Ever since the Sherminator introduced me to golden trout well over a decade ago, I've shared his quest to land one at least 12 inches in moving water. The foot long marker is an easy feat in our high country lakes but pretty tough in our rivers and creeks. The closest he ever came was 10 inches. I managed to reach the foot long goal only to have the fish escape my grasps while I waited for the camera to focus on the fish. The above picture was a conciliatory fish of about 10 inches I caught moments after losing my trophy golden.
We started our trip Friday late morning hoping to beat the weekend traffic. Of course with Southern California that's hit or miss. This time it was a miss and getting out of the IE was slow. We managed lunch in Adelanto but we needed to eat outside in the 100 degree weather because Chul had brought his pup and we couldn't leave her in the truck. After deciding on Rubio's we waited for our food in the patio area, one without any shade. Being in the high desert high winds picked up it blow my cup of water and salsa cups right in my lap. As if I wasn't already annoyed with the traffic as well as agitatied from seating in the heat without shade, now I had a lap full of salsa verde and I look like I just pissed my pants. This is one hell of a start.
After rushing through my lunch, as all I wanted to do was get out of the desert heat and get into the air conditioned truck, we made our way north. After elevated somewhere around 10,000 feet, we made camp. The only campsite left on the river. By this time it was sometime just before 7pm giving us about an hour and a half of light. It did not take long before my one weight was being bent. I managed several dink goldens and a handful of respectable browns.
I reached a small pocket that required me to make a curve cast so not to hit the fallen log behind it or the overhanging branch in front of it. I made the perfect cast and was rewarded with a strike. With the rod bent to the cork it felt heavy and I had to gingerly coax it away from tangling itself in the overhanging branch I just avoided. Once landed, it was my trophy golden after all, I held it waiting for the camera to focus before I clicked the shutter. In that time he gave me a squirm and was away before I could document it for the Sherminator. I can hear it now "Pics or it didn't happen." Damn, what next salsa in my pants? Oh wait...To Be Continued.