David Siskind | Sunday, 16 March 2025
Significant rain events in Los Angeles have a marked impact on the 5 miles or so of the fishable water on the upper stretch of the LA River. Usually there are 3 or 4 per yeat in the winter months but as the frequency of outlier weather events seem to be increasing, we’ve had some substantial mid-summer rains as well. As you can see from the graph, rain events generate big spikes in river flow - of more than 100 times the average rate. I often worry that my lovely carp have been swept into the sea. So far so good. But even if the carp and other fauna can find refuge from the deluge, the river bed is markedly changed. Big rocks are moved, some islands stripped of trees, silt deposits swept away, and shopping carts, clothes and stop signs re-positioned. I often find changes in the distribution of fish.
Every year there are spawning events and schools of juveniles. The juveniles are a salve to my ego. They are chunky, 8-12” long, love swinging flies, and are a hoot to catch. I assume they are also easy prey for the osprey, heron, and cormorants living by the river. There are always a lot of fishing birds on the rocks, banks, and on the powerlines spanning the river, so I assume there’s always a good number of fish around. Their presence doesn’t ensure their availability to fly fishers.
There are prime locations, however, where I can usually rely on finding fish showing themselves but these are also the only spots, over the years, where I’ve seen signs of other people fishing. There was a time, not very long ago, when I would arrive at the river, filled with anxiety, hoping that there was nobody fishing in “my” spots. It’s been about a year since I actually encountered someone, but last week I found a green chenille-bodied marabou-tailed fly on the bank. So this spot is getting some pressure. The fish in these places are catchable but the experience there feels contrived. They seem accustomed to people. Instead of spooking when they see you, they just slide out of reach. It’s like fishing to big resident snook hanging out under a Florida dock. Or maybe more like fishing in a koi pond. So I walk farther and get my feet wet more often. The experience feels fresher. I discover fish in different postures and surprising places - along the margins of weeds; in side-channels; in shallow pools, tenuously connected to the main flow; along the muddy, rocky, garbage strewn-islands; and in newly discovered flats. It’s an adventure. I’m not seeing a ton of fish and they aren’t always where I’ve seen them before, but they show themselves often enough. I get my shots and catch some fish.
David Siskind