Jen and I in Lamoille Canyon.

We checked out the canyon and then explored the same ponds we fished on my previous trip there back in August with Henry and Owen.  Jen took photos while I fished.  While the fish were as active as they were in August, they weren’t as eager to take a fly, at least not the flies I was offering.  It was a beautiful evening and the mosquitoes were mostly absent, unlike August.  It was too early to catch any fall colors.  I only fished about 45 minutes, then we sat on the tailgate and ate dinner.  However, I did manage a couple of tigers and and handful of small brookies.

One of the many channels and sloughs within the beaver pond complex.

Fighting a tiger trout.

A 13-inch tiger from Lamoille Creek.

The next day we drove to Owyhee fro the football game.  If you want to read more about that, visit my other blog, Being Retired.  I will state here for the fishermen in the audience that although I did not fish the Owyhee river, it looked fantastic.  I am going to have to get up there and give it a try.

The big meadow that Wolf Creek flows though.

The wife and I took a little drive over Monitor Pass a few days back and I got the itch to head back to fish.  Always wanted to fish Wolf Creek, so that’s where I went.  On a side note, that last sentence just goes to show the amazing amount of fishing opportunities around here.  I digress.  It was kind of a last minute decision so I didn’t arrive until about 10:45.  I parked at the top of the big meadow and walked downstream for about 20 minutes.  Lots of good looking water.

Wolf Creek on the upper end of the meadow.

I finally stopped walking and began fishing back upstream.  I started with a hopper.  September, meadow, duh!  But no rises.  Then I switched to a nymph rig.  Nothing, but 2 minutes later I saw a decent trout rising so I switched to a dry.  Nothing.  Damn!  I switched dry flies, nothing.  Then as so often happens, I was about to give up on the dries and a trout took my submerged fly.  OK, whatever!  It was a nice 12-inch rainbow.  Beautiful, feisty and wild.  Could hardly snap a picture it wriggled in the net so much.  With new found confidence I headed upstream.

A feisty Wolf Creek rainbow.

A cool rock with some moss and plants growing on it.

Nothing.  I found a nice hole just begging to be nymphed, so I switched back to the nymph rig.  A few casts later and bang.  Not as nice as the first, but a 7-inch brookie.  I continued fishing all the good water I found until I was back near the truck.  Nothing except one small fish that hit my indicator.  Oh well, I didn’t get skunked and I was hungry.  I ate lunch and headed towards home.  On the way, I stopped by the East Carson along Wolf Creek Road and fished for a little while, but nothing.  Nothing, word of the day!  All in all a nice little trip and the scenery made it worthwhile even if the fishing wasn’t spectacular.

A few case/net building caddis. Looked more like dust bunnies, but the larva were in there, I checked

FFN Headquarters from near Monitor Pass.

Note:  This is not the Wolf Creek listed in the regs as a tributary to the West Walker and closed to all fishing.  This Wolf Creek is a tributary to the East Carson.  If you go, make sure you fish the right one.

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The boys as we begin to explore Lamoille Canyon.

So off we went on Monday the 2nd.  We arrived in Elko around 2:00, ate lunch and then checked in.  The room at the Days Inn wasn’t Caesar’s Palace but the room had three beds, which made my boys happy.  We settled in then headed up to Lamoille Canyon to check it out.  I took my fly rod, but took the spinning rods for the boys figuring that we would do more scouting than fishing.  Nope!  We hit is just right as the sun sank below the canyon rim and put some shade on the beaver ponds.

Lamoille Creek in one of it's steeper sections.

Owen fishing a small Panther Martin with no luck.

We saw the trout rising and could not ignore them.  For the next hour and a half we fished a little meandering section of Lamoille Creek between a couple of beaver ponds.  Unfortunately, they wanted dry flies, not lures and the boys had a tough time.  They toughed it out as I caught 6-8 fish including, to my surprise, a couple of healthy tiger trout.  Henry got about half that many brookies and Owen only a few tugs.  Tired from the drive we left, grabbed some burgers and retired to our room to watch Shark Week.

My first fish of the night, a small but pretty brook trout.

My first tiger trout...ever!!

One of the beaver ponds set against the Ruby Mountains

Henry and his first trout of the evening.

The next morning we got up early and drove the 60 or so miles to the Ruby Lake National Wildlife Refuge.  We planned on doing a little bass fishing, but it didn’t work out.  As this was the first trip in Nevada for the boys this year, they needed junior fishing licenses and I discovered once we got there that I had forgotten to get them.  Oops!  Being the honest sportsman I am I told the boys we had to go back to Elko and buy them licenses before we fished anymore.  To their credit, they took it in stride.  The fact that it was so hot, the area we planned to fish was dry and I promised we could go back to Lamoille Creek helped.  After making the boys legal, we drove back up to the canyon.

We found this playful coyote in the field surounding Ruby Lake.

A harvester in the hay fields near Ruby Lake.

Now it was about noon but none of us were ready for lunch, so we hit a spot lower down the canyon with some awesome pocket water.  I gave the boys a quick lesson in fishing a dry in this type of water and sent Henry off while I coached Owen and showed him how to dap a dry fly.  Owen is new to fly fishing and was getting frustrated, especially after my second cast produced a fine brookie.   He had a few small fish inspect his fly, but no takers.  Henry also had no luck.  After about an hour, we found a shady spot and ate some lunch and I smoked a cigar.

Some sexy Lamoille Creek pocket water.

A nice fat brookie from a little pool you would expect to find such a trout.

Owen learning to dap a dry fly.

After lunch it was back to the beaver ponds.  We arrived a little early and the sun was still on the water.  Mind you the canyon is deep, so by 5:30 the sun was gone, but it was only 4:30 when we arrived.  I gave the boys some casting pointers and they practiced on the few trout that were rising.  Henry managed a tiger trout and Owen remained skunky.  The shadows descended and we hit the section from the night before.  As usual, Henry was doing his own thing and Owen stuck with me.  I was on fish right away, catching them almost at will.  Owen, on the other hand, couldn’t buy a bite.  From then on it was our mission to get him a fish and as it would turn out, his first on a fly rod.

One of the many beaver lodges scattered around this meadow.

We tried everything.  We traded flies.  I resorted to casting for him and passing him the rod.  We switched positions.  No luck.  He had fish take his fly, but he could never time the hook set right.  I cast my own rod now and then and sure enough I’d hook another fish.  This went on for over an hour.  Tears were shed.  Finally, as it so often happens when you are in a slump, you get a dribbler up the middle for a hit.   Owen turned to say something to me and began stripping his line in preparation for another cast and BAM!  He had his first fish on a fly rod.  A nice 11 1/2 inch tiger.  He caught a few more little brookies and Henry finally showed up and had caught 6 or 8 including a few bigger tigers.  I rounded out my evening with a 13-inch tiger.

Owen shows off his first tiger trout and his first fish on a fly rod.

13 inches of tiger trout. Not to shabby.

Again we headed back about 9:00 pm, grabbed some burgers and watched TV.  We were beat.  The next morning we slept in and explored South Fork Reservoir.  It was hot and the water weedy and the bass weren’t cooperating.  We drove around looking things over and decided enough was enough.  We headed back to Elko, relaxed in the room, went to the park to throw the football around, got some pizza and turned in early.

The entrance to the Ruby Dome Ranch at the bottom of Lamoille Canyon.

Nothing turned out how I expected, but it worked out and we had fun.  I will definitely be heading back to Lamoille Canyon.  I want to spend some time in that pocket water.  I also want to hit some of the other places we didn’t have time for, Wild Horse Reservoir, the Owyhee River, the South Fork of the Humboldt, etc.  For now, though, we had a blast and I know the boys and I will be talking about this trip for years.

Looking down the canyon.

This particular pond was dry on this trip. It is likely the damn washed out.

Now that is a slab of granite. The Ruby Mountains are the most rugged in the lower 48 states.

Just awesome scenery. These photos don't do Lamoille justice.

*A few of the scenery pictures were from a trip in 2009.  We were in Elko for work and the guy I was with happened to be from Atlanta.  He wanted to see Lamoille so we wandered up there.  You might notice a few of the trees have yet to leaf out.   I don’t want some fanboy posting a You Tube video detailing all the faked photos, you know?

The Miracle Mile.

After meeting Mark, and his buddies, Larry and Tom, and having a hearty breakfast we headed out to the East Walker a little after 8:00 am.  We rigged up and Mark, Larry and I walked downstream while Tom fished near the dam.  Just about every good spot was taken until we were about a quarter mile from the dam.  Guides and clients were everywhere and were were surprised to find a nice little hole empty and proceeded to fish nymphs until Mark and I spotted a nice sized fish tailing in some slack water across the river.  I was closest, so I tied on a little yellow sally, the only fly I had that matched both the size and color of the few caddis on the stream.  It didn’t take but one good drift and the fish took the fly.  It turned out to be a nice 16 inch brown and our last fish for a while.

First fish of the day, on a dry no less.

I switched back to a nymph and we fished up and down the section of river with nothing to show.  Now the flows were up around 290 CFS and had been jacked around for the last few days, so we figured the fish were just doing what a good East Walker trout does in that situation.  Sulks.  That was until Mark noticed a nice fish about 2 feet from him.  Then another and another.  We had unwittingly waded out into knee deep water to fish the riffle beyond and were standing amongst the fish!  We backed up and began fishing for the 8 to 12 trout we could see.  These fish were not spooky in the slightest.  You could all but step on them before they would move.  Still it was slow, but we all managed to catch some of those trout and played around there until Tom showed up and we headed back to the trucks for lunch.

Mark casting his Czech rig.

Larry with a fish on.

Mark fighting a nice brown.

A couple of notes on the morning fishing.  The trout were mostly browns and were very active.  The fish were feeding, some clearing the water chasing damsels, some tailing in a back eddy, some in just a couple feet of water taking nymphs.  Mark showed me a neat technique to get a damsel imitation to hover over the water with a bead head nymph as a dropper.  It took a little finesse to get it right, but it worked.  Unfortunately, only the other damsel flies were interested in my imitation.  The trout continued to sporadically take the naturals, or try to anyway as many misjudged the little flies.  Larry and I, as we were spotting trout in the current, saw troutzilla for an instant.  Now it could have been a carp, but I don’t think so.  This thing was huge!!  You know how your mind plays tricks, but it was 1.5 to 2 times the size of the 14-16 inches we were spotting.

Mark poses with one of his nicer catches.

Larry and his first fish of the morning.

Another one of mine, about 13 inches.

Anyway, after we had a much needed lunch under the apple tree by the dam, Tom and Larry both wandered off as Mark showed me how to tie his modified Czech nymph rig.  He learned it from a real Czech guy named Zee.  We then headed out just a couple hundred yards below the spillway and and I practiced throwing the rig.  Again, the fish were active, but not interested in what we were throwing.  Mark caught a couple, and I got zip.  After a trout shot out from behind a boulder and then refused my flies immediately after they hit the water and seeing all the other trout jumping and rising, I thought I needed to change things up and went to a hopper and dropper.  Nada!

Larry's fish just settled in beween our feet after being released. After Larry nudged it with his foot it moived acouple feet and started feeding again. These fish were almost tame!

Then Mark found a bunch of fish again stacked up in couple feet of quieter water picking off nymphs as they floated by.  We fished for them, for about an hour, with little luck.  Eventually, I was doing all the casting as Mark, and then Tom, searched their boxes for something that might work and tied them on for me.  We got some follows and bumps, but no real takes.  Very frustrating.  We finally gave up and headed back tot he trucks.  Then Larry shows up as I’m getting ready to head home and holds up six fingers.  I didn’t hear what he caught them on, but he got them right below the dam.

Just an average fish on the East Walker.

Thanks to Mark for inviting me along.  All three guys were great and good fishing companions.  I fish alone a lot, so it was nice to get a little different perspective and learn a couple of new techniques.  Besides the camaraderie, that may be the best thing about fishing with others.  It can get you out of your rut.  I look forward to meeting up with Mark, Larry and Tom again.

Henry out on Virginia Lake.

Owen intensely fishing a nymph.

Anyway, my sons, Henry and Owen, and I arrived about 7:45 am and were fishing by 8:00.  Just like last week we saw fish rising sporadically.  We worked our way around the lake counter clockwise.  Owen and I were together most of the time and Henry was off on his own.  Teenagers!!  Owen and I both got strikes from a couple small fish by the inlet from Blue Lake, but nothing else.  I then decided there had to be better fishing somewhere and instead of Blue, this time I choose Red.  Kind of like The Matrix, but without all the cool, black clothes and designer sunglasses.

Virginia Lakes is one of the more beautiful places in the Sierras.

Part of the Fly Fish Nevada Navy.

As I was cruising around Virginia, I reached across my vest to grab something and as I brought my hand back something bit me!  WTF!  I looked at my hand and I was bleeding.  Then I remembered the small pliers whose pointy jaws I had seen last week protruding from a pocket on my vest.  I had jammed one of the points into my hand.  So, like the mature adult I am (just ask my wife), I yanked them out of the pocket, said a few choice four letter words, as if they could hear me, and then threw them into the lake.  They now rest in about 30 feet of water just off the boat ramp.  If you find them, you can keep them.

We worked our way across the lake to the south side and made landfall, then hiked the torturous 5 minutes to Red Lake.  Figuring those little buggers in there would be biting.  No way!  they were in a funk just like in Virginia.  All together we fished for about 4 1/2 hours, not counting the time I spent untying the kids casting knots and tying on new leaders and flies.  I always thought being a fishing guide would be fun, but now I am rethinking that.

Rivulets above Red Lake.

My fly fishing hero pose. What the hell am I looking at?

Other than the guy who’s car alarm went off…twice (Really?  It’s not Compton.  No one is going to steal your rims, dude), it was a nice quiet day.  Especially considering the lack of fish splashing at the end of our lines.  I think we will find another spot to go next time and leave Virginia alone until the fall.  In fact, August 2nd, the Team FFN leaves for 4 days in Elko, Nevada.  Look for the reports, maybe even from the road!

First cast!

I arrived at about 7:45 am and after checking out Little Virginia Lake ($5.00 launching fee and I didn’t bother asking if a float tube was a “water craft”) I ended up at Virginia Lake (I don’t think it’s officially called Big Virginia, but who knows – or cares?).  The lake was glass and some fish were rising.  One boat, a couple of tubers and a handful of shore fishermen were all that were there.  I glided out just off shore, cast and BAM!  First cast I had a beautiful brookie of about 11 inches. Then nothing for an hour.  Seems to be the way its been working lately for me.

The back side of Virginia Lake.

The inlet from Red Lake.

Anyway, I cruised around casting and stripping, changing flies and enjoying the quiet, cool morning.  Then the flotilla of Fat Cats showed up.  I must be behind the times.  I have a mid-90′s vintage Caddis U-tube.  Everyone, maybe a dozen other guys and they didn’t appear to be together, had a Fat Cat or something similar.  They look nice, but damn I love my Caddis.  In fact, I have two.  Hunted every Longs drugstore in western Nevada to find the second one.  If I could find a stash, I’d by ‘em all.

My Caddis float tubes. One over a decade old, the other almost two and still serviceable and used on a regular basis.

Morning sun flitered through some pines. Makes you get all misty, doesn't it?

Finally, I caught another fish.  This time a fat, planted rainbow.  It wasn’t the prettiest fish but it cleared the water three times as we did battle.  I got a few more tugs, but no hook ups.  There were now so many float tubes in the lake, navigation was nearly impossible (I may be exaggerating slightly) and one of the hike to lakes was calling my name.  I debated as to whether or not to reveal the lake, but there are only two lakes within a short hike and while neither gets hammered now, I doubt my massive readership will cause them to be fished out any time soon.  So, I went to Blue Lake.

A parting shot of Virginia toward the Red Lake cirque.

Headed into the wilderness...a few hundred yards anyway.

There was a reason I was hesitant to reveal the lake.  Last time I was there, maybe 4 or 5 years back, the fish were all in the 7-9 inch range.  My first fish, a brookie on a humpy no less, went 11inches and was so insanely colorful I was dumbstruck.  My next fish, a rainbow was of equal size and equally beautiful, but after that the dinks took over and the fishing slowed.  I switched back to a prince nymph and caught a few more, but nothing like that first fish.  Then a couple of older guys (one was like 65, the other 85) and their out of control dog showed up and inquired about the fishing from shore.  I figured they were gonna move on, but nope!  They camped out right there.

A shot from blue lake towards Virginia Pass...hey, doesn't that look familiar?

My biggest fish from Blue Lake. What a beauty.

Now, I am on a 50 acre lake or so, but they began fishing so close I could have dropped a cast on their nose.  I moved a bit, but between the really old guy falling in, the dog barking and throwing it’s toy in the water and the younger old guy yelling at both of them, I decided it was time to move on.  Christ!  Nothing bugs me more than being crowded out by oblivious dolts like these two, especially when there is no one else there and plenty of lake to go around.  The fact that they were older should have meant they had learned better by now.  Still, the fishing was dying, so what the hell.

A nice rainbow from Blue Lake.

I moved down to the outlet were a couple of shallow pond are situated.  The first has a nice riffle where the stream pours in from Blue Lake.  I fished the humpy again and caught a few smallish brooks.  One was as brightly colored as the one from the lake.  Honestly, they give goldens a run for the money.  That petered out quickly, though.  The riffle is maybe 20 feet long, so it doesn’t take to many hooked and darting fish to spook the rest.  I wasn’t ready for lunch, so I hiked back down and plopped my tube in Virginia Lake again.

Now the banks were lined with bait fishermen.  Still, they were the quiet, respectful type, so it was nice…for a while.  I hooked and executed three perfect long distance releases on some nice trout, probably rainbows by the way they fought.  I spent maybe an hour there.  I watched a few other guys in tubes catch fish and then the family from hell showed up.  Crying toddler, older brother throwing rocks in the lake, mom and dad letting them go to town.  Then the barking dog people showed up.  Since I couldn’t keep a fish hooked and I was getting hungry, that settled that.  Out I went.

Since I couldn't land a fish, here's some anonymous guy catching one.

All in all a good day, inconsiderate jerks not withstanding.  Caught some nice fish, was done at 2:00 and home to eat dinner and watch a movie (The Incredibles).  Next week, I should have my new adjustable force fins (see sad story here) and I think the boys and I will head back unless I hear about something better.  Despite all the people, it is a nice place to be.

The small rock dam and to the right of it the new channel and the washed out bank, which my truck is sitting on. Glad I stopped when I did!

I fished the spot with a indicator rig and had a small trout try and eat my indicator.  Ha ha, very funny. I switched to a dry and, of course, got nothing.  I drove up the canyon, having eaten lunch, smoked a cigar and fished, hitting all the likely looking water.  Same outcome.  No fish, but a few refusals from mostly smallish wild trout.

As I walked up stream from my truck, the stream, or rather some of it, was flowing over a meadow to my right instead of my left.  That can’t be good, I thought.  I followed it to its source.  Another small rock dam had backed up a section of creek and caused to to overflow it’s bank.  Neat!  I moved a few rocks to get more water flowing where it should be flowing and then proceeded to fish up stream.  This is the good part.  I caught a nice, wild 12 inch brown (the net proves it too!) on the nymph I had switched back to.  Not the biggest fish I have seen in Desert Creek, but still a respectable fish from such a small stream.

The rock dam (bottom right) and the broken bank (upper left). Grrrrrr.

5+7=12. Nice wild brown and the interior of my new net.

Anyway, I went back to the dam and did a little more work and tried to dam up the broken bank area.  I probably succeeded in cutting the rogue flow by half or more.  I had no tools, so I did the best I could.  Before, there was no way a fish could have travel upstream and the pool behind the dam was 3 or 4 times the width of the creek.  Of course, there was another dam behind that one and I performed a little surgery on that one too.  I didn’t remove them, just created a few paths for water to flow more naturally and fish to travel.  Just don’t build these things!!!  They may create a nice pool now, but soon they silt in, widen the stream bed and maybe worse, like I found today.  Don’t f’n do it!

A pretty shot of the canyon. Always want a happy ending.

OK, that’s that for today, but I have another post on tap for tomorrow.  Stay tuned.

Great view of the Bridgeport area from Buckeye Creek Road

So stream fishing it was.  As I had little time to plan, I figured we would play it by ear and do a little scouting.  I headed south towards Bridgeport.  The East Walker looked just about the way it did when I was there a week before (this is important for later…read on).  Bridgeport Reservoir looked fantastic.  Full to the brim and a few rising trout, but not enough to peek our interest.  We were headed up to Buckeye Creek, just north of Twin Lakes.  We took the road from Twin Lakes and enjoyed a scenic drive, but when we arrived, Buckeye was raging.  Not wholly unfishable, but it would be work.  So down to 395 we went.

Buckeye Creek at the bridge. A lot of white water.

We drove to the next drainage, Green Creek.  Green was a tad high, but totally fishable.  We rigged up and fished for a few hours.  Unfortunately, the action was slow.  I managed a couple of small trout just upstream of the bridge and the boys were skunked.  They are just getting the hang of drifting nymphs and had a rough go of it.  They caused me to remember how tough that task is until you master it.  They lost more flies, than we caught fish!

Bridgeport from Green Creek Road.

The boys, Owen on the left and Henry, trying to look bad ass, on the right.

Owen getting the hang of wading and nymphing.

I can’t seem to pass Dynamo Pond without wetting a line so we stopped and fished the back side of the pond.  Owen stuck with me as we fished near the inlet and Henry ventured out into the middle of the lake (the back side is wadable, though a little muddy).  I caught one on a dry, then I took to casting Owen’s rod and letting him retrieve his nymph.  No luck for Owen though, as he went home empty handed.  Don’t feel bad, however, he caught a nice one at Pyramid last January as I went fishless.  Unfortunately, I didn’t get an pictures of the fish I caught.  Every time Owen was ready to snap a picture, they would wriggle out of my hands.

Henry fishing Dynamo Pond.

Henry, frothed the water with the best of them.  I wanted to yell, “Stop on your back cast”, but didn’t want to disturb the other fishermen.  Owen and I wandered over to fish with him, but decided we weren’t ready to go into the mud (actually Owen found the drop off and went in over his waders).  While that was going on, Henry hooked a fish.  We all decided we were hungry after Henry’s triumph and we headed out.

All the hard work pays off.

A snake skin Owen and I found on the way back to the truck.

I wanted to head south towards Lee Vining, so we traveled over Dunderberg Meadows Road.  Sorry, pictures get a little thin from here on out, we were hungry and tired.  That’s too bad, the meadows looked beautiful.  We went to the Whoa Nelli Deli at the Tioga Gas Mart at the junction of 395 and Tioga Pass for a late lunch.  The food was great, though it was slammed with travelers.  After that, we drove further south and checked out Rush Creek, still running high, and the lakes around the June Lake Loop, all full and looking great.  Then we headed for home, tired from the heat, the early wake up and our full bellies.

The sign for the Tioga Gas Mart, where we ate lunch. Yummy!

We stopped at Bridgeport Reservoir and checked it out, but the wind was blowing and we saw no action.  As we passed the Miracle Mile on the East Walker, I looked for the small island in the water close to the highway.  It was gone!  It was there in the morning.  Upon arriving home I verified that the flows went from 240 CFS to 410! It would be interesting to be there when it happened, but that will make fishing difficult until it comes back down, likely in September when the alfalfa is season is over.

Holy crap, indeed!

Not a spectacular trip, but the boys and I had fun and that was the point.  It won’t be long before they are off on their own and I will be begging them to go fishing with me.  For know, however, I need to buy some new fins.  Those Sierra lakes are calling.

To see this episode, click here and scroll down.  Later!