12 July, on the hunt for kokes...

Franklin, Twain or Einstein (depending on the source) is supposed to have said that the definition of insanity is continuing to do the same thing over and over and expecting different results. Whether or not any of those men actually said those words is of no real consequence, but the idea behind them is, especially when fishing. How many times during an unproductive day have we continued to make 'just one more cast' because it's our favorite lure, a known honey-hole, or it worked well last week. And yet, often, the results remain the same, time forces our march closer and closer to a day filled with solely with dinks, or worse yet, the dreaded skunk. So it was that I found myself in such a predicament last Sunday.

The weather had cooled off the air temps significantly, which should have also dropped the water temp a notch, at least on the surface, and all the rainstorms should have washed some fresh foodstuffs into the lakes to get everybody active again. So it was with eager anticipation that I strapped the kayak to the top of the truck and headed off to Stampede. I had plans to fetch my limit of kokanee by 8am, and then prowl the creek arms for smallies, or potentially the errant trout if the cloud cover held. It was going to be one of those banner days on the water. I. Was. Wrong.

I hit the launch at 6am, with the sun still obscured by some low clouds, the water temp at about 66, the air about 55, and flat calm conditions. Juvenile salmon were already breaking the surface all over the lake. As an aside, I have no idea why they do that. I don't think they're feeding on anything, as they're plankton eaters, and I doubt there are predators (big macs and browns) chasing them that close to the surface. But I digress... I started marking schools of kokanee as soon as I hit 30 feet of water. I deployed my standard rig: a pink wedding ring tipped with corn behind a watermelon dodger, set on the down rigger right above the depth I was marking fish. I absolutely demolished little silver footballs with that set up all spring, why should today be any different? I started trolling, through countless schools of fish, and never got a takedown. I looped around schools, adjusted the depth, reeled up and slathered everything in fresh scent and fresh corn. A small flotilla of boats was working a racetrack over by the dam, and I made my way in their direction. They MUST be on the fish. To my dismay, I arrived to a complete lack of action. It was like I'd shown up to the hottest new bar in town to find them playing nothing but Journey on repeat and absolutely no talent within a city block.

It was then that I remembered the aforementioned quote about insanity. All of these boats were doing the exact same thing, and yet no one was getting bent. This is not fishing, this is lunacy. So I reeled everything up, and rigged up a jigging rod. A 1/2 oz crippled herring slathered in krill should do the trick. I found a school and dropped the bait. Jerk, fall, bounce. Jerk, fall, bounce. Jerk, fall bounce... The boaters circling around me must have thought I'd lost my mind. Then, wham! fish on. This was not a kokanee, its head shakes were too slow, yet too strong, and it ran. It wasn't a screaming drag, sleigh ride kind of run, but if you fish for kokanee enough you know they're not particularly strong. They're scrappy, at best. When I saw it for the first time, about 6 feet down, I thought it was a decent sized brown, but when I got it in the boat I was surprised to find that it was not a brown at all, but a Lahonton Cutthroat. I know they've been trying to reintroduce them into Tahoe and the Truckee basin, but they must have stocked Stampede at one point too. I marveled at him for a second, (he looked like he could have been straight out of Pyramid) snapped a photo, and let him go. With newfound confidence I dropped the jig back down and hunted for more. A few moments later, I felt a light tap, but no significant resistance. I reeled up, and was surprised to find that I had snagged a fingerling kokanee. I performed minor surgery to remove the hook from his side, and was pleased to see he was still fairly lively. Opportunities like this should not be passed up, so I tied up a bait rig, and dropped him back down as a potential meal for a large mackinaw. I dragged him through nest after nest of macks, all hugging the bottom in 70-80 feet of water. After significant time, and subsequent disappointment had passed, I decided that technique wasn't working either, and the poor fingerling had probably suffered enough. It turns out, the latter consideration was a moot point. He was dead as a doornail when I finally reeled him up.

Figuring that the weather had significantly altered the bite, I pedaled up into the creek arm in search of smallmouth. Perhaps the cooler (and cloudier) weather would bring them up into the shallows to feed. I threw everything; craw colored plastics, craw colored crank baits, silver crank baits, drop shot rigs, you name it. For over an hour I was met with absolutely no response. I decided that today simply wasn't my day, and started to make my way back to the launch. Besides, the wind was beginning to kick up a bit, and I was famished. I rigged up a krokodile behind a flasher for the troll in, more out of boredom than anything else. As I made my way back, I marked a significant drop off on the Lowrance, with plenty of arches suspended along. As a last ditch effort, I let the down rigger ball free fall down the ledge (I would have been about 10 feet above it if I had just continued) and before I could tighten the downrigger again, my rod started bouncing wildly. Fish on! It was just a planted a rainbow, with beat up fins to boot, but on a slow day, I was grateful for any response from any quarry. I pedaled back around, and took the same line, again dropping the weight just as I passed over the ledge. And again, as if on cue, my rod popped out of the clip. It was another planted 'bow, although a bit bigger than the first. I decided that I finally had found some sort of pattern, and made one more run just to prove it to myself. Sure enough, another planter fell for the trap. At this point, it was well past noon, and the afternoon wind was starting to considerably churn the water, so I beat feet all the way back to the launch. Was it a great day of fishing? Not really. But I did get out on the water, and most importantly, I learned something. If at first you don't succeed, don't simply 'try, try again,' but try something new.

Huge report! Nice hope to see ya up on the lake... Holla if you head to SLT... Bite has been good

Thanks for the great report and pictures FlyingAnchor.

Wow I didn't know you could bait fish with a fingerling kokanee for mackinaw.