Well, we had a wonderful weekend up at Grouse Ridge. Any time spent in the mountains is time well spent. Since I already live in the foothills of the Sierra mountains it's only an hour drive to get deep into the back country. We picked a camping site we've been to before call Grouse Ridge that's just a bit west of Donner Pass at about 7600 feet. The weather was perfect with days in the 80's and nights dropping down to the high 40's.

On Saturday we hiked into Glacier lake. Now, the forest service map says it's 2 1/2 miles to Glacier lake. They Lie! Being a tech geek I carry a GPS unit with me. I set a way point at Glacier lake and it said the lake was 2 1/2 miles away "straight line distance" when we were still a mile and a half away from the campsite. I think the round trip hike was closer to 8 to 10 miles.

In any case, after huffing our way through the back country we get to Glacier lake and it's freakin' overrun by some loud obnoxious youth group. There were kids up on the mountain rolling huge boulders into the lake (Gosh do you think that will spook the fish?) as well as a lot of screaming and yelling and typical kid horse play. I'm trying not to be a grumpy old man, but when I hike that far into the Sierras I'm not expecting to see 20 tents and 40+ people.

There was one other fly fisherman there who was just ending his session. We talked and he pointed me to an underwater log where he caught a few browns. I tried some cast and promptly lost a couple flies in a tree behind me. When I went to retrieve them it looked like Christmas time. I obviously wasn't the only fisherman to have caught that tree.

I tied on a new fly and kept casting above the logs to see if I could tempt a trout when the boulder rolling teenagers decided to dive in to the lake and go swimming right next to where I was fishing.

G*d D7am F&*%ing A$$holes! I'd had it. I reeled in my line and we left. It always amazes me that so many people think that because they're out in the wilderness that basic politeness doesn't apply. I've lost count of the number of times I've been camping and had people talking loudly and yelling ALL NIGHT LONG in a crowded campsite. I've seen fights break out when other campers have to ask them for the 4th or 5th time to shut up because it's 2 in the morning and other people are trying to sleep.

As we're packing up to leave a different set of LOA'a (Loud Obnoxious A-holes) starts yelling across the river "Hey Dude! We're heading out. There's no women here!"

I turn to my wife and ask "You're a woman, right?"

"Yes I am" she replies

"Which one of them is impressing you with their macho-ness?"

Without missing a beat she answers: "I tend to have higher standards than that"

I smile and tell her, "Thank you darling" and give her a kiss on the cheek.

So we're hiking back and we're just dog tired. We hike a lot, but we weren't ready for a hike this long at that altitude so we're feeling a little beat up. As we're going out I see this beautiful stream about 5 feet wide that winds through a beautiful grass meadow. But I'm so tired that I don't even get my rod out. Next time I'm going to take a couple days off mid-week and try that stream and those lakes when the rowdy's are back home and in school.

On Sunday we were sore and stiff legged. So we just hiked a half mile or so to Sanford Lake. Sanford is a beautiful lake with easy access to the shore and several areas of open shoreline to allow unimpeded fly casting. I spent a couple of hours trying some nymphs with no success. I'm not even sure if that lake has fish in it. Some of these Sierra lakes are sterile. I turned over some rocks and couldn't find anything, but that could be from all the campers wading around that area. I've read that a lot of the lakes up here are stocked. But it's a rough 6 mile dirt road to the campsite and a tight half mile trail down to the lake so they'd have to stock it via helicopter. I remember reading a conversation about that where the author asked "What's the survival rate when you air drop fish?"

The ranger replied "Pretty good. Provided we hit the lake."

This time it didn't even matter that I wasn't catching fish. I was in a beautiful, quiet spot. The water was warm enough to wet wade in my Teva sandals and I was in bliss just being in the mountains.

I took a break from fishing and we went swimming to wash off the dust and grime of the weekend. After a lunch of fruit, salami, cheese and crackers we just sat on a rock and enjoyed the moment.

Overall it was a fine trip with only a minor segment of it spoiled by clueless people. When folks at work ask me how my weekend was I had to reply "Well, I'm tired, sore and sunburned. So yeah, it was great!"