Jorge's pursuit for a hobby

By some measures Jorge is a proud Mexican, never forgetting his roots. Like his rustic rancho in Delicias-delights, in the northern state of Chihuahua Mexico. To this day you can still find him, at anytime,  in a pilgrimage to the eternal land of his ancestors. Now it is a modern city with the largest water dam in the state, best know for its agriculture and pecan fields. The apologia for his seasonal treks are his family members and the tempered beauty of  land he embraces and that summons him with vibrant memories of his youth and a longing to delve deeper into his culture. His closest friends appreciate that he wears el nopal en la frente with pride.

Because of the circumstances faced by many well-to-do Mexicanos during the Mexican revolution his ancestors were forced to be exiles in the U.S., settling in California. Here the Garcia's would make their mark. With a strong desire to succeed, many members of the Garcia clan have become highly successful and productive citizens of the United States.

My compadre Jorge waiting for his wife after Sunday church services.

I first met Jorge when we were young school administrators in Los Angeles.  We have become friends and compadres ever since. Over the years we have seen our children grow. Now that we have been retired for a number of years I noticed that he seemed bored. He tried golf: didn't like it. He tried tennis: it was too fast for him. He tried racket ball: I kept beating him. He started gambling becoming a regular at most of the Indian casinos in California and indulged in monthly trips to Vegas. He said he did "all right" but was soon back at work earning more money to gamble. One day we invited him to lunch and the first words out of his mouth were:
" Retirement depresses me ". He stated that his days have become predictable and routine. Finding himself getting out of bed later and later each morning. He had developed a habit of watching telenovelas, soap operas with such tear jerking titles as;  La hija del mariachi and Que bonito amor.  " I just love them, my favorite is..." he stops for a moment... and shouts, "You see why I need to join your fishing team. I need to be out with the guys !".

                                   
Since that realization he has been working hard with Bob, our expert angler, becoming more competent in the sport. On his first outing with the group to to the Eastern Sierra Nevada, he was in high spirits. Rushing out the car upon arrival at Intake II lake, he marvels at the tall pines. "Man I love it here" he shouted gazing at the green fluttering aspens surrounding the lake. Prancing towards the lake, he splashes the water, "It's cold! ", he shouts again. Bob finally settles him down and helps him with his fishing gear. " I love the scent of nature in the morning ", he blurts out, anxiously sitting down for a relaxing day of fishing.
Jorge allows himself to relax with full knowledge and awareness of the task. Only performance will help him release the total pressure. After repeated casts into the lake and losing a few fish, he continues to persevere. Being a baseball fan, he understands that stopping at third base adds nothing to the score of the game. "I've got to catch one," he murmurs as he religiously crosses himself asking assistance from the Almighty.

The best way to succeed in fishing is to act on the advice given by other anglers, like Bob and Nick, whom Jorge credits with helping him succeed. Here he is taking time to feed the ducks behind him. At the lower right hand of the picture you can see a couple of small rainbow trout on his line. "I love being in the outdoors" he cheers. "Even my high blood pressure has subsided! " I reminded him that he is also learning the virtue of patience.

By the third day of our trip, he was in heaven, the first one to bring in a couple of trouts and was more introspective about his surroundings; absorbing the terrain, spotting wildlife, viewing and  identifying birds. He instantly fell in love with the vastness of the forest, its clean blue skies... He was amazed at the intensity of white haired  waterfalls ". Invite me again next year", he shouted with excitement.
On the way back to the cabin, he confided that this was the best fishing vacation he ever had. "I remember when I was a little boy, my uncles would take me fishing in the water dam in Delicias, but I don't remember having as much fun as this".

With a week full of adventure with good friends, we head back home. Driving south on highway 395, we stopped for gas in the town of Bishop, better know as the mule capital of the world. The town is an excellent spot for resting and resupplying anglers, skiers and mountain climbers. After filling-up and adding ice to our cooler, Javier asked, "where's Jorge?" "I know exactly where he is" said Bob. To our dismay, we found him glued to a slot machine inside the Indian casino next to the gas station. I couldn't help wondering if gambling is a hobby or vice.

The Rainbow Trout Slayer

Though the address reads Yucaipa, it sits in the shadow of the San Bernardino mountains. The house is hidden away, a few yards down a dirt road driveway. It is hidden by neatly staked walls of fire wood, overgrown weeds, with a dilapidated orange fishing boat under the canopy of a large tree. This is where I found his nondescript house and a tool shack. It is the humble abode of an elderly sage whom I have know for countless years. As I enter the driveway, I spot him walking around his vegetable garden, wearing his usual baggy blue jeans. With his delicately grizzled face, he looks like any grumpy old fisherman hanging around the boat docks. However  I don't think many fisherman hanging around possess advanced degrees from California State University like him. Once you get to know Bob  you realize that he is grumpy but only sporadically.
When I mentioned to Bob that his place was not easy to find, he responded,  "The people that find me are the ones I want to find me". Upon entering his dimly lit home, I noticed the walls and corner were randomly decorated with piles of fishing rods of all lengths and colors. Tables and  floor were spotted with at least a hundred bait containers in a variety of colors and scents, reels and spools filled with fishing line, nets and hooks all reminiscent of an old village tackle shop.
No, Bob won't tell you how best to hook trout, he'll want you first to have a drink, preferably brandy with coke. I was advised to bring the appropriate libations with me, as a token of respect. He invited me to sit down outside in some debilitated, well used plastic chairs around his fire pit. Erratically laid stones encircle a hole which was dug into the ground, to burn the mounds of collected firewood. After a couple drinks, during which he feeds wood to build a warm fire, he exudes a certain energy, a joie de vivre, sharing his considerable fishing adventures over decades. These stories range in locales from California to Oregon and most of the Southwest. I query him about his predilection  for targeting rainbow trout. He explains, "I find them challenging, elusive and stubborn.  My biggest triumph is, when everyone else  is struggling to hook their first one, I've reached my limit for the day".
I mention  that I have often herd a strong mormorio in the fishing community, throughout the Eastern Sierras,  that he is known as the "rainbow trout slayer." 

Being a modest man, he seemed pleased with his moniker however, he considers that it is not deserved. "Other who are better anglers than me deserve the distinction". In this picture he said that he was measuring the vibrations of the mono-filament line, which indicate the trout's proximity to his bait. "If you are very quiet you can hear the trout communicating with each other". He said. Hum... are you sure Bob? I asked.

Robert is highly regarded for producing the largest trout catch during the fishing season in the Eastern Sierras as well as most rivers, lakes and streams. He attributes his success to his off-season preparation and some simple guidelines. The month before opening day, this seasoned angler can be found cleaning and lubricating his reels and poles as well as trying out new equipment and testing new leaders. "Preparation is the key", he whispers, "just like basketball players scouting the opposition and implementing new strategies". He scouts the lakes he will fish in. "Being attentive to the conditions and scouting their geography will yield more fish," he declares. During a trip to his favorite fish food restaurant in Irwindale CA, I asked him on the philosophy which has earned him the sobriquet "rainbow slayer," he muses,"well, remember Earvin Johnson? He became Earvin Magic Johnson because of his magic; he slayed his opponents". He attributed his success to hard work and practice.
Before departing, Robert shared with me the following points which he calls his magic in preparing for a successful fishing trip:

1. Lake conditions: Knowing the conditions can help you choose a more productive spot and avoid the
crowds that gather in certain spots. Trout congregate around large rocks and shady areas. They spawn and feed in the deeper areas of the lake. Bob likes to target the water line marking the edge of deep and shallow water. He also targets the shadows of large rock or tree trunks.
2. Fish with quality equipment, tackle and new quality line: He prefers 2 lb. and 4 lb. with either size 16 or 18 gold plated treble hooks. They must always be tied with strong knots. His pole preference is a light six footer a spin master spool with a smooth drag.
3. Always use the strongest knot possible: He's preference is the improved clinch knot with allows you to keep line strength at 94% . He loves the finesse of drop shot rigs with a sliding small swivel stop with 1/4 to 1/2 torpedo sinkers.
4. Keep your bait moving: Many rainbows are lost because many anglers cast their bait and park their pole and the bait goes to the bottom where fish do not feed. Success is achieved by smooth movement, and at times pumping action. Your rig must keep bait off the floor of the lake.

Bob prefers to use the split shot rig . Tie a 16 or 18 size hook to the end of the fishing line. Gently pinch the smallest split shot about 24' above the hook. You can slowly drift the split shot down a stream towards a trout waiting for a salmon egg. If you are at the lake, cast your line towards the deepest end and slowly retrieve your line. These methods have been very successful for him.
His advice to all anglers is to have confidence regardless of where you are; fishing is not a spectator sport. You just can't sit and read a book and expect the fish to jump on your lap. "You must work it! work it, just like working your mojo ".

In Pursuit of Rainbow Trout

Three weeks ago I received an early morning call from Jorge aka "el perico" A pleasant surprise. Because parrots and he are not known as an early birds. "What's the status of the fishing trip?", he demanded to know. "I haven't received any information, are you'll trying to leave me out?" I tried to assuage his pain informing him that every thing was going smoothly and he should be getting an e-mail soon. "Don't forget I want my own room!" he bellowed... ending the call. In truth his call was a timely reminder to get the information out.

 El Perico was in charge of  refreshments and making meal arrangements for the trip. He tried his best to supply the group with a variety of drinks and other thirst quenchers, but of course the group found his efforts lacking when, remorselessly, he brought a cooler full of premium drinks for himself. For the rest of the group, he had a cooler full of lower quality drinks. Needless to say the Satyr was less-than- happy with his blunder. He exclaimed, " I am not drinking that cheap beer". Javier added, " I've seen that water for $2.19 for 48 bottles at the hardware store. It became a moral imperative to stop at a Grocery store and replenish our coolers. At this point, it was the only decent thing to do. Perico's selection of restaurants for the evening meals was more prosperous. Each evening he selected an A rated establishment with different culinary specialty. The whole group was pleased with his taste and selections. In truth, I felt a lot better the group seemed to forget his earlier miscalculation.

Convict Lake proved to be a difficult  place too hook up trout this week, they were just not interested in ending in a pan with onion, butter and garlic.

We had reservations  in Bishop CA for a week of fishing, relaxation, good food and friendship. Everyone assembled on time at perico's home. Four hrs. later we were at 8,600 ft. altitude casting our lines for that elusive six pound rainbow trout. Javier elected this propitious moment to inform us that his son, Javi, aka, The Sacramento Stinger would not be joining us because of previous commitments. This was a  crushing blow to the much anticipated contest between the Yucaipa Satyr vs the Sacramento Stinger. I should mention, there would be many disappointed anglers in the lake this week. Of course perico has his own ideas as to why the stinger didn't show up. The Satyr was equally disappointed he was looking forward to trashing that young whipper-snapper. Javier valiantly, but foolishly said, "Ill step in and take my son's mantle, it's a matter of family honor". "No way!"  perico protested. No doubt a rouse to save Javier added embarrassment. "That would be plebeian", he added. That was the end of the contest. Later  perico confided his thoughts to me, as to why the Sacramento Stinger failed to show. "Yo creo tubo miedo,  I didn't want Javier to get taken to the out house by the Satyr".

Interlocken lake as usual provided us with excellent fish. It is a wonderful place to fish all along it's shore with plenty of shade and comfortable surroundings and utilities.

Limits for everyone in our group. Bob, the virtuoso angler, was in charge of charting the areas we would be targeting each morning. Armed with relief  maps, GPS locations wind current and moon charts  he selected, for our first day, Interlocking, a small water hole on route 166 some 12 miles up the mountains from Bishop. Upon our arrival we noticed some fifty people fishing the area. Bob jettison his four lb. line some forty yards and immediately hooked an excellent size rainbow. This pattern continued, with in fifteen minutes he reached his limit. This gave him the opportunity to share his skills with other fisherman and kids who had been there for hrs. with out catching anything. Soon he had a crowd around him seeking his advice and wisdom. An ephemeral time later everyone was bringing them in. His face could not hide his satisfaction when kids got their limits. Bob's philosophy is that fishing is an active sport. "You have to stand up to fish, always hold your pole in your hand. This will allow you to feel the fish nibbling your bait" His impression is that those people who just come to the lake to sit and put the pole on a holder are not true anglers. He calls them  "passive amateurs who just want to pass the day in the open air, soak-up the sun, reading  books". "There is nothing wrong with that", he added, "but they are not true fisherman".

Nicko getting a little shade

A with a smile or just a simper Perico displays his catch for the first day

On the lake Perico was eager to show  Satyr that the lessons he received from him paid great dividends. He prepared his own gear; made his own leaders and quickly was in the water. I know that he is a faux-religious man. But never-the-less I would hear a whispering  prayer each time he cast his line, followed by a "humph" sound . He swears he caught his limit on this trip, bu no one would certify his claim. There is something to say about adult learning it's slower, but more meaningful. Well done Perico

 Nicko our youngest angler was a most ardent supporter of the old timers he helped all them bring in the fish, helped those with poor eyesight hook their line through the hook. Untangle lines and still managed to catch his  limits each day. He proudly informed us that he will be starting at St. John Bosco  High School in a couple of weeks. "We hope you will continue joining us for a few more years". Bob said. Javier replied, "I'm sure he will, if we can invite other young anglers to come along. I saw him teaching other young newbies the art of lake fishing".

After the few days spent up in God Country we headed home. Nicko as always goes home with his prized catch. I proudly reminded the group that he consistently come in second place, "yes right after me", Bob said. "I'm sure he will surpass you soon", Javier added.

A happy young apprentice with a great catch for Mom.

Jenks Lake Fishing

(click on pictures for larger view)

With summertime upon us my fishing buddies have been eager to begin our wanderlust fishing adventures. None more eager than my "compadre" Jorge, you may recall it was extremely difficult for him to accompany us on many of our trips last year. Bob invited us to fish his lake at the foothills of Yucaipa, some 80 miles from Los Angeles. Jorge is very eager to try-out his expensive new fishing gear, he even volunteered to drive his new Tundra.
With all of our gear, food and refreshment on board and much anticipation we headed east towards the San Bernardino mountains. According to my calculations we should be on the lake in an hour and twenty minutes. But wait, Jorge drove past the freeway entrance, bewildered I asked "What happened? you missed the on ramp", "don't worry" he said, "I know where I'm going" He drove five miles further to his favorite gas station where he proceeded to chat with the attendant and other customers, drink coffee, eat sweet rolls and finally pump the gas.

Twenty minutes later we entered the freeway. We were listening to the world cup soccer game between Mexico and France when all of the sudden he turned off the radio. "Mejor vamos a platicar", he wanted to chat; we discussed retired life, stock market, world events, home improvements etc. About this time I informed him we were driving too slow in the pool lane and every other lane was going faster than we were. He responded that they were bad drivers and he has never had a traffic citation, never-the-less he moved over to the slow lane and we returned to the world cup game. By the time we reached San Bernardino, an hour late, he needed to make another pit stop after twenty minutes we continued our trek. We finally reached Jenks lake two hour and twenty minutes after leaving LA.

Our good friend and fishing pro. Bob was waiting for us, he was very exited because he had already brought in some "lunkers", big-ones. While I prepared my gear, Bob quickly took Jorge under his tutelage, with a perfectly distilled mixture of experience, skill and swagger. He proceeded to instruct his young apprentice the finer skills of rainbow trout fishing starting with rigging the hook, line and sinker following with the difficult long casts necessary to hit the sweet spot and proper procedure on landing the fish, taking out the hook and into the cooler.



After Bob's fishing workshop we are ready to fish this beautiful lake. Everyone with due diligence finds a fishing spot. As the day goes by we notice that Jorge keeps putting fish in his cooler,
a sure sign that he has his mojo working. We take a break for refreshments and lunch and again we realize Jorge's exceptionalism; Bob and I have plain sandwiches, cokes and beer. He brought ice tea, fine coffee, fruit salad, goat cheese, grapes, croissant sandwiches and white wine. He is obviously a gourmet and and aficionado of the finer things of life.
After lunch Bob and Jorge continue their sterling
performance of bringing them up while, I enjoy a a peaceful day with good friends. Bob takes the opportunity to teach us "how to read" the lake; identify deep spots, rock formations under water, the importance of water plants and weeds, wind direction, currents and water temperature at different depths. He insists that trout have very acute senses such as smell, therefore do not introduce foreign substances such as sun tanning lotion or cologne when handling your bait. sight, don't move around, trout have a close range of vision and most important sound, trout according to him pick up on voices, vibrations, water splashing so "keep noise to a minimum". He advises no radios, bells or rattles on fishing poles-if you want a good fishing day.

As we head home the natural beauty of the mountains scrolls through the windshield and we realize how peaceful it is to be away from the big urban centers; cluttered freeways, noise and hassle of the city. Something happens when you are fishing with good friends. You have an opportunity for reflection, recollection and renewal. Just about that time my "compadre" reminds us of his skill and luck he is the only one taking home a cooler full of fish. Great job Jorge.

photos: courtesy of Bob Venegas

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