive.  If I was to hazard a guess, I’d say 24 to 30 inches.  There just wasn’t anything to compare them with, but the big ones were almost three times as big as the smallest ones.

Here they are! Judge for yourself. Nice fish in any case.

Anyway, I planned on fishing up above the bridge, but I was so tired and cold, I just drove up Highway 4  and took Highway 89 over Monitor Summit.  I ate my lunch (at 4 pm) up in the summit and then took my time driving home, enjoying the nice day and the scenic drive.  I honestly thought it was later that it was when I left.  Once the sun starts to go behind the hills, and you’re wearing sunglasses, it’s hard to tell.  I never saw any bugs hatching and didn’t see one single rise.  I feel lucky to have caught a couple of willing trout.

I don’t get up to the East Carson much.  It’s just easier to hit the East Walker.  I used to fish the Truckee a lot when I lived in Carson City.  Same deal, the Truckee in Verdi was closer and easier to get to.  Still the East Carson is a nice river.  After normal winters, its fishing well in mind July, while the East Walker is still high due to irrigation demands.  I need to get up there more.  Maye I’ll fish that pool for those monster trout!  I’m thinking the Pyramid rod and some heavy tippet and a big stone fly.

For a different look at the East Carson, click on over to Garden Betty’s blog.  I didn’t see any kayakers, but if they all look like Betty, I wish I would have!

Weird sign at one of the obvious fording sites. Could it be a clever arrow? I don't know, do you?

The new rogue flow at the end of the Elbow section.

I really planned on good, hard day of fishing this week.  It’ been since early September since I wet a fly and I was getting the feeling that I was missing some spectacular fall fishing.  Unfortunately, last weekend I got a nice head cold that is just now clearing up.  It really kicked my ass.  I was so tired up until yesterday and still a little worn out even today.  The three days of drunken partying in Cancun the week before might have help the cold stick around a little longer than usual.

Anyway, I woke up and felt good, so I packed a lunch and hit the road.  I was eager to drive over the Elbow and see what became of the rogue flow I found earlier this year, so the Nevada side it was.  I checked the flows before I left and they were at 156 CFS.  Of course, they dumped the flows down to 145 right after I checked and then cranked them up to 190 while I was out there.  I have a knack for visiting on the days they play with the flows.

This was the old bend in the river. You can see how far down the river has cut into the meadow.

As I suspected, a couple hundred yard long bend has been dewatered and the flow now makes a straight shot across the meadow on the back side of the two big poplar trees.  The new section of river has cut down into the meadow a few feet and Makes a pretty straight shot.  I figure with almost 1000 CFS flows for a while this summer it was bound to happen.  The whole river in that immediate area has different character.  I doubt the dewatered section will ever see water again.  How the new flow configures itself over the next few years remains to be seen.

Here's an aerial showing the change. Quite a bit of good river was lost, but that's how things go. That sharp bend likely to be blown out some day.

I walked upstream to my honey hole and found that it too appears to have changed.  My spot is at the head of a long run that used to end at the bend in the river, but now it is drained by the straight, fast rogue flow and it doesn’t look quite the same.  In any case, I waded in and fished a small nymph under and indicator.  I probably would have had better luck with a Czech rig, but I wasn’t feeling it.

I tied into a decent rainbow right off the bat that was colored up nice, but turned out to be a hold over planter.  Then I caught a smallish but real pretty wild brown.  Then suddenly, I couldn’t hook up to save my life.  My indicator was tugged under drift after drift, but nothing, but an occasional tug.  I wondered if I’d lost my fly but it was there when I checked.  I even considered I might have broken the hook, but I dismissed that idea.  I hadn’t been snagged or hit anything but water with the fly.

A decent holdover rainbow, even if it is a little blurry.

After about 15 minutes of very frustrating fishing, I decided to check the fly.  Sure enough, I had broken the hook.  I have no idea how.  I hadn’t even used my forceps to release those fish.  Anyway, I changed the fly and continued to fish and caught another little brown that could have been the twin of the first.  By then I’d worked up throw the run and decided to eat lunch.

One of my smallish browns. Little, but very pretty.

After lunch I was kind of tired and so decided to head home.  I only fished for a couple of hours, but why push it?  I figure by next week I should be feeling 100% again and I’ll go back, or maybe hit another spot.  Still, like last month, October is kind of busy.  Next week is filling up fast.  Teeth cleaning, chiropractor, grocery shopping.  Still, I hope to get out at least one day.  Maybe on the weekend with the boys if Smith Valley doesn’t make the playoffs in football.

Gratuitous Jeep shot.

I had a good day and managed to avoid the crowds.  I only saw on other guy fishing, but there were several groups on the Elbow and dozens of rigs parked along the Rosaschi.  I bet California was swarming with guides and clients.  Won’t be long and the cold nights will preclude camping for the most part and the crowds will disperse.  Should be real nice once the flows drop down around a hundred and the days grow short and I bet the dry fly fishing will be real good in the evenings.

Setting moon over rim rock.

Just a pretty picture of the Upper Sac to sooth my readers until I post something worthwhile.

Wow, I just realized I haven’t been out on the water for 6 weeks!  To be honest, I realized that I hadn’t been fishing in a while, I just wasn’t aware it had been a month and a half.  In my defense, I’ve been busy.  I know, I know, how can a retired guy be too busy to go fishing?

Well, I traveled to a couple of high school football games on the other side of the state back in September.  I went to Cancun, Mexico (not to fish, but I did drink like one).  I’ve also been indulging some other interests, specifically I’ve been doing a lot of writing.  Plus, the weather sucked.  Rain, snow, clouds, wind, etc.  Usually September is fantastically beautiful with stable, pleasant weather.

Anyway, October (which is already nearly half over) is shaping up to be what I normally expect.  A cooler September with even better fishing.  I thought about going down to the East Walker today, but my son’s football game was rescheduled from tomorrow to tonight (Thursday).  Maybe tomorrow.  For sure next week.

I suppose that’s a problem with such a narrowly focused blog.  Oh well, what do you want for free?  It’s more for my vanity than for my readers benefit anyway.  However, do not despair.  I promise more to come soon.  Good thing patience and fishing go together so well. or least should go together.

My obligatory shot of the pass up behind Blue Lake.

You might remember that last year I took my friend and former co-worker, John L’Etoile, to the East Walker where he not only fly fished for the first time, but caught his first fish ever!  At the end of that post I had said it was now John’s turn to teach me how to surf.  Well, that didn’t work out.  He injured his shoulder and just wasn’t sure he could deal with the surf board.  So, we went fishing.

This time I introduced him to float tubing.  I’ve found that many people are hooked more by the tubing that the fishing.  It is a lot of fun to float out on a lake like that.  I call my Caddis tube the Lazy-Boy and back in the day when we used to fish Hinkson from sunrise till sundown, I have almost fallen asleep it’s so comfy.

Since John had guests coming over at 6 pm, he showed up at my house at 6:30 am.  We headed up to Virginia Lakes.  I figured that not only is the a better than even chance of getting into fish up there but it’s also only a little more than an hour from FFN headquarters in Smith Valley.  That way we could maximize out time on the water.

John bringing in his rainbow trout.

We started at Blue Lake up behind Big Virginia and were fishing by about 8:30 am.  The fish were rising and it wasn’t long before I had a nice brookie on a dry fly.  I was giving John casting pointers and he didn’t do too bad.  Soon he was half way across the lake, not yet realizing how much the wind affects you in a float tube.  I had a few strikes and a few refusals, but hadn’t managed to land another fish when I finally made it over to John.

He had managed to catch a brookie and then nice fat rainbow as I approached.  He was out fishing me!!  Actually, I was glad for it.  I could tell he was spending as much time untying wind knots as he was fishing.  The skunk was off, so no pressure.  We fished for maybe another couple of hours.  I ended up with half a dozen fish, all brookies, and John managed 3 total, I believe.

My first brookie of the day. Not big, put pretty.

At one point I headed over the shore to pee and as I was getting out of the water a rock under water gave way and I went down hard!  Both knees right on sharp rocks and my right forearm on another rock.  You always feel like an idiot when that happens.  I thought I hurt my knee bad, but after a few minutes it felt fine.  Just a few bruises.  By the way, I did hurt my ankle up at the lake with the rude people a couple of weeks back but didn’t know how badly until the next day.  It’s getting better, but it’s still stiff and sore.  Have no idea how I did it.

Anyway, we made it back to the truck about 11:40 and ate lunch.  We discussed what to do next and decided to just fish Big Virginia.  I mean, it was right there and fish were rising.  We grabbed the tubes and we tied on streamers and floated out.  John was soon out in the middle of the lake again.  I stayed close the eastern shore and finally caught a planted rainbow after I switched to a yellow humpy.

Fat hatchery trout. Probably planted earlier in the year.

That didn’t last long though.  I got nothing on that and after a while decided to change flies.  I stripped the fly in fast and submerged and bam!  Another fat planted rainbow.  Hmmm.  I tied a streamer back on and had three more fish and a couple of missed strikes on the next dozen or so casts stripping fast.  That was fun!

It slowed down a little and I managed a couple of more fish over the next half hour including a nice wild rainbow and healthy 14-inch hold over rainbow.  John and I ended up in the corner by the waterfall from Red Lake.  He had only a couple of weak strikes and no hookups.  He saw me catch the bigger rainbow and was excited to hear it was a larger fish.  We fished for a while with nothing to show for it and then figured it was time to head out so he could get home.

My biggest fish of the day. Oh, and notice the new measure net I bought to replace the one I lost on the East Walker earlier this year when I went swimming.

As I was getting out of the water I spotted what I thought was another dead planter near my chosen exit point.  There were a dozen or so dead on the bottom near the boat ramp so the hatchery truck must have been by recently.  However, I got closer and the fish wasn’t dead and wasn’t a planter.  It was a 18-20 inch wild rainbow laying on its side.

The big dying trout. Maybe its just old. How do you tell if a trout is old?

I have no idea how it got there and it appeared to be healthy and uninjured, with only some cloudiness in one eye and maybe some damage on that same side from a hook, but if so it was slight.  We tried for 20 minutes to revive it with no luck.  Maybe it had a gut full of Powerbait or had been caught and released to quickly.  Who knows?  We eventually left it.  I thought about taking it home, but with no injuries and not knowing why it appeared sick I thought it better to leave it up to Mother Nature.

Life goes on.  I got John back to FFN headquarters safe and sound.  My knees and forearm are a little sore, but I’ll survive.  I invited John to give me a call if he gets another free day this fall.  He really wants to go to Pyramid, but I’m hoping we can get out before that starts fishing well.  Maybe the East Walker again.  Maybe I’ll drive up and meet him in Reno and we’ll do Frenchman’s or the Truckee river.  Stay tuned.

John (right) and I ran into some friendly hikers that agreed to take our picture. Do those waders make me look fat? Damn, I need some new ones bad. I'm fat, but not that fat!

I hiked into a small lake up above the Mammoth Lakes Basin.  When I arrived I shared the lake with only a few other people, none were fishing.  I hiked to the back side of the lake and fished for a while.  Not having any luck, I kept going around the lake looking for rising fish.  As I worked my way around, many, many more people began showing up.

This wasn’t the problem.  I’ve fished crowded lakes before.  The problem started when I was fishing in a little cove on the east side of the lake.  I was there about 5 minutes when this family came down the beach, dad pleading with his kids to stay put and not disturb the fisherman, me.  They ignored him.  Soon, mom and the four kids were behind me.  They plopped their stuff all but on top of my daypack and rod case.  Dogs started walking out into the water to visit me, kids started splashing directly behind me, maybe 20 feet.

I sighed and reeled up, grabbed my stuff and was planning on just leaving.  This was too much, way over the top.  Then dad finally caught up to his rude and oblivious family.  I was mad, but I was just going to walk by and keep going.  Then he said, “Hi, how you doing?”  That was the final straw.

I turned to face him and proceeded to lecture him on how rude he and his family were being.  He smiled and suggested I try the back of the lake.  I still don’t know if he was trying to make up for his family’s behavior by offering fishing advice or politely telling me that was now their spot and I should move along.  Either way, I was not happy.  I remember at some point saying, “You are either deaf or stupid”, as he continued to urge me to try fishing the far end of the lake.

I finally left, deciding he was either a sad man who had no control of his family and could do little more than smile and act dumb or an inconsiderate jerk, but either way my lecture was having no effect.  As I headed down the hill a local woman who had seen the exchange assured me I was more reserved than she would have been.  We both agreed that in about 3 weeks the place will once again be lacking in rude, urban types who consider scenes like that “getting away from it all”.

When things get crowded, sure people have to give up a little space.  You can’t expect to have hundreds of yards of shoreline or river to yourself when its crowded.  On the other hand, what space you occupy and a reasonable amount surrounding that is off-limits.  What really got me was the family walked over a couple of hundred yards of unoccupied beach similar in every way to the area they finally drove me from.

I have as much right to fish as another person does to sunbathe, play Frisbee with their dog or swim.  If I walk in front of a sunbathers and begin all but whipping them with my fly line, I am being rude.  If I demand a swimmer remove themselves from the water when they were there first, I’m being a jerk.  A person is free to do what they want, as long as they don’t trample on the rights of another to a little space in the process.

Over the last 50 years a sense of entitlement has crept into our society.  People, like this family, feel they are entitled to do what and go where they want without regard for others.  They see themselves as more important than you.  They deserve that spot on the beach, to talk loudly during a movie or to take 27 items into the 10 item express lane at the grocery store.

They have no common courtesy because the believe, falsely, that they are entitled, that they deserve what ever they want even at the expense of others.  This isn’t the venue to explore the dynamics in our society behind this, but it is far to common.

I believe those of us that still practice courtesy and manners have an obligation to bring other people’s rude behavior to their attention.  It is precisely because we do not call them on their repugnant behavior that they continue to do it.  It’s sad that mommy and daddy never disciplined them so now we have to, but that is the case.

I’m not suggesting throwing punches or yelling, but telling these cretins in a firm, but controlled, manner that what they are doing is wrong can’t hurt.  If even 10 percent reflect upon your rebuke and change their behavior, that’s a step in the right direction.  Beyond that, there is little you can do.  Some people are gonna act rudely and they don’t care what you think.

In any case, I’m not going to let this stop me.  I will just choose my fishing locations better.  I should have known Mammoth would be a zoo.  Live and learn.  In a few weeks, the hordes of vacationers will be gone and we can have out lakes and streams back.  Until then, I’m staying away from the more popular areas.

Last year I stopped using the waters name and date I fished that water as the posting title, opting for more creative titles.  That will continue, but I will no longer list the names of certain waters in the text either.  I used to feel that most waters had some much available information available on the internet that my contribution would be a drop in the bucket.

However, I’ve changed my opinion.  While many backcountry waters have readily available information, I no longer want to add to that.  Some of these waters are fragile and too close to the trail head to sustain a lot of fishing pressure.  Honestly, I don’t want a bunch of loud, uncaring people up there bringing home stringers of fish, especially in the unstocked lakes and streams.

So from now on, certain high country lakes and streams, as well as a few drive to locations, will be referred to with “code” names.  Anyone familiar with the Eastern Sierra and Nevada backcountry should be able to figure it out, especially with the pictures.  Those drive by fishermen who rarely wander more than a few feet from the truck unless they heare about a short hike to great fishing where they then kill a lot of wild fish, whoop it up and strew the countryside with litter, probably won’t.

Next, pictures will now be presented in smaller thumbnails inset within the text.  I think it’s easier to read the post without pictures interrupting the text again and again.  It will also compel the reader to click on the picture and see the full size 640×480 photo.  The compression that WordPress does to present the thumbnails degrades the image and the full size image is usually much more pleasing to view.

So, that’s it.  So from now on if you see changes, this is why.  Thanks for reading.  I am glad to share my experiences.  I hope you enjoy reading about them also.

Looking Back towards False White Mountain, 3/4 of the way up the trail to Gardisky Lake.

Henry starts football practice Thursday and we are busy the rest of this week, so Monday was the day.  I considered the June Lake Loop, but then Gardisky caught my eye while leafing through “Eastern Sierra Fishing Guide for Day Hikers”.  I knew it would be tough, but why not?  So we left the house about 7:00 am and arrived at the trailhead, near the eastern entrance to Yosemite, about 8:30.  Only one other vehicle was there.

Leaning on the Hoover Wilderness Sign.

And the boys showing off. This shot is indicative of the steep trail. Henry, on the right, is taller than Owen, on the left. It's not a rock, it's not a short section. It's all that steep and even steeper.

We began hiking and almost from the first, the trail was steep.  I saw on one blog that it was calculated to be something like a 35% average grade!  I had read that you gained almost all of the 700 feet in elevation in the first half of the hike or so.  Well, that’s dead on.  You gain almost all the elevation in maybe 3/4 of a mile and then the trail levels off and it’s a relatively short and flat 1/2 mile hike or less to the lake.

The trail finally flattened out. Thank God!

I gotta admit, I got light-headed toward the end of the trail.  I think it actually gets steeper towards the top and by then you are at about 10,500 feet.  The air is a little thin.  I made it though and while it was tough, it wasn’t the end of the world. Of course, Henry, who has been conditioning for football since late June, was up and down the trail like a billy-goat.  Owen wasn’t far behind either.

Looking east at Gardisky Lake.

Once at the lake we sat down, rigged up, drank some water and got to fishing. Henry scored a 7 inch brook trout on his first cast with a dry-fly.  Owen and I got in and we took a little while to get into fish, but pretty soon Owen had LDR’d two fish and I had landed two others on dries.  We fished for a  while, but the wind seemed to be too light or too strong for the fish and only the correct wind speed would get them working.

A typical Gardisky brookie.

We ate lunch, all of us a little worn out from the hike, especially me.  After that we got back to fishing.  We all caught a few more, Owen actually landing a couple.  The first had the hook deep and it took the boys a while to dislodge it.  Of course, I wasn’t close enough to help and the fish was exhausted.  I waded over and spent twenty minutes reviving it, but I think it made it.  Honestly, the trout were a little skinny so a few less probably would help the rest.

Another brook trout from Gardisky.

Owen tied into what looked like a better fish.  All the fish we landed were 7-10 inches, but this one had Owens rod bent pretty deeply.  He fought it for a few seconds, but his fighting skills aren’t all that subtle and he broke it off.  I would have liked to see if it was a bigger fish or just foul-hooked or something.  In any case we all caught our share.  The brookies were all brightly colored, especially the males with their blood-red fins.

Owen's exhausted fish after revival, just hanging out for a few before heading too deeper water.

The hike back was uneventful but tough.  Going down a trail that steep isn’t strenuous, but it is hard.  The small stones are like ball-bearings and if you get moving to fast, stopping can be tough.  Owen went down on his butt twice and I almost did a couple of times.  Henry, well Henry was still running up and down the trail like a billy-goat, and in running shoes.  Teenagers!

Headed back home.

We ran into a few folks headed up the trail, rods rigged and all.  We took our rods in the cases and I’m glad we did.  I would not want to scramble up that hill with a 9-foot rod in hand.  We stopped by the Whoa Nellie Deli inside the Mobil station at the bottom of Tioga.  As usual, the place was crowded, but the wait was short and the food was good.  The large, cold Cokes were especially refreshing.

Looking back at Tioga Peak.

So, chalk one up for the big, fat fisherman.  I’ve always wanted to fish that lake and I did.  I caught fish and had a good time and shared a great experience with my son’s.  The rest of my day hiking this year should be cake compared to Gardisky.  Now I have to go take some Advil and lay down.  Whew!

The flowers are out, though whether on the front end or the back of their short life I'm not sure.

A shot from the top of the trail for a little perspective.

As we climbed 88 we saw a sign warning of a two-hour delay.  Then another as we approached the junction with highway 89.  They advised to tune to AM 1610 for information, but all we got was static.  I decided to see how far we could go and found a short section of one lane road while crews worked on some utility poles.  No delay at all.  Whatever.

Owen following me out into the lake.

We pulled into Woods Lake and found they were working there too, but on the bathroom walkway.  We pulled on our waders, rigged up and got in.  Henry had a fish on pretty quickly, while Owen and I skirted the shallows on our way into the main lake.  I had a bite near the little island, but we headed for the back of the lake anyway.  We saw sporadic rises as we crossed the lake, but had no takes.

Owen below the inlet waterfall (upper left in the shadows).

Owen and I ended up near the inlet and he got a tug, but no hook up.  Then it happened.  I cast and heard a cracking noise.  At first I thought it was my fly hitting the rod but then 3/4 of the rod ended up laying in the water.  For a second I thought it had come apart at the ferrule, but no.  The butt section snapped right below the first ferrule.  Damn!

Snapped right in half. WTF?!?

It sucks, not just because I broke the rod, but because I built that rod.  It was my favorite.  A St. Croix 4 wt.  I used it everywhere, even when my 6 wt would have been better.  I don’t know if its warranted.  I can’t even remember which series it was.  They all have different names now.  I’m sure I can find out, but even if they replace the blank, I still won’t have  a rod.  We’ll see.

Anyway, we kept fishing, me with my 3/4 rod.  I actually got pretty good at casting the thing, though my hand got tired really quickly gripping the tiny rod.  Now I know why they have grips.  I managed a hook up trolling back to the outlet where we parked and a couple of small brookies once there.  Neither of the boys got any more action.

Honestly, they cast OK, but it deteriorates pretty fast.  Fatigue and frustration set in and they start flogging water or end up with a pile of fly line on their head.  After about three hours of fishing, we decided to leave.  We headed west and stopped at the Lake Margaret trailhead for lunch.  There we decided to just head home since my rod was broken.

On the way back we noticed the same two-hour delay signs and so we tuned in to AM 1610 again.  Now it had some information.  Highway 88 will be closed weekdays from 10 am to 1 p, between August 2 to September 30th at Carson Pass for slope work, including blasting.  The two-hour delay signs are up a little early apparently.  I wonder how many folks turned around or will turn around this weekend because of that if they leave them up?  Anyway, read more here.

Other than the broken rod, it was an OK day.  Not many fish, but it was pretty and warm.  Looks like if you’re going up 88 you better get where you are going before 10 am and plan on staying until 1 pm.  Not to bad, I guess.  I hope they really mean that.  I’d hate to drive up and find the road closed at 9 am or something.  I guess I will find out here soon.

Henry making his way across the lake.

By the way, sorry for the quality of pictures.  I was using my Kodak PlaySport and it only shoots 5 MP stills.  Jen has my camera with her in Connecticut this week.  I wasn’t going to bring my $800 DLSR out on the water, but you did get a video!