Our trip began with a five and a half hour delay at the airport, which led to a five and a half hour delay arriving in Tahoe Vista. It was going on 11pm, and quite dark. There was nothing to see in the darkness, so we checked into our cabin and went to sleep. Thanks to the three hour time difference, I was up and driving into town at 6:45 am. It was a beautiful warm morning and I needed a California fishing license. I passed by the Truckee river on the way, and it was boiling over with the runoff and not at all clear. In fact it looked dangerous to be around. It's a funny stream though, because above the section where water pours into it from the Boca Reservoir, it's low, clear and almost completely lifeless. No sign of insect, trout, minnow, beetle, nothing. There was a very convenient bike path following the upper section of the Truckee though, which provided plenty of weekend cyclists, young and old. They did not like my back cast whisking right over their heads. I did not like their tossing rocks into the pool I was trying to be stealthy in.
I gave up on the Truckee and moved the whole operation to Donner Lake, which is named after the Donner Party, a group of explorers who once upon a time tried to cross the Sierras and wound up getting lost. I heard they didn't all make it. It was a bad party.Donner Lake was pretty, but crowded with boatists and people sunning themselves on public docks built just for that purpose. Extremely windy too. Hard to cast. I was the only one on the lake with a fly rod. I started to get bored. So I stripped the line in quickly to change flies and got a big slam on the nymph. Turned out to be a small stocked rainbow, but it had some fight in it. I released it, tried again. Got no strikes for 2 hours. I must have gotten lucky the first time around. And Joan was happy to get some sun.
On the way back to the cabin I pulled onto a dusty road that apparantly lead to something called Martis Creek Lake. It was a like a big section of desert in the middle of high snow capped mountains. Very strange. The lake was a dark, dark blue against the sagebrush and dusty earth. There were eagles in the sky above. The water was absolutely perfect. And after about five casts I hooked, played and landed my first real wild California trout. And it was a wierd one! Turned out to be the rare and endangered Lahontan Cutthroat. Long, strong and gorgeous. Measured up to about sixteen inches. I released it without harm and took a deep, deep breath. My hands were shaking a bit. This was turning out to be a blue ribbon fishing day.
Two casts later I was into another sixteen inch fish, this time a copper hued wild brown, stronger than the Lahontan and a joy to behold. Joan took some quick pictures. I released the brown and tried again. A fish hit the surface. Then another. Another. There was a hatch on alright, something ridiculously small and impossible to immitate. I tried Henryvilles, small Caddis, and emergers of all sorts. All failures. I was a bit desperate to land another trout, especailly on the dry fly. It would not happen on this fine day. But I was content, I had my fill with the Lahontan and the wild brown. I did however make Joan promise that we would return to Martis Creek Lake someday.
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