About a month ago a friend of mine invited me to go sailing on his new Hobie Mirage Adventure Island Kayak. It was a good excuse to get out on the Lake during the week, and I took him up on the last minute offer. In between cliff diving were talking about recent outings and he mentioned that he'd just returned from the Eastern Sierra Nevada with his family. He proceeded to tell me about the trip, and then said we should go. I told him we could go in two weekends, and we agreed. He procured a back-country permit for our outing and we were on our way to planning the event.
Despite living within five hours of this great place, I'd never been to the Sierras. I'd flown over them in a friend's plan on the way to the Vineman triathlon, but other than that, I'd only seen them online. In doing research for my trip I knew we'd be up in elevation, and that there'd be plenty of places to fish. I was sure to include every fly box I owned, and even went ahead and purchased an Eagle Claw Featherlight 3 weight rod for the adventure. I purchased the standard Mountain House fare for breakfast and dinner, more fuel for my MSR stove, and was ready to begin packing. Getting all of the gear ready made me realize just how much outdoor equipment I have and use. It also made me realize that much of my gear needs an upgrade. For example, my old blue sleeping pad is 17 years old. A young 15 year old me took it through New Mexico for 14 days, its been hunting in Utah and Nevada, been used in the Uinta back-country, and see hundreds of miles from the confines of my backpacks. Despite my affinity for nostalgic gear, I believe there is much better technology in the sleeping pad arena, and I hope to experience a good nights rest on a nice pad on my next trip. In other words, after sleeping on that pad this trip, I'm now in the market for something nice.
Anyway, back to the trip. We left Las Vegas at 4 am and began our journey, which took us through Beatty, NV, and nearly nowhere else. It was a lonely and quiet drive, but gave plenty of time to relax and reflect. Once we pulled into the Owens Valley we saw the Sierras, and came to realize their scale and magnitude. Despite our lake July date, there was still snow seen atop the mountain range. Around 9 am Friday morning we pulled into the South Lake Trailhead parking lot, and proceeded to drive around for nearly 20 minutes until a parking spot opened up. Overnight parking lots aren't able to handle the capacity of those heading into the back-country, so be prepared to wait for a spot should you leave from this trailhead.
We took the obligatory trailhead photo and took off. The trail starts out above South Lake and gives you a great vantage of the lake and the surrounding mountain range. Shortly after starting, we entered the John Muir Wilderness. We were headed to the Marie Louise Lakes, and the trail split was well signed, and almost immediately began climbing. Given the elevation and the gain in the trail there was so slow going, but we were rewarded with great scenery everywhere we looked. A couple hours after starting we arrived at our destination, and other than mosquitoes and fish, it seemed not another soul was around. Given my eagerness to constantly be fishing, and after seeing fish swimming in the crystal clear water, I put my rod together and grabbed my Tacky tube full of small dry flies. Within the hour I'd already caught 5 or 6 decent Brookies. The site fishing was exhilarating. I started with a Adams to see what these trout would take, but it wasn't long before a Caddis landed on my arm. In a rookie move, I'd left all my caddis in a single box in my pack. Luckily, I had a flying ant pattern in my tube, which proved to be one of the top flies of the weekend. It was so successful that there's little left of the fly. One fish hit it so hard he came out of the water and rolled. It was one of my favorite strikes in my unremarkable fly-fishing career.
After the fishing slowed down for a bit we headed to set-up camp and enjoy a dinner of Mountain House mac and cheese with some Vienna sausages. Gourmet cooking at its finest. The air began to cool as the sun tucked its head behind the peaks of the Sierras, and after cleaning dishes we laid back and watched the stars poke their way through the dark canvas sky. The stars were phenomenal, and the still of the night eventually gave way to sleep.
We woke in the morning ready for another day of adventure. We saw a small, unnamed lake on the map and began hiking toward it. After several events that could fill a small book, we finally decided we were too far away, and didn't have enough time to get to the destination. We were in bear country and some of the areas we were crawling through were very bear-esque. After returning to camp we hit the lake again, and on a mosquito pattern I pulled out over two dozen fish in around an hour. We even found success on a griffiths gnat towed behind a bubble on a lightweight spinning set-up, and on some homemade lures make from copper tubing.
After catching more than our fair share of fish, all of which were returned to the confines of the cool alpine waters, we decided to head back to camp.
This is an abbreviated version of the trip, for the sake of the reader I left out various aspects of the trip. Giving every detail about each cast, every fly swap, and every fish caught would take pages. What I came away with though, is a deep appreciation for the remaining wild and free places that still exist on the map. We didn't see another person the entire weekend, other than on the main section of the trail. The fish that were caught were as beautiful as any seen, and their appetites and aggressiveness toward the fly made for a fun weekend. After a few stressful weeks of work and hectic schedules, it was nice to get away and regroup. See, there's something about the rhythm of the cast, the sound of trickling water, and the peace brought on by a starry sky that can't be found anywhere but in the wilderness and on the water. I'm reminded of how important protecting these places is. Our conservation forefathers of John Muir, Teddy Roosevelt, Gifford Pinchot, Ed Abbey, and others worked to ensure that people like me could enjoy places like the Sierra Nevada range. Hopefully I'll be able to contribute to the preservation and conservation of these places so that future trout bums, fly tiers, and weekend warriors can enjoy them too. Perhaps someday, with some luck, I'll find myself working for Trout Unlimited or the Theodore Roosevelt Conservation Partnership to preserve, protect, and restore these wild places. Until then, I'll day dream at my desk of my next adventure that will take me into the wild.
Despite living within five hours of this great place, I'd never been to the Sierras. I'd flown over them in a friend's plan on the way to the Vineman triathlon, but other than that, I'd only seen them online. In doing research for my trip I knew we'd be up in elevation, and that there'd be plenty of places to fish. I was sure to include every fly box I owned, and even went ahead and purchased an Eagle Claw Featherlight 3 weight rod for the adventure. I purchased the standard Mountain House fare for breakfast and dinner, more fuel for my MSR stove, and was ready to begin packing. Getting all of the gear ready made me realize just how much outdoor equipment I have and use. It also made me realize that much of my gear needs an upgrade. For example, my old blue sleeping pad is 17 years old. A young 15 year old me took it through New Mexico for 14 days, its been hunting in Utah and Nevada, been used in the Uinta back-country, and see hundreds of miles from the confines of my backpacks. Despite my affinity for nostalgic gear, I believe there is much better technology in the sleeping pad arena, and I hope to experience a good nights rest on a nice pad on my next trip. In other words, after sleeping on that pad this trip, I'm now in the market for something nice.
Anyway, back to the trip. We left Las Vegas at 4 am and began our journey, which took us through Beatty, NV, and nearly nowhere else. It was a lonely and quiet drive, but gave plenty of time to relax and reflect. Once we pulled into the Owens Valley we saw the Sierras, and came to realize their scale and magnitude. Despite our lake July date, there was still snow seen atop the mountain range. Around 9 am Friday morning we pulled into the South Lake Trailhead parking lot, and proceeded to drive around for nearly 20 minutes until a parking spot opened up. Overnight parking lots aren't able to handle the capacity of those heading into the back-country, so be prepared to wait for a spot should you leave from this trailhead.
We took the obligatory trailhead photo and took off. The trail starts out above South Lake and gives you a great vantage of the lake and the surrounding mountain range. Shortly after starting, we entered the John Muir Wilderness. We were headed to the Marie Louise Lakes, and the trail split was well signed, and almost immediately began climbing. Given the elevation and the gain in the trail there was so slow going, but we were rewarded with great scenery everywhere we looked. A couple hours after starting we arrived at our destination, and other than mosquitoes and fish, it seemed not another soul was around. Given my eagerness to constantly be fishing, and after seeing fish swimming in the crystal clear water, I put my rod together and grabbed my Tacky tube full of small dry flies. Within the hour I'd already caught 5 or 6 decent Brookies. The site fishing was exhilarating. I started with a Adams to see what these trout would take, but it wasn't long before a Caddis landed on my arm. In a rookie move, I'd left all my caddis in a single box in my pack. Luckily, I had a flying ant pattern in my tube, which proved to be one of the top flies of the weekend. It was so successful that there's little left of the fly. One fish hit it so hard he came out of the water and rolled. It was one of my favorite strikes in my unremarkable fly-fishing career.
After the fishing slowed down for a bit we headed to set-up camp and enjoy a dinner of Mountain House mac and cheese with some Vienna sausages. Gourmet cooking at its finest. The air began to cool as the sun tucked its head behind the peaks of the Sierras, and after cleaning dishes we laid back and watched the stars poke their way through the dark canvas sky. The stars were phenomenal, and the still of the night eventually gave way to sleep.
We woke in the morning ready for another day of adventure. We saw a small, unnamed lake on the map and began hiking toward it. After several events that could fill a small book, we finally decided we were too far away, and didn't have enough time to get to the destination. We were in bear country and some of the areas we were crawling through were very bear-esque. After returning to camp we hit the lake again, and on a mosquito pattern I pulled out over two dozen fish in around an hour. We even found success on a griffiths gnat towed behind a bubble on a lightweight spinning set-up, and on some homemade lures make from copper tubing.
After catching more than our fair share of fish, all of which were returned to the confines of the cool alpine waters, we decided to head back to camp.
This is an abbreviated version of the trip, for the sake of the reader I left out various aspects of the trip. Giving every detail about each cast, every fly swap, and every fish caught would take pages. What I came away with though, is a deep appreciation for the remaining wild and free places that still exist on the map. We didn't see another person the entire weekend, other than on the main section of the trail. The fish that were caught were as beautiful as any seen, and their appetites and aggressiveness toward the fly made for a fun weekend. After a few stressful weeks of work and hectic schedules, it was nice to get away and regroup. See, there's something about the rhythm of the cast, the sound of trickling water, and the peace brought on by a starry sky that can't be found anywhere but in the wilderness and on the water. I'm reminded of how important protecting these places is. Our conservation forefathers of John Muir, Teddy Roosevelt, Gifford Pinchot, Ed Abbey, and others worked to ensure that people like me could enjoy places like the Sierra Nevada range. Hopefully I'll be able to contribute to the preservation and conservation of these places so that future trout bums, fly tiers, and weekend warriors can enjoy them too. Perhaps someday, with some luck, I'll find myself working for Trout Unlimited or the Theodore Roosevelt Conservation Partnership to preserve, protect, and restore these wild places. Until then, I'll day dream at my desk of my next adventure that will take me into the wild.