A better drift boat courtesy one of my favorite illustrators

(found via one of my alltime favorite illustrators: Mattias Adolfsson)

One of a long list of places I'd rather be...

The weather is drop-dead gorgeous. Yet our hero sits in his downstairs office.

Writing his ass off.

To pay the bills.

In what should probably drive me to a deep reexamination of my acceptance of life as it is, I’m squirreled away in the dungeon while the real squirrels cavort in the 80-degree sunshine.

So now even common rodents are having more fun than I am?

While I’d love to craft an intoxicating, deeply personal look at last weekend’s small stream fly fishing trip, instead you’re getting the fly fishing blogger’s equivalent of leftovers; a picture from opening day that somehow didn’t make its way into the blog.

More to come, but probably not today. Or tomorrow.

Note About Runoff

The Upper Sacramento’s flows are still high and happy to spike slightly when the temperatures rise, but after Sunday’s drive into the mountains with Little M and Wally the Wonderdog, I feel safe in suggesting we’re at the tipping point.

Soon, the flows will start that stair step trend downward (they ebb and flow a little daily) and while they’re over 1800 cfs now, keep an eye on them; they’ll turn into something better relatively soon.

See you wondering when my fave little streams will round into shape, Tom Chandler.

It was too dark to see him (much less take a picture), though I had what I’d call an instructive moment; about a minute after the bear bath started, I noticed my wife had left her car dome light on. Though it was parked around the corner of the house from the bear’s current location, I suddenly realized I was fine with the idea of the dome light remaining on all night, especially if the alternative was for me to wander into the bear-equipped dark to turn it off.

Then early this morning Wally chased a fox off the property, though because he’s old and a little gimpy, he didn’t actually seem to mean it — an elaborate bit of animal-based performance art instead of a meaningful attempt to kill anything.

Clearly, certain rhythms must be obeyed.

Still, it must have tired him; this afternoon he slept through an hourlong visit by three small deer.

Lawn mowers...

It’s almost as if we’re channeling Marlin Perkins over here, and spring is just getting underway.

The Busy Stuff

I spent yesterday touring Hat Creek and the Rising River for CalTrout (some Hat Creek restoration posts coming soon to CalTrout, but I’ll point you in the right direction).

This weekend I’m heading somewhere small, dark and fishy, and all that remains is to decide where.

Still, work is demanding enough that I had to pass on a chance to fish the McCloud with CalTrout Executive Director Jeff Thompson, who is a hell of a stick.

Sure, he nymphs, and I’ve pointed out that he’s probably going to hell for that, but it’s nice to have a real fisherman running what amounts to a fisherman’s conservation organization.

See you on the river (maybe even tonight), Tom Chandler.

The latest — courtesy of Alert Underground Reader Ian — demonstrates both a profound fear of wolves and a truly stunning lack of spelling skills (from the SF Chronicle):

The Siskiyou County Board of Supervisors is scheduled to consider a proposed law Tuesday that would “prohibit the presents of wolves in Siskiyou County.”

The misspelled ordinance, written by Leo Bergeron, the president of the Siskiyou County Water Users Association, was not referring to wolf welcome gifts, but the presence of wolves in the county.

Some of you might remember Leo Bergeron’s name — he signed the falsified coho salmon de-listing petition on behalf of the Siskiyou County Water Users Association, and given how the proposed ordinance came out, we might want to double-check that signature for the correct spelling.

At times, Siskiyou County makes the movie Idiocracy seem like an entirely plausible documentary.

You can be sure that — as soon as the black helicopters swoop in and start raining wolves and communism among the populace — I’ll let you know. I’ll even take pictures so you know their presents is real.

See you in bizarreoland, Tom Chandler

Fortunately, the Underground was founded in November of 2005, which means several fly fishing bloggers have done this longer than I have, foremost among them Alistair at the Urban Fly Fisher blog.

I suggest we make Alistair or Moldy (circa March 2005) wear the adult diapers.

Still, before I grow too old to blog, here are a few stories to consider — the kind of stories us seasoned bloggers write.

Winnemem Tribe Declares War on US Forest Service?

A couple weeks ago the Winnemem Wintu tribe asked the US Forest Service for a mandatory closure of 300 yards of the McCloud River (at Shasta Lake) for a coming of age ceremony for their daughters.

In 2006 and 2010, drunken boaters (who’d have guessed that boaters drink) motored right through the “Voluntary Closure” signs and — we might be editorializing just a wee bit — acted like complete assholes to the ceremony participants.

The Forest Service hasn’t responded, so the Winnemem decided to hold a War Dance, which feels a little bit like they’re declaring war on the Forest Service.

We’ll let you know if hostilities break out.

Elwha Dam Removal Blog

Because dam removal is something to be savored, I’ve tapped into the Elwha River Dam Removal Blog, which offers regular updates and other goodness, including photographs of the process.

The dam's almost gone, making this my new happy place.

Biologists planted coho salmon above the dams prior to removal (there’d be a brood ready to head downstream when the dams were gone), and they found this:

Fish biologists were excited earlier this month to find offspring of the adult coho salmon released above the Elwha dam site. Biologists observed coho fry in Little River (via screw trap) and 600 fry in Indian Creek via snorkeling in 0.4 miles. These young fish will have direct access to the Strait of Juan de Fuca in spring 2013.

In a year sure to be dominated by election “news” (and won’t that be pleasant), you might consider it one of your online Happy Places.

It’s National Wetlands Month!

How is it possible we didn’t know this was National Wetlands Month?

You can’t help but get a little moist when you hear news like that (did you see what I did there? High five!), and because National Geographic is all about the online experience, they’ve produced a little pop-up, interactive learning slideshow thingee that’s actually pretty cool.

Well, OK. The pictures are cool (the text is actually kinda boring), but I like the format. I may steal that for some upcoming project.

Until then, see you in diapers, Tom Chandler.

For most of the last week I’ve been playing the role of single dad, and because that wasn’t quite challenging enough, I decided to also come down with a bad cold.

Apparently, this parenting thing is like Olympic diving; it really only becomes newsworthy when you add significantly to the degree of difficulty.

It doesn’t matter much; small stream fly fishermen in my neck of the woods wait breathlessly for opening day, and then we wait approximately another month for the waters — which rose just prior to the opener — to fall back to fishable levels.

Can you spot the holding water? Me neither...

So after we were finally free to do so, the increasingly gimpy Wonderdog and I took a nice up-and-down hike along one of my favorite little waters just yesterday, and though I brought along a fly rod, it never escaped its tube.

Wally the Wonderdog looking in vain for trout

The Big Bugs

Last week Little M and I created our own little adventure on Hedge Creek, which flows into the Upper Sacramento just below Mossbrae Falls. I introduced her to the big black stoneflies (she didn’t think they were cuddly in the least), and because she’s 3.5 years old, didn’t really understand when I tried to explain why fly fishermen love the things to death.

Perspective clearly remains the province of the holder, though I can say she got excited when — in the first decent pool of the creek above the Upper Sac — we spotted a pretty good sized trout.

I’m never sure how trout move up upcreek through the jumble of rocks, mini-waterfalls and deadfall that define Hedge Creek’s confluence with the river (that alien perspective thing again), but they clearly do.

Oddly, it reminded me of another Upper Sac tributary I wanted to fish but haven’t.

Maybe this is the year.

The Work Thang

The upcoming week qualifies as a “better get it done/written/submitted” week for Tom The Working Guy, who last week made lame excuses involving kids and colds and didn’t exactly peg the productivity meter.

I’m working on two pieces for the Underground (also two for my writing blog), but what you’re seeing right now is the fly fishing blog of a very busy writer who isn’t fly fishing much at all due to high waters.

Thus, the silence is explained.

On Tuesday I should be surveying Hat Creek with several of the men who originally helped restore it in the 1970s (CalTrout’s founders), and after that happens, you can expect at least a picture or two headed your way.

Hat Creek has once again fallen on hard times, yet it’s nice to know that (once again), someone’s got a plan for putting it back together.

The Snowman Melteth

From our second story family room, I can see both Mt. Eddy and the ridges surrounding it (Mt. Shasta is out the opposite window, but screened by trees).

The snow that is feeding the runoff that is putting my little streams out of reach is disappearing quickly, especially if you squint a little and don’t look at the northern exposures when you’re driving south on I5.

The weather has been cool and the Upper Sac has fallen below 2000 cfs, though (finally) 70+ degree temperatures are back and the white stuff will disappear more quickly.

Meanwhile, I’m crediting myself with a certain level of cunning by combining small stream reconnaissance trips with dog walking and child care duties.

I’m a crafty one, no doubt. Crafty enough to not make any bold predictions about this year’s runoff, though evidence suggests things will get better sooner rather than later.

See you on the little rivers, Tom Chandler

• The coldest temperature ever recorded in Montana was -70 degrees below zero at Rogers Pass north of Helena, on January 20, 1954. This is also a national record for the lower 48 states.

• The warmest temperature ever recorded in Montana was 117 degrees at Glendive, July 20, 1893, and at Medicine Lake, on July 5, 1937.

• The temperature at Medicine Lake in northeastern Montana reached 117 degrees on July 5, 1937. This tied the all-time temperature for Montana previously established at Glendive on July 20, 1893.

• Combined with the -70 degrees Fahrenheit at Roger’s Pass in 1954, this makes the all-time temperature range recorded in Montana 187 degrees. This is the most extreme temperature range experienced in any of the 50 states.

• The greatest temperature change in 24 hours occurred in Loma on January 15, 1972. The temperature rose exactly 103 degrees, from -54 degrees Fahrenheit to 49 degrees. This is the world record for a 24—hour temperature change.

• The greatest temperature change in 12 hours happened on December 14, 1924. The temperature at Fairfield, Montana, dropped from 63 degrees Fahrenheit to -21 degrees at midnight. This 84-degree change in 12 hours stands as the greatest 12-hour temperature change recorded in the United States.

• The temperature at the Great Falls International Airport on January 11, 1980, rose from -32 degrees Fahrenheit to 15 degrees in seven minutes when Chinook winds eroded an Arctic airmass. The temperature rose from 47 degrees in just seven minutes, making it the record for the most rapid temperature change registered in the United States.

See you at the thermometer, Tom Chandler.

Somebody tell those poor bastards there are no trout up there...

(It’s OK to pity the troutless, though perhaps not to their tanned, extremely fit faces.)

That’s what a near-normal snowpack looks like (at around 12,000′), and if the perspective is confusing you, then here’s a tip — that’s nearly straight down.

Most of this snow will be gone by mid-August, and a lot of it will end up in the Upper Sacramento River, making it difficult for you drag your sorry, non-mountain-climbing butt across the river.

Clearly, this fitness thing is relative.

As predicted in advance of Saturday’s season opener, temperatures are coming down and the flows are falling (slightly: Upper Sac is under 4,000 cfs; Ah-Di-Nah is under 400 cfs).

Singlebarbed — not content to wait for the rest of us — tried to sink himself deep in the ooze of one of his brownlines. We wish him well though we really wish we’d been there with a video camera.

See you on the river, Tom Chandler.

Some of these are useful and some — particularly those blocking access to anadromous fish — are pretty damned harmful (as Singlebarbed would say, the only way to be sure is to nuke ‘em from orbit).