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Fish Tales

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  • June 04, 2019 8:43 PM | Dave Peterson

    Pyramid Lake fishing report: June 3, 2019 by Michael Malekos

    Presently, conditions are great and Pyramid Lake is producing high numbers of large Trout. Fish are cruising both the shallow and deeper water along the shoreline and, I expect this to continue for several weeks. 

    Friday I waded Separator Beach (directly across from Pyramid Rock). My rig consisted of an 8-wt. fly rod and floating line affixed to a nine foot 2X tapered leader. To that I tied (and fished) only one fly, a size 14 flash-back hot spot nymph with a bb size split-shot weight affixed four inches above the fly.  A slow strip was the ticket. [Initially I cast using a shooting head but ultimately caught more fish using the described set-up.] Tip: if you fish this beach and it's not producing, work your way south and cast out from the protruding rock ledges.

    Saturday and Sunday I fished Warrior Point Beach from a float tube. There, I cast an 8-wt. rod with full sinking line and a 2X leader. Again, I fished only one fly at a time. Successful patterns were a toss-up between the "white" and "midnight cowboy" balanced leech.  Fishing at this location right now is incredible, all anglers appeared to be catching fish.  Additionally the largest fish of the trip, measuring 29-inches, was caught there by my angling partner. 

    Note: Early mornings and late afternoons are the best time to fish. The fishing season ends June 30. 

  • January 13, 2018 3:45 PM | Gary Trott (Administrator)

    Florence Lake trail head to Martha and Davis Lakes via Goddard Canyon.
    Ice Melt, bio-life and bugs in the lakes at 11,000ft.

    See full report here:
    in the Fish Tales archive.

  • February 21, 2016 2:25 PM | Frank Cavaliere (Administrator)

    I'm unable to go to Pyramid Lake my spot is open registration is closed this is your chance to go to a great fish out

  • November 11, 2015 2:34 PM | Dave Peterson

    For 6 days in June we fished south of La Paz for Dorado, Skipjack and Roosterfish.

    Thinking about fishing Baja or going on Rich Cantanzaro's next outing. Click on the link below to watch a great video.

  • October 31, 2014 8:38 PM | Gary Trott (Administrator)

    The story is during the spring, near snow banks next to the deep water, the fish can swim anywhere. As the water receeds, the fish get traped on the snow bank. Late in the summer all I have to do is reach over and pick ' em up. The feathers in my hat help.

    The story is during the spring, near snow banks next to the deep water, the fish can swim anywhere. As the water receeds, the fish get traped on the snow bank. Late in the summer all I have to do is reach over and pick ' em up. The feathers in my hat help.

    2014 High Sierras Fish in a Freezer.

    By Gary Trott
  • June 23, 2014 3:31 PM | EJ Melzer (Administrator)

    Sea Trials for JB’s newly rebuilt Ranger Bass boat

    During the week of June 2nd JB, Dale and Gayle took JB’s rebuilt bass boat out for sea trials. We found a little time to fish and we got rewarded with these beautiful Bass using a San Juan Worm. The boat performed very well and many fish were hooked during the stay.

  • April 25, 2014 9:43 AM | Dave Peterson

    From the February 2014 Issue of Car and Driver

    Thought car jargon was wordy and impossible to understand? Wait 'till you try fly fishing.

    Twenty-some years ago, C/D’s editor-in-chief, William Jeanes, recruited a new managing editor whose job it was to improve our writing. “He is, to some of you, an instrument of torture,” William said of Steve Spence. “You should know, however, that he is my instrument of torture.” In fact, our writing did improve, but one of the M.E.’s pet peeves was insider jargon that he felt scared off novice enthusiasts. The two of us argued endlessly over the acronym “DOHC,” which he insisted be spelled out in its entirety, and we further tussled over “unibody,” which he said had to be followed by the phrase “versus body-on-frame.” If you dared utter shopworn euphemisms like “slushbox” or “mill,” he’d make you read a chapter of The Elements of Style, and he once shouted at me, “I like short words and vulgar fractions,” a line lifted from a Winston Churchill speech. I’d forgotten about all of this until I took up a new hobby: fly-fishing. I hired an Orvis guideundefineda former CIA officerundefined then subscribed to six fishing magazines.

    My first rod and reel turned out to be the Pontiac Aztek of fly-fishing rigs. “Ya gonna do, spear the trout?” asked a stream-side crony, who marched me back to the store to purchase a nine-foot, five- weight carbon-fiber rod with superfast action and quick damping of tip vibrations, mated to a heavily ported, mid-arbor, self-lubricating reel with sealed dual-action drag body loaded with hybrid ceramic bearings with an oversize drag knob and a CNC-machined spool of 6061-T6 aluminum alloy. At least I think that’s what I have. I’ll have to ask the CIA officer. I am told this rig represents the difference between a Fiat and a Ferrari, but I can tell you that neither a Fiat nor a Ferrari ever wound itself around my ankles and toppled me into a black pool of 37-degree water.

    Then my fishing magazines arrived. In one, there was a debate about fly lines: helium microspheres versus carbon nanotube spray-on coatings versus self-healing plastic polymers. It was like reading the ingredients on a bottle of Tamoxifen. In another review, an editor wrote: “The drag cylinder itself is available in contrasting tones, so it’s visible through the porting in the spool and frame. Kind of like those flashy bright-red Porsche brakes.” Apparently priced by Porsche, too.

    Whenever I’d seek guidance through this maze of piscatorial vernacular, I’d utter awful inadvertent blunders, and the fishing pros would glare at me the way I glare at car guys who confuse horsepower with torque and call all BMWs “Beemers.”

    Really, this sport is not welcoming. Dry flies, wet flies, nymphs, or streamers? “Match the hatch,” comes the answer, but the available flies are as numerous as failed car companies. You got your Royal Red Humpys and Mystery Meat Skwalas and Chubby Chernobyls. For all I know, there might also be Blue Bricklin Buggers and Dusty DeLorean Drakes. Learning just the generic patterns is like memorizing the entire list of Mercedes-Benz models. It’s like being hired by Tire Rack to talk knowledgeably about 1859 different treads, compounds, and sizes. Right now, when another angler asks what fly I’m using, I shout, “Pale Morning Dun” or “Purple Haze,” those being the only two I can identify with certainty. If the fish spit those, I’ll just bash them with my $135 Brodin Ghost net’s teak handle, which appears to have come from a Bentley’s dash.

    Then I drove C/D’s long-term Mercedes-Benz GL450 to Livingston to visit the mecca of fly-

    fishing, Dan Bailey’s, whose storefront is adorned with three metal trout the size of Fiat 500s. When I entered, it was like my first visit to the Auburn Cord Duesenberg museum, except the pilgrims within were talking about Griffin rotating hackle pliers instead of Duesy straight-eights. One guy referred to his rod as his “stick,” his “rifle,” then his “cannon.” I imagine he drives a Beemer with a big mill.

    I bought a pair of wading boots with felt soles and another with rubber soles embedded with cleats that make them look exactly like studded winter tires. I bought a Filson 12.5-ounce tin-cloth hat and flip-down magnifying glasses so I can locate the tiny goddamn fliesundefinedsizes 2 through 22, a numbering system that, as explained to me by the CIA officer, sounded like the firing order of a Bugatti Veyron. The hooks always sink their syringe-like barbs into my fingers, although I now own three stainless surgeon’s forceps to effect the bloody extractions, and all three were recently necessary to withdraw a Purple Haze from the Mercedes’ creamy headliner.

    I parked beside the Bitterroot River last week, and it took 30 minutes to strap on all my gear. It was like preparing for a spacewalk. If I fell into as little as 12 inches of water, I’d likely drown. At grands prix, it simply cannot take 30 minutes for Seabass Vettel to get all Nomexed up.

    There’s a vodka called Dry Fly. So far, that’s the only fishing product that has welcomed me without baffling instructions. So here’s what I want to say to all of you: “DOHC” stands for double- overhead camshafts. Sorry if I didn’t make that clear. 

  • February 03, 2014 8:30 PM | Christopher Willard (Administrator)

    March 13th at the Aquarius theater in Palo Alto.  Click here to buy tickets on line.
  • December 06, 2013 10:18 AM | EJ Melzer (Administrator)
    Here Mike McGuire with his 8 lbs monster. Nice!

  • September 24, 2013 4:20 PM | Dave Peterson
    Just back from Markleeville and the East Carson Fishout.  I arrived at the Indian Creek campground on Friday around 2pm and promptly headed down to hangman's bridge with Patrick Stauter, Lowell Sims and Chris Willard to try our luck.  A few small fish but nothing to write home about.  Friday night we met up with EJ and Gerson and then headed into town for dinner at the Wolfe Creek inn.  Great burgers, craft beers and local musicians made for a pleasant evening and a respite from the high winds that started up in the late afternoon.  

    The next day we met Gail Miyahara and had breakfast in town.  After eating we hit the general store for some local advice and then hiked down to the river.  As I descended down a steep 4 wheel drive road it occurred to me that the hike out, at the end of a long day of fishing, was going to be painful.  As the morning progressed the weather started to deteriorate.  Soon we had high winds and rain squalls to contend with as we tried to catch wary trout.  With the exception of EJ most of us worked hard for a few fish.  I caught a couple with one nice 2 pounder thrown in to make me feel good.  The hike out did not disappoint.  As I staggered up to my car I made the usual note to spend a little more time walking and a little less time drinking.

    Sunday we woke to beautiful weather.  Sunny and the yesterday's howling winds were not a faint breeze.  We fished the East Carson in the AM.  At noon I started back to the Bay Area, stopping at the West Carson to try my luck on a small stream. The fish were rising to dry flies.  I only fished for an hour but caught a half dozen and missed as many strikes.  I must be getting old and slow.

    I added some photo's to our album.
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