No river naturally runs straight, but in the end, most rivers run true, and that sometimes is the way with lives, as well. For Lisa Cutting, it was toward the eastern Sierra that her life’s direction tended, and for years now, as eastern Sierra policy director for the Mono Lake Committee, her efforts have flowed into defending, preserving, and restoring the waters of one of California’s most strikingly beautiful and often ecologically threatened regions. She is also an ardent fly fisher. We wanted to find out more about the prospects for protecting eastern Sierra trout waters, and Lisa Cutting was the perfect person to ask.
Bud: What brought you to the eastern Sierra? What part did angling play in it, and when and how did you start fly fishing?
Lisa: I grew up in Santa Monica, surfing and involved in school athletic programs. As a child, I was always outside playing, at least until the street lights came on and we had to go home. My brother and I built tree forts and caught tadpoles and frogs at the local pond. I was also a Girl Scout, so I did a lot of camping with our troop. For as long as I can remember, I always wanted to be outside, exploring and investigating. And the time I spent surfing also connected me with the natural world. For me, surfing was more of a meditative or spiritual act than athleticism. It was a time when I could become rejuvenated by nature’s beauty and natural rhythms.
When I was about six, my family started coming up to Twin Lakes out of Bridgeport, and we camped on Robinson Creek every summer. I was immediately in my element. My brother and I spent all day fishing in the creek, riding our bikes, exploring the lakes, and hiking. My dad had spent his summers in the exact same area when he was a kid, so it was a tradition that just continued through the generations.
My dad taught us how to fish, and unlike my brother, I was helplessly hooked from the beginning. I was so obsessed that I had one of those salmon egg dispensers that looped through my belt, with a flip lid so I didn’t waste any time unscrewing the cap to get my bait out. But my dad had a fishing rule: you catch ’em, you clean ’em. And I hated cleaning trout. As a child, it seemed sad to me to kill something I loved. So I eventually figured out that I could put a bubble and a fly on my spin rod and be able to release the fish I caught. That meant I could fish all day instead of just until I caught my daily limit!
From there, I easily (well probably not so easily, because I taught myself) transitioned to proper fly fishing, with a fly rod and reel probably purchased at Ken’s in Bridgeport. I also switched from fishing Robinson Creek to the East Walker River — a step up in fly fishing for me, due to the difficulty and technical aspects of the East Walker. The only fly-fishing class I’ve ever taken was years later with Ralph and Lisa Cutter. That really propelled my ability and skill, especially Lisa’s help with my casting.
Summer after summer ticked on, and each time I left the eastern Sierra, it was more and more unbearable. Camping on Robinson Creek evolved into backpacking, and I immediately loved backpacking as much as I loved fishing. Combining the two was the best. I’ve taken countless trips throughout the Sierra. A highlight was completing the John Muir Trail in 1985 when I was 25 years old. I hiked the trail solo, and my dad resupplied me. I cried at the end, because I didn’t want to leave that way of life or this magical place. But I had to get back to work in Southern California at my job with FedEx.
Time spent in the Sierra was the perfect antidote to my career in the fast-paced field of the overnight delivery business. Even though I couldn’t be in the mountains all the time, I surrounded myself with books, maps, photos — anything that would keep me connected to the place. When things were especially challenging and I couldn’t sleep at night, I would picture Robinson Creek and visualize each pool or run that held trout, systematically working downstream, fishing myself to sleep.
As time went on, all these elements coalesced and became stronger themes. In 1998, I finished my B.A. at the University of California, Irvine, in environmental analysis and design, which consisted of a blend of classes that included political science, restoration ecology, environmental law, and natural sciences, such as limnology. All of these classes established a solid foundation for my current work.
It took me longer than normal to finish my degree, mostly because of working full-time and because I had difficulty finding the degree program I wanted to pursue. I was interested in the nexus of social and natural sciences because I felt that was where the real work of environmental policy could be accomplished.
By this time, I had worked for FedEx for 17 years as an operations manager, and despite my love for the company, I desperately wanted to pursue what had been my goal all along — environmental policy work in the eastern Sierra. I knew I needed experience, so I applied for and was hired as an intern for the Mono Lake Committee. Moving from Southern California to the east side was a dream come true. Here I was introduced to the world of policy. That seasonal internship transitioned into an entry-level permanent policy position, and that transitioned to my position today as eastern Sierra policy director.
So, simply put, what brought me to the eastern Sierra was love of place and a love of the natural world. That and a strong desire to work on its behalf and give back.
Bud: What kind of skills are important for people who seek to make a difference in protecting the environment?
Lisa: In addition to a degree such as mine, there are many skills that help in the policy arena. Policy work, done correctly, takes time, so it takes patience and persistence. You’re in it for the long haul. Even after 18 years, there are issues I’ve worked on that haven’t been fully resolved. You’ve got to keep the momentum going and keep the pressure on at all times.
It’s also important to recognize that each side has a stake in the game, with needs to be met. Respecting those needs is an important part of the equation. The Mono Lake Committee prides itself on finding balanced solutions to environmental problems. This is best exemplified by the 1994 State Water Board decision balancing water exports by the Los Angeles Department of Water and Power (LADWP) with the water needs of Mono Lake and tributary streams. Helping Los Angeles find “replacement” water through conservation measures and actively engaging in those programs helped make the success possible. Reaching a compromise does not mean undermining your values.
Such work is inherently collaborative. I am fortunate to follow in the footsteps of incredibly capable and successful policy directors. They honed this philosophy and blazed the path for the work that continues today. No matter what our position is at the committee, none of us works in a vacuum. I work most closely with our executive director, Geoff McQuilkin, developing our strategy on issues and completing various tasks that support that strategy. The two of us depend on other staff, including our restoration specialist and in-house hydrologist, Greg Reis, and other scientific consultants. But really, every staff member does policy work to some degree all the time — speaking on behalf of Mono Lake. And we are all always doing the other work too — education, membership, and outreach.
Because policy work is a team effort, establishing solid working relationships and nurturing them along the way helps the work go much smoother. I interact with state and federal agencies, Mono County staff and elected officials, LADWP, scientists, and other environmental advocacy groups. The Mono Lake Committee has been in existence since 1978, and I still stay in contact with many of the people who were involved at the beginning, because maintaining the correct institutional memory of the facts related to a particular policy issue is another key component to my work.
Bud: What exactly does the Mono Lake Committee do, and how does its activities affect California fly fishers?
Lisa: The mission of the Mono Lake Committee is to protect and restore the Mono Basin ecosystem, educate the public about Mono Lake and the impacts on the environment of excessive water use, and promote cooperative solutions that protect Mono Lake and meet real water needs without transferring environmental problems to other areas.
We fulfill our mission in a variety of ways. Our policy priorities are protecting Mono Lake, its tributary streams, and the Mono Basin watershed as a whole. This work generally involves LADWP and their ongoing responsibilities. However, it can also include things such as sediment discharge into the lake or impacts to the creeks from Southern California Edison’s hydropower operations. We also work closely with California State Parks and the Inyo National Forest on management of the Mono Lake Tufa State Natural Reserve and the Mono Basin National Forest Scenic Area, respectively. In this era of declining state and federal budgets, their on-the-ground staff presence has been drastically cut back, while visitor use has reached all-time highs. Committee staff are there every day, out in the field as needed, keeping an eye on things, responding to problems, notifying appropriate agencies if necessary.
The Mono Lake Committee places a high value on scientific inquiry, and we have a long history of basing all of our policy positions on sound science. We don’t automatically take a position or pick the most extreme position and litigate. We form scientifically defensible positions, communicate, collaborate, and work diligently toward settlement. Litigation is a last resort.
At times, we are actually in the field, collecting data through monitoring, and this helps the scientists who can’t physically be in the basin. We also support scientists with logistics, such as finding volunteers to assist with the annual California gull-monitoring program. In 2003, we purchased a motel in Lee Vining that wasn’t being used and have transformed it into a field station — a place where scientists can live while conducting their research or collecting data.
Perhaps the most important way the committee’s actions affect California fly fishers is our ongoing stream-restoration work. This work has been going on formally since 1998, when the State Water Board required specific restoration actions, scientific studies, and annual monitoring on Rush, Lee Vining, Walker, and Parker Creeks. Initially, the restoration work focused on some of the basics: closing off vehicle access in the floodplain, putting large root wads in the creeks to help jumpstart the creation of pools and create habitat complexity, opening up previously cut-off side channels to help distribute flows in the lower reaches, and working with LADWP to implement structural improvements so that sediment can move through the system.
Without a doubt, the single most important restoration component is the amount of water released down these creeks. As fly fishers know, this varies according to time of year and magnitude of the winter snow run-off. The Mono Lake Committee’s goal has always been to mimic the natural hydrograph as much as possible while still allowing for the rightful export of water to Los Angeles. In the 1930s and prior to LADWP exporting water out of the creeks, Rush Creek was well known as a blue-ribbon trout stream with brown trout often weighing two pounds or more. When the State Water Board was trying to figure out how they would determine when restoration was “done,” they turned to the field notes of Eldon Vestal, a California Department of Fish and Game field biologist who kept detailed records of his daily observations of the creeks. It is these field notes that established the “pre-1941 conditions” that guide State Water Board mandates.
For me as a fly fisher, bringing a creek that once had no water back to life and seeing the recovery unfold year after year is a gift and a lesson. When the work in the Mono Basin began, restoration science was a fledgling discipline, and the academic community was just beginning to figure it out. We have the good fortune to work with some of the best scientists in the field, most notably, Dr. Bill Trush out of Humboldt State University. Under Bill’s leadership and with the expertise of Ross Taylor, the State Water Board–appointed fisheries stream scientist, the restoration program has always subscribed to two key components: avoiding mechanized large-scale impacts to the riparian corridor and using adaptive management to respond to changing conditions. In this way, we have become a model for other stream restoration projects throughout the West. In the past, some have criticized this approach, arguing that it is simply taking too long or is not effective. We claim that this approach is actually more effective. Once healthy, the creeks have a life of their own and start functioning in the dynamic way they should. This means that the stream channel moves in response to high-flow events or that areas become naturally cut off from flow as the stream wets new areas. This is exactly what the original scientists intended when they adopted this “hands-off” approach. Bill Trush said it best when he described this process as creating the “capacity for self-renewal.” The passing of time is almost as important as everything else.
Bud: Among your duties, you’re involved with working with Los Angeles Department of Water and Power, the principal player in issues involving water in the eastern Sierra, and the Federal Energy Regulatory Commission (FERC) the agency that regulates the existence of dams and their removal. What is it like to work with agencies that have such power over the water resources of the area and that frequently have interests at odds with those of conservationists?
Lisa: Well, they definitely have power, but fortunately, it comes with government agency oversight. For LADWP, it’s the State Water Board and all the historic protections, including the 1994 Decision 1631, the 1998 Restoration Orders, and our most recent Stream Restoration Agreement, which was finalized in 2013 and will soon be adopted by the State Water Board. For FERC and Southern California Edison (SCE, the utility that operates in the eastern Sierra), there are licenses to which the operator must adhere while operating the hydropower plant, so when they come up for renewal, it’s important to weigh in and make sure things such as releases below the dam, habitat components, and monitoring requirements are updated and current.
Even though we have competing interests, it is possible to reach resolutions. It just takes a long time. For example, the Mono Lake Committee has been working on a FERC relicensing for Mill Creek since 1999. The parties — Inyo National Forest, SCE, Bureau of Land Management, the California Department of Fish and Wildlife, California Trout, American Rivers, and the Mono Lake Committee — reached a settlement in 2005. FERC accepted the settlement in 2011, but the key infrastructure improvement to return water that rightfully belongs in Mill Creek hasn’t been built yet. That means that on average, 80 percent of Mill Creek water is not physically in Mill Creek. This is a great example of a success on paper, but not on the land. Both need to happen. Unfortunately, there is often a lag time between the two.
Bud: Looking to the future, what are the prospects for effective action on the part of the environment with regard to the agencies whose actions affect the environment in the eastern Sierra?
Lisa: Here in the Sierra, we have a strong coalition of environmental organizations that work together. Our elected county officials increasingly understand the value of our protected natural public lands. Because 98 percent of Mono County is public land, the county depends on these areas to draw visitors. Our towns depend on this recreation-based economy.
Clean air and water, healthy streams and lakes for fish — these are things that all Californians value and want to see protected. We are fortunate to live in such a state, especially in these times. But our state population is increasing, along with demands for more water and power. The recent drought and the increasing effects of climate change have signaled some of the huge challenges that lie ahead.
But I also have to believe that as urban areas grow, the Sierra will be even more important to those connected to this place. The restorative aspects of nature and the ability to recreate in such wild places will also be increasingly important to people. As I’ve said before, the key will be to balance the demands and creatively craft workable solutions. No doubt there will be much to adapt to and figure out quickly.
Bud: How does the Mono Basin Bird Chautauqua figure into this vision for the eastern Sierra?
Lisa: The Mono Basin Bird Chautauqua is something near and dear to my heart. Two other colleagues and I started the Chautauqua 15 years ago because it was obvious that the Mono Basin should host a bird festival. Mono Lake sits at the edge of the Great Basin and Sierra escarpment. The diverse habitats host a wide variety of bird species.
At the beginning, none of us knew what we were doing, but we pulled together scientists and respected trip leaders from the birding community, then rounded it out with nonbirding activities such as wildflower walks, geology talks, and art programs. We involve the local high school, community groups, and numerous Chautauqua partners. Our tagline is: “It’s not your ordinary bird festival,” and we try to live up to that theme. Increasingly, we are adding things like poetry and thought-provoking policy talks. Trout Unlimited has offered beginning casting instruction the past two years, and we hope that continues.
In terms of the future of the Mono Basin, the Chautauqua is a way to educate people about the basin, the streams, the history, and the issues and to connect them to this place. It is my belief that over time, these people become constituents we can engage when policy work needs to be accomplished.
Bud: I hear that you also build bamboo rods. What made you turn to that craft? There can be a considerable learning curve. Who helped? What rods and tapers do you favor for the kind of fishing you do?
Lisa: I think it was reading John Gierach’s books though the years and all the stories about bamboo fly rods that eventually piqued my interest. I got on the waiting list for a Mike Clark bamboo fly rod. After the requisite two-and-a-half-year wait, the rod arrived in Lee Vining. I distinctly remember opening up the tube and smelling the varnish. That first rod led to another, and before I knew it, I was fly fishing almost exclusively with bamboo rods. That was just the beginning. I began to seek out any and all information I could about bamboo rods and discovered that makers offer classes. I knew from my research that it would be hard and that there would be a lot of specialized equipment to buy, but I wasn’t deterred. I discovered Larry Tusoni in Angels Camp and took a class with him in 2009. Larry was a great teacher, and we clicked right away. I think Larry was impressed with my level of focus and attention to detail.
When we were kids, my dad had instilled in my brother and me a passion for making things, fixing things — getting the tools out. And when I was much older, my dad and I were always doing projects together, which I loved, because I could learn new skills from him or we could figure something out together. When he died unexpectedly in 2000 at age 64, I wanted to put his tools to good use, and making bamboo rods seemed like the perfect choice.
In 2010, I met Daryll Whitehead at Larry’s annual Eastern Sierra Rod Makers Gathering at his place in Bridgeport. I brought the rod I had made in Larry’s class — a 7-foot 4-weight 2/2 Garrison 202 E, and someone introduced me to Daryll. Knowing what I know now about him, I’m sure he was mortified by the finish work on my rod, which I had done after leaving Larry’s class — that is to say, without any instruction. Regardless, we connected, and that connection eventually evolved into a serious mentor relationship. Beginning in 2012, I’ve visited Daryll at his home in Stayton, Oregon, every spring. During my visit to Daryll this past April, after much hard work over the course of these visits and many, many months of working and reworking certain aspects of the process, I finally finished my first solo rod — a 7-1/2-foot 5-weight 2/2 Dickerson 7613. I hoped that this rod would meet his high standards for “simple elegance,” the phrase he uses to describe his bamboo rod ideal. And it did. Daryll is not one to gush or show a lot of exuberant emotion, but when he opened the tube and inspected the rod, he smiled.
Most of my bamboo rod collection consists of 7-foot 4-weights and 7-1/2foot 5-weights, which is really all you need to fish most places in the Sierra Nevada. My go-to rod this past summer, though, is a rod that Daryll made — a four-piece, one-tip 7-1/2-foot 4/5-weight pack rod. It’s amazing, because the general thought with bamboo rods is that having too many ferrules detrimentally affects the taper of the bamboo and creates dead zones in the action of the rod. This rod stands up to any two-piece rod I have in terms of feel and performance. I love it because I can just tuck it away in my daypack and take off exploring the Lyell Fork or other wild waters in Yosemite.
Bud: You also volunteer for Casting for Recovery and are working with California Fly Fisher writer Peter Pumphrey to develop an eastern Sierra retreat for the group. How does that work relate to your work in environmental conservation? How do you see it as related to your sense of yourself as a fly fisher?
Lisa: Pete is a great friend. We met fairly soon after I moved to the eastern Sierra. He and his wife, Roberta, had just retired and moved to the Bishop area, so we were finding our way together. After attending the Southwest Council Fly Fishing Faire in Bishop this past October and talking to the Casting for Recovery representatives, we were shocked to hear the number of women who are turned away from the program each year in California. We want to help change that and provide a program here.
Pete and I have volunteered as river helpers for the Nevada program in past years and have both found it to be life-changing and inspirational. For both of us, it’s a heavy annual dose of shaking you to the core to remind you of your own mortality. To see these women move through life with such grace, enthusiasm, perseverance, and determination is impressive. The first time I volunteered and was paired with a woman helping her fish, I never wanted to catch a fish so badly in my life. When that trout rose to her fly and she brought it to the net, I honestly don’t know who was happier! For some of these women, they would never be exposed to fly fishing any other way than through this program.
In terms of the relationship to environmental conservation work, these types of programs underscore the necessity of natural places, healthy stream systems, healthy trout populations, and the restorative aspect of these for humans, especially as our world becomes more broken and natural places increasingly diminished. I think we are only beginning to understand this aspect of nature.
Bud: Here we are at the dreaded Silly Tree Question. If you were a tree, what kind of a tree would you be?
Lisa: Right now I would say a Krummholz whitebark pine (Pinus albicaulis). These high-elevation conifers have great views of wide-open spaces. They are flexible, hardy, and resilient. I read once that whitebark pines “remind us that life often persists despite constant struggle.” A tree for these times.
