Game Time

Just like I watch a little FISH EYE 3 before hitting the river, or a little MDP vid before hitting the corduroy, before my soccer games I like to get a little pumped up....



Now I'm ready...

Steelhead in The Classroom

Never was there a fisherman so passionate about their sport than a steelheader. And thanks be to those fishermen, for if it weren't for them, we may never again have a good run of chrome giants in our home waters. If only our youngest generations knew that these fish now exist on a delicate thread held by those that strive to protect this fish above a vast expanse of those without concern, and without their help, after we're nothing more than a memory, this fish's existence may be lost entirely.

Without an outreach to our future leaders, many of the resources that we as fisherman love so much, and have worked so hard to protect, may be lost once we're gone. It's this message that Trout Unlimited is striving to instill in our children.

A grassroots project, the Trout and Steelhead in the Classroom project has begun to take hold locally thanks to several grade school teachers. Scott Lyons, a junior high teacher from Gold Trail School, successfully hatched and raised baby steelhead in his classroom with the help of his 8th grade class throughout the last few months.

I was fortunate enough to be part of the release of these fry steelhead into the American River last week.

It was amazing to see these students so engaged in the existence of these fish, some even having given the fish names.

As the fish were released, students watched as their hard work had come to fruition.

Clearly, a connection had been made with these students, and it's these connections that will help our future generations understand exactly what an important part these fish play in our world, and what we may need to do to help protect them now and in the future.

When the seas are rough, get busy...

Took a little break from fly fishing a couple weekends ago and went up the coast with the family for our annual abalone dive trip. Not the best timing seeing as we hit it right on the opener weekend, not to mention the triple (and sometimes quadruple) overhead seas; but what could we do, the boy's in school now and we've become slaves to the public school calendar.

Just a little wave action to prep us for what was to come...

Rained four out of the five days we camped (rained sideways for two of those four days), and the wind howled all day every day.

Stan and Louise braved the rain while we dove, and it shows.

Every river from Reedsport down to Monterey Bay was pumping chocolate milk into the ocean. Even the little dry creek beds through the reservation were raging. Needless to say, the visibility in the water was about 2 feet with patches of 5 to 10 inch visibility near the river mouths... I gotta hand it to Sam though, looking into 25 foot swells and pea green water is not easy to do, especially when it's your first time diving for abalone...

Sam did pretty good except that he kept spitting out his snorkel tube every time he surfaced. He started slow, but I can't blame him, the visibility sucked and he had no idea what he was looking for at first. After his first two or three, he started to find some keepers.

The only thing I like about diving in high seas is that there just aren't as many people in the water... That wasn't really the case last weekend. It's been a long time since I dove on the opener weekend, and I was quickly reminded why. Friday wasn't bad in terms of people, but Saturday was a different story. By the time Sam had pulled his last ab there were about thirty other divers all around us, with more walking in as we were leaving.

We had no problem getting our limits, but other people looked like they were having more trouble. Jenna and the Iversons watched as divers kept getting tossed into the rocks...

A man proud of his bounty.

Sam, now that you've experienced the worst, at least you know it'll only be better next time!

The Accidental Brown

Not many waters on this side of the sierras are red hot yet, but a couple are still in shape, which gives people a little hope. The Yuba is one of them, but I'm pretty sure I didn't miss much on the Yuba this last weekend. Heard stories of a big March brown hatch that produced zero risers, as well as reports upwards of 12 boats below the Hwy 20 bridge. The general rule of thumb is that there are about 4x-5x as many waderettes than boats, making the head count around 96 people on about 2 miles of fishable water. That's about 12 people fishing every 1/4 mile, or about 1 person every 60 feet..... No thanks.

Meanwhile, as the prespawn bass and striper fishing quickly approaches with these higher temps (but not here yet), we had to get a quick fix. Back to The River we went.

Winds were brutal pretty much the whole day, making casting ridiculous. Tough day, nonetheless we caught some fish. Managed one fish early on:

Things got pretty slow until about 2:30 when the BWOs started busting all over the place. Dry fly action was pretty good during the hatch. Saw some skwalas on the water, a couple with eggs. Fish were chowing! Nothing like casting a big fly to a big fish.

Lost my epic shades into the drink when a skwala tried to eat my eyeball underneath my glasses: It's like when a fly lands on a camera lens, and all the person behind the lens sees is this HUGE nasty flying thing, but substitute my eyeball for the lens. I don't think I screamed like a girl, but I did smack myself in the face... and down went the shades, skwala in tow.

Both Louise and Scott got tight with some really nice fish, but the story of the trip is Scott's accidental brown trout...

So I see this HUGE brown trout rising right in the soft water above this big rock. Pretty consistent with some big slashing caddis-type takes; olives are coming off everywhere. I'm way below the rock trying to cast up into the current seam and Scott is standing on top of another rock just above the fish. Scott's busy working another fish on the other side of the rock.

I work this fish for probably 30 minutes or so, changing flies again and again, but just can't get it to come up again. Getting a good drift from my angle was pretty gnarly, so I moved up above the fish and tried working down to it... still nothing. I yell at Scott to turn around and cast at this fish. He takes one or two casts and says, "Angle's not right... can't get a good drift."

Finally I give up, and Scott gives up on his fish too. With his rod in his left hand, hanging over the side of the rock, Scott slides down onto another rock about to hop into the water. Just then, his dangling fly hits the water and POW! that HUGE fish comes up and takes a bite. Scott didn't even have to set the hook... well... he didn't even know the fish had his fly until his rod was bent.

He called it the accidental brown. I think I may have left an accidental brown in my shorts when it came unbuttoned...

Why did God invent beer?....

So the Irish wouldn't rule the world.



Happy St. Patty's Day.