February 18, 2011

Cold Creek Pond, Clark County




The "town" of Cold Creek, south of the pond
My new work schedule was producing a four-day weekend for Presidents Day, but the forecast called for rain starting Friday evening. Just for fun I ran up to Cold Creek after dropping Evan off at school this morning. It seemed calm in the valley; although I knew it would be in the mid-thirties up there. Unfortunately, at 7:30am the wind was whipping pretty good off the northern end of the Spring Mountains.

First Cold Creek pond, Wheeler Peak in background
It was difficult to backcast into the wind, so I was roll casting off the southern shoreline. I was using my seven and one-half foot, four weight rod with a sink-tip line. As I was standing in the wind putting on my fleece jacket and rubber boots I was thinking to myself this was a dumb idea. I think the twenty to thirty mile-per-hour gusts created a wind chill temperature of about 25 degrees. I did not bring mittens, and the fleece jacket was not preventing the wind from penetrating. Still, part of the fun is pushing yourself to accomplish what you started out to do, so I walked onto the little submerged peninsula and made my first cast with the assistance of the wind.

My favorite rod, 7.5 feet 4 weight
The diversion channel inlet starting to freeze over

After about the fifth or sixth strip on that first cast I hooked a nice little rainbow, maybe close to eleven inches long. It was caught on a Callibaetis nymph. It was the only fish of the day because twenty minutes into the fishing I was starting to lose my finger agility. They had that burning feeling just before they go totally numb. I decided I was finished.


Rainbow on Rickard's Callibaetis Nymph
First cast, first (and only) trout
I had a lunch date with Nick, my son who created this blog for me. I used that appointment as an additional excuse to cut it short, but I really didn’t want to suffer through another hour with the wind. I just spent two days in Carson City and the snow was the most I have ever seen there. In fact, driving through a white-out in the Washoe Valley was eerily reminiscent of the movie Fargo. I guess two days of Carson City snow storms weakened my tolerance level.

Perhaps by the afternoon the wind might have died down, so if any of you Vegas fly fishermen made it up there maybe you had a good time. As for me this morning, someone once said any time out of the city and in the country is good time.

Ubiquitous Cold Creek feral horses

A cold FisherDad at Cold Creek