PRESIDENT'S MESSAGE

Happy 2022 New Year!

Putting 2021 behind us feels really good, but we are not completely out of the woods, yet. We made significant progress in 2021 as a Club, holding our Kids Academy and Celine’s Fly Gals Weekend. Due to the forest fires, we had to cancel the 2021 California Fly Fishing Open.

Are you ready for a fun 2022 fly fishing year?

The Club’s Board of Director worked overtime and we already have dates for our 2022 calendar. We start 2022 events with our fun Lower Kings outing. This event kicks off the year with a breakfast by the river, evening activities of a Black FLY Affair, White Fish (elephant) gift exchange, dinner banquet, chance to win a Sage ESN rod or a Sage Trout Series reel. Check out the listing and save those dates for your participation. Deadline to purchase breakfast and dinner is January 7th and can be made on the club’s website (link). Every event will be a blast!

At the Lower Kings event, we will be voting on the Board of Directors, the 2022 operating club budget and announcing the 2021 Fly Fisher of The Year.

The criteria for Fly Fisher Of The Year is on the club website (link) and voting will end at midnight January 7th. If you haven’t voted yet, please email me at haramic@aol.com with your vote.

California Heritage Trout Challenge | date to be determined

One of our special events doesn’t have a date yet because it is depend upon snow levels and road accessibility. This is an outing for the California’s state fish, the California Golden Trout. It’s a secret stream with roadside fishing and they qualify for the California Heritage Trout Challenge. Stay tuned for announcements in late spring.

ZOOMING AHEAD IN 2022 . . .

We will be holding quarterly Club zoom meetings with fascinating and relevant speakers. When it becomes appropriate, combination meeting: Zoom and live will be held.

We’ve had some changes on the Board of Directors and they are as follows:

Our recent Conservation Chair, Gary Applebee has accepted the position as President of the Deep Creek Fly Fishers, located in Redlands. We wish Gary the best in his new position and know he will do a great job as President. We are searching for his replacement. The Conservation Chair is of great importance to the Club and current situation with the draught, political environment and CDFW. If you or if you know someone that has a keen interest in Conservation, please contact us.

Cece Rubin is the Club’s new Communications Chair. She will be in charge of the Newsletter and Website taking over a few of Analiza's tasks. Cece has extensive experience in this arena as she handles these same duties for the Southwest Council and a couple other SoCal clubs. Cece is an accomplished professional musician, playing the sax, and went on tour with Guns and Roses. She will be attending many of the events because she is a fun active person. Please introduce yourself and get to know her, you’ll be glad you did.

Website, Newsletter, Social Media and hat wearer of all things pertinent to the club -- these positions were previously performed by Analiza Del Rosario. Analiza was a big asset to the Club. She took over the communication chair duties when we lost Celine.

MANY THANKS TO ANALIZA!!

Analiza’s children, CJ and Bella, are becoming more involved in after school activities, which require more of Analiza’s time. Leave it up to Analiza to become the Rock Climbing instructor in CJ’s Boy Scout troop. She has done a fabulous job for the Club and has been an integral part of the fly fishing scene in Southern California. Analiza will always be part of the Southern Sierra Fly Fishing Family. Thank you Analiza for a job well done.

I am very optimistic about the coming year and looking forward to all of our Club events. It will be a fun filled year. We are a Club that fly fishes, COME FISH WITH US.

Chiaki Harami,

One of the Dad’s of Southern Sierra Fly Fishing Family.

A Week Well Spent in Neptune's Kingdom

KESLEY GALLAGHER

Crooked and Acklins, Bahamas

Elvis dropped us off that first morning near the boat ramp on Acklins Island as we waited for our guide to pick us up.

Bonefish tails were flashing in the morning light on the low side of an incoming tide on a mangrove lined flat that stretched out in every direction. Our guide was late; he had forgotten the keys to his skiff, and Elvis, another guide, was kind enough to ferry us over to the ramp area and promised us that our guide, Chris, would be there shortly. "Chris can take all the time he wants-the fish are right here," I thought as I looked around at the sun glinting off of all the silver tails popping up in the shallow water. Elvis motored off on his skiff leaving my boyfriend, Scott, and I alone with the fish. I couldn't have been happier.

Even before Elvis left, I keyed in on a group of bones tailing like mad less than 100 yards in front of me. I carefully stalked the flat; walking slowly and trying very hard to not make any noise in the water. I was rusty, but the ability quickly returned with each step. Stalking bonefish is a key part of the flats game and takes skill and experience. Oftentimes, newcomers to the sport will race right up to the fish, splashing the entire way or stomping across the marl bottom, and then wonder why the entire school spooked off in a mad rush.

"Hey, Kes! Over here! Lots of bones," Scott gestured over at the mangroves where a trio of fish were tailing. I waved him off, indicating they were his--the tails in front of me were too inviting. I hadn't fished for bonefish since 2017 and I was eager to hear my reel's drag scream. I cast at the fish in front of me with a Gotcha. Too short. I quickly yanked line off the reel and made another presentation. Still too short. The rust was thicker than I thought. Fortunately, my movements were still stealthy enough that the tails continued to ignore me, so I took more line off the reel and cast again. This time right into the school.

"BAM!"

The school exploded and I laughed as they spooked. Not too short now! I've always felt luck is nothing more than preparation meeting opportunity, and as luck would have it, despite the chaos of the spooked school, I spotted a large silver bullet racing for my fly and before I knew it, I was on! The fish raced off across the flat and the long-forgotten sound of backing ripping through the crystal clear water as the drag screamed was pure music to my ears.

I was exuberant!

I landed the fish after a few blistering runs, and Scott came over to take a quick photo. It had to be quick … More bonefish were showing themselves on the flat around us, and we realized we had our hands full. Our biggest dilemma quickly became which group of tails to target next? This is the best kind of fly-fishing problem to have.

Our guide, Chris, showed up and watched us for a few minutes. "Looks like I'm going to have an easy day," he said with a toothy grin. Ten bones later, the tide was getting too high to wade the flat and Scott and I were all smiles as we climbed into the skiff and Chris took us to another flat. I was ecstatic to be back in the Bahamas and in such a remote and isolated area, complete with hungry bonefish.

Crooked and Acklins, barely separated by a channel called "the going through," are two islands in the southernmost part of the Bahamas that form a sideways horseshoe. Cuba lies 90 miles to the south and the Turks and Caicos are the next nearest islands to the east. These islands are fairly isolated and have maybe 350 residents on a good day. There is a single one-and-a-half-lane road that runs the length of both islands, but there isn't a bridge. People who want to cross the going through between the two islands have to take a ferry, which in this case consists of a single beat-up Boston Whaler, driven by Elvis on the days when he's not guiding anglers.

Driving from our lodge to the boat ramp, we often had to dodge bright red land crabs crossing the road from beach to mangrove. These colorful crustaceans would wave their claws at us like any angry New Yorker yelling, "Hey! I'm walkin' here!" The remoteness, lack of tourists, and a feeling that we were well within Neptune's kingdom, was exactly what we wanted (and needed) during this time of Covid.

That first day we fished around the bight of Acklins, but on the second day, our guide Clinton took us to an island about an hour's ride from the boat ramp on Crooked-due south. The day started with calm, glassy seas without a breath of wind and the water was crystal clear, varying from the yellow of the flats to the clear blue of the channels. It was so glassy that you couldn't tell where the sky started, and the water began.

In the distance, Fish Island came into view and as we got closer, the water shallowed up to reveal a field of turtle grass, covered with queen conch.

Three hundred yards away, I could see dozens of black tails sticking out of the water, wagging like sails-trigger fish-but Clinton reminded me that bonefish were the quarry today. Clinton anchored the skiff and we waded closer to the island and were quickly welcomed by a school of bonefish. I quickly landed two, but spooked the school in the process.

"Go fish over there, and we'll go this way," Clinton suggested as Scott and Clinton walked away from me to the other side of the island to find more bones. I was alone except for a few small sharks and some queen conch to keep me company, but I was carefree and happy. I stalked the flat seeing nothing in front of me, only to hear the sound of a school of bonefish spooking behind me. I turned around and saw an enormous school, tailing, back by the skiff.

Working my way back, I cast into the school, hooked one, and promptly felt something brush my ankle-one of my companions, a small, but eager, lemon shark-as it raced towards the school. I led the bonefish back into shallower water to avoid getting bit while I unhooked it. Four fish later, Scott and Clinton were rushing toward me, but by that point the bonefish were wary and on the move. Off in the distance to the West, a large squall was building in the deep blue water, turning the sky a dark steel gray, so we decided it was safest to head closer to home. I was jazzed and ready for more.

Our weeklong stay on these islands alternated between fishing each island. The flats within the horseshoe of Crooked and Acklins hold many bonefish and, more surprisingly, resident permit-one of the only truly reliable permit fisheries in the Bahamas. And while I dearly love bonefish, permit make my heart pound.

We had several good days of bonefishing, but a front moving over the area kicked up the wind and clouds, and at times the conditions were frustrating and brutal. I was eager to see permit; others in our small group at the Crooked and Acklins Trophy Lodge had seen scores of permit every single day but we had yet to see even one, and I was losing hope due to the tough conditions.

On the fourth day, we got to fish with Elvis-guide, ferry boat driver and, as it turns out, resident permit-master.

The fishing gods were finally smiling on us again, bringing us fair breezes and good light, and I was stoked.

Elvis put one of our group on a 25-pound permit a few days before and I was eager to match that. However, Scott needed a good day, so he started on the bow. Elvis poled the flat staring hard at the water and an hour went by with no sign of the forked black tails we were hoping to see. Then Elvis started to turn the skiff in a hurry and I knew what that meant.

"Scott, there's a school of 30-40 permit, 200 feet, at 11 o'clock coming at us." Elvis practically whispered in excited anticipation.

Scott stared blankly out at the water. I could see the tails waving at him, but he had yet to catch sight of them. "Where?" he asked.

"They are at about 125 feet, now coming to 10:30. Thirty or so fish," Elvis said, trying to maneuver the skiff for the perfect shot.

"Thirty fish and I can't see them?" Scott was losing his cool on the bow. Normally he can see shadows of corbina in the surf unlike anyone I know, but the black-tailed devils were eluding him.

"Scott, they are at 80 feet at 10 o'clock," Elvis said. A big black tail waved at Scott and he finally saw the school.

"Oh my God! There they are! Holy Crap!"

Unfortunately, he cast too late and the school spooked on the skiff and swam wide around us. Elvis worked the pole to turn the skiff around to follow the fish, but they swam off faster than he could pole. Scott relinquished the bow to me, and I jumped up: It was time to boogie.

Ten minutes went by and I heard Elvis' excited voice from the poling platform behind me: "Kes, fish waking at 150 feet, 11 o'clock."

"Got it!" My eyes locked on a wake and soon a black tail showed itself.

"Kes, cast 70 feet at 9 o'clock and jus' wait."

I made the cast and did as Elvis said, as a beautiful, large single permit swam calmly towards us. I held my breath.

"Strip!" Elvis said, trying to keep his cool. I popped the crab out of the mud of the flat, and the fish instantly turned. Yes! I stripped again, and the fish pounced on the fly. Strip set! Nothing. The fish pounced again, and I strip set again. Still, nothing. And I watched, confused, as the fish swam off.

Elvis immediately started to apologize--the wind was pushing the skiff down on the fish, so all I was doing was taking up slack with each strip set. Elvis was unable to stop our drift because jamming the pushpole into the bottom would have spooked the fish for sure. Although it was maddening, I was still thrilled with the episode. Besides, that's permit fishing. Next time. Unfortunately, we didn't see any permit for the rest of the trip, but I was still stoked. And rest assured, there will definitely be a next time.

Crooked Island Trophy Lodge is available to the adventurous angler through The Fly Shop in Redding, CA.

Due to the remoteness of the islands and restrictive flight schedules, guests must stay for a week. The lodge is very clean, well run, and serves tasty Bahamian dishes for breakfast and dinner and provides a fantastic pack lunch on the boats each day.

Our air-conditioned room was very large, and we were able to keep our gear inside without fear of tripping over it. The dining room and bar are in a separate building, a short walk away and faces an empty beach loaded with coconut palms.

Scott and I walked the beach at night just to enjoy viewing the Milky Way under a moonless sky. The lack of light pollution made star gazing incredible and was a highlight of our trip.

We will come back to this magical place, hidden away from the hustle and bustle of civilization, to find peace again. Besides, there's still that permit …

Kesley Gallagher has been fly fishing since she was ten years old. ... In 2019, she toured the Fly Fishers International (FFI) affiliated Southern California clubs and presented “Introduction to Flats Fishing” focusing on tactics and skills for taking redfish, bonefish, permit, and tarpon on fly.