It was here where it finally sunk in: I was doing this trip without Dad.įive years ago, after a very bad time at a hospital visit, my dad Mark died at home. I had to use another new path, which took me close to the old spot. Even the dirt path, once well traveled, was now grown over. My once favorite spot was no longer accessible a wall of brush separated me from the water. HERE’S HOW MUCH THINGS had changed from 13 years ago. ![]() The old stone building was closed for the day, but it made for a rustic background. The Mount Whitney Fish Hatchery was a must-stop destination on the author’s reunion trip to the Eastern Sierra. I continued up to the middle pond to catch a few more bluegill and bass before leaving for the Owens River. That morning, as bullfrogs grunted all around me, I released three small bass back into the pond. They were not shy about eating the worms I showed them. The side of the pond next to an outlet was where I found the bass hiding. In total, I caught about a dozen bluegills before I noticed where the bass were. ![]() They were shy biters but hungry, taking the hook after some waiting. Even before the sun was fully up I had caught my first fish, a small bluegill. After advice from the friendly tackle shop guy, I started out at Buckley Ponds. We all have to be legal out there a large fine is not worth it. As I only had one day budgeted for fishing, I only bought what I needed: worms, hooks and a one-day fishing license. Its location had moved, but its large sign still pointed the way for me. Looking over, I saw the stately stone building – clean but closed the day I went.Īfter leaving the hatchery, I made my way into Bishop, and after checking in at the hotel, I went to the local tackle shop. A large picnic area where the old parking lot once lay was a great place to sit. The once water- and fish-filled raceways were now empty a chain-link fence protected them. Large rainbow trout followed me around, the opposite of what they would do in the river.Įven though life here is slower than the city, it is ever-changing and certainly was on this day. Getting out to stretch my arms and legs felt great as I walked around the small pond. It’s slow-paced – a welcome rest stop after traveling at highway speeds all morning. MOUNT WHITNEY FISH HATCHERY was a must-see stop for me, and I did it even before I got to my hotel in Bishop. Japan, where I moved to, is mostly desert-free, so the dry sand and dusty air was enjoyable. I saw once-normal sights through new eyes, as if I had never seen them before. the day before had been uneventful, but there was a sense of excitement as I started seeing road signs for Bishop. It has been four years since I have set foot on California asphalt and soil, and another nine years since last I walked the desert sands of Bishop and fished the area’s waters.Īfter the long flight, the drive from L.A. ![]() In reality, I know that it was jet lag from the long plane trip from Japan. Maybe I was nervous or just excited, as I was up long before the sun rose over the mountains. Memories of his late father Mark (above) made SoCal expat Lance Sawa’s return from Japan to fish the Eastern Sierra nostalgic and sad but also reflective. We hope you particular enjoy Lance Sawa’s fishing-related tribute to his late dad and all of our fathers. Happy Father’s Day! This story (plus the Editor’s Note at the bottom of the page) both appear in the June issue of our sister magazine, California Sportsman.
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