01/14/2026
I set out to fish in the High Sierra expecting nothing more than the usual brook trout.
I had no idea I’d strike gold.
I started the day late, not a cloud in the sky.
My pack was heavy with everything I needed for an overnighter near the Cottonwood Lakes.
As I trekked along, I worked a small stream, trying my luck on a few eager brookies.
No luck.
Then the clouds rolled in.
Sleet followed.
Then snow.
A mild, late-season storm had blown through so I kept moving toward the camp spot I had my eye on near High Lake.
With snow pelting my face, I decided to give the lake a few casts.
First cast: a sizable golden-hybrid trout.
Second cast: another.
Third cast: another.
No one for miles.
Just me, my tenkara rod, and hungry fish in a spring snowstorm.
Smiles for miles.
As the light faded, I set up camp and ended the day watching distant storms roll across the horizon.
Gold or not, the Sierra always gives you something.