By mid-July, though, I began to hear reports of some two and three pound brook trout caught by local anglers in these lakes, so I decided to try Lower Sunset again. This time I brought my children for a mid-day canoe trip on a muggy, overcast Monday, July 23. Slow trolling the lake with attractor blades and nightcrawlers has always worked well for me here, so I set my son Joe up with a light baitcasting rod and Sep's Colorado flashers, then handed my daughter Jessica a spinning rod with a Sep's silver/prism tape dodger. Threading a half-nightcrawler on a #8 hook behind a short, light leader on each rig, I coached the kids on how to feed out line under tension as we moved forward, and after a few technical difficulties, we were trolling. First Jessica had a hit, reeling in a rotund 11 inch brookie. Arielle, my three year old, netted the fish with a little assistance and we all discussed its fate, deciding to release it, for luck. Soon after, Joe had a fish on, and worked in a 13 inch brook. Arielle again did the honors, squealing "I caught it! Yeeeee!"

This trout was also quite fat, and it had swallowed the bait. While dislodging the hook with pliers, I noticed that the fish was regurgitating blobs of half-digested insects. One particular lump started moving- startled, I looked closer and realized that it was a brown leech, quite similar in appearance to the nightcrawlers we were using, and still alive. I had Jessica reel in, stripped the nightcrawler off her hook, and threaded on this new offering. As soon as we were back underway and had let lines out, a hard hit had Jessica reeling tight to another fish, this one around fourteen inches. It was also hooked deeply, so we kept it in addition to the previous fish. The leech had a much tougher skin than a nightcrawler, and was still in good shape, so we once again lowered the 'hot bait' into the water and started trolling. Ten minutes later, the rod jerked down hard in Jessica's hands, and line peeled off the lightly set drag. I told her to turn the drag-setting up a click or two, to make progress, but just as she did, the rod doubled over again, then snapped back upright. Her fish was gone, along with the leech, hook, and leader. My son was starting to complain that he wanted a leech on his hook when rain and a rush of cold air set us all to shivering and we agreed that our trip was over.

While I bumped and scraped my car back over the rutted access road, I thought of writing about the experience for fishsniffer readers, and came up with two offbeat tips: first, if you can find a leech, fish it- just ask any walleye angler. Second, on a small-engined car such as my Toyota Tercel wagon, you don't really even need a muffler.

East Carson River: I have a shameful little secret to share- I'm not a good dry fly man. Always the braggart, I consider myself an expert nympher, an advanced-intermediate streamer thrower (if it is in fact possible to categorize fishing skill like swimming or tennis), but must admit that when it comes to casting surface imitations, I'm a bumbling amateur. Usually, though, the methods I use are so effective, for so much of any given day, that I not only don't even bother to work on my dry fly skills, but I actually outfish anglers far more adept at skimming the film. I must have been getting too big for my waders, though, on a recent hike-in trip to the East Carson River, when another angler threw out a dainty dry fly, and taught me an important lesson.

Fishing for wild and holdover rainbows has been excellent for me this season on the river's no-kill stretch, as the high, snow-melt flows of spring have receded into favorable levels for wading and drifting nymphs. Just when I began to think I had the river 'dialed in', though, the snowpack on the surrounding peaks petered out, and as feeder creeks shriveled, the East Fork began dropping ever lower, ever more rapidly, to midsummer levels that are as low as I've ever seen. A friend had reported a productive fly fishing trip recently, though, hiking in an access trail off Airport Road (the road to Indian Creek Reservoir) to a wilderness section of the river. Following his example, I headed down the same steep trail in the early morning on July 25, first jogging to beat the rising sun into the canyon, then slowing to a silent stalk for a few minutes as I decided to see how close I could sneak up to two mule deer that were facing away from me, feeding beside the trail. At fifty feet or so, they spooked, so I resumed a rapid pace and began fishing at 6 a.m. Walking downriver and drifting my favorite nymphs, through each promising hole, I found a difficult bite, catching only four small rainbow trout in several hours. By midmorning, I was sitting on a rock changing flies opposite a smooth run, shaded by a towering canyon wall, when from around the downstream bend appeared another angler. He waved then walked over, and we began talking. His name was Allen Wilmot, and he told me he lived on Lake Tahoe's north shore. A retired IBM executive, he had taken up fly fishing recently, and enjoyed hiking into the lower East Fork whenever possible. He looked to be at least 60, but was evidently in great shape, as he had walked in the long way, from Hangman's bridge, still arriving at this pool before me.

As we spoke, we watched some fish feeding on the surface across the river. I was still untangling my leader and selecting flies, so I told my acquaintance to go ahead when he asked if I minded letting him try for the trout that were sipping insects. He favored dry flies, and had a # 16 olive elk-hair caddis tied on. I stopped to watch him as he waded out into knee-deep water then began casting, and immediately had a take; a small swirl and splash where his fly had been, then a bent and pulsing rod.

"All right!" I hollered, leaving my rod streamside and moving closer to watch the show. The fish flashed in the depth of the run, and I estimated its size at 15 or 16 inches, a decent trout on a dry fly. Several minutes into the battle, though, it had still not come to the surface, and I noticed that my companion had no net.

"I figure since it's all catch-and-release anyway, why bother?" he said.

"Because you'll never get this fish in and get a good look at him without one, that's why!" I had now revised my size estimated upward, to 17 or 18 inches. Volunteering to net the trout for him, I made two close misses, then managed to scoop it up. We were both quite impressed, as it turned out to be a 20 inch rainbow, nearly four pounds by my estimate. I asked him to hold it up for a photograph, and he could barely get his hands around its thick midsection. We both laughed, as just before he hooked it, Allen had commented that all the larger wild trout he had caught here were relatively skinny. "Some are, some aren't," I had replied- "I've seen some serious fatties."

This one definitely qualified. It was beautifully patterned, with full, white edged fins, olive back, metallic pink lateral stripe, and heavy black spotting. I took several photos as Allen held it up then gently returned it to the water and released it, grinning broadly- "That was the biggest trout I've ever caught here. My hands are still shaking!" And that's what it's all about. Whatever your age or station in life, when you are in the moment with a good fish, you can still be made to feel like a kid, full of wonder and excitement.

After sitting streamside until his pulse returned to normal, my new friend left me to fish the rest of the run and headed upstream, thanking me for netting and photographing his fish. I returned the gratitude, for providing me great pictures and a story for my column. I tried my own elk-hair caddis patterns, casting sloppily and putting down several feeding fish, before hiking back upstream. Returning once again to nymphs, I caught two more small wild rainbows at the whitewater head of a long, slow pool. It was high noon by this point, and I crossed the river then took off my waders, folding them into my day pack for the hike back to my car. I climbed up to a cliff above the pool I'd been fishing, in order to rejoin the trail I had taken to the river, then I looked down, and just had to sit for another fifteen minutes to watch in amazement- a dozen fat rainbows from 14 to 18 inches, bigger than any I had caught that day, were cruising lazily back and forth in the clear, flat-calm pool, in bright sunlight, feeding exclusively on surface insects. Note to self: Practice your dry fly techniques, if you want to keep catching fish as the water gets even lower this year.

For readers, I offer the same advice. To catch six small trout I had to use six different nymphs, including caddis larvae, small egg patterns, and the fly formerly known as Prince. All area rivers are damn low, damn clear, damn early, and fish are responding by doing a larger percentage of feeding at the surface. Extend your leaders with light tippet, and crouch or kneel at the water's edge. There are numerous opportunities for casting to visible fish in these conditions, but if you can see them, they can often see you as well.

Lake Tahoe: Kit, the amiable old coot and font of local fishing information down at Long's Drugs in South Lake Tahoe, had been telling me all summer about the great kokanee salmon fishing on The Big Lake. I've caught a few kokanee incidentally over the years, while fishing for trout, but have never really targeted them. This is largely because the best time to fish for them in my local lakes is summer, which is positively the worst time to be caught far offshore in my canoe, due to the onslaught of waterskiers, jet-skiers and speed-boaters.

My friend Jeff Keyser just purchased a worthy big-water boat, though, equipped with sonar and dual electric downriggers, and when I passed along Kit's report about the consistent kokanee bite on Tahoe, he agreed that it was time to see about this landlocked salmon phenomenon ourselves. When I asked Kit where the best place to start looking for them, he tipped that this year, they were hitting all over the southern half of the lake, anywhere shallow water drops off to 'deep blue'. Most anglers fish for kokanee near the Camp Richardson area, in California, due to its close proximity to their autumn spawning grounds, and some years, the salmon congregate there almost exclusively. When the bite is on, though, this part of the lake can become a bit of a zoo, with anglers cutting in front of each other and tempers flaring. Kit advised that to avoid the madness, we could launch at Cave Rock in Nevada, and start trolling off Edgewood golf course, yet still find plenty of salmon.

So that's just what Jeff and I did, fishing Tahoe's southeast shore on August 1. We departed Cave Rock launch ramp at first light, and in just a few minutes at full throttle with the boat's 120 horse inboard motor, we were offshore from the casinos of Stateline. Here we slowed, watched the depthfinder for the deepwater drop, and upon finding it, immediately began marking fish suspended at 45 feet in 100 feet of water. "There they are!" said Jeff, and we began rigging up our tackle. Jeff has fished kokanee before with other friends, so he had a favorite set-up, a Tahoe classic that was incidentally also Kit's favorite- large silver flashers and a Mack's Lures Imperial Trolling Spoon. As a big fan of wacky variations, though I tried a green Vance's dodger, with a green-bead Mack's Wedding Ring spinner. I replaced the heavy leader on the lure with 8 pound fluorocarbon, and changed out the relatively dull baitholder hook for a fluorescent red Gamakatsu. I had also marinated some Green Giant shoepeg corn overnight in a ziploc bag with Pro-Cure shrimp and prawn oil, and I added a few kernels of this to the hook bend. I offered some to Jeff, but always the minimalist, he refused- saying he did not want an order of chinese take-out on his hook- "White Corn with Shrimp and Prawn Sauce."

This, of course made for the friendly competition Jeff and I enjoy on our trips together, and as soon as we set our lures back, clipped them into the downriggers, and lowered them to 45 feet, the battle was on! Action was great early, with fish hitting both lures, every few minutes. As the morning wore on, we followed the schools down to 75 feet to stay busy. By noon, we had eight kokanee in the boat, and had released nearly as many that were on the small side. Jeff's Imperial spoon had probably outfished my lure two to one, but had also caught most of the smaller fish, while my modified wedding ring had taken the two biggest salmon, both 15 inches. The bite ground to a halt in the afternoon, so we switched to Rapala plugs and dropped them on our downriggers to 120 feet, then fast trolled back to Cave Rock, picking up one small mackinaw and losing another.

As the season progresses, the scattered schools we found off east shore will migrate south and west, concentrating in deep water off the Taylor Creek/Baldwin Beach/Camp Richardson areas. This will produce combat fishing conditions, with anglers acting as if they themselves, rather than the salmon, need to compete and struggle their way up the spawning creek. The upside is that as the fish school more tightly, they will respond to jigging techniques, biting Buzz Bomb, Crippled Herring and Kastmaster spoons worked vertically at whatever depth the kokanee appear on your sonar.

Upper Blue Lake: Okay, so you don't have an ocean-worthy boat and electric downriggers. Not to worry; even if you only have a canoe, float tube or folding lawn chair, I know where you can enjoy great low-tech action for fish that are just as big, and for my money fight harder than the famous Lake Tahoe kokanee. (Please, no angry emails from the cult of kokanee fanatics.) Yes, Blue Lakes rainbow trout, the most reliable summer fishing opportunity in the region.

My daughter Jessica actually seemed mildly interested in another fishing trip after her recent experience battling brookies at Lower Sunset Lake, so I packed leftover chicken, sliced melon, drinks, and nightcrawlers into a cooler for a trip to Upper Blue on August 6. Joseph, my nine year old veteran angler, was even more enthusastic, and even little Arielle replied "Yeah, Yeah, ya ya ya ya ya!" when I asked her if she wanted to net some more fish. We drove the 32 miles from South Lake Tahoe and arrived at nine a.m., launching the canoe immediately. Using essentially the same method we had on Lower Sunset, I set my Minn Kota electric trolling motor on low speed, then gave each of my older kids a rod. Joseph trolled a silver Sep's dodger with a nightcrawler, while Jessica tried a set of flashers trailed by a #5 Rapala. After Joe quickly caught several 11 to 12 inch rainbows while Jessica was still waiting for her first bite, I changed her lure to a dodger and nightcrawler as well. Within moments of resuming our troll, my effort was validated, as she hooked and brought in a 15 inch holdover rainbow. We trolled up and down the steep eastern shoreline, and caught fish nearly nonstop, releasing those we could and keeping those deeply hooked, until we had four rainbows on the stringer. As we passed shore anglers, we watched several of them hook up as well. When we had fished for a couple of hours, the kids were getting a bit restless, so we stopped at a spot toward the lake's northern end where there was a bit of gravel beach. We spread a blanket, ate our lunch, and went swimming in the icy water until Upper Blue Lake gave us blue lower lips.

After basking in the sun to warm up, I proposed that we troll back to our launch spot, and see if we could pick up another fish or two on the way. As soon as we started, though, we were stopped again and again by bites, this time all from holdovers in the 13 to 15 inch class. Joseph and Jessica actually experienced three double hookups in a row, and even though we released some of our fish, we soon had accumulated 10 trout, which is quite enough for our family (my wife alone will eat three or four). All our fish were caught toplining dodgers near the eastern shore with our baits running approximately 20 feet down on a slow troll with fifty yards of line out. The drop-off here is quite steep, though, and at times we were fishing in 80 to 100 feet of water. This helps explain the good shorefishing off the roadside- in many areas a long cast will put your bait into fairly deep water. Let Power Bait or nightcrawlers soak a while, then move them in and uphill 10 feet or so, wait again for a few minutes, and repeat until you find the magic depth.

Caples Lake: The dodger patrol strikes again! On August 8, my friend Brad Brosman and I enjoyed a four-species day on this productive high mountain lake near Kirkwood Ski Resort. We tried fast-trolling large plugs from my canoe at dawn, but after an hour without a strike, we switched to nightcrawlers behind attractor blades to catch six rainbows, two browns, and eight brookies to 14 inches, as well as one 17 inch mackinaw. All fish were caught toplining off the dam area, trolling through visible surface splashes with dodgers, except the mackinaw, which was caught in deepwater off the marina, on flashers with a nightcrawler set off my Cannon portable downrigger at 30 feet. Most fish were released, but Brad kept a limit of brookies for himself and his roommates, calling me after dinner that evening to report that they were all pink-fleshed and delicious. Fishing will only get better here as the waters cool in fall, with more and more big fish showing up in anglers' nets.

Mark (Never stand in a canoe) Wiza