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This Monday dawned bright and early for me.  I was meeting my friend Dave at hangman’s bridge for a quick outing at 7am.  That means I am out of the house by 6:15 so that I can get some gas and a cup of coffee…you have to be crazy to be a fisherman.

Our plan is to hit the trail at Hangman’s, hightail it to the Creek hole, fish for an hour or so, and hike back out.  Dave and I both have work, but I know that the boss is out of the office, so I figure that if I check in around 9:45-10:00, no worries.  Anyone that has done this hike knows that it is an easy hike after the first hill, and a great time to catch up so that you do not waste time chatting while actually in the water.

We arrive at the Creek hole and I notice rising fish in the big pool below the hole.  Question is - what are they taking.  Not being able to identify the bug that is hatching, I take the safe route and tie on a #20 Parachute Adams to try to match what I see.  No takers.

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Back from Utah and back to my home waters.  I am finding that I am super busy trying to get caught up with three weeks of email, phone messages, honey-do’s, etc.  I start to burn of the catch-up routine, so the best remedy is to head out fishing.  Since this is a work day, I have to do one of my early morning slams.

Leave the house by 6:45am.  On the water by 7:15am. Done fishing by 8:30am.  Back in the office and ready to work at 9:00am.

I decided to keep it simple and hit up the West Carson at the gauging station up the road from the house.  The first thing I notice when I see the water is how much lower and clearer than even a month ago.  I guess that I hoping it would be the same, but that is an unrealistic expectation.  As I string up the rod, I am diligently keeping an eye on the back wall of the gauging station hole.  I see some gentle rises in the slack water, so I tippet down to 6x and tie on an olive-bodied spinner.  I slowly creep into position and start casting.  Up comes a fish to look at my offering - refusal.  Another fish comes up to take a gander - refusal.  Hmmm…..

After about 10 more drifts with no activity, I change to a #18 Para Adams.  First drift, a fish comes up to take a gander.  Nope!  Then another.  Again, refusal.  Now I am getting flustered.  In total frustration, I try a #12 Royal Trude.  This fly is like NOTHING that is on the water and is much, much bigger than any fly hatching.  But, a friend once told me that you sometimes have to “give them a reason” to react.  First drift and I nail the 12″ ‘Bow that seems to prefer the back wall between two rocks.  She is easily the biggest fish in the hole in this thin water and she fought nicely.  I figured that she spooked the entire hole at this point.

A quick readjustment upstream to the cable hole, and I grab a super spunky 10″ trout on the first drift.  He was tight agaist the bank, under a rock that I have seen many anglers stand on to fish this hole.  Just goes to show you that just because you fish the same river freqently, does not mean you have to fish it the same was every time.  Mix it up a little and you might be surprised.

I know that I said I was not going to fish the West Carson anymore, but I had no idea when I opened my mouth that I was going to jinx the works.  We had several small storms in quick succession and now my favorite river, the East Carson, is a muddy, off-color mess.  I hope it comes down before I leave on my work trip.

I arrived on the river at about 7:30am which is “just a hair” late in the morning for the current water and air temps.  As always, the gauging station hole was in the shadows.  I crept down to my usual rock and was observing bug activity and enjoying some peace and tranquility when a large cinnamon bear sow popped out of the trees not more than 30 feet from me.  I do not think that she saw me in the water as I was kneeling behind some rocks and being still, but when I yelped in surprise, she jumped as well and took off running.  Just watching her run reinforced the fact that there IS NO WAY to outrun a bear…man was she moving fast.

That excitement over, I go back to my observing.  I see very little bug activity, so I decide to tie on a #16 yellow humpy with a soft-hackled hare’s ear dropper.  I got some half-hearted strikes right off the bat, but nothing serious.  I quickly move up to the next hole and start casting.  Same responses.  Refusals.  I snip off that rig and I tie on a #16 Royal Trude.  Again, more refusal strikes.  This hole is now spooked from all the rejected casts.

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I’m thinking that this last outing will be my last one on the North Fork American River until next spring.  The water has dropped so much, that the trout have moved in search for colder water.

I fished the NF today from 4:00 PM until 8:00PM.  From the looks of it, I knew that I would have to dredge the pools.  I rigged up with a #14 Pheasant Tail and a #16 Mercer’s BWO Trigger Nymph.  Within five minutes, I hooked up an eight inch Rainbow Trout.  It was a feisty little bugger that jumped around.  I worked my way downstream to the next pool.  No fish were to be had.  I walked back up to the first pool and hooked up immediately with another eight inch Rainbow Trout.

For the next two hours, I decided to work the downstream pools.  There were lots of baby Smallmouth Bass swimming everywhere!  There were not fly shy either.  I would drift my flies through the slots and yank ‘em in.  I saw a few 18″+ smallies.  They wouldn’t even look at a fly.  I wish that I had my streamers with me.

I walked back up to the first pool since it was getting late.  Immediately, I hooked up.  A ten inch Rainbow Trout took my Trigger Nymph.

Before calling it a day, I decided to look down from the footbridge.  I saw a slot that could potentially hold fish.  I walked down and fished it.  I first dead drifted my nymphs.  Nada.  I changed to a #16 Pheasant Tail soft hackle.  I got a grab, then it went limp.

From there, I called it quits.

Another day, another early morning romp in the water.  I decided to hit the gauging station as this will probably be one of the last times I hit this section for about a month.  With the broken dam section in great shape, and closer to the house, I will now be able to bore everyone with endless posts about that section.  At least it will be different.

Upon arrival, I note that it is finally warm enough AND light to no winds.  Wet wading is definitely in the cards today.  I toss on the boots and head out to the river.  Another indication that it is warming up is that there are bugs everywhere and it is only 6:30am….yahoo!  I see some smaller PMD’s, some stones, and another (as yet unidentified) bug that resembles a March Brown (don’t think any of those are still around).

I tie on an #18 Elk Hair Caddis and wade into position mid-river to fish “the pool”.  I get a refusal on the first drift and that is all it took to spook the entire hole.  I move up to the next hole and since I am hiding behind a rock and some fast water, I know that I am not seen.  I was able to pull two smaller fish out the the faster water and then this hole was spooked.  This is what happens when the water levels come down and there is more pressure on the fish, dries become harder, the fish become warier, and you just have to sneak around a bit more.

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