Falling for the Pit

Ask anyone who has fished much of California about the Pit River and you are likely to get some enthusiastic responses. One of my favorites is "I'm afraid to go down there," with "that's a young mans river," coming in at a close second. Don't let the negative Nancys scare you away. Ask enough people and you'll be able to weed through the subtle code that keeps the Pit River one of the least pressured streams in California. You may even run into a few guys like me who rank the Pit among California's finest fisheries. For those who are willing to push themselves and their fishing abilities to the limit, the Pit is a true adventure.
When I first decided to make the 31/2 hour drive up to northern California from my home base in Davis I spent some time searching in guide books and on the web for any information I could find about this legendary river. All of the resources I found had one thing in common, warnings. Among the Pit's many dangers are snakes, steep trails, and miles of treacherous, jagged, slimy rocks that form the only path available to adventurous anglers.
At first I thought these were exaggerations cooked up to scare away all but the most dedicated and hardy anglers. I rose to the challenge and sped up to the little nearby town of Burney with fire in my veins, ready to beat the Pit River into submission, and quickly realized that those warnings are there for a reason!
For round 1 I chose the steep, craggy canyon section of Pit 3 just below the dam at lake Britton. I parked at a dirt pullout adjacent to the dam and peered over the edge. I saw a toothy canyon with its mouth gaping wide, inviting me to climb down and be swallowed whole. I could only grin back with equal ferocity as gasoline coursed through my bloodstream, raising every hair on my body in a grim salute to the challenger before me. I eyed the tiny staircase which seemed to barely keep its hold in the loose earth of the canyon wall and began a slow descent.
The long climb down gave me ample time to study the water. It was reckless and wild, as if some giant monster was greedily sucking every drop down into it's thirsty gullet. Foam and bubbles rushed through sharp pointed boulders like saliva pouring from the mouth of a rabid animal. 'I can tame this animal,' I thought to myself.
I finally touched ground, if you can call it that, and made my way through a twisted maze of brambles and boulders to the river's edge. Miles of pockets lay before me, each one whispering a promise of beautiful wild rainbow trout. Going off of a tip I got from some friends I rigged up a short heavy leader and a single rubber legged stonefly nymph with a few bb sized shot to get it down in the fast water. Without hesitation I chose a nice looking pocket and plunked my fly in at the top, allowing it to sink until my line tightened and I could feel the shot ticking the tops of rocks on the bottom as I lead my fly downstream. On the third pass I felt a spongy feeling at the end of the line and the rhythmic tick of the shot hitting rocks stopped. Instinctively I set the hook and connected with my first fish on the Pit.
I waited for a moment, expecting the electric surge of a frightened fish trying to flee to safety. Instead the fish floated lazily to the surface and rolled on to one side. It was a huge brown trout, with deep golden flanks and a jet black dorsal surface. It was as calm and collected as if the #8 hook it had just inhaled had been a salmonfly nymph rather than a stinging counterfeit. I had no argument with this, and I thought to myself 'this fish is going to make landing my first trophy brown easy!'
I pulled my net out and slowly edged down to a spot where I could land the fish as it dove and buoyed in the current. As I eased the fish toward me and reached out to land the fish its calm demeanor gave way to violent panic, and with a flap of its tail that sent a spray of water flying into my face it took off, rocketing to the opposite bank where it attempted to dig into a number of rocks and crevices. Finding no refuge it turned into the current and bolted downstream causing my reel to sing at the top of its lungs, and I was delighted to listen.
As the amount of line on my reel quickly dwindled I realized I had to make a move fast. I looked downstream at the broken, slippery rocks and wicked tangles of blackberry and chose the only path I had...straight through all of it.
The fire in my veins exploded into an inferno of energy and I leapt from rock to rock like an apache warrior. Thorns tore at my skin and sticks whipped my face but my footing was fast and agile as I pursued the angry lunker downstream. I could still feel the jolting head shakes of the fish and I knew I had it hooked solid. It was just a matter of who would give out first.
We finally reached a point where there was a bush that stuck out just a bit too far into the stream for my line to clear, and as the fish sped downstream the line became entangled in its spindly branches. I could tell the fish was still on and I thrust my rod into the mess, trying to use it to pick the line free. Miraculously I managed to free the line and the fight was still on. I jumped on top of a big boulder and pulled hard, heaving the fish up to the surface. My heart sank when I saw that it had somehow spit the hook from its jaw and was now hooked in the tail. To make matters worse the monster was pointed directly downstream into a big rapid, and had every advantage of weight, leverage, and momentum.
I made one last desperate pull hoping to drag the beast away from the fast water but it had already won. With a final burst it jetted into the current and I felt a jolt as our connection was broken and the line went slack. The chaos settled into the quiet rhythm of water on rocks as the wild encompassed me. I looked up at the sky and an adult salmonfly clumsily flew by overhead. I smiled at my own humility as I racked up the score in my head. Pit: 1, me: 0.
But that was just the beginning of a long and exciting relationship, where a battle became a game and somehow along the lines transformed into an everlasting love affair. That is how I fell for the Pit.