Posts tagged: hiking

The Training Hike, and Dog is My Copilot…

May 29, 2010, by 10 comments

Working under the assumption that dragging a 20 pound pack up a big hill demands a little preparation – like dragging a 25 pound pack up a smaller hill – today seemed like a good time for a training hike.

Fortunately, a 25 pound training deadweight – in the form of an always-happy-to-be-in-the-outdoors Little M – sat right by the door.

At this point, she’s as excited as the Wonderdog to take a hike (and the Wonderdog gets very excited).

The only real sticking point is the Kelty Base Camp backpack Little M rides in (like royalty).

Little M on a hike

Riding the torture rack: Queen M

Simply put, it’s a torture rack for dear old dad.

Years ago – after an agonizing weekend – I renounced uncomfortable packs, deciding life’s too short to spend it hunched over and whimpering.

Sadly, the universe is patient, and sometimes – when it senses you’re no longer watching – circles around behind you and whacks you on the back of the head.

Or in this case, the back of my back.

I’ve never actually worn a less comfortable pack.

It’s painful enough that I remind myself I’m “building character” as I trudge along, Little M babbling away happily at every new thing (and at this point, it’s all new to her).

There is some truth to the idea that kids keep you young (though there have been plenty of late nights when a statement like that would have earned you a glare, if not a beating [a sort of weak, tired, slow-motion beating]).

Sheer, unadulterated joy is an infectious thing, even when it’s accompanied by sheer, unadulterated back pain.

Dog Days

Marring today’s fantasy image of a guy, his kid, the goofiest dog you can imagine and pristine wilderness is… the dog.

The normally tank-like Wally the Wonderdog is limping around the house on three legs, and we’re not 100% sure why.

Yesterday he ran with the L&T, and last night he gimped up.

We’re both hoping it’s a simple strain, though the Wonderdog’s history may just be catching up to him.

After all, he’s fallen off a mountain, been hit by a truck, was sucked through a rapids, and at 7+ years old (we’re guessing), that kind of thing can come back to haunt you.

Hopefully – with the help of a few baby aspirins – the Wonderdog will be back up to speed.

For now, the battle is getting out of the house without his knowing; he doesn’t tolerate someone having fun without him, and he insists on going – even if he has to do so on three legs.

For example, the L&T just left for a run, and he’s sitting a couple feet away, glaring at me.

And in truth, we’ll miss him on today’s hike. The Wonderdog is a comforting presence when you’re warmed up and striding loosely through the woods – especially when you’re feeling top heavy because of the kid strapped to your back.

He’s an early warning system for all the wild critters I’m happy to see at a distance, and he’s astonishingly protective of Little M when she’s out of the pack and wandering around.

In a couple instances, he’s straddled the trail, blocking her path when he figured she was plenty far enough away from her parents (which isn’t very far).

It’s behavior he manifested in pre-kid times when I hiked too far ahead of the L&T; you suddenly find him at your feet, slowing your progress and generally getting in the way, and it’s easy to get cranky about it until you realize the L&T’s about to drift back out of sight.

That’s the essential paradox of Wally the Wonderdog: Dumber than a sack of hammers, but smarter than his owners.

Today I hike, and tomorrow I fish; Older Bro is heading up, and we’ve got an appointment with a small stream somewhere in this county.

See you on the river, Tom Chandler.

Planning to Fly Fish the Backcountry? Start Hiking Now…

February 9, 2009, by 12 comments

For a big chunk of winter I was shuffling around like a wheezing old car fully expecting to break down on the next flight of stairs, and while that whole episode is behind me, the lack of activity left its mark on my general fitness level – a fact underscored every time I try to speedwalk the Wonderdog.

This doesn’t portend well for the backcountry fly fishing season – which will likely come very, very early this year.

I make no pretense of extreme fitness, but I am used to tossing a pack in the truck and hiking wherever I need to hike, but I’m pretty sure a long uphill slog right now would end in Wally the Wonderdog sniffing forlornly at my cooling, disgustingly unfit body.

It’s not a pretty picture up here, so Saturday and Sunday I embarked on the Trout Underground’s First Annual Hiking Fitness Program (and Whinefest), whereby I took the Wonderdog for three hours of nonstop hiking around some unexplored local trails (I hate walking by trails when I don’t know where they go).

Backcounty fly fishing coming early? You should be looking at three feet of snow.

Backcounty fly fishing coming early? You should be looking at three feet of snow.

Sunday, I followed it up with “speedwork” – a more intense 1.5 hours up and down the hills (if it’s one thing we’ve got, it’s hills).

The goal here isn’t a guest appearance on some exercise equipment infomercial. The goal is to jump start a little “normal” fitness for those fishing trips where your choice of footwear is more important than your choice of fly rod. (That’s today’s helpful hint: buy this season’s hiking boots now so you’ve test flown/broken them in before you take that first [and potentially blister-filled] hike.)

The last couple years have seen me choosing the high country surprisingly often; bypassing the Upper Sacramento in favor of smaller, higher waters.

I don’t wholly understand the impulse; for all the extra work, the fish are generally smaller and the bugs less available, but the high country exerts a pull all its own. It’s gorgeous, the fish are naive and jewel-like, and there’s that nagging – if wholly delusional – sense that I might be the first person to cast a line in some of the less desirable places. (That’s utter rubbish, but it’s not as if the rest of human behavior is entirely rational either.)

And yes, having been raised by parents who grew up during the Great Depression, a part of me believes the stuff that’s too easily accomplished (drive to river, exit car, fish) inevitably leads to sloth (like watching too much TV) and rapid growth in your character flaws (like kicking dogs, cheating elderly widows, political aspirations, etc).

Don’t worry; you’ll be spared daily fitness reports, though with any luck, you’ll be around to read some of the fishing reports. Given the lack of snow so far this winter, you could be reading those reports months earlier than in prior years.

See you on the trail, Tom Chandler.

Fly Fishing a Mountain Lake (Again). And Why Catching Z’s Was Better Than Catching Trout

September 30, 2008, by 10 comments

With 700 Billion good reasons to get the hell out of the house (and away from the news), the L&T, Wally the Wonderdog, and your intrepid reporter loomed up the daypacks and headed for the mountains once again.

I brought a fly rod, but fishing was second fiddle; after a couple hours of hiking, we found ourselves at a pair of mountain lakes (frequently visited and fished mountain lakes).

Hiking at Deadfall Lake
Hot damn; more beauty than you can shake a fly rod at.

Lately, I’ve been striking out on the mountain lakes like the Yankees have been striking out at the ballpark, and part of the reason is the timing; the lakes are still best in the evenings, but I’m usually dragging my flattened writer’s butt out by then.

No matter. Catching fish is a desirable byproduct of going fly fishing, but if it was all there was to the gig, then I’d probably stay home.

I won’t say things have been necessarily grim as of late, but at times, I clealry have lost sight of Wally the Wonderdog’s credo, where you find a little joy in every day, even if it’s simply because you’re sniffing a whole lot of new stuff in a pretty place.

Still, the Wonderdog’s very serious about his trout fishing, and I know beyond a doubt that he’s pretty fed up with me not catching trout, despite him helpfully pointing out the places where the trout obviously are:

Wally the Wonderdog at an alpine lake
“They’re right there, you schmuck. Catch one…”

Still, the focus was getting a little babe time outdoors in the company of the L&T – with all the stress, worries and hassles of everyday life stripped away. It’s a little like stepping into the kind of carefree existence we pretend we want before we clutter our lives to the point of madness.

In fact, to prove my point, I’m conducting a simple online test here on the Underground. Who would rather compile another STP report in a cubicle than do what the L&T’s doing?


The L&T at Upper Deadfall Lake: few fish, but quality napping.

I rest my case.

The fly fishing news? Not a single riser dotted the horizon, and as near as I could tell not a single trout attempted to burgle my streamer, Hare’s Ear soft hackle, Yong Special midge, or – and given all the hoppers around I was sure this would work – a grasshopper pattern.


Even wearing the Singlebarbed hat didn’t help.

It’s a short fishing report to be sure, but that’s the beauty of modern fly fishing; unlike our prehistoric fly fishing ancestors, you don’t go home skunked and hungry.

There are sandwiches and gorp to be eaten, and when you get out of the mountains and within cell range, there’s even a steaming pizza waiting at the pizza parlor.


I have no reason to print this other than I like it.

Still, at times I’ve used the phrase “your money or your life” to justify changes in my lifestyle that others would suggest weren’t in my best financial interest, and in a conversation this morning with a certain cranky rodmaker, I allowed as to how choosing “my life” over money in 1999 probably added a decade or two to my fast-diminshing urban lifespan.

As usual, I’m overcommitted when it comes to the words that have to be written, but I have managed to eek out time for another fly fishing trip later this week.

See you on the creek, Tom Chandler.

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New Local Hiking Blog Takes You Places (Where Brookies May Lurk)

September 24, 2008, by 1 comment

Local writer/hiker John Soares has fired up a hiking blog that I’ve been dying to plug on the Underground.

He’s the author of a couple hiking guidebooks, and while fly fishermen aren’t his primary market, I must confess that the earlier edition of his book was the vehicle through which I found a favorite alpine brookie lake.

Add his blog to your RSS reader, and enjoy the places he goes (and watch carefully when he goes anywhere there’s water).

After all, finding an out-of-the-way place – where other fly fishermen almost never go – is one of those shadowy goals a lot of fly fishermen hold, but rarely talk about.

His latest post is about protecting the local watersheds:

Hikers need to pay attention to water. Many of our favorite hikes travel along streams, and we want the waterways healthy and vibrant. Of course, many hikers also fish and thus have a special interest in helping streams. The presenters discussed the current situation of Coho and Chinook salmon in the Shasta River and the threats facing redband trout in the McCloud area.

One of the presenters, Dr. Rene Henery of the Upper Sacramento River Exchange, has created an excellent on-line slide presentation of Mount Shasta’s watersheds. Also visit the Protect Our Waters site for more information and to get involved. (For information on the controversy surrounding water bottling plants, and specifically the proposed Nestle plant in McCloud, visit Stop Nestle Waters.)

See you on the trail, Tom Chandler.

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