Searching for the Devil
September 03, 2009 10:46 PM
The Upper Owens river below Benton's Crossing. Meandering through to Crowley.
Sometimes, as the dust settles on your adventures, you forget the thrill of exploring areas that you have never set foot on before. You go on with your routine, and the time between trips stretches longer and longer - and the enthusiastic sensation you felt while traveling, gets dull with time.
The Adventure Bug still lingers - waiting patiently for the right moment to bury itself into your consciousness and wake up the sleeping lion.
That bug arose in my mind when my pal Jason mentioned he had a few days free and clear of all responsibilities and that exercising our camper vans and fly rods would be the ideal way to spend the time. I threw out the idea of going to the Mammoth area and less than a couple weeks later, we were on our way.
Both of us, lifelong anglers, had never visited that area before and the thought of exploring an area relatively close to home sounded perfect. We invited other people to join us, and as things usually happen, its always the same crew of dedicated pseudo drifters who are willing and able to drop what they are doing to catch some fish. That meant myself, Jason & my brother Will.
From San Diego, we drove up I-15 to Highway 395. 395 is such an amazing road, that if you typed '395' in Google, a billion hits show up on your screen tempting you with amazing sunsets, large fish and beautiful mountainscapes. We left Thursday afternoon and setup camp just north of Crowley Lake just about midnight. It was over 100 degrees when we drove through riverside, and a nice 49 degrees pulling up above Shermans grade.
Ahh. So freaking refreshing.
Camping in a Sportsmobile is so easy and convenient. You just set the parking brake, crack a beer and push the button to raise the penthouse. When I travel in the Sportsmobile, I usually only pack my gear using Eagle Creek's Packing Cubes. They make size that fit all the cubby holes in the Sportsmobile and help keep it organized. It was midnight, so after a quick breakdown of tomorrows activities, we hit the sack.
Both of us didn't sleep real well and we both woke up at 5am without any alarm, anxious to start fishing. We quickly broke down camp, made coffee and headed north of Benton Crossing towards the long ears of the Upper Owen River.
Early Morning Wakeup. A view of the sportsmobile facing the Upper Owens River
The water was running a bit thin in this area and the algae and weed growth was pretty thick. After plying the area briefly, we decided to skip over to the south below the crossing, just north of the lake. By then the weather was warming up nicely and the hatches of flies started showing their magic. We quickly tied on a size 18/20 elk hair caddis and watched the little stockers rise and hit the fly with reckless abandon. Everything worked on this river. Elk Hair Caddis', #16 Adams, #20 Mosquito Adams', BWOs. I even threw in a tiny darter clouser towards the afternoon just to see if it would take!
It was just past afternoon when Will called me and mentioned there was a fire blocking his way through Yosemite and he would need to find a route around the park. Flipping through my Delorme Atlas, I suggested he take the 108 and go around towards Bridgeport. It only added on an extra hour. We met Will at a little coffee shop called Looney Bean Coffee in the town of Mammoth Lakes. There were so many crazy vanagon campers in this area, and we met a fellow driving one that Jason had helped out on the side of the road a few years back! After a quick stop to the Troutfitter Fly Shop, we headed out to fish the evening hatch at Hot Creek. The Troutfitter fly shop is quite a nice fly shop. Interestingly, there were more workers in there than I have EVER seen a fly shop. If you ask them for fishing advice, be prepared to filter out the knowledge and save it for later! Trout fishing in these waters can be technical and their selection of flies spans a whole side of the building. When you ask em whats working, be specific and let them know where you plan on fishing and your level of fishing. We watched people in there with the most befuddled looks, wondering if they should have stuck to fishing with Powerbait and night crawlers.
At then end of the day, and after a considerable amount of driving, we made camp somewhere on FS2S07.
Camping Along FS#2S07
Just like the night before, we woke at 5am and started the morning routine - hygiene, breaking down camp and making coffee. When you continually move with your camper, the campsite itself doesn't really matter and there is a sense of nomadic life that reminds you that you're alive and frees you from your mental ties, at least for a little while. At the advice of John Hendrickson at San Diego Fly Shop, we decided to hit up the San Joaquin river via the Devils Postpile National Monument.
Where is the Devil? We heard this area had spirits, but we only found them in a bottle we had brought with us.
Devils Postpile National Park is nestled against the Ansel Adams Wilderness. The postpile itself is a quick little hike along an easy trail that takes you to the base of the formation. There are also plenty of trails that connect this route to the Pacific Coast Trail which connects the western states from north to south.
The Middle fork of the San Joaquin looks nothing like the Owens river, just to its east. The owens meanders through fields spotted with cattle - the San Joaquin is filled with pools and waterfalls that go through canyon walls. Both unique and visually stimulating. There were not many hatches on the MFSJ, with minimal vegetation that attracts the bugs - so I opted to fish with #14 Hoppers and San Juan Worms. Ever since fishing some streams in Montana with my Father In law, I have loved the San Juan Worm. Sometimes it feels like cheating when using one of these guys! We casted the little guys just beneath the waterfalls and watched them float right to waiting fish in the pools along the river.
Jason babying his 6x tippet while hooked up to a little brook trout.
After fishing the morning, we head back to the van, made a quick brunch and explored the area a bit more. Will was getting a little ansy and wanted to fish this crystal clear lake we saw on the way into the park. We quickly made our way back down the hill and suited up. There were anglers on the shoreline tossing worms into the lake, but it was the float tubers and fly anglers that were continually catching fish. We grabbed our 5wt's and headed off to the water to fish. At first, we all used olive or black wooly buggers. A couple of hits, but no takers. I noticed a bit more activity on the surface, so I switched to a #16 Johns Magic Fly. I call it that because at the time I had NO idea what kind of fly it was. It was a hybrid fly tied by Jasons dad John. Jason had them in a small box for nearly 20 years! We had split up the box before the trip and I thought, why the hell not! They slammed the fly hard! That night, I was giddy catching and releasing nice chubby trout and could not wait to hit it the next morning.
Starkweather Lake
We woke up late the next morning and Will was bummed. He had some other engagement to go to that day and needed to head down the mountain and head home. When we got back to the lake, he took off on his long drive back to the bay area - but on his way caught sight of a black bear within the park limits. He quickly snapped a few shots from his drivers seat and drove home.
Back at Starkweather, Jason and I were catching fish left and right - sharing the water with only 2 shore pounders who flung worms in the water to unwilling trout - feasting on flies. In only a couple hours we caught so many fish that we were throwing anything to see if they we would get bit! I even began testing my new Kaenon Sunglasses to see which lens worked better to spot fish! The wind picked up soon after, and as the ripples grew, our dry flies sank and we knew it was time to head out. With the road behind us, I looked out my rear view mirror and watched the mountains fade away. Soon, some of the mountain roads would be impassible and our footprints would be gone. We left mammoth with a smile and hopefully cleaner than when we arrived. It wasn't much - but I wanted to share this experience with my son. And like many things that are priceless, the area can be taken away by heavy fees and roads and progress. Any little bit helps.
J
SMB