November 13, 2003

Henderson Springs - Big Bend, CA


A rainbow from Henderson Springs, maybe over 6 pounds. The largest trout I had ever caught.
My good friend, Bill Bergan, had arranged a trip with six of his clients to fish Henderson Springs as a “thank you” for their business. One of his clients cancelled, and Bill offered me the vacated spot. I didn't want to intrude on Bill's business development weekend, and the four-day trip was the weekend before Thanksgiving. It all seemed to come together so quickly that I was slightly antsy about what I was getting into with a bunch of business guys I didn't know in a place I had never been. Bill must have sensed that I needed more reassurance, and he affirmed that it would be a great trip. With some apprehension, and after consultation with my wife, I graciously accepted.

Having never experienced a private fishing camp I had only my imagination to feed my expectations. Pre-trip research revealed that Henderson Springs was a 500-acre fly fishing ranch located in remote northern California, near Big Bend on the Pitt River, just north of Redding, California. The ranch has four lakes and a ½ mile meandering spring creek, all catch and release waters open only to guests of the ranch. The fishing is private and unpressured.
The Henderson Springs Lodge... you gotta love that salmon fly art on porch cross-member beam.
I found the food and hospitality to be delightful, better than I had imagined. The lodge was somewhat rustic but extremely comfortable. The meals were high quality, although I don't want that to sound unexpected as I had no "fish camp" frame of reference. The first night we had barbecued pork loin with vegetables and potatoes. Dessert was cheesecake. Friday night was prawns with rice and vegetables. Dessert was homemade pecan pie, with ice cream. Prime rib was served on our final night with asparagus and baked potato. Butter lettuce with avocados, red peppers, and tomatoes was the salad offering each evening. Box lunches were made to order, using the prior night’s leftovers. Breakfasts were hearty and delicious. Staff was helpful but unpretentious; very much a comfortable environment.

Bill’s work associates were very affable guys, though most were a little out of my league, financially. I was somewhat of a novelty because I was not a client of Bill’s, but rather a government executive with that sinful little city of Las Vegas. Mayor Oscar B. Goodman was the new Mayor, and his mob-lawyer background was still getting national media interest, not to mention that "Mayor" Goodman was developing into quite a media caricature himself. Being somewhat affluent, comparatively speaking, Bill’s clients all had the finest of rods (Sage, Loomis, etc.) and reels (Abel, Ross, etc.) that were available at that time. I admit to being somewhat intimidated with my hand-made Fenwick HMG graphite rod from the early 1980s. Causing additional anxiety was the fact that I had never before fished for really large trout (i.e., measured in “pounds” rather than “inches”), let alone land one. On top of that it had been many years since I had done any serious fishing, years spent raising a family of five boys without much angling at all. All these thoughts were conspiring to cause me to feel unsure of myself. I didn’t want to disappoint Bill with a poor showing among his friends; after all, I was the one that taught Bill to fly fish. Bill had progressed beyond my abilities, and I didn't want to embarrass him, or myself. He has a passion for the sport of fly fishing. He's able to take time to feed it. Living in northern California, the heart of great fishing, his experience and interest broadened to multiple species, including brackish and salt water species.  Traveling around the country to support his angling habit was an alluring quality woven into his fishing tales. I confess my sinful ego wanted me to make a good showing.

There was yet another dampening effect on the trip: weather for the entire weekend was overcast and rainy. I don’t recall seeing many patches of daylight. The rain was not hard, but consistently relentless. Most of us wore hooded rain jackets layered over fleece and thermals. Dark flies with sinking lines seemed to be the proper presentation, preferably woolly buggers or streamers.
Nothing like a 21-inch trout to calm performance nerves. My first rainbow of the trip, on my hand-made
Fenwick rod and click-pawl Hardy real.
Upon arriving late Thursday afternoon, November 13, we fished Long Lake from the shore in the waning daylight. Casting a green woolly bugger on the end of my five-weight sinking line produced some immediate results. I caught two nice rainbows, the largest being twenty-one inches with a hooked jaw. It was the largest trout I had ever caught at that point in my life. I also caught two small bass, which I later learned I was supposed to destroy to help improve the habitat for the large trout (staff said they killed about 2,300 bass last summer). Not only did I catch the largest trout of my life (only to be surpassed in the succeeding two days), I was proud to be the first to land a trout. A couple of Bill’s clients were on the opposite side of the very narrow Long Lake, and they witnessed the large rainbow as I brought him into the shallows for a quick picture and release. Yes, I was proud to accomplish all of that with my home-made Fenwick, eight-foot, five-weight, fly rod and my click-pawl Hardy LRH Lightweight reel. That early success cured any anxiety I had about competition. From that point on I just fell into my fishing groove instinctively and automatically.

Having been convinced about the size of these trout based on Thursday evening’s offerings, the next morning Bill easily persuaded me to use one of his nine-foot, five-weight Sage rods with an Abel mid-arbor reel. Frankly, I gladly accepted his offer. That Friday morning I fished Big Lake with Bernie and Mike. Bernie owns a Sacramento Fly Shop, and Mike owns/runs a Sacramento housing construction company. I watched Bernie from a distance, and he certainly was an accomplished angler. He caught a lot of trout that morning. As for me, I caught three rainbows (two over 24 inches) and three browns (one right at 20 inches), and lost two others (one very good fish).
This 18-inch brook trout from Clear Lake was a total surprise.  I only wish I could have taken
a more complete photo of his spectacularly colored body. Isn't the hump of his back impressive?
In the afternoon, Mike and I fished Clear Lake where I caught two rainbows (18 - 20 inches) and three brook trout. The brookies where a very pleasant surprise. Two of them were eighteen-inch males in full spawning colors, sporting hooked jaws and humped backs. They were very large for brook trout. I also hooked and lost one other. In my excitement I never captured a decent picture of their brilliant coloring. No matter, I still have their images set in my mind.

On Friday, all my fish were caught on a black woolly bugger.

Saturday morning, day three, I finally got to fish with Bill and Mike on Frog Lake. I hooked and lost four fish that morning, one that could have been close to eight pounds (it leapt and the hook pulled out when it hit the water). I did manage to land one of about 24 inches, but rather thin compared to the other brutes (I guessed him at five pounds). All were rainbows. While I got a lot of action Saturday morning, I found it the most frustrating of all because I couldn’t seem to bring anything to the net. Perhaps I was overconfident from the early success.

The three of us fished Big Lake again that afternoon. While I only caught three trout, one was 24-25 inches, a rainbow trout of six-plus pounds. I caught another rainbow that was about four pounds; it was a male working on a hooked jaw. The third was a small 15 inch brown trout, which had eagle or osprey wounds on it. There are resident bald eagles in the area. I also caught two bass, and hooked and lost a couple of other trout.
Our departure day was Sunday, November 16. We had just 1½ hours to fish due to the drive back to Sacramento to catch my 4:40 PM flight home. Bill and I fished Long Lake, this time down by the islands. Long Lake is an intimate little lake; long and narrow but filled with large trout. Casting to the point of an island, I hooked up with a strong fish that seemed like a three-pound rainbow. It had been rolling off the island, and had I cast a green stillwater nymph with a midge emerger as a dropper. The trout took the dropper, and I played it for about three minutes, but when I brought it to net the nail knot (the knot connecting the fly line to leader leader) came undone, which is highly unusual. Since I was still using Bill’s Sage rod and Abel reel I jokingly blamed him for the lost trout. Shortly thereafter, Bill landed a good six-pound Rainbow, also on a dropper. That last fish of the trip signaled it was time to leave.
Bill showing off a six-pound rainbow from Long Lake, the last trout of our
4-day trip to Henderson Springs. 
Some day it would be gratifying to bring one or two of my sons to experience all that Henderson Springs offers.  It's a wonderful angling lodge with genuine hospitality and lovely wooded lakes, but most of all the varied and enormous trout make it feel like fly fishing nirvana. Once again Bill’s generosity and enthusiasm opened a door to an outdoor experience that will remain a favorite throughout my lifetime.
All but a few of the 17 trout were 18 inches or longer.
Me and Bill - a long-time friendship of angler aficionados.
Picturesque Clear Lake, home of the brook trout.
Another 24-inch rainbow.
Longest brown trout I'd ever caught, right as 20 inches.
One of Bill's clients with five pound rainbow in the morning drizzle. 
Another client with a smaller, three pound rainbow.
Bill netting a 25-inch rainbow.

June 23, 2003

Great Basin Park - Baker, NV

Before Great Basin National Park came into existence in 1986 it was simply National Forrest Service land. The park lies within the Snake Mountain Range just east of Ely, running along the Nevada-Utah border. Lehman Caves was privately owned, but creation of the national park brought the caves into the federal fold. While I am thankful the park is protected, national park status creates a higher level of interest. But the remoteness of the park has kept the throngs away so far.


Evan and Brian, circa 2000; note Wheeler cirque in background

I first visited the Lehman Caves when I was in college. My memory is a little fuzzy; I thought there were four of us on that first trip but I can only recall the names of Doug Tueller and Kevin McGoohan. I was not a fisherman at that time; we simply went to escape city life and appreciate the grandeur of Wheeler Peak (13,062 feet) and the accompanying Snake Mountain Range. We camped in the Upper Lehman Creek campground (around 7,800 feet), and hiked the Lehman Creek trail to the Wheeler Peak campground (9,950 feet). It was a rigorous hike with Tueller in the lead; an eight-mile round trip with 2,150 feet up and then back down. Of course, we toured the Lehman Caves which was under private ownership and operation at that time.

I returned another time with McGoohan during spring break, and the highlight of the trip was the hour-long tour we received in the caverns, as we were the first and only visitors of the season. Still another time I recall driving up the morning after attending UNLV graduation parties in 1978 with a fraternity brother (who’s name escapes me). I recall still another trip after I began fly fishing. Although I’ve never fished the alpine lakes (Baker and Johnson hold Bonneville Cutthroat Trout), I have fished Baker Creek. I intend to return soon to try fishing the creek once again.

Stella Lake Trail just below Wheeler Peak
I estimate I have visited Wheeler seven or eight times over the past thirty years. It has a unique beauty all its own. It is the second highest peak in Nevada (Boundary Peak in the White Mountain being the highest at 13,143 feet), and it is an attraction for climbers with its breathtaking cirque at the peak. I believe it is the most photographed and recognizable peak in the whole state of Nevada.
Evan at Stella Lake, 10,385 feet elevation
Another attraction of Wheeler is its bristlecone pines. Bristlecones live over millennia, not centuries. The Wheeler Peak grove has kept its grip on life for two to three thousand years, with some trees living even longer. In fact, the oldest living thing ever discovered was a bristlecone pine in the Snake Mountain Range; it was cut in half – killed – in order to determine its age which was 4,950 years. The park has several groves of bristlecone pine, but the Wheeler Peak grove is unusual in that it grows on a glacial moraine consisting of quartzite boulders. Most groves grow on limestone or dolomite. The northeastern exposure of the Wheeler Peak grove is also unusual as most other groves have a generally southern or western exposure.

The Lehman Caves are an attraction all on their own. The caves in Wheeler are one of the best places to see rare shield formations. Over 300 shields are known to exist in Lehman Caves, more than any other cave. The cave is profusely decorated; stalactites, stalagmites, helictites, flowstone, popcorn, and other formations cover almost every surface of the cave. Caves can tell us about the history of the earth. Information about past surface climates are preserved in the layers of cave formations, and much can be learned about natural history from the "treasures" in old pack rat middens (i.e., dunghill or refuse heaps). Thus the cave can tell us a lot about past climate changes and their effects on plant and animal communities. Water, geologic forces, and climatic changes combined to form Lehman Caves over a period of millions of years.

Doug / Tom, Lower Lehman, Sep.1993
The Snake Range has numerous creeks flowing into the Snake Valley along the state border (Strawberry, Lehman, Baker, Snake, and Big Wash). Although I’ve only fished Baker, on various occasions Doug, Tom, Brian and I have fished nearby Silver Creek Reservoir that flows from Mount Moriah to the north (the northern portion of the Snake Mountain Range). Wildlife also abounds, with mule dear and rocky mountain bighorn in the mountains, and pronghorn antelope in the valley. I recall a trip with Brian and Evan wherein we had a buck in velvet eating in our campground, and then saw two pronghorns with a fawn just outside Baker.

The private land just outside the park contains lots of cabins. One of my favorite memories driving up the Lehman Creek road into the park is the “art” hung on the fence as you drive through the private areas. These people really have a sense of humor.


Proud Tom on trail to bristlecone grove
and ice field below Wheeler Peak, September 1993
Doug leading Tom and I down the Wheeler Bristlecone Grove Trail,
with the Snake Valley in the distance, September 1993
Lehman Caves, June 2003, with Brian and friends Jeremy and Delano.
Note Columns above with stalactites and stalagmites, and flowstone shields to the right.
Pictures do not do accurately portray these awesome structures.
Five mule deer bucks near Strawberry Creek, Sep. 1993
(Doug and Tom asleep in the truck cab)
Pronghorn antelope with fawn in Snake Valley outside Baker, NV
Above is a 3-D topographic map of the Great Basin National Park.
It is just off state highway 6 which branches off US Highway 95 to the west.
It is about an hour drive east of Ely, NV. Lehman Caves at the Visitor Center
is the area’s biggest attraction, but trails, creeks, and lakes abound,
as does plentiful wildlife. The park is well worth the visit.

June 15, 2003

Cave Lake State Park - Ely, NV


Tom, me, and Doug - Cave Lake boat dock June 2000

My brother Neal is responsible for cultivating my interest as an outdoorsman.  I suspect the seeds were planted as a boy growing up in Hooksett, New Hampshire, but someone needed to water them.  In my early teens he took me on my first fishing trip to Kingston Canyon south of Austin, Nevada. He gave me a cheep, ultra-light spinning rod, lures, and a canvas creel and set me loose after just a few minutes of instruction.  Neal was never long on patience, and he never really offered to teach me the art of fly fishing.  In college I bought several books on fly fishing, and after years of dreaming about it I finally taught myself.

After graduating from college in 1978, I badgered Neal into a Utah fishing trip.  I was still very much a beginner, and I wanted him to share his knowledge of both the sport and the places nearby where he plied that sport.  I think Neal finally decided that my graduation was as good an excuse as any, so we set off for Beaver, Utah with thoughts of fishing the high mountain lakes in Fish Lake National Forest.  Upon arriving in Beaver we unfortunately learned that the Utah season did not begin until June 1, so we could not fish. Neal suggested heading west on Highway 21 to Cave Lake near Ely, Nevada.  That fortuitous decision turned out to be brilliant.

In those early days, we killed everything we caught. Catch and release had not really been discussed much at that time. The objective was to come home with the ice chest as full as we could get it. Cave Lake filled that bill splendidly.
Very young FisherDad playing a rainbow
on my first hand-made rod - May 1978
In 1978, Cave Lake was under-utilized.  Although just twenty minutes outside the town of Ely, it was not well known down south, or at least the southern population of potential fisherman was not what it is today.  Although they stocked the lake with rainbow trout, Neal was aware that there were holdover populations of brown trout that were reproducing in the feeder creek.  We must have timed our visit just right as the lake was well stocked.  Even as a novice who fished dry flies exclusively,  I caught many stocked rainbows.  However, the real excitement was catching the brown trout, or "brownies", on dry flies.  In one instance I recall standing on the boat dock watching this large (large to me at that time was anything over thirteen inches) brown sucking mayflies from the surface.  I was fishing with my newly constructed seven-and-one-half foot fly rod, a rod of my own creation.  I quickly cast a dry fly into the path of the cruising brown.  I watched as he leisurely approached, opened his pink mouth, and sucked in the fly.  What an awesome experience for a twenty-one year old novice fisherman.  That was an addicting event.  Neal also caught several good size brown trout, and one of the pictures we took with Neal’s creel, rod, and bib arranged around the trout was composed so well that I drew the picture in pen and ink in 1981.

Neal's thirteen-inch brown trout - May 1978
Arranged on Neal’s equipment - subject of FisherDad pen and ink drawing
Pen & Ink by FisherDad - September 1981
I returned to Cave Lake for a solo visit in the fall of 1980, but only caught two browns.  I did get a strike from a brown on a dry fly, and that trout could have gone twenty inches and three pounds easily.  I thought I had set the hook, but as the brown leaped clear of the water it pulled out.  Disappointed, I retrieved my line and examined the hook.  I felt like an idiot when I discovered that the hook point was bent (probably from a sloppy back cast bouncing off a rock), and that it never set into the trout’s jaw, but rather had been pulled straight as I attempted to set the hook.  That was a difficult lesson to learn at age twenty-four.

Cave Lake boat dock
My next visit was with Doug and Tom in 2000; a maiden voyage for my new Dodge Quad Cab.  We camped in Cave Lake, but visited Silver Creek near Great Basin National Park and Illipah Reservoir on the way to Eureka, Nevada, as well as a long jaunt up to the Ruby Marshes.  Although Cave Lake served more as a base camp on that trip, it became known as “Skunk Camp" due to a visit from a nocturnal skunk on the second night.  Tom had become ill in the middle of the night and vomited just a few feet from the tent, which is not adequate distance to safeguard the camp from pesky scavengers.  Sure enough, before we even re-entered the tent along came an ambling skunk which consumed Tom’s remnants right before our eyes.  Tom was a good sport about it, and it was interesting to watch the skunk; thank goodness he never left a calling card.

The most recent visit to Cave Lake was in 2003 with Brian and two of his buddies.  That was more of a camping trip than a real fishing trip, as all three had to be assisted constantly with tying knots and unraveling “bird nests”.  Still, it was a fun trip for the boys and included the obligatory Great Basin National Park side trip.  Splitting time between the three of them was fine, but it would have been better had I spent more time just with Brian.

Neal with a trio of brown trout - May 1978

Eleven dead Cave Lake trout, including three nice browns - May 1978
Toyota 4x4 at Success Summit, Schell Creek Range - 1979
Looking north into Duck Creek, Success Summit - 1979

"Skunk Camp" with Doug and Tom, June 2000


Brian and friends heading towards Cave Lake - June 2003

Brian, Jeremy, and Delano feeding chipmunks peanuts near camp
(at least they were not skunks)