I figure Indian Valley Reservoir must hold monster fish that commit suicide for flies – because my aggregate Karma prevented me from ever seeing this pristine beauty, either that or Brownliners ain’t allowed.

It was a heck of an adventure but was cut short before I reached paydirt, it still holds promise but now we’re captive to the weather and may have to wait a bit.

In early morning light, it’s plain what makes California appeal to a lot of folks, at times the vista available in the Central Valley rivals anything I’ve seen of Montana, you can imagine what those early settlers thought when they crested the rise and beheld all that untrammeled real estate.

I had to stop the car a couple of times just to admire my surroundings, which quickly turned to misery after I hit the “Road Closed” sign; the dirt road leading in had been washed out by heavy storms weeks ago, now I’m leaning on the hood poring over a map.

I found an alternate route coming into the lake from farther up the valley. I’d already got mud on the fender so my blood was up. The track through the foothills was lined with “early Americana”; most of the outbuildings and  barns were in poor repair. Nothing stirring except my dust and bovines, who feign interest as I rattle past.

It’s the part of California that even residents never see, as most are hellbent on getting to Los Angeles or Oregon, leaving the middle for us early risers.

The first glimpse of water is a welcome sight, and I’m focused on the immediate goal of waving a fly rod in anger. The creek empties the lake I’m looking for – and with clean clear water in the creek, I’m thinking the lake level should be just fine.

Right about then the pager goes off – I’m far enough into the canyon so there’s no cell coverage, and I grind to a halt reluctantly. I’d taken the pager from another fellow with “big weekend plans” – and now he owes me. “Hell hath no fury like a fisherman interrupted” – his week will be long and arduous.

Tags: Early riser, California’s Central valley, Leesville, Clear Lake