October is one of my favorite months. Temperatures are cooling down, and the fish are fattening up. I decided to go north and take a look at a small wilderness area that I'd been meaning to visit for many years.
I got my usual early start and drove up through the central valley, up past the national park, then off on a series of dirt roads, and got a mid-morning start. There had been some light rain and light snow up here in the higher elevations earlier in the week I think.
The first several miles were a gradual climb through thick forest. I saw a few lava flows here and there.
Over a rise, then descend to the first lake. It had been a dry year, and in late season this one looked bony and shallow.
I had a quick snack for lunch, and headed up cross-country through the forest. I forgot how thick it can be at this lower elevation (~6500'). Soon I came to the second lake. Looked a bit better, though still shallow around the edges.
I walked partway around the lake and noticed remnants of frost and ice in the shade. I'm always amazed at how much difference a few hundred feet of elevation can make.
I saw a good-sized rainbow cruising, and got its attention, but it refused my hopper. I walked around the lake a bit more, and noted a couple more fish in the shallows, apparently feeding on midges. They were again uninterested in terrestrials. Up here, hopper season had passed, and it was midge time.
The light was fading, and I was pretty beat, so I decided to camp. It was chilly overnight, perhaps in the 30's.
Next morning I got an early start, and found the remnants of an old trail, not marked on the map anymore, but clearly still in use. I headed down past the first lake I'd visited, and on to the next one down. Still a bit shallow, and no sign of fish.
From here I made my way up another trail, about 600' of ascent. In late season of a dry year a lot of the small tarns were simply dry.
A couple more hundred feet brought me to another lake. Looked a bit better, and I saw a fish cruising. Still pretty shallow around the edges.
I walked around the lake. It looked somewhat similar to the lake where I'd spent the night. I headed up to the next lake, the highest one within this particular area.
I could see fish feeding on midges in the shallows. The lake was a bit small, but deep, and there were more fish here than I'd seen all yesterday. Again, the fish were rather hesitant about hoppers, though one struck at the Pink Pookie I'd tied on.
I made my way to the part of the lake still in shade, where a group of fish were finning, and tied on a midge emerger. It was some kind of glass bead thingy similar to a Smoke Jumper I'd tied a season or two ago. Bingo.
Another one took a small Brooks Sprout.
The afternoon was warming up, and the breeze was picking up a bit. I spent some time cast hoppers around logs, had a few strikes, but was unable to bring anything to hand. Time for more midges; I noticed a large group of fish off in the distance feeding on midges in the shallows, and cast a Smoke Jumper out into the fray.
Obligatory gear shot -- Orvis Superfine Glass 4wt, with Galvan Brookie reel.
I decided to head back down and check out the last and largest lake, which is also the one at lowest elevation. It has kind of a long thin shape, and with lower levels had separated into three separate bodies of water.
The main lake looked reasonably deep still, though fishing from most of the bank looked to be an exercise in plodding through mud. I found a spot on a log and tossed out some hoppers into the afternoon breeze. I had a few strikes, but the fish always seemed to throw the hook. At least I know they are still in there ...
By late afternoon I realized I'd better head back. It was another trip where I raced up and down the trail to get back to the car before darkness fell completely, and a long drive home.
The NWS says the "storm door" as they call it out here, is open. Hopefully this winter's precipitation will be better than the last one, though with La Nina forecast I am a bit worried.