A weekend in the Sierra.
As I made my way through a long Friday of work I debated on the weekend plans, as I often do. I had originally planned to spend it in Colorado's San Juans, but with the forecast calling for heavy rain my weekend was free. Late in the day I made the call to head to Mammoth California, one of my favorite places to visit. Embarking on a 10 hour drive, one way, for just a weekend trip is a bit daunting but nevertheless I hit the road and made it to Mammoth coffee roasting co by 7am. With some fresh beans in hand I sipped my coffee debating the possibilities, I found a trail by 8, headed to a gear shop to pick up the required bear canister and made my way toward the devils postpile. Cruising through a blizzard near the ranger station wasn’t exactly sparking confidence but I drove all this way so what the hell, maybe I’ll get a little cold but I’ll survive. I was still a bit apprehensive in the parking lot and took a few minutes to make some lunch, the snow turned to rain and eventually slowed to a very light drizzle. Excitement rising I threw on my 26 pound pack and hit the trail.
The Ansel Adams Wilderness sign.
From the parking lot I made quick work of the mostly downhill trail as if I was in peak pct form (I am not). The first 2 miles are quite easy and flow beautifully among the impressive canyon walls distracting you from the miles ahead. Around the 2.5 mile mark you really start climbing, this trail has somewhere around 2,000 feet of vert over the course of 8 miles. I didn’t make it quite all the way to the end as I found a gorgeous camp 6 miles in, high above the creek complete with crashing waterfalls to lull Riv and I to sleep. This camp spot also provided easy access to what looked like some very fishy pocket water. For millions of years, the crystal clear water steadily worked to carve out some of the best views I’ve ever laid eyes on. Now it’s all down to this tiny stream cascading from one alpine lake to the next, and for a few short hours I had it all to myself.
A waterfall crashing to the river below
This summers goal was to make a better effort to get out fishing and pin-point what sort of things I enjoy most. I revisited it all, spin casting on high altitude lakes for trout, baitcasting to hungry bass in Arizona's warmer waters, and of course fly fishing throughout the west. On this trip I believe I found that fishing, those classic freestone streams, smaller water with some cover and lots of pools to toss in a fly. This creek was exactly what I’ve been dreaming of for years, slightly busier than I was hoping for, to be expected on a Sunday in the Sierra, but at least the evening was peaceful and relaxing. Solitude was the only word on my mind from about 4pm to late the next morning, what an experience. This is what I’ve been chasing all year and couldn’t be happier with the trip.
This might be the best camp spot I’ve found.
I’ve always been a bit of a gear junkie and this trip was a chance to try out some new systems, including really putting my Orvis Superfine 2wt to the test. I’ve had the rod for about a year now but haven’t spent much time fishing since owning it. Earlier this summer I snapped off the top 6 inches when it got stuck in the rod carrier on my truck but even still, this rod is an absolute dream to cast and paired with an Orvis CFO reel, feels perfectly balanced in the hand. I think from now on I’ll be going for a little more of an ultralight setup but being my first time out, I used the heavy rod tube to keep it protected on the way in. Some weight could also be shaved in the fly box department, 2 tacky fly boxes filled with a couple hundred flies and I only touched 2 patterns the whole trip. A while back I picked up an extremely lightweight foam box from Flambeau which I’ll be stocking for the next few trips. I also carried 3 spools of tippet but really only need a single spool of 5.5X or maybe 6X. A small multitool, the Gerber Dime, lives in my first aid kit, so I was able to leave the hemostats in the truck. I should have my near perfect backcountry setup with another trip or two in the coming weeks, but until then I’ll just enjoy tweaking these systems to perfection. In years past I had a strong affection for chest packs but haven’t used one in awhile, I think that may be the answer for the next trip as they can be lightweight and pack down to the size of a few Clif bars.
One of many beauties fooled by a simple Balloon Caddis. Available here
What has left this trip carved in memory for years to come were the fish, I’ve never cared about the size of the fish but rather the beauty and health, and boy were there some handsome fellas on the fly this weekend! Nothing but brookies, but that’s alright, they’re so fun to catch! I did land a few decent size fish but for the most part I was seeing them in the 6-8 inch range. It’s not too often I catch so many fish I lose count, but after the 20th one I gave up and just enjoyed the tug. Every pocket held a seemingly endless supply of hungry trout and I was intent on hooking every single one. Some of them were easy to spot and I watched as they inspected my offering before going in for a bite, others came out of nowhere going in for the kill with an impressive showing of force, and a snobby few turned their noses in disgust, but those picky eaters helped to improve my drifts and casts making the day that much more productive. Between the overhanging boulders and an abundance of tree fall, these trout had plenty of places to hide and await dinner, making fly placement crucial. I learned more on this trip than typical and couldn’t be more grateful for the day I had!
I can’t believe I spent the day fishing with a view like this!
Part of what made this trip so enjoyable was without a doubt the backpacking component. I haven’t been so relaxed in ages, the only minor bummer was the sun setting around 6pm. After dark I spent a few hours watching some fly fishing films in my tent before getting a great nights sleep. Nothing helps me sleep better than cool temps, a sleeping bag, and the sounds of water flowing. With a low of 26, a light breeze and clear skies, I settled in for what would be a long cozy night. With daylight came the same spectacular views, a near perfect V of coniferous giants with various specs of beautiful light gray granite culminating at the base of Iron Mountain. After a hot cup of coffee, Riv and I headed upstream to see what we could get into. My original plan was to throw a few casts at camp but mostly fish along my hike out to the truck. About 300 yards upstream I saw the crystal clear water crashing down semi truck sized blocks of granite with long deep pools filling the space between and couldn’t walk away. In total I hiked about 2 miles up and never went more than a few hundred feet between casts, never passing up a pool and to my extreme surprise, caught something in every single pool. A size 14 balloon caddis was the ticket out there along with a Utah Killer bug claiming a few down low in the water column.
River taking it all in one last time.
Remember that downhill cruise the day before? Well, the uphill Sunday slog was rough but knowing a cold beer and warm pretzel were waiting for me at Distant Brewing helped solidify a comfortable 20 minute pace back to the truck. With the 575 mile drive looming and day turning to night, I settled in to reflect on one of the greatest adventures I’ve ever had.
It’s safe to say I’ll be back in the spring for some more backcountry adventures throughout the Sierra!