Photo Shoot

Absent Mindlessness of an old trout bum

10/9/24

Welcome back to Musings of an Old Trout Bum.  Thanks to those of you that took the time to comment on last week’s post.  I’m aware that most of those who make comments are those who have something complimentary to say and conversely those who didn’t like the post are polite enough to just not say anything.  It’s great to be continually praised for what I do but I’ve learned after many years putting myself out there to not assume every reader feels the same way, so if any of you out there have a negative comment about anything I’ve posted, please don’t hesitate to speak up.   

This Week’s Newsletter
Before we get into the meat of this weeks post, here’s an update on what’s going on in our fly fishing world:

In Memoriam
I just read that one of our greatest fly fishing and outdoors writers John Gierach just passed the other day at 78 years of age.  I’ll never forget many years ago when I was embarking on my writing career, I was warned that the only fly fishing writer that made a living doing it was John Gierach.  That’s quite an accomplishment in itself.

Book
I’m getting asked all of the time about when the reprint of my book Fly Fisher’s Guide to California will be reprinted.  Rather than reprint a seven year old book we Instead completely updated it and plus added three of Nevada’s western waters. When it’s ready to drop I’ll post it here.  Copies of the book will be available at all major book stores, local fly shops, and signed copies directly from me.  

Clinics
Lower American River Steelhead clinics are booking up fast with only 3 spots left for the December 28 date.  If you are interested in attending one of the four dates (December 28, January 25, February 1^st and February 8) get in touch with me as soon as you can. 

Cell/Text: (916)719-6253
Email: vinci.greg@gmail.com

For more information about the clinics go to:
https://www.californiaflyfishingreports.com/clinics-greg

This Week’s Fly Fishing Report
Mountain fishing has been in an Indian summer doldrum this week.  The mountain waters are supposed to be cooling down by now, but this year is different.  The forecast is for cooler weather this next week and hopefully it will remain that way.  The mountains need some below freezing nights to get the water temperatures down.  All that being said, the Walker drainages and the upper Owens still have good flows and we’ve been getting positive reports on the fishing.  Low flow of the Feather has lots of Salmon and Steelhead mixed in.  The upper Sac is fishing pretty good and so is Hat Creek. The lower Sac, eh? Lakes are all doing pretty good too.  For a detailed report check out my website www.californiaflyfishingreports.com.  The new report drops on Tuesday evening.

. . . and If you have nothing better to do . . .
head on over to my photography website www.gregvinciphoto.com and check out the pics. 

PHOTO SHOOT
Absent Mindlesdness of an old Trout Bum

I received an email a few weeks ago from an editor of one of the fly fishing magazines that I write for (can’t mention who as I don’t want spies for the other magazines to get wind of it) asking me to write a piece on the lower Yuba River here in northern California.  That was great, as I had already done several articles on the river and knew it well as it was a home water too. But at the same time, I realized that in all fairness to my readers I should update the images and get a new perspective from a local guide,  on the current condition of the river as it had undergone changes due to flooding that occurred over the last few years.

The first person I thought of was Yuba Guide, Joe Vasquez.  I’ve known Joe for many years but oddly enough, even though we once had spent a week fishing for Goldens on a pack trip, had only been guided by him one time on a float for Shad.  He was one of those guides who when asked how the fishing was, always said that - fishing was Great!  To me that was just what we call guide speak, but his clients always seemed to back him up plus my own experience fishing with him had been productive.  My arrangement with guides that work with me on the stories I write is that we spend a day fishing while I interview him/her while they have to up with me snapping pictures all day. They also get featured as the “expert” in my story.  It works out great for both of us as I get what I need for the story and he gets national exposure in the article.

 So last Friday we met at 6am in the Raley’s parking lot where I was to leave my car and ride with him up to meet his pal Vincent at the Hwy 20 bridge on the Yuba.  We were going to do the float in Vincent’s boat as Joe keeps his boat this time of year up in Redding as he guides the lower Sac this time of year for the egg bite that is occurring now.  It was dark out when we headed out but some thirty minutes later, after the sun had risen, I reached on top of my head for my dark glasses and they weren’t there and the reason being was that I had substituted my baseball hat for a wide brimmed hat.  I had learned some time ago that a wide brim hat kept me much cooler when sitting in a drift boat on a hot day, and today’s forecast was that it was going to be 100 degrees. The thought of sitting in a drift boat on the water for a whole day without eye protection didn’t sound good.  

After about an hour we pulled up to the parking area on the south side of the Hwy 20 bridge that crossed the lower Yuba River and Vincent was sitting there in his late model F-250 with a 12 ft Willie Boat on the trailer.  He was a tall 60 something sort of an Italian looking guy whose complexion suggested that he is lineage originated from somewhere in northern Italy.  Only those of us who are descendants of Italian emigrants would notice this kind of thing.  I, as I always do when I meet a fellow descendant of Italian emigrants, asked him what town in Italy his family came from, and he said Lucca in the northern part of the country.  What a coincidence, my family was from Lucca or I should say Lucca Sicula in Sicily.  I thought, that was an interesting though our respective Lucca’s were as the crow flies, some 450 miles apart. Regardless of that fact, and after giving it some thought I figured we could maybe be distant cousins as my last name is Vinci and Leonardo da Vinci was from Vincent’s Lucca and one of Leonardo’s relatives could have traveled to Sicily and established the Vinci branch in my Lucca (Sicula).  We might be cousins after all! . . . and it would be good to have a cousin who owns a drift boat.   

The launch area was on a private fishing club property near the bridge.  You used to be able to launch on the downstream side of the bridge, but access was closed to the public because of vandalism and crime issues.  For years all five miles of the river was accessible to wade fishermen from the south side but with the closure you now pretty much have to float it if you want to fish it. Vincent backed the boat into the water, we jumped in and off we went.  Joe got us through a set of rappids and once under the bridge we came upon some of the pretiest water one could encounter anywhere but couldn’t get a grab for the life of us.  Vincent and Joe took turns rowing and fishing and I took turns fishing and snapping pictures. From on the water the river is surprisingly scenic despite the fact that it flows through what was once considered an ecological disaster due to dredger gold mining along its shores and in the mountains upstream.  As we floated down the riverJoe put us on to every fishy spot we saw but it was a couple of hours before one of us (Vincent) finally got a fish, and a small one at that.  We couldn’t figure out why fishing was so slow as the conditions looked perfect plus a slight cloud cover was keeping the temperature in the low 90s.

For most of the day we fished hoppers and I tried out my new can’t go wrong “Cheater” streamer (see last week’s post) to test it against wild fish.  I had no luck and by 2 oclock I was sort of petered out. This Vincent guy was still gung-ho to say the least and there would be no resting for him.  It was great to see that sort of enthusiasm for fly fishing in an older guy. 

Vincent couldn’t wait for us to get to the channel that ran along the north side of the big island where he and done well a week before, but first he said we had to stop so he could catch some chum.  The word chum is a heretical word in fly fishing but didn’t make and immediate response as I thought that I would give him a chance to explain. Without either I or Joe saying anything he elucidated that he wanted to go hopper hunting.  That still didn’t answer the question but after making some some jokes about Joe and I having to sign an NDA he went on to say the live hoppers were just to test the waters and find the fish.

Joe placed the boat in the seam of a long run and Vincent then took a crippled hopper out of his jar and threw it on the water. We watched it float for until it was out of sight but it got no interest from the fish. Regardless, we covered every feeding lie we encountered along that one hundred yard channel, throwing hopper patterns and crippled hoppers, neither of which received no interest from the fish.  

 We continued on until we got to a section where Joe wanted us to fish along the edge of a seam close to the shoreline.  It looked so fishy I put my camera down and I decided to put my line back into the water. I picked up my rod with the indicator rig and decided to switch flies. When I bent over to get my fly box which was on the floor of the boat alongside the knee brace, the brim of my hat caught the railing on top of the brace and the hat went flying in the wind and landed in the water behind the boat.  I know, you probably want to ask me why I didn’t use the hat keeper to hold my hat down, but since I already had to explained that to Joe and Vincent, I’d rather not go there again. 

Joe maneuvered the boat to catch up with the hat before it could sink.  Once we caught up to it Vincent who had the net in his hand took a swipe at it but inadvertently pushed the hat into a faster current.  Now the hat looked like it was getting waterlogged as it would occasionally sink yet pop back up a minute later. Joe rowed as fast as he could trying to get ahead of it but each time, we caught up with it some current would push it away.  At this point the hat was sinking low in the water and close to sinking when finally, Vincent was able to scoop it up. All in all, Vincent saved the day for me as he saved my hat, and also I forgot to mention earlier loaned me some spare dark glasses too.  What a good cousin he is.