the dam in Diablo. There are no roads leading into Ross, except for a long, hard-pan track in through B.C. The lake is deep, cold and full of fat char and rainbow trout. The waters are sur- rounded by some of the most rugged and stout mountains in North America. The only oasis on the lake is Ross Lake Resort, which consists of floating cabins recycled from logger’s huts that were brought in when the valley was clear- cut in advance of the rising lake water. Uplake from the resort is nothing but miles and miles of cold green water surrounded by half a dozen trails leading into wilderness, the demesne of black and grizzly bear, wolves, white-tailed deer and cougar. Beat writer, Jack Kerouac, manned the fire lookout on Desolation Peak here in the mid-50s. A trail leads up to the spot near Lightening Creek, which is a fine little fishing stream. There were six of us on this trip: Mike, his
son Avery, Zach and Steve. They were waiting for me on Cougar Island and Robyn was hiking in early the next morning. We’d brought in two of our own kayaks—a 12-foot NuCanoe Fron- tier and a 13-foot inflatable Saturn. Each boat could be fished as a tandem or solo. The kayaks weren’t tricked out—we like to keep it simple on these expeditions to remote waters. But they were stable and comfortable platforms perfect for short fishing expeditions from our home base. Mike, Zach and Avery were on cook duty that first night, so Steve and I inflated the Sat-
THERE ARE ONLY TWO CAMPSITES ON COUGAR ISLAND, BUT EACH IS LARGE ENOUGH TO ACCOMMODATE THE WHOLE GANG. BELOW: TANDEM KAYAKS ARE PERFECT FOR FISHING ROSS LAKE. ONE ANGLER CAN FISH WHILE THE OTHER PADDLES, THEN
BOTH CAN WORK TOGETHER TO PUSH THROUGH THE RELENTLESS WIND. PHOTOS: ROBYN MINKLER
Each boat could be fished as a tandem or solo. The kayaks weren’t tricked out—we like to keep it simple on these expeditions to remote waters. But they were stable and comfortable platforms perfect for short fishing expeditions from our home base.
urn, mounted the casting bar on the Frontier, and paddled 100 yards across the narrow chan- nel to try our luck off the west bank. A light breeze frizzed the water from time to
time, but the surface of the lake was essentially calm that first evening. I tied on a gravid, rain- bow-colored shiner pattern designed and tied by Alan Nute in New Hampshire. I cast out and made a slow, jerky retrieve among the sunken stumps and steep rock shelves. I was mid-jerk when my line tightened suddenly. Hoping that I wasn’t snagged on the bottom, I lifted the tip and spotted the tell tale pulse of a big fish. That’s when I heaved hard on whatever was at the other end. Whoomp… whatever it was yanked my
nine-foot TFO under water and my arm with it before the drag slipped some line. Leaning over the gunnel at the stern, I splashed water with my left hand to spin the kayak around enough to free up the rod. I came up dripping and smiling and let out a whoop.
72…KAYAK ANGLER
“Fish on!” “Bull, you think?” Steve called over. “I bet.” Bull trout make deep, dogged runs com-
pared to the acrobatic rainbow, and as a pro- tected species they’re destined for release, not a fry pan. This one bulled its way into deeper water, confirming our suspicions, and five minutes later we slipped a telescoping EGO net under the rugged, shovel-headed, six-pound bull trout. Gonzo predators, these fish can ex- pand their stomach up to four times normal size to binge when food is scarce—certainly not the case here. Like other char, they sport a beautiful vermiculation with dark-colored bodies and light spots. Steve hooked another bull and had a tussle on his hands. When the time came, I paddled over and made a clean scoop. We each hooked a rainbow trout after that.
Unlike the bulls, they launched repeatedly into the air, making me wonder if they take their
name from the rainbow’s arc in addition to its color. Steve’s trout was on the lean side, maybe a younger fish putting on a growth spurt, while mine was pushing 20 inches and sporting a more Reubenesque figure. That’s when we heard the chow call—the only thing that could pull us away from the action. Unlike most of our adventures, we didn’t
practice eat-what-you-catch on this trip. But our meals did consist of fresh venison and local prawns. Mike Conner is owner and captain of the Karma, a 20-foot Sea Sport water taxi that services the outer San Juan Islands. Mike says catching prawns is a perk to motoring through the islands all day. Zach, who is an arborist, finds his meal ticket wandering around with him in the forest. Between these guys we ate in classic
‘BOWSon
ROSS LAKE BULLS
and
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