Forks of Kern Trek
Kern River Valley

August 25, 2006

Meeting up at Troutfitters, in Kernville, we couldn't have asked for better weather. A cloudless Blue Sky and moderate temperature gave me a sense of good things to come.  Sharing idle conversation on the porch, while others picked up some last minute flies and fire permits, everyone was eager to go.

Matt, Karen and Reese arrived and were appointed as lead vehicle for the drive to the trailhead.  Soon we were on our way., as we contained our excitement, knowing it would be over an hour long drive.

The scenery and conversation had managed to make the 1-1/2 hour drive seem like only 30 minutes.  The others may have felt differently, but that's how I was feeling.  All the same, we were there and it really didn't matter how long it took.  Everyone set about getting their packs ready.  Strangely,  like Lambs to the slaughter, no one seemed in a hurry.  Better put, it was Friday afternoon and we had a full day Saturday to fish.  So, basically, everyone was relaxed and unhurried.

Matt & Karen, being the only ones in the group to have been this way before and considering their precious cargo Reese, were given the lead.  The first 1/4 of a mile consisted of dirt ground to a fine powder by horses and pack animals. It was hard to keep from kicking the powder up.

At the base of the decent, Matt proceeded to lead us to his Ultra-Secret Honeycomb hideout.  After passing several good camping spots, you couldn't help wondering why we were still hiking onward.  The the sub-trail appeared to vanish and we were cutting our way through the jungle., or so it seemed.  It was at that point, that I began to wonder again.  But, on noting Matt's unyielding and all knowing onward march, I was pretty sure he knew exactly where the hideout was.

Passing each member of the group, I continued to venture up river until I found a spot for me.  It's difficult to settle on a spot when the whole river looks so fishy.  And of course, I'm not going to complain about that.

My first catch of the day looked as though it had come from the San Gabriel East Fork.  Immediately I thought; "Oh, it's going to be like this...".

I fished the spot a little while longer with a few missed strikes.  It didn't take long for my hopes of BIG wilds to fade.  I eventually decided to explore a little further up river, in hopes of finding a nice pool.

I don't recall how long the line had been out before the first missed strike.  The strike itself had restored my hopes of bigger wilds than what I had caught so far.  A few seconds later and I was startled by the strongest strike I've ever felt on the fly.  The fish struck so eagerly that it basically set the hook itself.  It was pulling hard when I notice my rod will bent as far as it can before snapping, so I quickly opened the drag and let the fish run.  And RUN it did, taking 20-30' of line in less than 5 seconds.  At the end of the run, I tried to haul him in.  But the slightest tug and he was running again.  I was having the time of my life.  I'd dreamed of days like this., and until now they had only been dreams.  All total, the fish Ran five times before he'd let me bring him in.  Looking at my reel and seeing the backing begin to appear, I could only smile.  It's about time I spooled out to the backing.

On my way back to camp, I came across Antonio.  Watching him wading there, I asked how he was doing.  He was all smiles and had been doing as well as I.  Catching yet another one while we yelled back and forth to each other.

Next, I came across Marshal and Gary. I hung around long enough for them to catch another fish each for my camera, which didn't take long.  And then I was on my way back to camp again.

I waited for Eric to rig up, so I could take him to the spot I was at the day before., so that he might experience what I had.  Unfortunately, the fish that were there had moved on., and the hunt would have to start afresh.  Eric set off trout chasing up river, while I gave the spot a little more time. 

It was then, that Marshall came bolting through the bushes with his prize in hand., looking for someone with a camera.  The picture, itself, doesn't do it justice.  But, Marshall's fish was pushing 16". 

On seeing him, I suggested he put the fish in the water for little bit.  Fearing it would expire after the foray through the bush and photo-op.

After the fish had a little swim and bath, a picture was taken.  Marshall was afraid the fish was too weak to be released.  And frankly, so was I. 

The fish being such a perfect specimen, I was prepared do whatever it took to revive it.  Rocking the fish back and forth, in the water, for about minute... it finally gave a strong flap of it's tail.  A little more rocking and it was ready to swim off.  I reached for it, as it slowly swam away, and it darted off and disappeared into the darkness of the deep pool.

Making my way across the Little Kern and up river, I soon found myself seemingly surrounded by fresh bear scat (droppings) and clearly visible tracks.

Suddenly, I had this feeling of being watch., and that maybe it wasn't such a good idea to out there alone.

It seemed like I had hiked a few miles.  But, according to the map, I'd only gone just over a mile away from camp. And there it was, the pool of my dreams.  Actually, there were two pools., one on each side of the outcropping of rock I was standing on.

Never did water look so fishy and produce no strikes.  Apparently, the fish were off hiding in the shade on the opposite bank.  And sadly, well beyond my casting skills.

Knowing that Matt, Karen & Reese would leave just after noon, I decided to go no further and return to camp and bid them farewell.

Taking one last look at this vast pool upstream, taking in the sight, sounds and smells.  I felt the sense of having been there before.  Well, not there, but places like it.  And, as always, the memories came floating back into view. 

I arrived back at camp, to find Matt & Karen packing up and preparing Reese for the hike out.  I couldn't help but feel somewhat concerned about the prospect of Matt packing Reese out of the gorge.  Remember, the easier it is down, the harder it is up.  But then, remembering Matt's level of conditioning while watching Karen and Reese do their little dance to a children's' song., I had a sense they'd fair well.

Naturally, after they departed, we were back to fishing some more.  And since I had been down river, I figured I'd venture up river.  Gary had already explored up river and said there were some nice pools.  Just a little hard to get to.

Once you get over and/or around the first sandstone wall, you find yourself in a rather large lagoon with a sandy beach.  I couldn't help think it was a good place to swim and play in the water.  One thing is for sure, the fish were nowhere to be found. Although I did manage to scare a few of them when I waded out onto the sand bar.

It was hard to fly fish from the rocks and get a good angle on this fishy spot... so I moved on to the next one...

... another scary climb over the next wall of steep rock and I came across this interesting beach with a deep run on the opposite site of the river.

Fishy as it may appear, I didn't get a single strike.  It must have been the 'High Noon' thing when the fish are taking a nap.  For surely, I had been fishing in some really good looking water since I left camp.

Although I normally like to hit the trail early, on the day of departure, we decided to fish for 1/2 of the day since Eric had arrived late.  We hiked down to the Forks, drop our packs and rig up rods.  Preferring to save my energy for the hike out, I opted to just take pictures.

Gary, Eric and Antonio fished a stretch of river, with Eric and Antonio on the opposite bank.  Antonio and Eric were getting plenty of hits where they were.

Soon Gary was getting some hits too., and managed to land at least one that I recall.