My Dad gave me the Sierra (long)

[Tom]

My Dad gave me the Sierra and my Mom taught me how to appreciate them.

When I was about 12 years old my Dad retired from the military and took a job in California’s growing electronic defense industry. The proximity of wilderness and fishing areas created a basis for family camping trips during the summers of my youth. Dad was always coming home with plans for great fishing places that he had heard about. His knowledge always included tid-bits on how to specifically catch certain types of trout. “If we want to catch these lake trout”, he would say, “we will have to use Pautzke’s Green Labeled salmon eggs”. “Ya see…ya hafta keep the jar upside down until you’re ready to put an egg on your hook”. “That way the eggs stay moist and plump”.

This went on for a couple of years until long lost Uncle Leo, who lived in Bishop visited us while we were camping at Rock Creek Lake. ‘Fly and a bubble’ fishing was introduced to us and life changed. Uncle Leo had turned me onto pure flyfishing without knowing what he had done. So the transition from fly and bubble fishing sent me down the path of evil. It was no great leap, then, to get a multi-piece rod and never use the spin portion of the handle. It only took me 1 season to figure out that I could cut the bands off that held the spin reel on and then have a smooth, unencumbered cork grip.

The quality of my trips improved. Without being noticed, I spent a lot of time watching other feather flingers. I would then try and copy their style and motions. I remember sitting high on the cliffs above Mono Hot Springs Creek watching a woman work a set of riffles. I waited a good 20 seconds after she went around the corner before crashing down the cliff and imitating her casting. As a reward for learning I caught 2 really nice trout. I slowly figured out what ‘bugs’ to carry and how to match what was hatching.

I would spend one to three weeks every summer through high school packing and fishing somewhere in the Sierra. I would return home by bus or a ride from Dad with stories of mountains, trails, people and fish. Mom would quiz me differently than Dad. Dad always wanted to know daily trail mileages, fish counts, and number of people on the trail. I think the engineer in him needed those things. Mom would ask what color the sky was when I would mention how late the sun went down. She wanted to know what the night sky was like. Could I see a lot of stars? Was it a nice way to fall asleep? Were there flowers at high altitude and what colors where they? All of those questions made me think of these things and then start to look for answers before the questions.

My last summer trip while living at home was right after graduation from high school. I spent 6 weeks in the Sierra between Lake Mary and the Kern Gorge. I fished everything that I thought could or should have fish. My fishing IQ exploded from trial, error and practice to knowledgeable journeyman. Three times I had to re-supply food and white gas. The first time for re-supply I left the wilderness and met Dad in Onion Valley. When I got to the road he was there as planned. He always managed to sneak away and support my trips. He also always managed to bring along a rig of some sort to catch fish. We spent a glorious night having real food from a restaurant and sleeping on a mattress very near a shower in a motel.

I was quizzed about the trip so far and answered with statistics and ‘color’ commentary. I described techniques and flies and water structures when talking about the fishing. I also described the color of the fish and how they fought and how they seemed appreciative when returned to the water. I told him how I had found wild onions along some of the banks of my creeks that I fished and how they added spice to my ration of food.

Years later I was in the upper Kern gorge fishing. The sun, the trees, the water and my rod brought a flood of memories back to me that day. I remembered my roots and my supporters. After I returned home from that trip I called my Dad. By that time he was too old to be wandering around fishing the way we used to. I made a point from there on to tell him, in detail, what I did on each trip. He seems to live in the backcountry with me this way. He is 91 now and I still call and tell him about my trips. I have added a digital camera to my pack rig and he gets first shot at the photos.

Mom on the other hand wants to hear me describe the backcountry in my own words without ‘devices’ interfering.

[stanbery]

Tom

Nice intro and read.

jon

[planettrout]

Tom,

Welcome and your Mom is one smart woman !!!


PT/TB

[Wildman]

Your story touched my heart.

[lucfish]

Great read, these kind of reads always make me think of my Dad. Thank you

[beachbum]

Wonderful story, Tom! I too was a military brat with a dad that supported my fishing. Your story gave me a warm feeling inside. Thanks!

[Benny]

Tom, excellent read, welcome to the forum.

[WanderingBlues]

Man, I got misty eyed reading your intro. You touched on so many elements that are pure and honest. Thanks!

[atomicfly]

beautiful post.

eric
fresno, ca.

[flybob]

Awesome read Tom!

It really amazes me how this hobby/sport can bring out the best in every one of us, I think you have found a home here.

bob

[1mocast]

Great Intro Tom!
I think your "attention to details" will fit in here perfectly!

Welcome...

[Charlie Webb]

Very nice. I really enjoyed your post!