September 24, 2000. We're camping at the mouth of a cold, clear creek in the high Sierras this weekend. The creek spills out of a granite canyon into a mountain lake that's almost deserted this late in the season. The brown trout (Salmo trutta) have begun moving up into the creek to spawn, and we've caught quite a few on flies and spinners.

These are beautiful fish, sporting the typical white-haloed black and red spots on a background of chocolate brown and brassy yellow. Most run in the 14-15 inch range, although a few are smaller and still show a row of large parr marks on their sides, behind the brilliant spotted pattern. A few are in poor condition: flabby in texture, and snakelike in shape. I don't know if this is because they stop feeding when they make the spawning run, or perhaps these are the resident stream fish that don't get as much food as the lake dwellers.

There are a few brookies in this stream, also sporting flashy colors, but smaller in size. I lost the only one I hooked (I glimpsed the red fins with white-and-black leading edges), but Joyce and Rob landed one or two. We also caught some fat and feisty rainbows right at the inlet of the lake, fishing with bait right at dusk and after nightfall.

I heartily agree with the person who first said, the best thing about trout fishing is the beautiful places it takes you to. This place is just one step from the gates of heaven. Words and photos can't quite capture the crisp, cool beauty of the high Sierras.