An Underground Fishing Report: A Walk in the Hills

Fly fishermen are always happy to tumble for easy fish, but we have a weird streak in us that adds style points if getting to those fish involves a little suffering.

Mahogany soft hackle: it hooked two, but didn’t land them.

Yesterday – with an old friend from the Bay Area in town and the L&T chomping at the bit for something fun to do – we loaded Wally the Wonderdog into the truck and headed for the hills.

Ahead of us was a 3.5 mile hike involving a rolling trail and one big ridgeline to climb over. At the end of that was a brookie lake – a pretty little place I hadn’t fished since spring.

Suspense in a fishing report is overrated, so I’ll get to the point: I got skunked (hooked two, but neither for more than a couple seconds), Wally the Wonderdog ate the humans’ lunch, and – after all the office hours the last two weeks – the hike was damned nice.

The L&T and Kim: Underground hiking babes buddies.

The Wonderdog Fuel Stop

Wally the Wonderdog loves hiking in the mountains; he ranges up and down the trail, fat rolling, ears flopping, and nose filtering all the wild smells he doesn’t routinely encounter in the Trout Underground/Man Cave World Headquarters living room.

This time, he’ll also have fond memories of lunch.

Mine, that is.

The Wonderdog – ever vigilant for rising trout (and pork).

The prior evening we had an outdoor barbecue party for, well, a bunch of people. Because I am the Lord of the Grill, I spent much of the day carefully layering a cinnamon/chipotle dry rub on a six-pound pork shoulder roast before slow-cooking it in my charcoal Weber.

The result was Pure Porcine Perfection: the deep red, perfectly caramelized crust sealed in the pork juice, so the meat was juicy and falling-apart tender.

Did we pack some to enjoy at the lake? Was I anticipating the rich, spicy taste? Is the Wonderdog smarter than I am?

Sadly, the answer to all three was Yes.

As I rigged my fly rod, the wily Wonderdog only pretended to be eating the dry dog food we’d carried in; instead, he was ripping the lid off the larger, pork-filled Tupperware container right next to it.

Without pausing to breathe (I’m assuming this part because the three-person helping of succulent, spiced pork disappeared in 1.42 seconds), the Wonderdog performed three amazing feats:

• Ate our lunch
• Licked every bit of sauce off the container
• Set the stage for a walk home that was – at times – very unpleasant (depending on wind direction)

There went lunch.

No matter – there was always the fishing, right?

Skunk-O-Rama

Not so much. The last two nights have found temperatures falling below 40 degrees here at the TU compound (a couple thousand feet below the lake), and water temps at the Brookie must have plummeted.

Instead of a brookie bonanza, I briefly hooked two on a #16 Mahogany silk soft hackle, saw two more follow the fly.

Dries? Hoppers? A small leech?

Nada.

As close as I came to landing a trout

Fortunately, the hike out was as pretty as the hike in, though with the added attraction of a bear sighting.

The three of us saw a bear heading down the ridge behind us, suggesting he crossed the top of the ridge (and the trail) after we’d passed (about a minute before).

I’ve seen plenty of bears around here, but this was a big sucker, and I’m glad the Wonderdog didn’t feel compelled to chase after him.

Fall Falling?

We’ve still got plenty of warm days ahead, but right now, we’re getting a taste of fall; acorns are falling, nighttime temps are growing uncomfortably cool, and the light is acquiring that clear, cool quality that reminds me of crystal clear water.

That means two things:

• You’re running out of time to fish all those places you wanted to fish but haven’t
• Fall fishing – which is typically great – is just around the corner

See you this fall, Tom Chandler.

fly fishing, alpine fly fishing, fishing, brook trout, wally the wonderdog