Category Archives: Fly Fishing San Diego

My Quest to Learn Popper Fly Fishing for Largemouth

Is that the rainbow trout popper i built, painted and tied hanging out of this largemouth’s face? Why yes it is…

I came to the shocking reality of the largest winter in California recorded history in February of 2023: Most of the places I love to fly fish in the Sierra Nevada will not fish well (because of runoff) until August or later this year.  And some of those places just will not be accessible at all this year because the roads are destroyed (or will become destroyed when the big runoff comes in June).  I know my way around a trout stream.  I have been fly fishing for trout for decades.  So, in the beginning of 2023 the writing was on the wall: I would not be able to do my annual springtime fly fishing trips for trout in the Sierra Nevada and I’d be lucky to do any fly fishing in the Sierras by August.  If I wanted to fly fish I would have to find alternatives.

So, I made it my quest to learn as much as possible about freshwater fly fishing for Bass with popper flies.  In the fly-fishing club that I serve as president, The San Diego Fly Fishers Club, we have quite a few experts at “the bass thing”.  And we have many lakes in and around San Diego County that support healthy populations of largemouths, smallmouths and many other fresh water fish species willing to take a fly.  I have caught plenty of freshwater bass in my time.  I have fished for bass on top plenty of times successfully with Huck Hoppers.  But, I had heard these legends of popper fly fishing and was intrigued.

How fun does this look?!

So, with a ton of internet research, reading books and magazines, and many discussions with the experts I had access to, I learned as much as I could.  Then I put what I learned into practice on 6 fishing days over 3 different lakes during the months of April and May, 2023.  This is my account of that journey from February to May of 2023.

I have an obsessive personality.  I’m not obsessive/compulsive where obsession ruins the rest of my life.  But, when I set out to learn something…. Well, let’s just say I don’t half-ass it.

The first component I got obsessed about was building, painting and tying popper flies.  We use them religiously for the dorado in baja.  But, when talking to the experts like Jim Brown (long time San Diego City Lakes Manager and godfather of fly fishing for bass in san diego), he mentioned that fishing with popper flies is the ultimate in fun when fly fishing for bass.  It’s pretty obvious why: you fish on top like a dry fly and the bass rise to the popper.  The thing that is different from trout, I was told, is that “Some of the takes on top are viscous”.  So, I made a little visit to the man-cave of my friend and expert John Ashley.  He showed me the popper flies he made, painted and tied.  I was shocked.  He showed me his Copic Airbrushing system.  Well, $100 later with a small compressor then turned into ~$200 in supplies.  I was worried because I have very little artistic talent.  I’m an engineer by trade.  And there is very little guidance on the painting part of popper flies on the interweb.  but, through some practice I managed to paint some trout and frog popper flies.  They looked pretty good, I must admit.  Which made me worried that they wouldn’t work.

this is one of a handful of frog popper flies i built, painted and tied.

With the popper flies I had made and the knowledge I’d gained from the experts I headed out for 6 fishing days spread over 4 weeks with some confidence.  I had success.  But, I was humbled during many points.  Here is a short chronicle of my adventures:

April 21-23: Squaw Lake

Every year the San Diego Fly Fishers Club does a weekend of camping at Squaw Lake.  Because of calendar conflicts… and because it’s right in the heart of spring trout fishing in the sierras (in every year but this one), I had never got the choice to join.  I really had no idea what or where this place was until after I decided to join in and go.  After staring at google maps I could see that it was part of the Colorado river system right on the California side of the border with Arizona (the river being the border).  But, I had no idea what I was in for.

I’m in love with my Hobie Lynx Kayak.  i get so much range out of it and can actually stand up and cast.

On the guidance of my fellow club members, I did the dawn patrol thing so I could get there early and secure a decent campsite.  So, I was in the water in my kayak by 10am.  I was fishing alone.  The first thing I noticed was the current.  It really is part of the Colorado river and a float tube would be almost impossible except for close to the camp.  I fished a popper for a good couple hours before I gave up.  I failed to fool anything to come up to the top of the water column.  I fished what looked like really good water with tons of vegetation on the banks.  So, I switched to a medium sink like and more traditional clouser like patterns and started catching fish.  in the main channel while drifting under current and doing a very fast retrieve I caught a striper.  They pull like crazy but don’t jump like a largemouth does.  I caught a few largemouths here and there but, I wouldn’t call the fishing crazy good.  There were long periods without takes.  It was during one of those long periods I noticed what looked like an entrance to a protected lagoon.  I stared at Gaia maps on my phone and sure enough it was a 100 by 100 yard lagoon behind brush.  You’d couldn’t see through to it by looking.  But, there was a tiny entrance protected by weeds underneath and brush on both sides.  I made a run for it and made it through.  And that is when it got nuts.  I was fishing water that didn’t see a lot of flies, if any, and was killing.  Really I should have switch back to the popper.  I could kick myself now for not doing that.  But, I was having so much fun raling largies I didn’t.  after an exhausting day of fishing I got back to camp and John Ashley, my bass fishing mentor and friend was there.  he said, “I know the lagoon you are talking about.  Just wait until tomorrow.”  Little did I know at the time.

fighting the current through the narrow set of channels on the way to imperial reservoir

“if you are up for it, tomorrow we’ll go to Imperial Reservoir.”, John said.  I shot back, “we have to load our kayaks and drive somewhere?” “Oh no, my friend, we’ll do a jungle boat cruise against the current to get there.”  Well, that mile long physical adventure of a journey turned out to be an epic day.  I am pretty sure I landed over 25 and lost just as many.  I caught a ton of largemouths including a couple stripers.  But, my favorite part was when, in a small lagoon I found john and switched to a popper fly to fish with him.  He watched me and immediately said something like, “What in the hell are you doing? No no no.  that’s all wrong.”  In all the guidance and discussions I had about popper fishing for bass I somehow failed to glean the most important information: how to strip back the fly.  I was stripping it back fast like you fish for dorado in the open ocean.  In freshwater bass fishing you cast the popper fly as close to the bank as possible.  Then you let it sit for a painfully long amount of time before jerky slow strips.  But, it was the end of day 2 and I still hadn’t caught a bass on a popper fly.

Stripers, at least the ones i caught, fight hard but don’t strike on top and don’t come up for a fly.  The only success i had with catching stripers was stripping fast in deep water.

What a special oasis in the desert this place is.  But, I have to wait until the winter to get back there.  Understand you can’t just go out there to Squaw Lake any time of the year.  It gets hotter than hell out there.  It’s a winter and early spring fishery.

doing these selfie trophy pics with my iPhone is a challenge that I’m already tired of

May 5-6: Lake Mead

When a business trip to Las Vegas for the startup I’m working with appeared on the calendar, I reached out to the las vegas fly fishing club for guidance on how to fish lake mead.  What I got in return from Kris, member of the board at the Las Vegas Fly fishing club was incredible help.  Especially on where to camp and fish.  It’s faster for me to drive to Las Vegas than fly so I threw my float tube in the back of my truck and did another dawn patrol drive.

I had the entire place to myself. The drought: the actual high water mark is above where i’m taking the picture

It took a small section of legit 4WD but when I got to the lake, I literally parked 5 feet from the shore in an oasis of coves of crystal clear water and had the entire place to myself; not a sole for miles in any direction.

This time armed with one of Jim Brown’s Fenwick fiberglass rods from the 70s, I tied a popper on and attacked… for hours without a strike before switching to a sinking line again convinced I’d never catch a largemouth on a popper fly.  Discouraged, I was mentally ready to get skunked.  But, with a medium sink line and a shad looking clouser I hooked up, battled and released a nice sized striper.  “It took 3 hours, but I finally caught a fish.” is what I txtd my wife, Kelly.  I caught a couple more fish over the next hour or two.  There were smallmouths.  Cool.  But it was slow and I still had not seen a largemouth let alone a shad boil.

Much of Lake Mead allows disbursed camping on BLM land.  I spent 20 minutes building this campfire pit.  Then disassembled it when leaving.  I ultimately believe this will all be under 50-100 feet of water again within a few years.

It was the end of the day so I peddled (My Hobie Lynx is a peddle driven kayak) back to camp, made myself a cocktail, cooked a steak and listened to my beloved Padres get whacked by the Dodgers.

“Today is a new day.” I told myself at sunrise.  And I had until 3pm when I’d pack up camp, drive to the strip and clean up at Caesers before the software launch party I was to attend that night.  As I staggered out of the bed in my truck, I noticed another truck about 200 feet away.  I was not alone.  After making myself a cup of coffee I spotted the guy.  He was a gear fisherman and he started early.  I walked over to where he could see me and shouted hi.  Well, soon enough he wander into my camp and we chatted a bit about the fishing.  He was a nice guy for sure.  I didn’t learn anything though because he was a gear fisherman.  For the next 20 minutes while I scrambled to get ready to fish myself he literally fished right in front of my truck.  But, he didn’t catch anything.  Hmmm…

I caught a half dozen or so small mouth bass.  but, i never managed to catch a largemouth in Lake Mead… or any fish on a popper fly.

By the time I got into my kayak to fish it was close to 8am.  for the next couple hours it was slow.  I caught a smallmouth and that was fun.  My goal was to fish the shoreline and all its coves going north for at least 2 miles.  Then it happened.  I caught a smallmouth that barfed up a shad as I was pulling him in to release him.  But, the shad was tiny.  Like 1 ½” tiny.  I was fishing shad patterns that were over 3”… over 2 times the size of the naturals.  So, I scoured my fly boxes for a smaller shad pattern and found a small streamer in white that would have to suffice.  It did.  I started killing.  And I was pleased because I figured it out.  It took me like 6 hours of fishing to figure it out.  But, I did.  It got so good that in the process of unkinking my medium sink like I hooked into a big fish with the fly just sitting there skimming the bottom.  After a significant battle it turned out to be a big catfish.  In that final 2-3 hours I caught about a dozen fish.  half of them smallmouth and half of them stripers.  There were no largemouth to be found and I still hadn’t caught a fish on popper flies.

My large net skews the size of this catfish.  it was pretty huge and drug me around in my kayak for a while before I could tire him out.

May 10 & 12: Barrett Lake

Barrett Lake in San Diego county is world famous.  It is a very special place.  It has been covered in fishing magazines and television shows for years.  It’s so special that when reservations / tickets go on sale for Barrett each year, it has to be done on Ticketmaster.  Jim Brown told me that many years ago, the late 70s I believe, when they decided to hand over the ticketing season for Barrett over to Ticketmaster it was the first time Ticketmaster collapsed because of scale.  Realize, at the time Ticketmaster had already successfully handled tickets for the Rolling Stones and Frank Sinatra tours.  So, now you fly fishers can relate to the young folks you recently saw crying in social media because Ticketmaster collapsed for the 2023 Taylor Swift tour.

As much as i hate my iPhone, it sure does take good pictures.  I lucked out on this picture.  this big largemouth jumped and flipped in the process.  I probably lost him in that process.  Notice the mirror image of him on the lake.

Lake Barrett is restricted to catch and release, single hook, barbless fishing; rare for a bass lake.  It also is one of the many reasons the fishing is so good there.  Its season is just 3 days per week (Wed, Sat & Sun) for 4 months starting in May.  Tickets are released monthly on a controlled basis and the access is limited to a small restricted amount of anglers on those days.

I have been lucky to have fished Lake Barrett for the last 3 years.  and I have had a lot of success there thanks to guidance given to me from Kim Jones, who I call, the “Queen of Barrett”.  But, I had never popper fished there.  and I had always fished in a float tube which basically limited me to about a mile from the dock.

I had to txt my buddy Kim Jones and ask her what the hell this one was. “Black Crappie”. Even they rise to a popper fly at Barrett

Well, the SDFF club has the rare pleasure of renting Lake Barrett for a single day of exclusive use each year from the city of San Diego.  It costs a bunch of money and hassle in terms of permitting and insurance and such.  But, we know what a special thing it is for our members, so it is worth all the expense and hassle.

Back to Ticketmaster.  I had the day/time of the go on sale for Barrett for months on my calendar.  I got myself logged in on Ticketmaster at least 10 minutes in advance saying to myself, “This is the year I get to fish on opening day.”  I seemed to be sitting in some form of electronic queue. By the time it was my time to purchase the first 4 dates were already sold out.  sigh.  Just like every year I bought the first available.  Now I was pissed because the day I picked, Wednesday, May 10 was just 2 days before the Friday date that the SDFF club had the lake.  I figured I’d give the tickets away until I said to myself, “what the hell.  Even though it’s a huge drive there and back I’ll fish it a couple days before and provide that intel to the rest of the club who would fish it a couple days later”.

Just another big Barrett Bass

I talked to Jim Brown the day before my first shot of the season at Barrett and he said, “If I were you I’d fish poppers all day.”  So, even though I had still yet to catch a largemouth on a popper fly I resigned myself to that plan.  And yea, I was worried.

It was early like you are supposed to be and I headed out on my kayak.  I had already lost my fishing buddy (jim Casteluzzo who I treated to the day) because he got in the water a good 20 minutes ahead of me.  So, alone I attacked the western side of the lake in a northern direction towards Pine Creek.  As previously mentioned, I have fished barrett before, but never in a kayak (which has a much larger range than a float tube).  And I still hadn’t caught a fish on a popper fly.  So, my mission was to explore places in the lake I had never seen before.  And catch a barrett largemouth on a popper.

This is the typical “cookie cutter” ~14″ largie you fool at Lake Barrett. But, there are some monsters in that lake.

Well, I fired one of the rainbow trout poppers I made for the first 20 minutes with nothing.  I said to myself, “I know the fish are here. I know I can catch them with a medium sink line.”  I didn’t think you could be too early in bass fishing.  I was carrying two rods so I switched and immediately caught a huge black crappie and then a largemouth.  So, I grabbed the popper rod again with resolute.  Within minutes I had my first largie on a popper!  I was stoked.  Within two hours I had lost count of how many takes I had.  At one point I was all by myself laughing, all by myself, and saying out loud, “It can’t get any more fun than this.”  At the end of the day I figured I had landed over 25 on popper flies and lost easily that many to my lack of bass fighting skills and barbless hooks.

My favorite moment was a big largemouth that struck my popper fly on the way up on a jump….and jumped clear out of the water with the popper.  I set on him in the air.  You can do that with bass.  That would cause calamity with a trout.  Well, it was close to 4pm now and I was txting back and forth with my buddy Kim Jones asking her how late I could stay on the lake.  But, the reality was my over 60 year old body was killing me from all the fights with fish.  I could barely cast my arm hurt so badly.  So, I called it a day… a very good day and peddled it back to huktruk for the battle on the 5 north home.

Barrett really is beautiful lake in the spring.  I literally have 20+ pictures of the mirror image thing like this from the Hauser arm of the lake.

Well, I had intel alright.  And that word spread throughout the club.  2 days later I decided I’d try the Hauser arm of the lake because I had not been there either.  Since I had so much success 2 days prior I also decided I’d be in no rush and be happy with whatever happened.  But, it seemed like the entire other 50 fly fishers went down the Pine creek arm…. Seemingly armed with my fishing report of a 2 days prior.  I basically had the entire hauser arm to myself.  I marvelled at the calm water and the nature all around me.  I caught a lot of fish.  but, I wasn’t as “agro” about it like a couple days prior.   I probably caught half as many as the couple days prior. At one point I chased a huge largemouth chasing a bait ball of shad for over an hour.  It was futile.  By the time I got to where he struck, him and the bait ball were 100 yards away.  I fished a popper fly all day.  And was really happy about it.

Here’s another picture I totally lucked out on. notice the popper fly hanging out of the face on this one.

Conclusions

I have this saying.  I bet I have said it a thousand times: “Nothing fights like a Trout.”  I know I said it about the Corvina of Baja in the article I wrote here.

As it turns out, fly fishing for bass can be just as strategic as it is for trout.  And I learned the hard way that “matching the hatch” when it comes to fly fishing for bass, is just as important as it in in trout fishing.  It’s just not about bugs; it’s about figuring out what they are eating and matching the size and color.  Just like in trout fishing you have to observe, adapt and overcome.  I liked that part of bass fishing a lot.  I also found myself loving fishing on top for largemouths as much as I love drifting a dry fly down a river.

My quest completed multiple times: C&R largemouths on Popper Flies.  Of interest, I ultimately had success on a lot of different popper flies both that I tied myself and some that I bought….like this one…which is the crystal popper we use on Dorado in Baja of all things.

West Fork San Luis Rey River – Wild Native Trout of San Diego

Barker Valley Spur Trail – April 10-11, 2021

Is there a place in San Diego County:

  • That has a healthy population of native wild rainbow trout?
  • That has nice hatches of mayflies and midges
  • That has a series of spectacularly beautiful waterfalls including one over 100 feet?
  • Is within 30 miles from my home in Carlsbad, but takes a 68 mile drive to get to the trailhead?
  • That requires a truck with 4WD and high clearance to travel the last 8 miles on non-maintained dirt road just to get to the trailhead?
  • That requires a 3.7 mile hike into a canyon before it becomes crazy-ass climbing dangerous to get to the trout?
  • That includes poison oak, snakes, ticks and leeches in the adventure?
  • Is only for the fit and fearless of heights willing to climb with hands and feet where the penalty for failure is sure death?

Yep.  The West Fork of the San Luis Rey River drains the eastern side of Palomar Mountain into Lake Henshaw.  You get to it from the Barker Valley Spur Trail.  From the hike into Barker Valley you can see the eastern side of the Palomar Observatory looking west.  Looking South you can see Lake Henshaw.  From where I live in Carlsbad, it’s only 30 miles away by “the way the crow flies”.

A typical 8″ rainbow of the west fork of the San Luis Rey. Notice the Huck Midge Perdigon hanging off his nose.

Inspired by last October’s SDFF presentation by Russ Barabe of California Fish and Wildlife on the wild trout of Southern California, SDFF club members John and Delia Cooley led me into one of the craziest most dangerously adventurous and fun fly fishing trips I have even been on.  During Russ’ presentation in the q&a section, I asked some specific questions about the wild native trout of san diego.  I was really intrigued.  The native trout of san diego are legendary.  I convinced myself I needed to check it off the bucket list.  After Russ’ presentation John reached out to me and said he’d been there…around 30 years ago.  And would love to go again.  And that he remembered it “very physically challenging.”  I also learned from John and Russ that we’d have to wait until spring when the water was flowing well.  “It’s too skinny in Fall and Winter and too hot and dry in Summer”.

The fearless threesome

So, we planned the trip on the Barker Valley Spur trail for the wild trout of San Diego for the springtime.  I had backpacked and fished with John and Delia before.  They joined me and a big group for the SDFF club trip to the forks last summer.  I got to guide Delia on that trip for the better part of one of the days.  The 3 of us had a blast.  That club trip to the Forks was less than 3 weeks before the castle fire hit and destroyed the place.  We will not be able to get into the Forks until Spring of 2022.  The western divide forest district has closed the entire mountain because of the aftermath of the fire.

For this trip, we were going to don the backpacks and do a one-nighter in the Palomar Mountain Wilderness.  John said 2 nights would be too much.  I didn’t think much of that statement at the time, but now I understand.  There is no way you would hike into where the fish are in the canyon two days in a row.  It’s too physical.  And there is no way you could do the entire thing in a single day.  It is too physical.

I still can’t believe this waterfall exists in San Diego County…. and that we made it down from up top….

John and I planned a 730AM meet up at the intersection of highway 79 and the Palomar Divide Truck Trail.  I got there a bit early to find a flock of wild turkeys.  it was 38 degrees.  I didn’t have anything but a fleece in my pack.  Hmmm…  Well, there is a sign right at the intersection we met at that said high clearance 4WD required…which I poo-poo’d at the time.  I have done a ton of 4WD in the quest for trout and rarely would I say it was actually required.  This dirt road requires 4WD.  It’s rocky, steep and not maintained.

Well, after the slow 8 miles up the dirt road, we started the hike in with packs on our backs.  Since it was only a one-nighter my pack was light (under 35 lbs; light for me, I have a lot of toys).  It was obvious the first part of this trail used to be a dirt road.  It was now single track and completely overcome by mother nature.  After a couple miles the trail turns into true single track as it descends into the barker valley.  Around that point John said, “Tim do you want to know what your mission is?”  and I quickly retorted, “To put Delia on fish.”  “Yep.” John said.

Around the 3 mile mark the trail hits the river.  When I first saw it, I thought to myself there is no way that little frog water creek supports trout.  In Montana they would not call this a river or even a stream.  They would call it a creek.  By the way that is where the trail gets dicey and is barely distinguishable.  So, as we bush-wacked “down river’ I kept saying to myself 2 things, “This can’t be right.” and “there is no way I could do this alone”.  Well, I had all my devices and I knew it was only ¾ of a mile to where we’d camp.  John said he remember camping in a meadow. and sure enough we ran right into it.  We picked the best primitive site in the area (there were only 2 choices) and set up our tents quickly.  It was well shaded by trees and close enough to the creek to make water easily.  It was mid-day now and I had no idea that the 3.7 mile hike in with 35 pounds on my back would pale in comparision to the physical effort I was yet to experience that day.

With day packs, we loaded up some food and the fishing stuff and off we went.  Within 100 yards we were climbing.  There was a weir, but it was so wild, over-grown and steep I barely noticed it before pointing it out to John and Delia.  I remember saying to myself, “I read about the weir and the trout were below it”.  I also remember the guidance from Russ and reading that the trout were below the waterfalls.  Well, we were climbing in a canyon steep granite now and everything was a waterfall.  But, it was skinny and crystal clear water.  There were no trout that I could see.  So, we kept going.  And it was slow going because we were basically climbing with all fours.  As we progressed we hit pool after pool of crystal clear water and I didn’t see any trout.  “hmmm” I said to myself.

In a place so remote you’d expect a lot of well camouflaged creatures like this one

Well, we hit a cliff and I thought that was it.  I could not see any way to descend farther.  I stared over the cliff and looked and the walls on both sides and thought, “that’s it.  there are no trout.  This is over.”  As Delia and I peered over the edge, my eye caught john wandering over to the eastern side of the cliff.  To my shock he said, “there’s the way right there.”  I peered over to what he was pointing at and under my breath said, “no f-ing way.”   But, as we scaled a small patch of granite, I could see that it wasn’t a game trail.  I also noticed freshly cut branches.  So, humans had done this recently.  It’s just likely those humans were probably 1/3rd of my age and not 15 pounds overweight.  Well, we followed what was seemingly the way for a few hundred yards past the huge cliff.  But now we were 300-400 feet above the water.  And the only way down was straight down.  But again, there were signs it had been done before.  This is where john got a bit skeptical.  He’s a big guy (tall and slender).  I’m a tiny mountain goat like guy.  So, I said, “let me see how far I can get safely.”  And I did.  Some of the first 100 feet involved climbing while holding on to granite edges and some was dirt you could get a foot hold in.  I knew this was definitely the way down and not an animal trail because a deer would never go straight down like this (not having hands to grab, a deer has to take an angle).  I shouted to John and Delia that we could do it and we did.  Although I have to admit I was dreading scaling back up that thing at the end of the day.  And I also have to admit I was a bit tenuous about a couple other climbing stretches of granite we faced on the way back.  But, we were long past committed.

Once we got down there was a giant water fall roaring that we could hear.  But, we couldn’t really see it.  so, we bushwhacked and climbed our way up stream a few hundred feet.  Honestly, I stood there shocked.  It was just beautiful.  There was a huge pool at the bottom of a 100+ foot waterfall.  I just shook my head and thought how few people would believe this waterfall actually existed in San Diego.  It was like we were in Kauai.  The pool at the bottom of the falls had to be 20 yards long and 30 yards wide.  Huge.  And my guess is that it was 20 feet at its deepest.  All fly fishermen have done well under a waterfall, so I was excited.  I said to myself, “It was an effort, but, we found it.”  But, there was no way to cast to the zone without getting in the water.  It was way too far for a roll cast.  Especially with the water coming down the falls creating a wind coming straight at us.  We unpacked the rods and rigged up.  Delia and I removed our shoes.  I was ready first so I ouch-ouch-ouched by slowly navigating over slippery sharp rocks to a bed of gravel in about 2.5 feet of water.  There was a rock that barely crested the surface so I managed to climb up it not worrying about how the hell I’d get back down without slipping and breaking my neck.  Well, I can cast.  And with my latest inventions in perdigons I was really confident in those perdigon flies under a size 12 black huck hopper.   You can read all about the value of the Perdigon style of fly tying in my article, here.

John takes credit for this picture. i still can’t believe we worked our way below this to the trout

Waiting for Delia I worked the hell out of that pool.  I roll casted into the zone on all sides of where the waterfall crashed into the pool and drifted perfectly in all directions.  And nothing.  Not a single take.  I have to admit I was a little discouraged.  All that way, through all that pain and risk to get skunked.  Delia wandered out so I hopped down and put her on the rock.  John had tied on a large hopper pattern on her rod so I thought, “what the hell. It will be easy to see.”  Well, I hung with her for 10 minutes or so.  she was roll casting and drifting just fine.  But, not getting anything to rise.  During that 10 minutes, as I re-evaluated my life, I remembered something I read.  “The trout are not in the pool at the falls.  They are in the pools below the falls.”  I told Delia I was going to check farther down stream and I’d be back.  John had climbed his way into casting from the side.  Smartly, he didn’t take off his shoes.

After wiping small leeches off my feet and ankles (that looked like tiny slugs) I put my socks and boots back on and bushwhacked my way down stream.  After about 150 feet I saw it from distance: rises.  In a pool about 200 feet away.  Lots of rises.  There were mayflies in the air too.  But I was at the head (on top) of an awesome pool with a 10 foot waterfall feeding it.  I passed it up and moved down to the pool with the rises.  As I got closer to the pool I could actually see the rainbows in crystal clear water.  There were a lot of them from 4” to 12”.  I needed to get down river from them so I could cast upstream and doing it without spooking them.  Thank God they weren’t spooky at all.  They just continued doing their thing, feeding.  I shortened my dropper because the pool was only 3 feet deep.  I pulled out line, I roll casted to the middle of the pool.  I could see my huck green caddis perdigon sink quickly on slight angle with the current.  3 fish moved in, but the biggest got their first opened his mouth and I set.  I was on.  I screamed, “Woo!”  He jumped (like wild trout do) twice before I got him to hand to quickly take a picture and release him.

“No, Delia, I have no idea how we are going to do this.”

I buttoned up my rod and went to get John and Delia.  Quickly, I rock hopped back to them.  I shouted, “I found them!”  John said, “I heard you scream.  I thought you had either caught a fish or fallen down.”   “Delia, come with me.” I said.  “John, you take the upper pool.  I’m pretty sure there are fish in there too.”

So Delia and I moved into position.  I dropped that big hopper she had on with one of my huck green caddis perdigons.  Sure enough she locked into a trout within 60 seconds.  I was hooting and hollering because I have more fun watching people like Delia catch fish than catching fish myself.  She railed 4 fish before I went to check on John.  He was doing well in his pool too.  And he was catching them on dries!  After we had put the two pools down we started exploring downstream.  One of us caught fish in every pool we fished.  I even spotted a 6” trout in current in a riffle and nailed him without even casting.  I just high-sticked him.

John caught this one on the dry

Ultimately, we got to a drop in the canyon so high and steep there was no way down, let alone down safely.  John climbed up on a rock and looked down into the abyss and I couldn’t even look at him.  It scared the hell out of me.  And if you are a male you know that feeling of your you know whats stuck up in your throat…  John explored every which way to get down because at the bottom was an epic pool.  But, there was no way.  There was no way down and no way back up.  So, we fished our way back.

At one of the middle pools, John was fishing and we could clearly see him getting refusals on a traditional nymph pattern.  I think it was a flash back size 16 hare’s ear.  I dropped my huck midge perdigon next to his in a high stick way and caught a trout.  I laughed as he said, “You have to be kidding me.”

That’s John positioned perfectly to get the good drift from the falls

But, John got the last laugh.  When we got back to the two original pools below the big falls John and Delia took the lower pool and I took john’s original pool where Delia and I fished.  I was having trouble setting and sticking the little trout that were attacking my size 12 black huck hopper.  After 15 minutes or so I had put the pool down.  So, I buttoned up to rest the pool.  John walked up and I told him I hammered the pool pretty hard so I was not getting takes anymore.  He asked if he could fish it and I, of course said yes, but I was not confident in it because I really hammered that pool with like 40 drifts.  He took a position up closer to the falls and with his right handed cast he was getting a much better drift through the zone under a tree where I saw the fish first rising.  He was fishing a size 14 royal wulf.  if that is not awesome enough, within a few casts a big fish (~ 12”) rose and “Whack!”.  John set hard downstream.  It was a beautiful set across his body and the battle was on.  the fish jumped a few times before John got him to hand and let him go.  I looked at him and said, “That is a fish to end this on.”  he agreed.

The devilishly handsome author with another lousy drift and a missed set in “John’s Pool”

Now, it was reality time.  I was already tired and sore.  the 3 of us now needed to ascend the climb out of that canyon to the free climb across the granite to the hiking and rock climbing our way back to camp.  I told myself to focus because a mistake would be disastrous for all of us.  It was a bit stressful at points.  But, we made it back to camp where I collapsed into appetizers and jack daniels I shared with john and delia.

In hindsight I know understand how those trout have survived, arguably thriving, over the years through scorching hot summers with low water conditions.  That canyon is so steep and narrow it just doesn’t get a lot of sun.  In the summer, those trout must hunker down in the deep pools waiting for the cool temps of fall and winter, then the surge in water in the spring to spawn and do it all over again.

It got cold and I swear I was asleep by 815pm.  which means wide awake at 4am the next morning.  After waiting for the sun to light up the place, I took 45 minute hike (with coffee) along the creek looking for animals before John and Delia rose.  We ate breakfast leisurely around 8am.  We packed up and hiked out agreeing to never do that again.  and totally pleased we did do it.  Bucket-Lister.