Friday, July 2 - And the trout said, "mama....where my eyes?"
Decided on a later departure time this go-round...vacated the LA area promptly at 11:30 AM. At the prompting of Glenn, we decided to gamble and go directly to Beaver Cove and give it a try again. Glenn, a recent Crowley Lake convert, seemed to have more faith in Beaver Cove than I did. As we're leaving the kiosk at the entrance to Crowley and heading over to the Beaver Cove point, Brother Ken passes us on his way out. Turns out they scored limits (perhaps catching 18 more fish than was legal, but.....?) at Sandy Point by alternating between shallow and deep areas. Made me look forward to the next day when we'd be hitting the lake in a boat. After getting more info out of Ken, we made our way to Beaver. Rounded the bend and the sight of that beautiful gray 4X4 parked on the spot brought tears of joy to my eyes....Jeff and John had arrived not more than an hour ahead of us. JT was already in the water plying the mouth of Beaver in his float tube. Unfortunately, things were rather slow to that point and I began to doubt the bountifulness of Beaver. About two hours later, I scored my first fish of the trip...a decent rainbow somewhere in the vicinity of 1 pound. Janet soon followed with a beautiful 3# trout that took her to school. After prodding Glenn to move toward the point and cast out, he did just that....true to form, immediately after he left to get something from the truck, his rod went bendo and fell out of the holder. John set the hook, but mysteriously, the line broke before Glenn could get two turns of the handle in. After retying, virtually the same thing happened again...a mystery that will never be resolved. Jeff came ashore with his tube, and after seeing Janet's monster fish, decided to switch to the peanut butter. In the meantime, Janet went on a run...putting away her limit by 7:30 while I stagnated at fish number two. Sometime around now, John hooked one on a Thomas Buoyant which made Jeff ponder switching back to the TB. Once Jeff had re-rigged to fish the metal, Glenn tainted the shores of Beaver with trout blood...actually, Glenn caught the fish and John tainted the shores with trout blood....trout eyes...etc. etc. etc. Catch, mutilate, and release was now in effect. Poor JT was in a quandary...how would he gain a measure of revenge against this lake that had unmercifully detained him and his machine in the evil Viet Cong fish trap just one month earlier. His day would come, but he would have to wait another 10 hours to exact his revenge.Saturday, July 3 - Alligators and Beavers and Rednecks, OH MY!! Another sleepless night in the Sierras. The alarm clocks were set for 5AM with hopes for a 6AM arrival at Crowley Lake to pick up our hydrofoil fishing vessel. I was pumped....boldly predicting that we'd be able to have breakfast in town after catching our limit. Boat #55 was our assignment and after 37 pulls on the starter cord, all 15 ponies roared to life...the beast had been awakened. After safely clearing the no-wake zone, I opened her up. 30 minutes and 2 nautical miles later, we reached the hallowed grounds of Sandy Point. After setting our anchor, Glenn was immediately rewarded with a nice 1.5# pissed off Crowley Lake rainbow trout. My memory gets a little fuzzy here....I was concerned/worried that I wouldn't be able to find the hot spot. We moved the boat about five times that day...each time we anchored up, somebody would score a typical Crowley Rainbow. The fish were plentiful, as they continued to show themselves when taking the numerous gnats on the surface of the lake. JT quietly plied the waters after each such rise and was rewarded with a nice fat 'bow for his efforts. After going from Sandy Point to McGee Bay and back to Sandy Point, we had a fortuitous encounter with a wayward troller. We had just anchored up inside of Sandy Point when two fellas trolling from Alligator point headed straight for us....basically running his boat right over our lines. As I prepared to say something to these yokels that the comfort of being separated by 15 feet of deep water provides, yokel #1 asks "Y'all knockin' 'em dead??" Suddenly shocked and confused, I put my happy-smiley face back on and say, "hardly...you guys?" He goes on to tell us that it's "wide open" at Alligator point for bait fishermen. With flashbacks of the "Alpers are going crazy at South Lake" echoing through my feeble mind, I look at Glenn, Glenn looks at me...I look at Jeff, Jeff looks at me...I look at...well, you get the idea. Not more than three seconds later, we're pulling up anchor and making a beeline for....SS Relief, that floating, semi-foul odored haven at the tip of Sandy Point. After taking care of business, it's off to Alligator Point to join the parking lot of boats. It's obvious things are going well as we spot several rods in full bendo when we pull up. We manage to find a small slot and anchor up just off the point of Alligator. As usual, Glenn scores the first fish after anchoring....these fish appear to be a tad bit larger than the ones we caught earlier. The fish would breeze through and we'd catch one or two each time. But Janet was struggling today....we had been on the water for quite some time and yet she hadn't been able to get on the board. My guess was she used up all her mojo the day before....maybe only the Beaver Cove fish liked her? Just when things were at their darkest, she started to make her comeback...she put a couple of nice 'bows on the stringer and fishing was once again enjoyable to her. Fishing was less than relaxing here at Alligator Point....perhaps hereafter, it should be referred to as "Hillbilly Point." Two rednecks and one rather portly, hog farmer (henceforth to be known as "Larry, Moe and Curly") looking dude insisted on keeping their anchor dry and allowed the wind to take them wherever it wished....they'd motor to within casting distance of us, get blown downwind, motor back and start anew. One family, hoping to grow up and be like Larry, Moe and Curly, decided to do the same after the stooges vacated Alligator. I could do nothing but shake my head as they continually ran over the spots to which we just cast....once so fed up I tried to wave them to the outside of us (where they should have been passing our anchored boat) to no avail. So, amidst the adverse conditions, we still managed to score a few fish, including my very first Alpers Rainbow trout. But, we were still about 8 shy of being done for the day. Unfortunately the Crowley wind picked up around noon and made things very uncomfortable. We decided to run for cover since Alligator slowed some. Made a beeline for Beaver Cove hoping we'd be able to finish up there. It looked bad at Beaver, though. Tons of jetskiers, waterskiers, swimmers and recreational boaters were creating a very unfriendly environment for both fish and fishermen. Am I the only one who thinks of Jack Daniels, ZZ Top, and Chevy Duallies when I see a jetski? In any event, I was doubtful that we'd catch anything with the Mason-Dixon Independence Day Celebration going on around us, but once again, it wasn't long before someone, this time Janet, hooked and boated a rainbow. Jeff, Janet and Glenn put 5 fish in the boat within an hour and we decided to call it a day and head in. After cleaning the fish, we got back to the condo and sent Yuji and Kari out to Beaver Cove where they managed a couple of typical Crowley rainbows. Not needing rest, JTs interest is piqued by the mere mention of the Owens River. I take him out to meet Ken at the river...doing a little off roading in the silty cow dung dust coated roads. JT proceeds to bust out the patented Panther Martin and catch and release a quick limit....in the process converting Ken to a Panther Martin fisherman.
Sunday, July 4 - Free Your Eyes, Young Brookie, and Your Innards Will Follow. Today we decide to head up to one of our favorite lakes...home of 7# trout...you'd have to be deaf, dumb and....er...blind...not to know what I'm talking about. Saddlebag Lake was the destination on this fine morning. We slept in but got out of town just before the glorified donkey parade (AKA, The Mammoth Lakes Independence Day Parade) began. Arrived at the lake and took a rental boat and the water taxi to the inflow of Saddlebag. Not too many people were there, but four flyfishermen were clogging up the inflow and not letting anyone else in. We set up shop down shore from them and immediately started catching fish on peanut butter....surprisingly nothing seemed interested in the TBs....the fish all wanted either Peanut Butter or bread. JT tossed a wad of bread from his sandwich out in the water and in a matter of minutes, it disappeared! JT was the Brookie King of the trip...pulling out two nice sized brooks in a matter of minutes. John did him the favor of removing the hook and gutting the fish in one fell swoop of the pliers...non-invasive, arthroscopic fish cleaning in it's infancy. We decided to do a little backcountry sightseeing with Grizzly Jeff....took in some very pristine settings over the couple of hours that we traipsed through the region behind Saddlebag. Over the course of the hike, numerous members of the party fell victim to the force of the wilderness. It was as if some unknown phenomenon was exacting revenge for injustices committed against it. We limped back to the basecamp like a weary group of rebels. While we were gone, Yuji and Kari managed to fill a stringer with a double limit of 10 trout by casting their peanut butter just into the dark side of the fishing hole. After a few more fish...this time on the fly and bubble...we decided to pack it up and head back home. We trolled back to the landing and John scored a nice rainbow on the TB, mercifully leaving it's corneas intact before it's release. We make a pit stop at the store/café down the road for a delicious dinner (I had this awesome meatloaf), and afterward struggle to make it back on a full stomach and sleep deprived.
Monday, July 5 - Hari Kari: The Art of Frightening Trout. Deciding to skip the outlets this time, we vacate the condo at 10AM and visit the Hot Creek Fish Hatchery. It's a pretty cool experience to see the small trout and the monster trout all in one facility. Bought some fish food and fed the junior and senior rainbows. Yuji and Kari decided to demonstrate their power and influence over a pen of juvenile trout. Kari and Yuji would forcefully throw their hands over the pen and the trout would scurry away from them like they were pure evil. Funny, but nobody else could do that...not even John, and we all know how much trout like John. Left the trout to their own little world and made the descent into lovely Bishop and the local Burger King. Went from Burger King to Schats and lost Yuji and Kari somewhere along the way.
Yet another great trip...and it was good to see Yuji again...it's been much too long. Glad to see that I've managed to help convert JT to the positives of fishing Crowley Lake. He out of everyone deserved to have a stellar day after last month's trip. There's something special about a trout that doesn't go belly up when you hook it. Unfortunately, the days of bait fishing on Crowley Lake for orange fleshed trout are coming to a close. Alric informs me that this month is the end of peanut butter paradise...from August on, it's nothing but barbless, artificial lures and only two fish per person. If things pan out, we just might have to make another quick run up to the lake to stock the freezer with those salmon-like trout. Stay tuned...