By Paul Lebowitz

Sunlight sparkled on the water of Fish Creek as it wended its gentle way through the green of Troy Meadow. Up on the bank, a big man stalked quietly and smoothly through the low brush. Coming upon a kink in the creek’s course, Ric Hawthorne stopped and waved his fly rod to life. The fly at the end of his line dimpled the water at the apex of the curve where a ribbon of water flowed lazily back against the current. A streak flashed from the shadows, and the fly disappeared with a splash.  

Hawthorne laughed with satisfaction as he played the fish to the bank, then scooped it up in a gently cupped paw. It wasn’t much more than 6 inches from head to tail tip, but somehow that small body flashed red, orange, olive, black, and above all gold in the high mountain air. In an admiring tone Hawthorne said, “These guys are perfect in every way. They aren’t stocked, they’re natural and have been here thousands of years.”

“They don’t give up. They’re little pugnacious suckers,” added Ed Whited.

Sequoia National Forest in the Southern Sierras offers a wealth of fishing opportunities. There are smallmouth bass in the lower river, trophy trout stocked in the north fork of the spring-mighty Kern, cats and clouds of panfish in big Lake Isabella, and wild rainbows in the special regulation waters in the north fork above the Johnsondale bridge. But one of the most intriguing and precious of the area’s angling treasures is hidden in plain sight atop the Kern Plateau just up the mountain a piece from Kennedy Meadows.

“I’ve always dreamed of goldens since I was a kid. I thought they were made of ‘unobtainium.’ That to get one, you’d have to drive for hours, then hike back a day or two. I never had the time or someone to take me to those places” said Whited, a pro staffer for Okuma Fishing. Whited, muddy and tired from a morning fly-fishing for the gilded state fish, was relaxing along with fellow staffers and Okuma Marketing Specialist Hawthorne in the Fish Creek campground. “That’s when Ric said we’re going to drive and car camp it,” finished Whited.

That’s right, these golden trout waters are as accessible as they come, via Sherman Pass Road from Highway 395 or State Route 99 north of Kernville. Last winter’s deep snows will keep the pass across the divide closed as late as July, so Hawthorne and his party had taken the Kennedy Meadows exit on 395 and come up Nine Mile Grade from the Mojave Desert. 

GOLD STRIKE – Wild golden trout aren’t large. What they lack in size they make up for in wiles, toughness, and beauty. “These guys are perfect in every way. They aren’t stocked, they’re natural and have been here thousands of years,” said Ric Hawthorne, who caught this one.

DRIVE BY GOLDEN FLY – Ed Whited had dreamed for years of catching a golden trout, but was put off by the mistaken belief he’d have to backpack into the wilderness for the chance. At Troy Meadows on the Sierra Plateau, its possible to drive within a few hundred yards of excellent wild golden trout water.

Hawthorne’s grandfather Bob Stone helped the Civilian Conservation Corps carve out the steep grade back in the depression years before serving in World War II. When Stone returned he settled into the high Sierra first as a United States Forest Service ranger and then as a camp host at Troy Meadows. It was Hawthorne’s good fortune to spend his childhood summers with his grandparents. “I was probably about 5 when I caught my first fish (a golden) with a little Zebco with mono and a fly. I’d flick the fly into the creek,” recalled Hawthorne.

These days Hawthorne uses fine Okuma Vashon fly reels and quality Cortland Rocket Taper fly lines to fish for goldens. A 3-weight outfit is just about perfect for the small native trout. A variety of flies are effective on Fish Creek, including Griffin’s Nats, Adam’s Parachutes, and Royal Wulffs. Hawthorne mashes down the barbs to reduce the chance of injuring the little goldens which he always gently releases.

The challenge isn’t so much in the fight, the achievement is hooking a skittish golden in the first place. They are quick to spook. “It’s total stealth fishing. It’s all about technique. You have to sneak up, read the water, and watch everything going on around you,” said Hawthorne.

On this late May weekend the fish, hungry from a winter under the snow, were snapping up the Okuma crew’s flies. Even a couple of first-time fly casters managed over a dozen shiny goldens a day. Most of the fish were found in the quiet eddies adjacent to the main current but near structures such as undercut banks or grass beds. Sneaky anglers with polarized sunglasses could often sight-cast to individual fish, which ratcheted up the excitement. According to Hawthorne, although the fishing is good now and will remain so during the spring run-off, Troy Meadows will give up its gold all summer long.