I helped with a couple of stages of the Pauite project after meeting the Fish and Wildlife crew in Lower Fish one year. I was accidentally fishing upstream from the closure at Tamarack Creek so they asked me if I wanted to help clip and bag fins for genetic analysis while they were electroshocking. I'm thinking this was in 2006? Then I was on an insect collection crew some years later. I also helped a botanist who was working on a study in the upper valley but that had nothing to do with fish.
So as to stopping fishing in 1934? I am pretty sure my late husband (legally) fished for and ate Pauites while camped in the upper valley as late as the 1950s. He told stories of fish and game actually patrolling, asking to see licenses and limits. And while I have never fished above the falls I (legally) fished below the falls as recently as 2010 or 2011. I know there are articles which make that 1934 statement but I think I would have been busted several times if that were true especially since I was often waving at Fish and Game crews while standing knee deep with a fly rod in my hand.
I have encountered people fishing in both Silver King and Corral Valley even after the closure and there is a licensed "fishing guide" who operates here out of Walker and "targets" Pauite Cutthroats according to his brochure. Apparently the only requirements to take money as a "fishing guide" is that you fill out a paper, have some kind of insurance and pay the state a fee. And apparently there are people who will pay in order to catch at least one of each kind of trout even if it means having to hide in the willows when someone approaches. I've written to the "guide". I've written to the state. I've left a review on his website. No one has responded and I get too angry to want to see if he has deleted my "review". So I boycott. I wouldn't ever hire a guide but he and his wife also own the coffee shop. I don't drink coffee anyway.
One day in the upper part of Coyote Valley I was sitting by the tiny creek painting when a river otter came floating downstream, on its back, eyes closed, with its "arms" folded across across its chest. It must have sensed the presence of me and the dog and dove beneath some under hanging vegetation to hiss and snarl at us. We gathered our things and left the otter to his floating.
That landslide is impressive. It caught my eye too. And your backcountry campsite must be near one of my favorites. I think I'll be gong back in there at least one more time before the snow flies.