What draws me to fishing is the ease with which a simple outing turns into an adventure. I’ve read many articles where the author attempts to describe the attraction of fishing, yet most fall short, not for lack of eloquence, there are just too many compelling aspects to the sport.

I was ready for adventure this weekend, the thought that 50 unexplored miles of the Little Stinking remained led me to forswear the areas I had seen for the unexplored area, north of town.

Cross country was the only route, as the sight of working fish would distract me from the long march upstream. I hunkered down and crunched my way through gravel and low scrub, surfacing up near the “Red Truck” stretch, actually the “Red Something” stretch, as I’d seen the blob of color from downstream but had never seen the object itself.

Some enterprising fellow had built a berm of discarded vehicles and covered them with dirt, it was a homespun flood control effort, but the large “No Trespassing” sign near the vehicles discouraged further investigation. A half dozen carcasses of vintage 50’s Detroit were imbedded in the dirt wall, and it appears the Red Truck will be the next sacrificial offering should flood waters appear.

That was the last sign of humanity I was to see all day, but there was much evidence of beaver activity. Most of the trees were neatly girdled, beaver dams broke the flow every couple of hundred yards, and flattened cattails leading to swampy den entrances were dominate on the banks. The population must be extensive and as humans are few, likely they’re unmolested.

The Little Stinking’s morning spinner fall was in full force, clouds of insects and appreciative fish lying in wait. The creek had become slower and deeper with the change in ecology, and new insects were intermingled with the predominant Trico’s – both Pale Morning Duns and a russet brown Calibaetis added to the blizzard of egg laying mayflies.

I managed to seduce Smallmouth, Largemouth, and Pikeminnow, using #18 and #20 poly spinners. One of the bass I caught appeared to have dirt in his mouth, it proved to be a couple thousand Trico spinners not yet swallowed.  I made one pass through the working fish and kept moving, I wanted to see what else the creek offered.

Fall has it’s own special theme, and even Brownliners pause to watch leaves fall, more likely it was an old guy trying to catch his breath, but every creek offers moments of contemplation, even if the creek is in the Central Valley.

The “Lower Falls of the Upper Stinking”, at least that’s what I dubbed them, the first evidence of any real in-stream substrate. A clay formation channeled by the current, greasy, and quite hard. Now that I’ve found the “greased bowling ball” equivalent I feel much more at home, one careless misstep and I’ll be properly introduced.

The “Lower Falls” was just an appetizer, above me was white water, real rapids, which virtually guarantees I’m going to go ass over teakettle and be consumed by nostril climbing brain mites…

Me and rapids have an understanding; I will find them attractive, I assume big fish live there, and they’ll repay my fascination with a good soaking. I tip-toed around this stretch warily – then thought better of my cowardice and fished up the center of the cataract.

By now I was well past my supply lines, I was guessing maybe 5 miles away from the vehicle by river, and somewhere near 4 miles via overland route. It had taken me 4.5 hours to wander up this far, and the hike back was going to be a lot less fun then this morning’s jaunt.

Above the rapids was another beaver pond, 8 to 10 feet deep, crystal clear, and full of roving smallmouth. I managed to sting a few residents with an array of nymphs and Wooly Buggers, and starting preparing for the long trek out. I noticed I was favoring my finger, after stripping Sharkskin across it all morning it was growing tender – something that I’ll bear in mind.

Deep water and new bugs means bigger fish, while anxious to continue upriver  this may be the upstream limit of foot travel. Microsoft Virtual Earth may illuminate some backroad that’s closer, I’m at a 6 hour round trip and the water keeps looking better the further I travel.

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