Trout Lake Report: Buried Treasure

I got to the lake on Tuesday around 4:00. It was cool and windy. A wan sun was filtering through the clouds when I launched at my usual north lake put in.

I trolled my new bead head leech straight across the lake and soon had the first fish of the day. The skunk was off; I could simply fish.

I usually work the far north end, but this time I went the other direction and made a complete circuit of the biggest part of the north lake, ending up at the channel.

Canyon wrens sing over the scree, magpies fly raucously from tree to tree, and yellow warblers flit in the shoreside willows. I saw Rough-winged swallows flying in and out of holes in the bank, and I heard a grouse drumming somewhere in the Ponderosas.

A swirling wind blew fitfully from every point on the compass, and clouds scudded overhead trying to rain. The sun broke through again briefly. There were no rises.

By the time I reached the channel the wind had faded away. The lake calmed. There were lots of bugs. I waited for an evening rise that never came.

So I trolled my way around into the channel.

I fished my new stimulator along the quiet channel shoreline, but it remained quiet. So I tied on the bead head leech again and started the long troll back to the truck.

I paralleled the campground where people were sitting around campfires telling stories of their day on the water.

I caught three small fish--jumpers, all--before reaching the truck and heading home. The bead head leech did just fine.

But the day belonged to the muddler. I covered that entire shoreline with it, casting in every few feet and swimming it back just under the surface.

It was like digging for buried treasure--and finding it.