Monster Trout of the San Gabriel Mountains

Thanks for sharing.

I get it. Thanks for sharing. The size of the memory is much more important than the size of the fish!

well-said Craig, and eloquently.

Q: What could be more hearty than a wild trout in a small stream?
A: a wild trout in a small stream in a basin of 20M people!

starting with those San Gabriel fish in the 80s, and ever since, i have cultivated an almost spiritual appreciation for wild trout in small streams. For me they represent true [John Muir-esque] wild-ness. One reason must be this: what other wild creature lives in mystery, where u cannot see it 95% of the time, yet yields itself to your hand for a brief up-close encounter, [to enjoy its delicate fragility, its artistic spotting & gorgeous parr marks, white tipped fins etc], before release, back to its mysterious home?

And to appreciate them even more, pull on mask & snorkel & join them in their unbelievably peaceful water world. The din of the cascading stream instantly blocks out the world you have left behind, and transports you to a new & indescribably unique place…

"Some might feel like fools stalking microscopic fish with seriousness in tiny, choked creeks; I find in it the rhythms of the morning. Something and nothing, I'm occupied yet my mind is empty."

It is, simply put, how every youngster should be introduced to fishing. The experience will shape how they approach fishing and the wild places for the rest of their lives. This was my father's priceless gift to me when I was 7; I treasure it to this day, even though I no longer fish, as I wander leisurely along high mountain streams, mind empty yet alert to every nuance of the stream and its myriad inhabitants, with only my namesake Ouzel for a companion.

Thank you, Craig, for sharing this. It brings back many fond memories and a welter of hard to articulate emotions.

Funny you mention your dad Tom, I used to creep around the same little streams with mine, long before I knew the names of any mountains or rivers.

I never quite understood how I could cast into a pool for an hour and get nothing and then he'd walk up and drift a fly in and get a fish. But I understand now.

To be honest, the only reason I even fish anymore (aside from spearfishing) is to maintain some connection to my dad after he died when I was 18. I'm only half interested in it, I honestly feel sorry for harassing trout for fun, but I also feel like I'd be giving up one of my most powerful connections to him if I stopped.

Fishing constitutes some of the best memories I have during our limited time together; I didn't see him much in the years before his death, and when I did, fishing was my favorite thing to do with him. We had matching fishing vests, usually with bologna, mustard and cheese sandwiches, taco flavored Doritos, and a can of RC cola stuffed in the back pocket. Keeping it classy!

An eerily parallel experience. I'll look forward to continuing this soon.

Dude, love it. That tiny trout is a winner. Thanks for sharing.

Shameless plug, but if you like this kind of thing, check out some of my recent posts on tenkara fishing for wild trout:

rockandriffle.blogspot.com

Hope to see you at one of the two summits this year? I'll be attending both as long as my schedule doesn't change.