Sierra chills out but the browns are fired up
A huge pair of brown trout slid downstream and spun to face into the current. The polarized Wiley X sunglasses - the finest sight fishing sunnies on the market - made it easy to see there were many spawning redds in the creek bottom and brook trout were also flagrant in their actions.

Barb and I let them be and continued our hike, finally setting up a day camp on the banks of one of the many high country lakes that make the Eastern Sierra such a treasure.

One of the most powerful storms we ever experienced had left behind a snow line at 9500 feet (after it rained all the way up to 11,000 feet) and a crisp cold sunny day. We threw on a few more layers and while Barb spread out the picnic I tossed out half an inflated nightcrawler. The bottle was barely uncorked when I had to run and grab the rod and reel in a chunky brown trout that took to the air several times before it was coaxed into the shallows and released.

The fishing stayed like that the whole time we were there, with the biters all browns in the one-pound range that seemed to attack the bait rather than eat it. We were glad we were well prepared with the right clothing, but nothing could keep out the knife-edge of cold that came sweeping off the glaciers when the breeze would kick up from time to time. The hike out got the blood flowing, as did the sight of the big spawners again.

That night it was so cold the light from a bulbous waning moon shattered into black ice and offered no illumination to the black Sierra landscape. Thin, freezing mountain air seemed to push the fire's heat back into the stove.

The next morning we closed the cabin for the season. For those headed up to brave the chill and chase big fish until the last day, Nov. 15, remember that this is the time when the brown trout resource renews itself. Enjoy with respect and an eye to the future.