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Thread: How about "most forgetable" moment?

  1. #1
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    Default How about "most forgetable" moment?

    After posting on the "most memorable" moment, I started thinking about the most forgetable trip I'd taken. It was opening day on the Truckee last April. My brother, 2 friends and I decided to be morons and camp in April, right next to the river. It was the coldest night of my life! After not sleeping a wink (due to the cold) we drove to Starbucks in Truckee for coffee. The staff thought we were homeless because we looked so ragged. When we told them we were camping, they actually called us "idiots", and told us the temperature had dropped to 31 degrees. Oh yeah, and we didn't catch anything. I still don't know what we were thinking!

  2. #2
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    Default Most Forgettable, Huh???

    Try this one..... About 1982, I went to Pyramid Lake in January to fish for the mighty/elusive Lahontan Cutthroat Trout. My first trip.

    I had no idea what we were getting into. The air temp at 8:00 AM in Sutcliffe was 10 degrees and breezy enough to form white caps on the lake. No snow as it was in the process of blowing away and sandblasting my face/hands. Undaunted and dressed very warm, I put on my jacket/waders and started out for the water. The first thing I norticed was the thick sheet of ice that extended out into the lake about 25 yards. Still undaunted, I walked out on the ice; jumped off into about hip deep water and began to strip line to cast. About this time, I realized that each time a wave washed up my waders and receded, it left ice on the front of my waders.

    Made my final roll cast and a good double haul only to watch the line jerk the rod and drop to the water about 40' out. Checking the rod for the cause, Ice in the guides...... After it warmed up, the ice was less of a problem and I did catch/release a couple of 2 - 3 pounders. It was too cold to appreciate how pretty those fish were. Went to Sparks to find a place where I could get a hot bowl of soup and sit in it.....

    When I got home, I swore I'd never fish at Pyramid Lake again from December 20th thru the end of February...... That's one lesson learned.

  3. #3
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    This one's easy !
    Years ago , a friend and I took a look at the map for the Feather ... We notice a few words in blue above the dot that is Gridley , they say "Excellent Smallmouth fishing" .

    I'm stupid sometimes ....

    Early October , 97 degrees .... I am wearing neoprene waders (its october , right ? The water MUST be chilly ...) , so we hike .
    And hike .... and hike some more . Cutting thru orchards , we cover 3 or 4 miles up and start fishing . One 4 lb. Squawfish for my trouble (#6 Sculpin) .
    So .... we make it back to within a half-mile of the truck - the water ISN'T cold , I've got a quart of sweat in each wader-foot , and dying of thirst is in the VERY near future .
    Instead of taking the "long" way back , we follow the river .... Now , we come to a deep cut surrounded by a swamp ....

    I told you I'm stupid sometimes ....
    Take a step , sink up to your nipples .... buddy helps ya out , he takes a step , repeat ... To cover the 100 or so yards to the levee , it took 3 hours . I felt like it was time to see a better place , if you know what I mean ... Never thought I'd make it out alive .


    Then , there was this time on the Bear ........... David

  4. #4
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    Well David, reading your account reminded me (I had successfully forgotten) of my worst trip ever. I had decided to fish the back ponds of Henry Coe (Gilroy) in the middle of summer. Parked at the main entrance, hopped on my mountain bike with one little bottle of water, and set out for the back ponds which were about 11.5 miles away.

    Knew I had to make good speed, so went all out, only casually noting that I was only going downhill for the first 5 or so miles. On the way down, flew over the handlebars 3 times but fortunately only cracked one or two ribs. At the 7.5 mile mark, it was now high noon, 105 degrees out, and I was just about out of water. Fished a nearby stream, caught a squawfish, and decided to turn back. Ended up walking the bike uphill for 5 miles, stopping at each shaded spot to rest for 10 minutes before setting off for another 25 feet to the next shaded spot and resting another 10 minutes. Repeated this all the way back. Occurred to me several times that I was probably not going to make it and die due to heat exhaustion and dehydration. Eventually made it back alive. Barely.

    Despite this harrowing experience, I made another attempt, this time successful. Bought a Camelbak and approached the ponds from the south entrance. The fabled ponds were just as described by others: the fish acted like they had never seen a fly before. Hookup on almost every cast. Still had to traverse what seemed like a mountain range to get there though.
    -- Mike

    Chuck Norris has already been to Mars; that's why there are no signs of life.

  5. #5
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    Default Most Forgettable Fishing Moment

    Three years ago I had the chance to test out my new (to me) Boston Whaler on Amador Lake. I was nervous about taking the boat out for the first time since I'm not the most handy person in the world. Clutz might be a more approproate word to describe my apptitude level when it comes to operating any kind of machinery.

    I tried fishing in some coves and near the dam casting my 5wt Winston rod with no success. Well if my 5wt wasn't going to catch fish lets try the 6 wt with a different fly. No success. It wasn't long before I got bored casting so I rigged my boat with a sea anchor and started to troll with both lines out behind the boat (legally). I was really enjoying the boat at this point since the lake was quiet and the sun was shining and there was only one other fly fisherman in the area.

    I laid my rods down on the deck of the boat, one on the left side and the other on t he right side close to where I was sitting. I was confident I was going to catch fish since I know the lake fairly well and I was working an area of the lake I have had some success. Sure enough, I hooked up not long into the troll. My rod moved with a lurch and the tip began to do its familiar twitch. I set the hook and it wasn't but a heart beat later the other rod made the same movements but more rapidily. I was so taken aback I reacted too slowly to retreive the other rod before it had slid to the end of the transom. I reached for the second rod while my other hand was holding on to the rod with the fish on the other end, too late. It fell into the water straight up and down with the reel section in the water the tip in the air. If the situation wasn't so dire I would have enjoyed the symmetry of the entry angle of the rod into the water. It tempted me to reach out to grab the rod, but I waved grabbing only air. I couldn't figure out how to manuever the boat to get close enough to grab it. It waited for me to take it back for what seemed like ten seconds and then said good bye.
    The fish took the rod and reel to Neptune's den. I saw the flouescent green floating line sink into the darkness of the cold waters of Amador Lake. The only witness to this pathetic event was the other flyfisher who I'm sure was thinking what an idiot to loose a fly rod.

    I was so embarassed and upset at the same time. What to do? I wasn't going to let this upset my day. I had another rod and a fish on the end of the line to boot. I played the fish out and I continued to keep fishing. I eventually asked the other flyfisherman that if he saw a Winston 5wt floating in the water to let me know because, well you know I lost mine.
    Several hours passed and I caught some more trout so the pain of my loss didn't seem so monumental. I justified my outing by by cutting out guided days on the water I had planned in the future. Three less guided days would be enough to cover my losses, thats it, I felt better.

    The other flyfisher came over quite some time after I requested his assistance and he said he thought he saw a floating line in the middle of the dam area. I quickly started the engine and shuttled over to the area. Mind you I was shooting in the dark. A fly rod on one end with a fish on the other, for all I knew the fish could have taken the rod to one of the coves or to the other end of the lake. I kept a vigilant search to find my rod. Well there is a God in Heaven after all. I peered through the water and I could distinctly see my fly line ten feet under the surface of the water. I almost had a stroke. I quikly grabbed my rod and swept it under the fly line and grabbed it. As I pulled the line up I could feel the trout on the end. I pulled and pulled and finally my rod came out of the water and into my hands.

    What a day, my most horific day of fishing and my best day all in the span of four hours. I love the exhiliration of fishing less the added human error I add to the equation. Clutz.

  6. #6
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    Great to see you on our boar Bill

    Awesome story

    Did you end up landing the fish that took your rod
    Limit Your Kill - Don't Kill Your limit

    Adam Grace
    Past Kiene's Staff Member

  7. #7
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    Bill, I totally agree with Adam, that is a GREAT story! Especially enjoyed the line, "If the situation wasn't so dire I would have enjoyed the symmetry of the entry angle of the rod into the water." That is too funny!
    -- Mike

    Chuck Norris has already been to Mars; that's why there are no signs of life.

  8. #8
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    Default

    That is GREAT story!! :P I am still laughing as I type. Thanks for sharing.

  9. #9
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    I went on a trip that was not a fishing trip but a trip to Cody Wyoming to photograph BigHorn sheep . A friend and I took two Mules into a wilderness area near Yellowstone N.P. On the forth day of scouting for Bighorn sheep we saw a nice Ram at sunrise at 11000 feet. After stalking him and taking rolls of film I looked at my watch it was now 4: 30 pm and we were miles from the mules in snow up to my knees. I had left my Day pack on my mule and had not had anything to eat or drink for 9 hrs and the 11000 ft. elevation I become so weak I could not walk more that 10 yrds without resting. If not for the pack of tumbs in my pocket I would not have made it back to the Mules or should I say mule, being one had come loose and was now 10 miles down the mountain by trailer. After eating and drinking everything we had on the one mule ,we took off for the trailer. Taking turns riding the mule we arrived back at the trailer around 1 am. This was in November and the temp was + 2 deg. I felt so stupid for leaving my fanny pack with my food and survival gear on the mule . I never do that. Lesson learned .

    Here is a photo of the bighorn.
    Take care .
    Rob


  10. #10
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    Default Photo's

    Hi Rob,..... Glad you made it.... You certainly can be proud of that picture.

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