Fishaholics: trek to Eastern Sierras

A true angler's dilemma, "Where would we trek in our search for our aquatic prey? Our small intrepid group has been dreaming of a summer fishing trip to the Eastern Sierras . Javi, our youngest member, who lives in Sacramento, has been sending us information on the lakes. To our dismay, some of our favorite lakes are dry. Some of them look like sun baked football stadiums minus the bleachers. (Global warming?) After careful planning, Bob, our fishing sage, explored the internet before designing  our trip to the Mammoth Lakes area.
Unfortunately two of our member failed to make the trip. Jorge, our loquacious pal (aka) " El Perico",  informed us that this spring and summer, he was scheduled to babysit his beloved granddaughter. David, our fishmonger, who is forever ready with a new exquisite fish recipe, changed jobs recently and wasn't able to make it.

We departed from Los Angeles early one morning; ninety minutes later, we found ourselves pulling into our usual dive for breakfast in the middle of the Mohave desert. Afterwards, we re-initiated our drive going north on highway 395, an asphalt ribbon adorned with desert scrub on either side and the beautiful Sierra Nevada mountain ridge to our left. A few hours later, we were at Lundy Lake which was practically empty. Soon we found out why; no fish.

The town of Mammoth  was our center of operation. Here we were closer to most of lakes and streams. We would be targeting rainbow trout. Filled with high expectations, skill and praying to the goddess of good fortune, we ventured out to the Mammoth Lakes Loop: Lake Mary, Lake George, Lake Marrie and 

Horseshoe Lake. 

 We followed this map in our search for rainbow trout, but
unfortunately we didn't get many bites during our outing. Map courtesy of: sierragatewaymap.com

 The following day,we were more eager than before to capture our limit of the elusive rainbows. With all deliberate speed, we drove to Crowley Lake and after mishaps, calamities and mayhem, we were chased away by swarms of flies, They appeared like dark moving clouds obstructing our vision and breathing. After this plague like affliction, we vigorously headed to higher ground, Little Virginia Lake.

Our trek to the sierras was a month earlier than in previous years. Snow was still embracing the
edges of the lake. This made for a slow jaunt  in finding suitable locations to cast our lines. 
Javi, as always, with fish on his stringer.

After an enjoyable afternoon of fishing, we displayed our catch. Javier was a most happy angler. 
The final count for the day favored him over everyone else, " I beat Bob! for the first time ever, I beat Bob! ... Wow I whipped him like a rag doll, " he shouted.We all had to concede the victory;
 this day he dominated the old sage alright!

This is why Javier beat Bob...he was actively fishing, on his feet, moving around,
changing his bait frequently while Bob, in the background, is just sitting on a rock.
Let this be a lesson for all you young fishermen!. Javier's advice is, "Fishing is not a passive sport. 
You just can't cast out your line, sit down hopping that fish will jump on your lap."

With snow flakes falling and threatening dark clouds overhead, we decided to call it a day.

After carefully storing our catch in ice, we headed to downtown Mammoth for a
well earned repast and beer at a busy pizzeria adjacent to our lodging. The dinner discussion
 continued Javier's deciphering his design and strategy  to conquer the old sage. "I beat you Bob!!!
 I finally beat you ha, ha, ha. " The old sage said, " Yeah, yeah...wait till next time, rookie ". 
After toasting to the winner, I felt compelled to remind my Javier that it's harder 
to be a good winner than a good loser because one has less practice.

Well, we really missed our two anglers who couldn't make it this time. Here's a toast
 hoping they can join us on our next fishing adventure.

Here's to our fishermen young and old;
Here's to all the fish that we caught;
Here's to the ones that got away from our hold.
     They deserved it because hard they fought.
                                                                                _ jmove
    

Javier: Dozing off, somnolence or just meditating.

Over the years we bought him maps, provided clear directions, sent him reminders and phone calls until we realized that information only confuses him. Regardless, we accept him the way he is-- he has no notion of time or space. He gets lost even with the navigation system guiding him. Javier is late to every appointment or event, but he will arrive. Tense and absent minded, he thinks he is on time. Soon he becomes bored, disquiet, starts fidgeting and will cease taking part in conversations... he has fallen asleep. After so many years of friendship, we are well aware, that's just the way he rolls.

Taking into account that I have known Javier since our college days and worked together for most of our professional lives,  I was well aware of his hyperactivity, short attention and inquisitive mind. Which along with his supportive and caring attitude made him a good candidate to be my compadre. I also sponsored him into the Old Men's Anglers Society.

As it turned out Javier has become an excellent partner for Jorge aka, el perico (the parrot) yes, the one who never stops talking! As soon as they both get into the back seat of the suburban, they initiate a volley of ideas and topics back and forth. El perico doing most of the talking until, predictably, Javier falls asleep. Nevertheless Jorge just keeps on talking to himself... That is the brilliance in pairing them up. One is bla, bla, bla... and the other one is Z z z z z... Due to the frequency of his naps he was christened, el dormido. (the sleeper) .

 With Bob, sleeping at the airport in Loreto, Baja California,  waiting for the flight home
 after fishing dorados. Not even jet noise could keep him awake.

On the way to the Sierra Nevada, Javier as always catching his ZZZ ...

On a chilly spring morning in the Eastern Sierras above the town of Bishop, our newest apprentice was eager and enthusiastic. It was his first time attempting the fine art of fresh water fishing. From the onset, we were very impressed with his fishing equipment. His designers fishing poles and reels, a tackle box splendidly stocked, with the latest assortment of baits and popular scents His fishing lines all very neatly arranged by size, color and weight. We complimented  him for his choice of fishing poles and brand name equipment. It wasn't until our second trip when he confessed that his son was the one who stocks his tackle and purchases his gear. Bob said, "I knew it! no wonder he wasn't familiar with the tackle; he had no idea on how to use it". Nowadays Javier is very comfortable fishing or sleeping on the side of a lake.

Here he is, wide awake  at one of his favorite streams, fighting a rainbow trout.

Persistence is one virtue that Javier possesses. No matter how much he sleeps, he does want to catch his limit of fish. He starts slowly each morning wiping the sleep from his eyes, setting up his fishing pole and casting out into the water. It may take him awhile but he'll go strong for a while after a few fish he becomes unfocused and begins to loose interest. Soon he'll set up his chair and... it's siesta time.

When he is out cold, no one can wake him up. When asked, "were you asleep again"?
 His standard answer always is,  "I was just meditating". Right!

 Javi is an important member of the team, he is Javier's son and the one
 responsible for taking care of his daddy out in the Sierras. He ensures that his
dad has all the equipment in working order. Helps him find good fishing spots
 and teaches him to bait the hooks and most importantly bring the fish in.

Up in the Sierras, there are no signals that tell us to quit for the day. Rather it's the rhythm of the winds on the trees, the quietness on the water and our bodies that inform us it's time to head down the mountain. As we carefully make our way down the winding roads, el perico is yammering at full speed and volume "yakiry, yak ..." the one that got away, who caught the most and... "bla, bla, bla". The rest of the members have their earphones on, listening to their music.  Javier is in deep sleep. A few minutes later, I sensed a quietness in the suburban, when I looked back this is what I found.

Meditating or sleeping? Not even el perico's  unreserved loquacity could keep Javier awake. 

El Perico, on the other hand, takes time out, from his prolonged communication skills, 
to join Javier in a snooze.

At the end of the day, Javier and Javi  proudly show of their stringers, now they are of to the
cleaning station.

On the way down the mountain, it became clear to me that somnolence is contagious, el perico and el dormido are both dreaming of the one that got away. Yours truly continued, carefully, driving down the winding road. We pulled into a wonderful Italian restaurant. Ill have a glass of Merlot...tomorrow we'll attempt the walker river, while my friends continue with their siestas.

Fishing The Eastern Sierras

(click on picture for larger view) 

Successful fishing trips require good planning, insuring every member has a good time, has the necessary equipment and tools, schedule of daily activities and adequate lodging. Further, as the reader may recall, insure the attendance of a master angler is Paramount. All of these ingredients were taken into account before our departing date. Suddenly our master angler, Bobby had, in his words, a terrible feeling about this trip. He had studies the cycles of the moon, the weather projections, some weird alchemy and guidance from his spiritual shaman.  All of these forces, had convinced him to reconsider making the trip. In the end he decided not to accompany us. I must confess, the group was devastated. One of our most garrulous members, Jorge, knowing that Bobby was on a fixed income, volunteered to pay all his expenses. Javier also wanted to help, but Bobby did not budge. He said it was not a question of money, "I have plenty of money!",  he retorted with a feeling of frustration. It was question of forces beyond his control. Jorge, chuckled, he was not convinced... Javier was incredulous, and rolled his eyes. Still we left without him.

In-take II lake

Being charged with the planning and coordination, I was ready for any unforeseen event, I had to use my ace in the hole. Javi, a fine young man from Sacramento who, as a little boy, I had taught to fish. He would be meeting us in the Sierras. Now a graduate from the University of Davis, he is not only a master angler but also a published environmental scientist, working with the California  Department of Water Resources - fishery improvement. We learned that he is not only highly skilled at catching fish but because he has been studying them for so long, he also thinks like a fish. After hearing the news of who our new member was, the team was euphoric.

We arrived in Bishop, our home base, on a Monday afternoon and headed straight to in-take II. A small body of water, where  Javi surprised Javier with a handsome new fishing pole and a state-of-the art reel. We started by testing different color and scents of  power bait, scented worms, jigs and feathers. We quickly eliminated the dark colors; salmon-peach and rainbow power baits were most successful. In a short time we noted that Nicko our youngest angler caught the first trout and Javi had attained his limit in less than an hour while Jorge, Javier and myself had to struggle to get a few prizes in our stringers. After a few hours we decided to head down to Bishop for dinner and a good night rest in preparation for the full day fishing on Tuesday.

Javi at In-take II with his flotation device

Very early in the morning after some light nourishment, we headed towards one of the most beautiful lakes  in the sierras, Sabrina. A large body of water with excellent streams, perfect for the stream enthusiast. Four of us quickly sought out a spot along the shoreline and proceeded to cast out lines. Javi, just as energetically, headed towards the streams. After a half hour, Jorge who is not known to possess the virtue of patience expressed "l don't think there are any fish here." Nicko told him to change his bait and get a longer leader. Unexpectedly, our stream angler returned, with his limit of 6 huge trout.

The Sacramento stinger-Always with his limit.

All of us made our way lickety-split towards the streams, and secured some excellent spots around tide pools, deep holes and shaded water. We also tried salmon eggs, worms, feathers and power bait. After about an hour, we noticed that Javi was busy catching and releasing trout. The rest us us were blanking-out on strikes. Jorge, frustrated,  said "Let's get out of here, this is too hard" Feeling responsible as I was the coordinator of the trip, I asked them to pack-up and returned to Intake II. We arrived just as planting was taking place and fished there until noon. Javi, the "Sacramento Stinger"  had already caught his limit at the streams so he caught and released perhaps 50 to 60 trout of various sizes. The rest of us, except one, caught our limit. But fear not, Nicko helped him reach his limit.

Then, we drove to town for a much needed lunch on the way down our master gave us a few pointers on how to improve our chances of increasing the number and  size of trout. We were all eagerly listening to his lecture. Jorge, the continuous learner, of course asked many, many questions. After lunch Jorge asked to be dropped off at the gambling casino to try his luck with the one arm bandits. We returned to pick him up perhaps around 8:00 pm. He sure was in better spirits, he was in his own Nirvana, smiling even his prominent jowls we jovial.  We all asked him, How much did you win? Nothing... "I lost $80.00 dollars". And... "that makes you happy" Javier asked "yes", he replied, "it was fun".

Triple play-with this team-Nicko, Jorge, Javi-fish don't stand a chance!

Nicko & Jorge working as a team with good result

Upon our return to the lake in the following day, I noticed that Jorge was more productive after Nicko  tutored him on how to "set the hook" and to read the movement on the tip of his fishing pole. We asked Nicko where he learned trout fishing, he said "Master Bobby taught me at Jenks Lake". Although Bobby wasn't here, his force made a powerful presence... in his young apprentice.

Thursday was our last day of fishing and by the time we got to the lake, we were welcomed by much cooler morning and clouds. It seemed like a perfect day but it was tough going: we had to fight for every fish. Still, all of us caught our limit. During this trip, Javier received a few lessons on how to cast jigs. Afterwards he couldn't put his pole down.He caught so many fish "jigging"... he also started catching and releasing. " I love casting with my new outfit. Thanks son!..." In all of my life, I had never seen Javier so happy and catch so many fish as on this trip. His happiness was  so overwhelming that he volunteered to clean the day's bounty.

Javier & son bonding

look mom!

We quit earlier in order for us go to a barbecue restaurant which had been in Jorge's mind all week long.
After dinner, the conversation returned to the highly successful week thanks to the guidance and assistance from our new master angler. Jorge who has been blessed or cursed with the need to talk incessantly, wondered out loud who would come out ahead in a fishing contest between our northern master, Javi and our southern master, Bobby. Javier thought it would be interesting. Nicko reflected that Javi is younger but Bobby taught him more. Jorge felt that each one had his strengths. Javi is at least forty years younger, faster, smarter. Bobby, on the other hand, is patient, older, slower, wiser. Javi interjected, "Hey guys remember as a little boy, Bobby taught me how to fish the streams". I volunteered my services to promote the event, "If you guy want, I can coordinate the contest between;
          The Sacramento Stinger  vs. The Yucaipa Satyr .
Javier, who happens to be Javi's dad, stipulated that I would have to find a neutral lake."Remember Bobby is a crafty, old buzzard. He only wants to fish Jenks Lake",  "In a neutral place" he said, "I go for my boy!". I exclaimed with delight that the Rubicon would be crossed. I committed to be fair and impartial in scheduling the contest and of course, ... "I'll take on the winner".

 We left Bishop with good memories of friends having fun, breaking bread together and excellent fishing.



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