FISHING IN THE LAKES OF THE TAHOE REGION
Fishing in Lake Tahoe, and the other lakes of the region is a pleasure
and a recreation as well as an art and a science. There are laymen,
tyros, neophytes, proficients and artists. The real fraternity has
passes, catchwords, grips and signals to which outsiders seek to
"catch on" in vain.
The chief native trout of Lake Tahoe is locally known as the
"cut-throat," because of a brilliant dash of red on either side of the
throat. The name, however, gives no hint of the exquisite beauty of
the markings of the fish, the skill required and excitement developed
in catching it, and the dainty deliciousness of its flesh when
properly cooked.
Owing to the wonderful adaptability of Lake Tahoe, and the lakes
and brooks of the surrounding region, to fish life, several other
well-known varieties have been introduced, all of which have thrived
abundantly and now afford opportunity for the skill of the fisherman
and delight the palate of the connoisseur. These are the Mackinac,
rainbow, eastern brook, and Loch Levin. There is also found a
beautiful and dainty silver trout, along the shore where the cold
waters of the various brooks or creeks flow into Lake Tahoe (and also
in some of the smaller lakes), that is much prized. Some fishermen
claim that it is the "prettiest, gamiest, sweetest and choicest" fish
of the Lake, and it has been caught weighing as high as twelve pounds.
Another fish, native to Lake Tahoe, is found in vast numbers by the
Indians in the fall. The ordinary summer visitor to Tahoe seldom sees
or hears of these, as they rarely bite until the summer season is
over, say in October. This is a white fish, varying in size from half
a pound to four pounds in weight, with finely flavored flesh. It is
found in shallow water and near the mouths of the creeks, and the
Indians have a way of "snagging" them in. Building a kind of half
platform and half stone screen over the pools where they abound, the
Indians take a long wire, the end of which they have sharpened and
bent to form a rude hook. Then, without bait, or any attempt at sport,
they lower the hook and as rapidly as the fish appear, "snag" them
out, literally by the hundreds. Most of these are salted down for
winter use. This is supposed to be a native, and the traditions of the
Indians confirm the supposition.
The largest native Tahoe trout caught, of which there is any authentic
record, was captured not far from Glenbrook and weighed 35 pounds,
and, strange to say, its capturer was an amateur. This, the boatmen
tell me, is generally the case--the amateurs almost invariably
bringing in the largest fish. Although there are rumors of fish having
been caught weighing as high as 45 pounds it is impossible to trace
these down to any accurate and reliable source, hence, until there is
positive assurance to the contrary it may be regarded that this catch
is the largest on record.
The common Tahoe method of "trolling" for trout is different from
the eastern method. It is the result of years of experience and is
practically as follows: A copper line, 100 to 200 feet long, which
sinks of its own weight, on which a large copper spoon is placed
above the hook, which is baited with a minnow and angle-worm, is used.
Thrown into the water the line is gently pulled forward by the angler,
then allowed to sink back. He takes care, however, always to keep it
taut. This makes the spoon revolve and attracts the fish. The moment
the angler feels a strike he gives his line a quick jerk and proceeds
to pull in, landing the fish with the net. The local term for this
method of fishing is "jerk-line."
The copper line used is generally a 6 oz. for 100 feet, and the length
is adjusted to the places in which the fisherman wishes to operate.
Let us, for a short time, watch the would-be angler. Women are
often far more eager than men. The hotels of Tahoe keep their own
fishing-boats. The larger ones have a fleet of twenty or more, and in
the season this is found insufficient for the number who wish to try
their hand and prove their luck. Often great rivalry exists not only
in securing the boatmen who have had extra good luck or displayed
extraordinary skill, but also between the guests as to the extent
of their various "catches." When a boatman has taken his "fare" into
regions that have proven successful, and does this with frequency, it
is natural that those who wish to run up a large score should try hard
to secure him. This adds to the fun--especially to the onlookers.
The boat is all ready; the angler takes his (or her) seat in the
cushioned stern, feet resting upon a double carpet--this is fishing
_de luxe_. The oarsman pushes off and quietly rows away from the
pier out into deep water, which, at Tahoe varies from 75 feet to the
unknown depths of 1500 feet or more. The color of the water suggests
even to the tyro the depth, and as soon as the "Tahoe blue" is reached
the boatman takes his large hand-reel, unfastens the hook, baits
it with minnow and worm and then hands it to the angler, with
instructions to allow it to unreel when thrown out on the port side at
the stern.
At the same time he prepares a second hook from a second reel which he
throws out at the starboard side. At the end of each copper line a few
yards of fish-cord are attached in which a loop is adjusted for the
fingers. This holds the line secure while the backward and forward
pulls are being made, and affords a good hold for the hook-impaling
"jerk" when a strike is felt. While the "angler" pulls on his line the
boatman slowly rows along, and holding his line on the fingers of his
"starboard" hand, he secures the proper motion as he rows.
Then, pulling over the ledges or ridges between shallow and deeper,
or deeper and deep water, he exercises all his skill and acquired
knowledge and experience to enable his "fare" to make a good catch.
As soon as a strike is felt and duly hooked he sees that the line is
drawn in steadily so as not to afford the fish a chance to rid itself
of the hook, and, as soon as it appears, he drops his oar, seizes the
net, and lands the catch to the great delight of his less-experienced
fare.
Many are the tales that a privileged listener may hear around the
fisherman's night-haunts, telling of the antics of their many and
various fares, when a strike has been made. Some become so excited
that they tangle up their lines, and one boatman assures me that, on
one occasion a lady was so "rattled" that she finally wrapped her line
in such a fashion around both elbows that she sat helpless and he had
to come to her rescue and release her.
On another occasion a pair of "newly-weds" went out angling.
When "hubby" caught a fish, the pair celebrated the catch by
enthusiastically kissing, totally regardless of the surprise or envy
that might be excited in the bosom of the poor boatman, and when
"wifie" caught a fish the same procedure was repeated. "Of course,"
said the boatman, in telling me the story, "that pair caught more
fish than any one I had had for a month, simply to taunt me with their
carryings on."
In the height of the season the guests become the most enthusiastic
fishermen of all. They take a growing pride in their increasing scores
and the fishing then resolves itself into an earnest, almost deadly,
tournament in which each determines to outscore the others. This is
what the boatmen enjoy--though it often means longer hours and more
severe rowing--for it is far easier to work (so they say) for a
"fare" who is really interested than for one who is halfhearted and
indifferent.
As these rivals' boats pass each other they call out in triumph their
rising luck, or listen gloweringly to the recital of others' good
fortune, when they are compelled to silence because of their own
failure.
Sometimes the boatmen find these rivalries rather embarrassing, for
the excitement and nervousness of their "fares" become communicated to
them. Then, perhaps, they lose a promising strike, or, in their hurry,
fail to land the fish when it appears. Scolding and recriminations
are not uncommon on such occasions, and thus is the gayety of nations
added to.
What is it that really constitutes "fisherman's luck"? Who can tell?
The theories of Tahoe fishermen are as many as there are men. Some
think one thing, some another. One will talk learnedly of the phases
of the moon, another of the effect of warmer or colder weather upon
the "bugs" upon which the fish feed.
Sometimes one will "jerk" half a day and never get a strike; other
days the boat will scarcely have left the wharf before one pulls the
fish in almost as fast as hooks can be baited and thrown out. When
fishing is slow an amateur soon becomes tired out. The monotonous pull
on the line soon makes the arm weary, and destroys all enthusiasm.
But let the strikes begin and weariness disappears. Some days the fish
will bite for an hour, say from eleven to twelve, and then quit and
not give another strike all day. The very next day, in the same spot,
one cannot get a bite until afternoon.
One of my fishermen friends once related the following: "Again and
again I have heard old and experienced fishermen say that no fish can
be caught in a thunder-storm. Yet in July 1913 four boats were towed
by a launch out to the Nevada side, near to Glenbrook. It appeared
stormy before the party left, but they refused to be daunted or
discouraged by the doleful prognostications of the "know-it-alls."
Before long the lightning began, the clouds hung heavy, and while they
fished they were treated to alternate doses of thunder, lightning,
cloud, sunshine, rain and hail. In less than an hour every member of
the party--and there were several ladies--were soaked and drenched to
the skin, but all were happy. For, contrary to the assertions of the
experts, every angler was having glorious success. Each boat secured
its full quota, 40 fish to each, and the catch averaged 70 pounds to
a boat, scarcely a fish being pulled out that did not weigh over a
pound. Talk about luck; these people surely had it."
Once again; I was out one day with Boat No. 14 (each boat has its own
number), and the boatman told me the following story. I know him
well and his truthfulness is beyond question. He had with him two
well-known San Francisco gentlemen, whom I will name respectively,
Rosenbaum and Rosenblatt. They were out for the day. For hours they
"jerked" without success. At last one turned to the other and said:
"Rosie, I've got a hunch that our luck's going to change. I'm going to
count twenty and before I'm through we'll each have a fish." Slowly he
began to count, one,--two,--three. Just as he counted fourteen, both
men felt a strike, gave the fateful jerk, and pulled in a large fish,
and from that moment their luck changed.
This is not the whole of the story, however. Some days later the same
boatman was out on the Nevada side with two gentlemen, who could
not get a bite. Merely to while away the time the boatman told the
foregoing facts. To his surprise and somewhat to his disgust at his
own indiscretion in telling the story, one of the gentlemen began
to count, and, believe it or not, he assures me that at the fateful
fourteen, he gained a first-class strike, and continued to have
success throughout the afternoon.
As he left the boat he turned to his companion and said: "Well, that
fourteen's proved a lucky number. I'm going right over to the roulette
wheel to see what luck it will give me over there."
My boatman friend added that as he heard nothing of any great winnings
at the wheel that night, and Mr. N. looked rather quiet and sober the
next day, he is afraid the luck did not last. Needless to say that
except to me, and then only in my capacity as a writer, the story has
never been told.
Now, while the jerk-line method brings much joy to the heart of the
successful and lucky amateur, the genuine disciple of Izaak Walton
scorns this unsportsman-like method. He comes earlier in the season,
April, May, or June, or later, in September, and brings his rod and
line, when the fish keep nearer to the shore in the pot-holes and
rocky formations, and then angles with the fly. It is only at these
times, however, that he is at all likely to have any success, as the
Tahoe trout does not generally rise to the fly.
Yet, strange to say, in all the smaller trout-stocked lakes of the
region, Fallen Leaf, Cascade, Heather, Lily, Susie, Lucile, Grass,
LeConte, Rock Bound, the Velmas, Angora, Echo, Tamarack, Lake of the
Woods, Rainbow, Pit, Gilmore, Kalmia, Fontinalis, Eagle, Granite, and
as many more, the trout are invariably caught with the fly, though
the species most sought after is not the native Tahoe trout, but the
eastern brook. This is essentially fish for the genuine angler, and
many are the tales--true and otherwise--told of the sport the capture
of this fish has afforded in the region.
There are several interesting peculiarities about the fish of Lake
Tahoe and its region that it is well to note. In the large lake
(Tahoe) the native cutthroat grows to much the largest size--the
35-lb. one referred to elsewhere being proof of its great growth.
The next in size is the Mackinac which is often caught as large as 10
lb., and now and again up to 15 lb.
In Fallen Leaf Lake, which was stocked with Mackinac some years ago,
the native trout has become comparatively scarce, the former seemingly
having driven it out, though in Lake Tahoe there is no such result. In
Fallen Leaf not more than one or two in ten will be cutthroats, while
Mackinacs abound, up to 6 lbs. and 7 lbs. in weight. Occasionally much
larger fish are seen, though they are seldom brought to net. Not long
ago a Loch Levin, weighing 12 lbs., was caught here.
While the catch of fish in the smaller lakes of the region is
exceedingly large the fish themselves are smaller, the opportunities
for hiding and fattening and growing older being comparatively greater
in the larger body of water.
During the height of the season when there are a great many boats
out it is common to hire a launch which will tow from four to a dozen
boats over towards Emerald Bay on the California side, or towards
Glenbrook on the Nevada side, where the fishing grounds are known to
be of the best. The boatmen especially enjoy these days out--although
the "fares" may not always suspect it--as it gives them a change from
their ordinary routine and table fare. They enjoy trout as well as
do the visitors, and of course, they are all expert cooks as well as
boatmen. When noon-time comes, if there has been any luck, a camp-fire
is built and the fish are fried, or broiled on the coals, or by
experts, made into an excellent chowder. And never does one enjoy a
fish dinner so much as under these circumstances. The exercise, the
fresh air, the motion over the water, the deliciousness and delicate
flavor of the fish, all conspire to tempt the most capricious
appetite.
Once in a while a black bass will be caught, though it is not believed
that this is a native fish. It does not seem to thrive in Tahoe though
the boatmen tell me they occasionally see a few, especially off the
docks at Tallac and other points at the south end of the Lake.
Now and again small bull-heads will be seen, and a very small
rock-bass. But these never bite on hook and line, and are seldom found
more than two or three inches long.
On the other hand big schools of suckers and chubs are seen. The
former naturally are scorned by all true fishermen as they are
regarded as hogs, or scavengers, and are thrown back whenever caught,
or are taken and fed to the gulls or pelicans. The chubs occasionally
are hooked and are from half a pound to a pound and a half in size.
As a rule these are thrown back, though they make good eating to those
who do not object to their excess of bones.
One of the most interesting of sights is to see one of the schools of
minnows that fairly abound in Lake Tahoe. In the clear and pellucid
water one can clearly see them swim along. As they pass a rocky place
a trout will dart out and catch his prey. A flutter at once passes
through the whole school. Yet, strange to say, the trout will
sometimes swim around such a body and either stupify them with fear,
or hypnotize them into forgetfulness of their presence, for they will
float quietly in the center of the mass, catching the minnows one by
one as they need them without exciting the least fear or attention.
The minnows generally remain in fairly shallow water, and keep so
closely together that a line of demarcation is made between where they
are and outside, as if it had been cut with a knife along a straight
edge, and in some mysterious way the fish dare not cross it, though it
constantly moves along with their movements.
It will be obvious that necessarily there is much market-fishing in
Lake Tahoe and its surrounding lakes. Indeed there are large numbers
of fishermen--Indians and whites--who supply the various hotels both
of the Lake region and in San Francisco, Oakland, Sacramento and
adjacent cities, and even as far as Denver and Salt Lake City,
eastwards, and Los Angeles to the south. These fishermen are very
persistent in their work, keeping at it from early morning until
late at night, though their catches are supposed to be officially
regulated.
The amount of fish caught and shipped by these market-fishermen is
remarkable. In 1911 the report shows that over 22,000 pounds were sent
out by express, over half of which were sent from Tallac alone. And
this does not take any account of the amount caught and eaten by
private residents around the Lake, by the visitors or by the hotels.
The fish that are to be shipped are not, as one might naturally
suppose, packed in ice. Experience has demonstrated a better way which
is now universally followed. At Tallac the hotel has a large place
devoted to this process, which is practically as follows: Each boatman
has a fish-box, numbered to correspond with his boat. These are kept
in the water during the season, and if the catch of his "fare" for one
day is not sufficient for a shipment it is placed in the box. When
a sufficient number is on hand, they are taken out by the boatman,
carefully cleaned and hung up to dry in fly-proof, open-air cages.
When perfectly dry inside and out they are packed in sweet-smelling
Tallac Meadow hay, and shipped by express.
Many visitors cannot understand why there are no fish in some of
the lakes that, to their eyes, seem just as well adapted for fish as
others that possess an abundance. Even old timers do not all know the
reason. If a lake is shallow, when the deep snow falls it soon sinks
below the surface in a heavy mushy mass that presses down upon the
fish and prevents their breathing. Then, if a severe frost follows and
the mass freezes the ice squeezes the fish to the bottom. Over three
years ago Watson took fish to Bessie Lake, putting in as many as 6000
fry of Lake Tahoe and other species. The next year, and the following
years they were all right, having grown to eight or nine inches in
length. Then came a severe winter and in the spring there was not a
living fish left. The bottom was strewn with them, many of them with
broken backs.
[Illustration: A gnarled monarch of the High Sierras, an aged Juniper,
near Lake Tahoe]
[Illustration: Mountain Heather, in Desolation Valley, Near Lake Tahoe]
[Illustration: The Successful Deer Hunter at Lake Tahoe]
[Illustration: Chris Nelson, With His Catch, a 23 Lb. Tahoe Trout]