Outdoor adventures, particularly trout angling
Brian and I made time Thursday afternoon for a half-day trip to Cold Creek. The last time we fished together was in May 2010. As I recall, on just his second fly-fishing excursion Brian out fished me that day. That was a very good day.
Continue reading “Cold Creek Fall Stocking Completed”
I may have seen more of the state of Nevada than most, but I certainly have not seen all of it. Nevada is such a vast state, over 110 thousand square miles ranking it the seventh largest state. Two New York states could fit into Nevada, or three Indiana states. One part of the state I have not visited is the lonesome northwest. I would love to see the Charles Sheldon Antelope Refuge or fish Knott Creek Reservoir, but they are 600 miles away… one way.
Continue reading “Northeastern Nevada – Ruby Lakes, Lamoille Creek, & Illipah Reservoir”
It seemed to me it had been a long time since I had an out-of-town angling adventure. Excluding a 90-minute visit to the local Cold Creek pond, my last fishing trip was with my son Doug over eight weeks ago. I feel as though I missed the best part of the spring fishing. Maybe I feel that way because I anticipate next year will be difficult for spring fishing due to Nevada’s biennium legislative session, but who knows. Regardless, I know the anxiousness I feel about missing the productive early spring season seems directly related to God’s timing.
Continue reading “Pine Valley Reservoir, Southern Utah”
I admit to enjoying fishing alone. When I am by myself I feel as though I am in control of all the decisions. I can decide to fish shorter or longer, stay overnight or not, even to change destinations without consulting a fishing partner. Of course, I only “feel” as though I am in control. When traveling alone and making changes to the “plan” I always check in with my wife, both to keep her informed of my location and travel itinerary as well as to ask permission when such changes affect her expectations of my presence at home.
Continue reading “Cold Springs Reservoir – Wayne Kirch”
This late winter, early spring has been frustrating as the fishing goes. There have been periods with temperatures around 70 degrees in Las Vegas, and that translates into early morning to mid-day temperatures at the 6,000-foot elevation of 40 to 60 degrees… very tolerable. But life gets busy.
Continue reading “Chief Financial Officers fishing Cold Creek”
Chan’s winter fishing of Utah’s Santa Clara River inspired me, and I was seriously contemplating tubing Baker Reservoir this Friday. Chan was kind enough to verify the Utah Department of Wildlife reports that Baker had not yet frozen over, and I was watching the weather patterns thinking Friday would be a fine time to hit it mid-winter.
Continue reading “The Pond at Cold Creek”
A large high-pressure weather system has settled into the Great Basin and beyond, keeping temperatures around Nevada near record highs for this time of year. For about two weeks the Las Vegas valley temperatures have been between the high fifties and the high sixties. I began to wonder if the Cold Creek ice had melted off.
Continue reading “Cold Creek Ice Gone”
I suppose I should have called the hatchery number to check on the timing of the fall stocking program. But, had I called and been told that it hadn’t been stocked yet I might not have gone to Cold Creek. And although it turned out that it wasn’t stocked, and I’m glad I went “blind” to discover that on my own.
Continue reading “Cold Creek Pond, Clark County”
In prior blogs I’ve written about the allure fly angling has had on me since my early youth. It is rooted in New Hampshire. My earliest memories are of our home on Benton Road in Hooksett, New Hampshire. Benton is a rural-like road, and Hooksett is just north of Manchester. Our backyard was the New England woods all the way to the Merrimack River. The Merrimack is a large, powerful river, and its upper reaches still support Atlantic salmon as part of the Merrimack River’s Anadromous Fish Restoration Program. There is a small brook, Benton Brook, that is north of our old house towards the Londonderry Turnpike (I believe it is now called Dalton Brook). The brook drains into the Merrimack, and on the way it skirts along the backside of commercial property on the west side of the Turnpike. One of those properties had a little man-made reservoir that contained stocked rainbow trout back in the early 1960s. As the crow flies, the Merrimack was less than a half-mile from our house, and the meandering course of the little brook was about a mile long from where it passed under Benton Road. Also behind our house, in the thick of the Merrimack Valley woodlands, were other shallow ponds and swamps. I recall skating on Maureen’s Pond on double-rail skates in the winter, and that was without adult supervision. As a child I never realized how close we lived to the mighty river; the thick woods made it seem so far away and mysterious. Images of my brothers Neal and Bruce emerging from the woods with water moccasin snakes, cottontail rabbits, grey squirrels, and even a porcupine are still vivid in my memory. At the edge of our property, abutting the woods, my father had a dog kennel. Dad raised Weimaraners, training them for bird hunting. We had a chicken coop where we harvested fresh eggs, and a garden that grew fresh melons and vegetables. I recall the wonderful cucumber sandwiches mom would slice up, as well as the trouble I got into from secretly dipping wild rhubarb in the sugar bowl, the pink stain being the convicting evidence. I may be suffering from selective memory or romanticism, but I think that was a wonderful way to start a life, and I’m thankful for those beginnings.
Continue reading “Evolution of a Fly Fisherman in the Mojave Desert”
Some say communing with nature can be a religious experience. I, for example, find that everything in nature screams of the Creator. I don’t worship nature, but I find that the Lord’s hand is everywhere to be found in it. In the Bible, Job retorts in his defense against his so called friends, “But ask the animals, and they will teach you, or ask the birds of the air, and they will teach you. Speak to the earth, and it will teach you, or let the fish of the sea tell you. Every one of these knows that the hand of the Lord has done this” (Job 13, 7-9). So, today I went to speak with Mr. Trout.
Continue reading “Cold Creek Revival”