Pyrite Trout

Trip Report by Nick Feller

Pyrite (/ˈpaɪraɪt/ PY-ryte). Fool’s gold. Here in California, it’s everywhere. It’s that sparkle in the riverbed, which drove more than a few people mad during the gold rush. To California anglers, there are few fish more desirable than the golden trout. While most reside high in the alpine creeks and lakes of the high Sierra Nevada mountains, legends exist of isolated populations in more unbeknownst parts of the state. Oneself might even be driven to madness chasing those tall tales.

One cool September weekend, Emily and I decided to investigate one of these fables. It was going to be a bit of a haul up a mountain, about three thousand feet of elevation gain over an eight-mile trek. Not crazy, but nothing to roll your eyes at either. With the possibility of gold lying ahead, it’s not hard to put in a bit of extra effort. 

The initial trail was fairly well marked and easy to follow, mostly meandering through a dense forest as we began our ascent. Before long, the trail was following along a steep hillside, and the dirt under our feet began to turn to granite. Soon after, the trees started to become scarce. The alpine views were taking over, and I found myself surrounded by rugged peaks and stunning overlooks.

We reached the first lake sometime around noon and proceeded to find the first shady place to collapse. As we sat snacking, I pointed out what looked like a small snake making its way across the water. We were joking about what it might be, and I was just about to say how crazy it would be to see a fish just smash it, when a trout took the words right out of my mouth and went fully airborne to inhale the unidentified floating object. 

I sprang up to assemble my Tenkara Rod Co. Kita 380 rod. Equipped with thirteen feet of floating crossbreed line and a few feet of tippet, along with a large Chubby Chernobyl dry fly, I went to work. It only took a few casts before I had a fish explode on my fly, but I missed it. I’m still not sure if the fish missed my fly or if I just missed the hook-set. I don’t fish a ton of big foam terrestrial flies, so I might lean towards the latter. 

The rest of my time at the lower lake produced similar results. More action than I would have expected for the middle of the day, but mostly fish that would either aggressively miss my fly or fish that would just come up and kiss my fly and not really pull it in. Emily and I spent a few hours here snacking, relaxing, and fishing before deciding to pack up and make our way to the upper lake. 

Our adventure to the next lake was exciting, to say the least. The trail all but disappeared among the granite and brush. Game trails crossed with real trails, and it became all too easy to get off course. While it’s not the end of the world, wrong turns can lead to steep drops with unnecessary scrambling or backtracking. We ended up taking a high route and having to scramble down a bit, but found our way back to the trail without too much issue. 

Once at the upper lake, we began to search for a campsite. Options were plentiful, and both of us were glad to have started the hike early. We found a nice spot that overlooked the lake with jagged peaks both to our east and west, hoping for an epic sunset and sunrise. On the ledge above, overlooking both lakes, we made dinner. 

Fishing at the upper lake was… epically upsetting. I had two (seemingly large) fish absolutely SMASH my last two big foam dry flies and annihilate my tippet. Tying on more options after that produced one more missed take similar to the ones I had at the lake below. It was easy to feel upset, but it was also really cool to at least have seen the action I had in the lakes. 

Day two is where the plan was really supposed to shine. The headwaters above the lake were said to hold a population of golden trout, but getting there was another story. I had offline maps and GPS, but off-trail route finding can still be a challenge. We bushwhacked and scrambled our way about a mile up the mountain towards a pass before losing the trail. I stood there overlooking the terrain, contemplating how badly I wanted to get lost. Perhaps I’ll plan better and try again another year. But for now, those goldens will remain a sparkle in the distance and a drive for my insanity.

Fortunately, that isn’t where the story ends. After making our way back down the mountain and breaking camp, we crossed a spot that Emily suggested checking out. I’m glad she did, as it was a beautiful waterfall spilling into crystal clear pools filled with eager trout! Once again, I sprang into action, this time with the Tenkara Rod Co. Kita 330 along with a futsu kebari, and it didn’t take long to land my first beautiful brook trout of the trip. 

As we continued to fish, we caught a handful more brookies and one surprising rainbow trout. It was crazy to be able to look from above on an overhanging boulder and help each other sight fish. After an hour or so, the clouds began to roll in and we decided to put away our rods and make our way down the trail. 

At around six that night, we finally found a killer creekside campsite and decided that would do. The next morning would be an easy five or so miles out, and that sounded just about perfect. While this trip didn’t hold the goldens that I was hoping for, it still held some beautiful trout that caught my eye, similar to the way pyrite can catch your eye in a creek bed…

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Nick Feller found tenkara while going down the rabbit hole of ultralight backpacking and fell in love. Follow Nick’s tenkara adventures on Instagram @norcaltenkara.

This article originally appeared in the 2025 print issue of Tenkara Angler magazine.

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