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Belated fishing report:
Begining of May spent 4 days loitering around the Burney area; fishing, eating, fishing, drinking, fishing, other extra curricular activities, more fishing and ate some more… even managed brining in a few to hand and slept.
That Friday we fished Powerhouse #2 on Hat. We parked, and as we walked passed the riffle, I could feel the tension emanating from the water and those in it. I think the fish were disgruntled as well. Attitudes tend to be contagious. So we walked down to the Carbon Flats… Boy that place is frustrating. I didn’t have the 7x on me, and should have used the 6x more liberally, but managed to bring a brown to hand and missed 2 others. The rest of the fish were laughing and pointing fins as they continued to rise to unseen insects. (I really don’t think they were eating, just pointing and laughing.) It was a beautiful day as I watched two smaller birds chase a huge bald eagle.
The next 2 days were spent on the Pit (I think I am still sore). Yellow was on the menu… anything yellow. Yellow stoneflies, big ones, small ones… yellow stimulators, and yellow wets with soft grizzly hackles. I did manage a few on bright greens caddis and wets, and on some brown stones… but not as much as the yellows. Not too sure how many fish, but enough for me to loose count after 3 weeks have passed. (which considering the short term memory, it may have not been that many) The biggest trout to hand was in the 16”+ range, the biggest trout on the hook decided to throw it back in my direction. Guessing closer to 20”. It was big. However, the biggest fish to net was an 18” squaw/sucker. I caught two… no one can tell me that I don’t get my fly down far enough…. So there…
However, I do remember how many times I took an unintentional swim: 1. (Almost 2, but a submerged bolder caught my arse before the plunge.) I was trying to figure out how to get back across the river, standing knee deep on a submerged bolder, when a gnome came by and took out my feet; slowly pushing them across the rock, and there was nothing I could do. At first I wasn’t too concerned, the slippage seemed as though I would be pushed to another knee deep area, but instead, in typical Pit River fashion, I managed to find the narrow slot of deep stuff, and before I knew it, I was dog-paddling in water up to my chin. Now why could this not have happed during the heat of the day? But nooooo…. it had to be at dusk, temperature dropping, and then there is the climb out of the canyon still to be had.
Climbing out of the gorge at the same area we dropped in at would have been the smart thing to do. We, as shown by our actions, are not smart. Lets just leave it at that.
I usually bring at least one extra pair of socks in the truck. “Usually” being the operative word. We still needed go into town for a refill of ice for the cooler. Since the outside of the waders was the driest part of me, I left them on as I drove into the nearest gas station for ice. The locals knew where we fished.
The last day we fished Burney, below and above the falls. I saw only one biggg’un feeding close by the inlet to Brit. It decided to pull a Jaws imitation, rising about 7 inches to the left of the fly, mouth agape and closing in (relatively) slowly. My cat-like reflexes set in, and I (attempted to) set the hook as the fish had another 1.5 inches left before it reached the fly. Needless to say, the fish did not touch any feathers nor hair. There were zero other fish below the falls. Above the falls, there were plenty-o-planters that liked the #16 red coppers.
After that, we headed home, which cost $1,200,000 in gas.
Pics may be added later. My friend had the camera, luckily, I did not.
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