Friday, May 28 - D-Day (Departure Day). Deciding on an early departure (and after four changes of plans in four days), we roll out of LA around 7:30. We were armed to the teeth with warm clothing. The weather reports predicted thunderstorms Saturday and Sunday and 38-degree highs on Monday. Met up with JT and John in Mojave at 9:00AM, putting us directly on course for a noonish arrival in Bishop, home of the Mule DaysÓ Celebration that occurs every Memorial Day. We pull into the Bishop (where it was hot and sunny) Vons and are immediately greeted by two gen-yoo-wine cowboys wearing sperm count reducing wranglers, white t-shirts and ten gallon hats. Yikes! As we leave Vons, I know all is well with the world when we run into two salad-allergic women clad in muumuus with delicate purple tattoos on their bare shoulders. Double Yikes!!

We head out to Crowley Lake…specifically Beaver Cove. Beaver paid off for us on Independence Day 1998 in a BIG way, so I couldn't resist a chance to test the waters once again. Well, it wasn't quite as red-hot as it was last year…in fact, it wasn't even lukewarm. Jeffy and John hit the water in the tubes and worked hard for a couple of fish. The wind seemed to wreak havoc and they were blown pretty far down the lake. If not for the entertaining game of "sink the scorpion" the future Darwin award winners were playing south of us, J&J wouldn't have been enjoying their day on the water much. Anyway, like I was saying, fishing was very slow. We were relegated to sitting on the beach eating Spam musubis and rice krispies treats. At the moment when we'd least expect anything to happen, Janet's rod falls out of its perch…."Damn wind," I utter while placing the rod back in the rocks. I turn around and the dang thing falls again. As soon as I pick it up, line starts singing out of the reel…HOOKUP!!!! Janet's first since the 70s turns out to be something in the neighborhood of 2#'s….um….terrific….now I know she's gonna want every fish to be that big. Over the course of the next few hours, we only managed three more fish. Seemed like every time Janet lost patience, she'd catch a fish….throw rocks in water…catch a fish….go to the bathroom and take a nature walk…catch a fish. Her second fish was on the line for about ten minutes before she came back and dragged him on shore. Jeffy managed a couple of fourth quarter fish…a nice rainbow on the "last" cast from the tube and a beaut of a brown trout in, as Glenn called it, "Hanoi Hilton Bay."

We packed it up around 8PM and headed into town desperate for food and sleep. I was muttering something under my breath about not being able to catch fish because of the full moon…yeah…that's it….that damn full moon!!

Jeffy and Johnny played hunter-gatherers and battled the wilderness for an evening. Kathy and Gary would arrive later that night after watching Star Wars in the local 8mm movie house.

Saturday, May 29 - "Vengeance is Mine," sayeth the Gambo. Alric is gracious enough to take Glenn, Janet and I out on Crowley early this morning. Reports from McGee bay are glowing….quick limits, no waiting!! After a momentary snafu which involved a bait tank pump, wet shoes and water bailing, Janet scores two quick quality rainbows and the boys are getting worked. I started out with a worm….nothing…..I threw a buoyant….nothing. Hmmm….common sense dictates that one would switch to what was working for Janet, but I must resist the temptation of going to the peanut butter. Al has a worm on and is working a buoyant, too. Glenn is hungry for a trout after suffering through a long day yesterday. Before the trip, I kept raving about Crowley lake trout to Glenn….couldn't believe he didn't have any faith in the lake. My reputation was on the line…would he stick with me after yesterday's debacle?? Well, it was rough going for Glenn that morning, but I had faith that he was gonna catch. Just when things got rolling into a steady pick on the fish, Captain Al had to go visit that Mecca of Crowley Lake, the SS Relief….basically a double outhouse floating on pontoons. After taking care of business, we tried to find the same spot to no avail. Pulled anchor and went east to another point. We waited…and waited…and waited (actually, it was probably only 15 minutes) and all of a sudden, Janet was on again…then I was on…..then brother Glenn broke his cold streak. The first couple of fish managed to snap his 2# leader. After switching to 3# leader, he got mad and went on a rampage for the next thirty minutes. He had three on board when his rod took a rather ugly-stick-esque bend to it. The reel was singing, the rod was bendo and Glenn was silent….Ahab knew he was on to something big. The battle went on for close to five minutes (possible embellishment for dramatic effect) when I saw deep color….I couldn't see the fish, but I caught a glimpse of a huge flash of silver. This was a monster fish and it didn't much like the idea of marinating in butter next week. Glenn worked it like a pro and the 3# rainbow was soon in the net. He was a believer…a convert…I felt like a proud Jehovah's witness after a day of pavement pounding. So much for the full moon theory.

Meanwhile, J&J, who had camped out the night before, found the right spot at Crowley and were gonna attempt a tubal assault on sandy point. Unfortunately they ran afoul of an old viet cong fishing trap and sank deep within the fertile mud of the Owens valley. Forced to dig for much of the morning in a morass of cow dung and assorted nastiness, our poor cohorts weren't able to wet a line this day. Freeing themselves late in the day, they retreated to the condo, tired, but happy to have gotten out on their own.

Sunday, May 30th - "Kirk to Sulu…Kirk to Sulu…where did you hide that trout?". With yesterday firmly implanted in my mind, I wasn't that eager to catch a whole mess of fish. Decided to head north to Bundy and meet up with Alric and Linda. Took a detour through the forest and avoided some of the muck….made it to within a few feet of the inflow. J&J were out on their tubes working the holes. The water was incredibly shallow and the spidey senses were definitely not tingling. We bugged out quick fast in a hurry and took the shore route through the Jefficus Tongericus archaeological dig. Glenn did the superhero leap across a particularly mucky area. Kathy did the same, coming perilously close to performing a faceplant in the muck (her foot sank deep just as she was elevating to dry land). Janet got nervous….hell, I got nervous!! Then, in another moment of brilliance, Glenn took on the role of Scottish highlander and picked up two fifty pound stones and made a garden path through the muck for Janet. I breathed a sigh of relief and profusely thanked Glenn. Disappointed, we headed up to Cellery to check out the scene. After a quick lunch near a creek and ten minutes of pure juvenile hijinks we crossed the dam and fished for a few minutes. Jeff hauled one up fairly quick, then Janet scored one right after John scored on the buoyant. Then the ice floes came a marching in and put the kibosh on the fishing for the day. Packed up and headed up to Grant Lake. Fishing wasn't much better for me, but J&J in the tubes were doing quite well. I dumped my buoyant in the lake as well as a few sinkers and hooks….oh well…if you're not losing tackle, you're not fishing!! Headed back for a fine evening of Giovanni's garlic & clam pizza and TV.

No…it wasn't the best fishing trip I've been on, but as usual it was chock full of stories that will be recounted for many moons to come, tatonka. Another good trip in the books…looking forward to that holiday mecca for trout fishing, Independence Day. Tune in next time for another episode of "The Pennises Go A-Fishing."