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August 26- 27 2000 20 Lakes Basin
At first, I was rather down on this trip. In retrospect, I guess I: 1) had high expectations It’s not that the fishing was poor, it was; but, that alone
does not make a bad trip. Things started to fall apart on Thursday and I should
have recognized the signs. Next, my friend Susan, whom I was looking forward to spending some time with, cancelled. This left Gino and me to go it alone. Or so we thought. We arrived at about 11:00 p.m. and proceeded to drive around for an hour looking for an available camp site. It was late summer, a week or two before a big weekend, and all the campgrounds where full- amazing. We finally ended up staying at Cattle guard campground. Cattle guard campground is a dirt lot with a small creek flowing through it. The place was bear central. We had two bears come through our camp Friday night. The first, was the largest bear I’ve ever seen. If Gino and I didn’t know there weren’t Grizzlies in California, we would have thought it a Grizzly. It had a hump and everything. The second bear came through at dusk. It was much smaller than the first though, so no worries. I slept in my car that night. I simply watched as it walked around the car and left. It was so close that I could have reached out and touched it.
The next morning, Gino and I fished the Twenty Lakes Basin with a fellow from my fishing club . The scenery was spectacular but the fishing wasn’t. Still, it was fun. When we arrived at The Lake which was to be our entry point into the Twenty Lakes Basin, I was surprised to see Bob. He’d expressed a great desire to fish this area but I really didn’t expect him to make it. I was pleasantly surprised. Bob had been in the area for 3 days and had already fished the lakes on the south west side of the basin. He was eager to fish the north west side and so were we. A short water taxi ride saved us the mile or 2 hike to the far side of the lake. With the Conness glacier at our backs, we head off for the first lake. The lakes in the Twenty Lakes basin are all linked more or less by a 4 or 5 mile loop trail. A very short hike later we arrived at our first destination. Unfortunately... the fish didn’t. The first lake was supposed to hold the largest golden trout of the 20 or so lakes in the basin. I had eagerly anticipated catching a 13 inch Golden. Unfortunately, this didn’t come to pass. We fished quietly. The three of us and a lone Coyote were the only witnesses to this High Sierra beauty for much of the morning. People passed through, but they were few and far between (compared to the other side of the basin) and they didn’t stop. (On the southern side of the loop trail, the lakes are much closer together.) We fished the small lake long enough for Bob to fish around its circumference and headed to the next lake.
While the first lake was pegged as a Golden and Brook Trout
Lake, the next lake was Golden only. It was off trail and straight up. We
gazed thoughtfully at the topo map and agreed that the best route to the lake
was up and to the right. The lake was in a small basin higher than where we were
but lower than where we might have to go. We decided to climb to about the right
height and then traverse around the peak before us. This worked to a
point, as we traversed to our right, we came to a cliff and were forced
upward again. The going was steep and the footing of loose talus rock
treacherous but we finally made it to a beautiful golden trout lake.
I had never hiked among so much talus rock and as the pictures can attest, it was like fishing on the moon. With the abundance of sharp, jagged rocks there was a very real possibility that one of us would go home bloody and bruised.
Out of the corner of my eye I saw a fish. It was behind me. Perhaps the slight turn of my head to the rear had spooked it. Whatever the case, it ran for cover and I spotted it. I turned and looked harder. Again my movement must have scared fish. I could see more fish heading toward the far side of the lake into deeper water. There were three in all. One looked spooked, the other two looked as if they were jumping on the band wagon. I threw out a cast hoping that one of the band wagon fish couldn’t resist an easy meal. My dry fly fell to the water and was met with a violent splash. I set up and missed the fish. I was excited though, figuring that it would be easy to entice the other fish with my fly. I threw out another cast. Nothing. With each cast, I saw fewer and fewer fish. Then, just as I pulled my fly off the water, a fish hit the nymph on the dropper. It was a small golden. By this time, Bob had worked himself to a spot ahead of me and had spotted a few largish (8inch) Goldens. Bob cast to and managed to land a nice sized Golden. We worked this lake a bit more and decided to move on. My Dad likes to say that I march to the tune of a different drummer. I guess that’s a polite way to say I do things that just don’t make sense to normal folks. This is no more apparent than when I’m in the outdoors; it’s all part of the adventure. On the last trip I lead Gino up a steep waterfall/creek bed to a hidden Golden Trout lake. I’m sure after a half an hour had past he began to seriously doubt the existence of the lake and my sanity. After all, this hidden treasure was supposed to be a “mere” 500 ft above the first lake.
This time I lead Gino and Bob down a fairly steep chute of talus rock. From the second lake, this chute appeared to lead directly to the next lake and, to me, seemed the most direct route. We could see the lake at the bottom but couldn’t see a path down to the bottom. In other words, the chute appeared to end at a cliff just short of our destination. I envisioned walking down the cliff only to be faced with a sheer 20ft drop. If it was a cliff, we’d have to walk back out; which, if it had come to pass, would not have been fun. I pressed on anyway and laughed when Gino reminded me that I always get him into situations like this. We navigated the chute like mountain goats and made our way to the lake. The lake was large, beautiful and according to my fishing friend Jeff, the best of the bunch. We’d would never find out. A creek lead into the lake and we began fishing at it’s outlet. Instead of crossing the creek to fish the lake, I decided to fish up the creek. Gino and Bob had decided to do the same. I was rewarded with a nice 6 inch Redband trout. It wasn’t a Redband really, they’re not supposed to be in this area so it was probably some sort of rainbow/golden hybrid. Regardless, it was beautifully colored. We made our way up the small creek and drew fast action from tiny fish with our dry flies. Most of these fish were too small to hook but were entertaining all the same. We laughed heartily as fish the size as our #12 dry flies constantly slashed at our offerings. The hour was late and we had a fair distance to travel; we made our way back to the boat launch by completing the loop trail. We had a scheduled pick up time back at the boat launch and didn’t want to miss it. We fished very little during this time and scoped out the other lakes as we traveled. After a short stop for lunch, Bob and I made our way to another hidden lake while Gino headed back to the boat launch. The position of this lake was harder to determine than the first. This lake was also off the trail but unlike the first lake, wasn’t clearly situated above another. It was clear from the map that approaching the lake from the boat launch side would be best but we were still 40 or so minutes from the dock. GPS in hand, Bob and I charged up a hillside in search of Hidden Lake. The going was tough. We were at 11,000ft and I was feeling it. I usually feel pretty good at altitude for the first 2 days or so, just long enough for a weekend trip. This trip I felt worn down. Bob on the other hand was as spry as could be. He was much more comfortable than either Gino or myself at more than twice my age (68+). Gino and I were inspired by how Bob always lead up the steepest part of the trail. With God’s blessing, we’ll both be fishing at Bob’s age.
Bob and I fished the Hidden Lake with no success. I saw fish but couldn’t interest them in a fly. Bob and I returned to the boat launch and were greeted to the site of a twelve year old kid making amazing casts off the bank into The Lake. Someone once said that they stock The Lake so much that, “ if you can’t catch fish, you might as well take up golf” or something to that effect. That maybe the case but it was obvious that this kid was one great fly fisher. He perfectly cast a Sparkle Bugger into the lake and caught a fish on almost every cast. Gino had said this had been going on for about a half an hour and that the kid was catching fish hand over fist. This was definitely the case and seeing this “child” cast perfect loops and retrieve fish after fish was a perfect way to end the day. The next day, reared it’s ugly head again. Gino and I had driven to Mammoth for the night. I had paid for two nights at Cattle guard Campground but neither one of us wanted to sleep there again. Ironically, a week later I would contemplate going back to the basin and staying at this campground, simply to see the bears. We parted company with Bob and headed to a restaurant I like to frequent. Our plan was to stay in Mammoth and fish Hot Creek the next morning. 5 or 10 minutes outside of Mammoth the car started making a horrible noise that seemed to get worse as the evening went on. We surmised that the problem was the probably the muffler but not knowing for sure, we woke up early Sunday morning and headed home. I didn’t want to get stuck with car trouble in the middle of nowhere.
We drove about 2hrs into Tuolumne Meadows. By that time, my trepidation over the car had all but subsided. Gino was itching to fish and the car seemed noisy but otherwise fine so we stopped to fish the Merced River where it flows through the meadows. We’d never fished the Meadow and found the water low, clear and cold. The fishing was slow but Gino managed to hook, I think, two fish on his dry fly. After an hour or so we got back in the car and headed home.
In retrospect, this was one of the most memorable trips of the year and one that I’m sure I will always remember fondly. We spent a beautiful day exploring the backcountry with friends and were fortunate to pick up a few fish as well, it doesn’t get much better than that.
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