It had been an especially heavy Winter this season - purportedly the 3rd 'worst' in history regarding snowfall anyway (I concurred). Cabin fever had set in well over a month ago. So when the weather channel started predicting 60 F for this week, I was frothing at the mouth. Months of snow shoveling were now melting into memory. Pyramid Lake had been on my mind for a while since it's always been a good ice-breaker for the season. As most fishermen are part-time meteorologists, I was waiting for at least reasonable weather. I am not a 'fair-weather' fisherman (having fished and camped thru a fair share of wind, rain & snow), but this week looked too good to be true. I tied up some of my favourite Pyramid flies with the knowledge that I'd only been skunked here once - and that was because I didn't get a chance to fish...
Pyramid Lake is about a 2 hour drive from my house and I brought a 6ft step ladder and my kayak (jic). The kayak is great for getting out past the drop off and I'd had great success in the past using it. So I wasn't taking any chances being stuck on the ladder when the fish were 'just out past casting distance'. My thoughts returned to the day a few years back when I guaranteed my friend Chris I'd put him on the biggest trout of his life. I'd had exceptional action in the kayak the week before, and figured I had this place dialed in... I dragged him out of bed at 6am (early for him) and let him doze while I drove. We brought the canoe and 2 - 15lb anchors to hold it steady in the 'zone'. I had 2 rods rigged up with my 'special' flies and was all set for another round of action. The day was cool and cloudy with a slight chop (compared to the previous calm sunny conditions) but that would be fine. We loaded up the canoe and paddled smugly past the line of ladders, finally anchoring out past the drop-off a respectable distance from the shore-bound crowd. Our lines were cast out and I figured we'd have a fish in minutes. Then it happened. A huge gust of offshore wind sent up a major sandstorm and started blowing us out into the main lake. By the time we opened our eyes, I noticed both anchors were trailing behind us over deep water and we were heading away from shore (and the 'zone') at warp speed! Scrambling to get it together, we paddled furiously back toward shore a little closer to maintain position. Well, it didn't take long before the the same thing happened, only even more violently this time. I'd heard tales of big(!) boats going down in this lake and had no intentions of becoming a canoe statistic, so I gave the stern command to 'head for shore, Matey!'. As we paddled dejectedly back past line of ladders one grizzled-looking guy said, 'I think you made the right choice!'. Hmph! I wasn't quite dead yet. I tied both anchor lines together, and then to my trailer hitch (figuring my truck wouldn't blow away). Well, that held us from blowing out into the lake alright. But the canoe swung back and forth like a giant pendulum. This provided great entertainment for the ladder crowd (several of whom were hooking up on nice fish) as we struggled to get a cast out into the 'zone'. Finally I had to admit defeat. We packed it in, and went for lunch. Now I ALWAYS bring a ladder too (jic). Plan B can B good.
It was 9am as I pulled up to the lake to see a long line of ladders ringing one of my favourite spots, with an equally long line of caravans parked on the beach. Apparently I'm not the only one watching the weather, Eh? There was an open spot next to a dread-headed fly guy and his buddy who had been camped there in a tent-trailer since Monday. They told me the fishing was excellent yesterday, but 'today's pretty slow'. They'd only caught one fish between them. Not the most encouraging report. Still, it would surely be a beauty day to be on a lake after months of winter drudgery.
I opted for the kayak (a $10 'boat fee'), with the ladder for backup insurance. No matter how hard the wind whipped, I could still paddle against it in the kayak (and make it safely to shore)! That craft has been pretty reliable thru some mighty windy (and wavy!) places. And there's always the life jacket...
The lake was a glassy pool, easily glided over en route to the zone. The sun had full reign over the entire basin, unburdened by a few wispy strings of clouds. It takes on a somewhat surreal character looking out at the chaparral mountains, carved out by heavy desert rainfalls, contrasted against the wide open blue lake and sky. It was going to be hot today, on top of the water at least.
A float tuber came by, commenting on the slow fishing, and also on the 'beautiful day'. Slow fishing and nice weather is still good in my book. But it gets better. The first fish takes within 15 minutes, and then next soon thereafter. One has taken the black, and the next one the red. Both are nice fish at 22", and 27", typical Pyramid cutthroats. Goodbye cabin fever. Both are soon free to go (the bigger one had to wait for a picture).
FYI: All the fish in this lake have been spawned and managed carefully by the Paiute tribe from a 'last remaining' strain of Lahontan Cutthroats found in a remote stream - an extremely valuable gene pool to say the least. These are the same family of fish that you see in old pictures of Lake Tahoe - an example of how not to manage a trout fishery. The original Lake Tahoe strain (Salmo tahoensis) preferred deep clear (acidic) lakes while the Pyramid strain (Salmo henshawi) thrives in the shallower alkaline waters. Both Pyramid and Tahoe were commercially netted to extinction before Conservation became a science and philosophy. We can thank the Paiute's for their vision, and for providing a great example of how Nature can recover if it's given a chance.
It is also a great example of how a little experience sometimes pays off. It was hard not to hear, thru the windless air, 'Yeah, that guy in the kayak over there's been gettin' em'. Most of the remaining ladder-lubbers were stripping like madmen. Well... I was using the 'secret' flies after all. I mentioned 'black and red' midges and let them figure out the rest. They didn't. The UBD and the Ruby Slippers were my staple patterns when the streamer bite went off. They had proven themselves in the past and now the present. Created with no necessary connection to the natural world, these midge patterns just worked well here. I don't care about the explanation as long as it works. Success is hard to argue with. And it seemed like I was the only one really having any.
By 11:30, most of my neighbours had packed it in leaving me with a lot of open water to ply. Down the way, someone pulled out a guitar (and probably a bottle of something too) and was wailing away like a lonely dog. His partner (probably also fueled by liquid courage) joined in and they performed an off-key serenade for the diminishing audience. I appreciated their spirit, if not their tone-deafness. But hey, this wasn't the Gong Show, and they were having fun. I had shared that joy around countless campfires past, and it seemed to make for lively times. Or maybe my friends were just clapping out of politeness?
Pods of trout will be cruising the shoreline at any time and you need to be there and ready when they do. The lake holds a lot of fish that see a lot of flies, so it may take something different than a black woolly bugger to interest them. Although I'd like to think otherwise, maybe I'm just lucky because on this 'slow' day, I landed 11 lovely trout (out of 16 hookups) and even tempted one of the cui-ui - an endangered (and protected) bottom feeder. This is the first one I have seen (in over a dozen trips) and funny because my float tube friend has just seconds earlier asked me if I ever caught one. "No... Wait, what is this?..." They are a member of the sucker family and have a long, prehistoric-looking head. They are only found in this lake.
By 5pm the fishing had slowed for me too. Even the secret flies weren't working anymore! I switched to a streamer and flogged the water until the sun ducked behind the hills, hoping for one of the big boys to cruise in. The change in lighting didn't change the action so I decided to pack it in too. It was clearly the nicest day to date this year and I had nothing to complain about.
The Paiutes must be commended for cultivating such a harmonious relationship with Nature. The Pyramid Lake fishery is one of the best managed I've ever seen (anywhere), especially considering its convenient access factor. Often it turns out that accessibility breeds too much traffic (and trash) and dwindling fish prospects. This lake does receive a lot of traffic, but it is a large body of water that handles it well. Its large size is what prevented the Cui-ui from dying out when Lake Lahontan receded back in the dinosaur days. The trout are obviously doing well here. Most of the trout fall outside the keeper size of 17-20" but few folks complain about having to let go a bunch of fish that were 'too big'. A day filled with 20plus inch trout is a good day anywhere. Even better when the possibility of catching 20 over 20" is very likely. So I didn't reach that mark this time (Oh well...). But I'd call this day very successful - especially during such 'slow' conditions. I always think that the next cast might produce a 10 pounder. It's happened before, and it will again...
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