Musician, Freak, Dayjobber, Etc.

So, do most of you hate the fishing reports? Because, I've gotta tell you, I am getting more and more hooked with each passing day (sorry for the lame pun). There is something so magical and serene about trout fishing, I can't explain it really, other than to say it's taking over my life!

Well, if you want some new stuff that I've been working on lately, check out this four-minute sound collage from my unabashedly melodic pop band The Ultra Suede; hell, be our friend while you're at it. Any and all comments, etc., are most appreciated.

Now, I've got to get back over to the Cabela's Catalog and buy some waders...

I promise, I will try to write a 'real' update next week -- lots happening lately, lots of love in the air, springtime finally makes her gentle way to Southern California...until next week...toodles!

Last Monday I headed north to a drainage I’ll call Colossal Creek. It’s a short drive from Los Angeles – you could conceivably fish this drainage in a day-trip – and there are not one but TWO major forks for your fishing pleasure. I had the privilege of having the entire week away from work and family obligations to explore this classic Southern California area. For most of the week the weather was nice, with temps in the mid-70’s during the days and perhaps the mid-50’s at nights, and partly cloudy/partly sunny every single day. Nice spring weather.

Early Monday afternoon, the first place I fished was the North Fork of Colossal Creek. I parked and walked about a mile upstream, into the brush. It’s a beautiful little stream (the perfect size I love to splash around in), and, at this time, was running nice and clear, and very cold (no temp. gauge, sorry guys). After putting what I considered a reasonable distance between myself and the road, I soon spotted some nice-looking water and proceeded to tie-on one of my favorite, tried-n-true (and pricey!) artificials. First cast, and my expensive artificial was securely wrapped around the lower branches of an alder tree. Damn these eyes! I justified the errant cast due to my being rusty (I haven’t fished that much this year with the high waters and all) and tied on another offering.

Second cast and -- bam! – I had a little wild rainbow on. Yea! Here’s a picture of the little beauty (this particular shot is in homage to Sir Homey’s signature photos):



I spent another hour or two working the stream without enticing any further fish, however, I had many follows of similar-sized beauties, and a good time was had by all.

Late afternoon found me heading up into the hills to the South Fork of Colossal Creek, where I planned to car-camp for the next few days, utilizing the area as a base-camp for further exploration. The drive was beautiful – about ten miles up the canyon – and, far below, the larger South Fork was clearly visible, tantalizingly close to the road but unreachable without a severe scramble through impenetrable brush. This stretch looked amazing, and I highly doubt it sees any pressure at all, and there were some incredible pools and runs visible from the road. Note to self: come back and explore this stretch ASAP.

After settling into the car campground – which, incidentally, I had completely to myself – I checked out the South Fork where it ran through camp. There were some delicious-looking runs such as this one:



After a few casts into a likely-looking pool, my lure was suddenly hit HARD, and I had a feisty fish on the line. I could tell that the fish was decent-sized, and, every time I got her close to the bank, she’d run off into the depths again, shaking her head. This hard-fighting warrior made no less than five full-blown runs (she never broke the surface, instead opting to stay deep) until I finally brought her to net. It turns out that it was most definitely a planted fish (the fins were as ragged as Rod Stewart’s voice), but, I tell you, for a planter, this baby fought like a champion:



Much to my delight, I caught another similar-sized fish from the same hole – another planter – within a few moments. This poor fish not only sported ragged fins, but her side-scales were pretty scruffed-up, too, and I felt bad for her as I released her back into the stream.

I spent my first night under a starry sky, very happy with my first day’s efforts on Colossal Creek.

The next day I slept in late, then decided to explore (by car) some of the higher elevations in the immediate area. I spent most of the morning driving up the highway and back, messing around in some snow fields, snapping photos, and generally slacking off. All around me, I could see higher peaks still sporting a significant snow-pack.

Soon it was lunch time, and I went into the small hamlet of Camp Colossal and had a cheeseburger at the local restaurant/general store. The woman who owned the place gave me a tip on a local South Fork location, and I headed off, without much luck I might add. This area was about six miles upstream from my camp, and, although the water looked wonderful, I was unable to coax any fish to net. I had a great time, though.

Later that afternoon, I went to another location on the South Fork – this time about two miles downstream of camp – and splashed around in some likely locations. I managed to catch and release a couple of small (6”-range) wild brown trout, along with another small wild rainbow and yet another 10” planter; unfortunately, all of these pictures came out blurry (yes, I still have an analog camera).

I ended up back at camp fishing the same general locations as the day before, with similar results: another planter, and another small wild brown. After a nice dinner of grilled chicken and peppers, I spent another evening under the stars.

The next day – Wednesday – I once again made the short trip to hit the North Fork of Colossal Creek. I spoke with a local fly fisherman and he pointed me in a direction that focused around a currently-closed car campground. Everywhere in this area, I saw bear scat, literally in dozens of locations, some of it remarkably fresh. The stream in this area was beautiful, with many fine pools, sweet runs, and gorgeous cascades such as these:



Well, this turned out to be THE day – I was in one of those awesome, “in the moment” moods where everything was going great. I was serene. I was in a zone. All was Zen. Things started off slow – hell, I even drifted a nymph/bubble combo for awhile in a giant pool in an attempt to make a connection – but began to pick-up after noon or so. That afternoon, nothing could stop me! I consistently connected with small wild rainbows and browns in pool after pool.

At one point, I had an “LARiver” moment: I spotted a neat little run, a location that I would normally overlook. When I spotted this particular run, something in my head said “Bernard would fish this.” So, I fished it. I cast out one of my smallest artificals into the current and BAM! I had a nice fish on. After a wonderful fight, I brought this sweet 10” wild rainbow to net (don’t mind the piece of plastic in my net, it came out when I pulled the net out of my day pack):



Here’s another shot of me holding the fish before releasing her:



Good times!

Before I knew it, six hours had passed. Damn! There was one GIANT pool I had fished earlier (where I tried the nymph and indicator) and I had noticed a small dirt road on the other side of the stream; I vowed to find the road and fish this place from the other side. Sure enough, I found the road and hiked down to the giant pool. There was a huge boulder in this pool which split the current into two runs, one deep and fast, the other tailing-out into a nice sandy pool. It was about 6PM or so. I tied on one of my larger minnow imitations and began to work this side of the pool. I could see some nice-sized fish holding in the current nearly at my feet, but could not seem to entice any strikes. I decided to cast out past the huge boulder into the main pool proper, which I did. I was immediately hit by a dumptruck, as I watched a golden flash explode in the middle of the pool. Fish on! BIG FISH ON!

I freaked out. I panicked. I felt the massive “swoosh-swoosh” as this beauty shook its head from side to side and dove – DEEP. I caught a glimpse of the side of the fish, and I was scared. My rod doubled over, in half. My heart raced. I fed her line – too much line – and tried to go for my net, WAY prematurely. Meanwhile, I kept my rod tip up and just tried to hold on.

As I stepped over some rocks, towards my pack, I realized that the intense pulling had stopped, but I still had pressure on the line. Fuck me. I was hung-up – emotionally, as well as literally. Sheeet. In my inexperience, I had cut this most definitely wild fish way too much line, allowing her to burrow deep under the huge boulder (as far as I know) in the middle of the pool, and hang me up. I had no choice but to break my line. Hell, I almost broke into tears.

So, there you have it. I had an opportunity, and I blew it. Period, paragraph. Yeah, sure, I had the “satisfaction” of having tied into what could quite conceivably have been a wild monster – I suspect it was a 15”-range wild brown, but what do I know? – but I blew my chance. I had only myself to blame.

Somewhat dejected, I went back to camp and vowed to get up early – 5:00AM – the next morning and re-visit the location for another chance at the monster.

So what happens? A storm moved in, a big one. When I went to sleep at midnight, the sky was still clear, and starry. When I drove down the hill at 5:30AM, the mountain was in some incredibly heavy fog and rain. By the time I reached the giant pool at around 6:00AM, it was pouring cheeseburgers and fries. Serious rain. However, the rain didn’t deter me from spending a solid hour working the pool again, to no avail. Soaked, I decided to call an end to the trip, head back to camp, pack up, and head back to town.

I got back to camp – by this time the fog had lifted and the rain had let up slightly – packed my stuff up, and decided to hit the big pool below camp “one last time” before heading out. I tied on another monster-sized minnow imitation and let her fly. BOOM! Instantly, I had a fish on, this time a big one, for real. I could tell by the “boom boom” in my line that this was a biggie, although she didn’t really fight all that hard or intelligently. After a few moments – this time me NOT panicking, NOT giving her too much line, and playing her as intelligently and emotionless as possible – I brought this absurdly huge planter to my net:



Here’s another shot of me holding her:



She easily exceeded 16” and must have weighed about three pounds. A nice fish, even though she came to my net courtesy of the DF&G. Seeing as I had successfully released every fish of the trip so far, and since she was such an obviously planted fish, I decided to bring her home to my girlfriend.

With that, I headed off down the mountain in the pouring rain:



What did I learn? Well, there was evidence of bait dunkers in the immediate areas around the campground on the South Fork – to be expected – so the area is far from being “off the radar”. The South Fork had a nice mix of planters and wild fish, whereas on the North Fork I caught exclusively wild fish and saw a lot less evidence of bait dunkers. The main thing that intrigues me, however, is the seemingly-inaccessible stretch of stream that follows the highway into the mountains. Every person I spoke with said “no one ever goes down there” or “I’ve never fished that section”. I witnessed huge pools and amazing runs, so I am sure the area holds major fish.

As for insects, I did, in fact, witness what I believe was a mayfly hatch (do they have the scissor-like tails?) late one afternoon, but observed no fish rising. I also saw a lot of what I call “lace wings” flying about here and there, along with mosquitos (not many), ants, ladybugs and various moths. One night I saw a 4” centipede on a tree as well. Interesting.

I absolutely ADORED the area – I WILL be back, and soon. Thank you for reading.