Upper Sacramento

Want to Fly Fish the Upper Sacramento and McCloud Rivers? It’s Better Now Than It Will Be Later…

May 18, 2011, by Tom Chandler No comments yet

The Upper Sacramento — which should be damned well unfishable right now — has fallen below 1800 cfs, and the McCloud at Ah-Di-Nah is below 500 cfs.

Neither is exactly ideal for wading, but both are wholly fishable flows (if you don’t mind walking a bit).

They’ll probably remain that way through the weekend, and if you’re thinking of heading north for a little cannonball-split-shot combat fly fishing, that’s the good news — especially if you stumble onto one of the few spots with trout rising to March Browns.

The bad news?

With our springtime weather apparently still on a train north from Cancun (the weather forecast suggests a 70+ degree day isn’t even on the horizon), you may not see those Ideal-For-Fly-Fishing-Normally-Late-Spring Flows until the middle of July (if then).

See, the real runoff event hasn’t yet begun, and in fact, we’ve added to the snowpack the last couple days.

I could write about the horrific effects that three days of mid-May snow have on a writer’s delicate psyche (and advocate heavily for some kind of federal creative disaster relief), but in a rare display of courage, I’m going to stop sniffling and hope the Underground’s California readers are taking advantage of this rare pre-runoff bonanza.

We’ll pay for it later in the form of some serious runoff, and when it happens, I sincerely doubt that the word “courageous” will be used to describe those posts.

See you hiding the tears on the river, Tom Chandler.

UPDATE: You can find the snowpack/waterpack figures here, which will tell you the high snowpack and cold spring mean the Northern Sierras are at… 253% of normal for this time of the year.

Welcome, New Trout Season (and, Good-Bye, Joe)

May 1, 2011, by Tom Chandler 4 comments

The L&T is on a biz trip and I’m Mr. Mom all this week, which means this blog post gets written during Little M’s short afternoon nap.

After which I bundle her into the car and we get the hell out of the house, because:

1) The weather’s nice (much nicer than yesterday), and

2) If we stay, she’ll drive me crazy

So much for the sensitive father.

The Opener

Yesterday’s general trout season opener saw crowds on the McCloud, a fair number of bodies on the Upper Sacramento, and a generous turnout at Joe Kimsey’s remembrance at Dunsmuir City Park.

(Which is a lot to cover during a short nap.)

A "Rough Skinned Newt"

Here’s the fly fishing story: Wayne suggested a place where he thought we could catch some trout despite the high water, and I knew exactly where he was talking about.

We’d both fished it independently over the years, both liked it, and this time, it produced (as it has in the past).

No real shortage of trout or rafts

With Joe Kimsey’s remembrance at 3:00 — and us the victim of a Meski-delayed start — we basically fished 150 feet of river — and had six grabs between us.

I even got one to eat a dry, but speed set him. Later, I nymphed one up, but he was downstream, and neatly wrapped me on a branch (I saw him just before he broke me off, which I assume was on purpose).

Just in case anyone forgot what I look like just before losing a trout...

Wayne got four grabs, landed one, and our time was up.

My take?

It’s pretty much as advertised; the river is high but wholly fishable… in places.

And in those places, the fish could be pretty good.

Still, with temperatures finally set to hit 70 degrees this week, we’re seeing the Upper Sacramento in what is probably the best shape it’ll be until most of the way through June.

In other words, enjoy it.

Joe Kimsey

At the Dunsmuir City Park gathering for Joe Kimsey, one person noted that all the elements of a successful Joe Kimsey day were present: cookies, cake, a trout river, and women…

Those that knew Joe will miss him. Those that didn’t might wonder what all the fuss is about, but how do you explain a true character?

Instead, here are a few photographs:

A few photos of Joe -- right in front of his Upper Sac (he let the rest of us fish it)

I could only fit a portion of the attendees into this photograph

See you on the river,
Tom Chandler

A Brief Encounter With A River (or, I Bail On Work, Ski Into The River)

March 31, 2011, by Tom Chandler 6 comments

Over the last 1.5 weeks, eight feet of snow fell on the town of Mt. Shasta, and not to put too fine a point on it, my back felt every inch of it.

That’s why it wasn’t that hard to convince the dutiful part of my brain (the Hippoworkus) to abandon the computer for two hours and ski into the Upper Sacramento for a quick hit of fly fishing.

The Wonderdog and Glacier Glove pack

It was hard not to get excited, though even someone with the self-delusional capabilities of a blogger would know this wasn’t a heavy-duty fishing trip.

More a lunchtime ski trip with the chance for a little fly fishing sandwiched between the sweaty portions.

Our record snowfall was disappearing fast under the impetus of 60+ degree days (purrrrrrr) and nighttime temps that stayed above freezing, and the river definitely reflected it.

The snow was soft enough that when I jumped off the snow berm, figuring I’d start the downhill stretch with some flashy downhilll speed, the skis simply stuck four inches into the snow, and I face planted.

Auspicious beginnings.

I was even reduced to double-poling my way downhill — a reality which suggested a painful slog uphill on the way home (I wasn’t disappointed).

Still, the Wonderdog was as happy as I’d seen him in weeks, and while he probably thinks his job is to sniff everything in sight, it’s clear his real job description includes “Reality Check for Owner.”

Mission accomplished.

The Fishing

I fished for only a half hour (you can take the boy out of the office, but you can’t take the office with you into the outdoors, and my big site project launches this weekend), and sad to say, no trout were harmed in the making of this fishing report.

At one point, I was fishing a micro mayfly nymph and the tiny bobbicator stopped for just a second, but because I’m like most dry fly fishermen (I fucking know better, thank you), I didn’t set the hook.

When it happened again the second time through, I did lift the rod, and for a few seconds, I experienced the undeniable reality of a trout on the end of my line.

Later, I’d tromped out of the water and was taking off my wading boots when a handful of BWOs went by, which stopped me cold.

It was sunny and rising fish were unlikely but I’m a sucker for a hatch, and apparently the BWOs know it because another cluster came off, and that was it.

I’m pretty sure they were yanking my chain (apparently BWOs have a Hippoyankus).

It’s looking like a busy weekend and while I’ve got plenty on the front burner for next week, there’s the near certainty of some kind of outdoor adventure.

See you there, Tom Chandler.

Record Snowpack Means… Record Whining From Fly Fishermen (or, Four Ways to Beat Early Season Runoff)

March 30, 2011, by Tom Chandler 5 comments

We can safely say California’s drought is over.

(Hell, just by glancing out my office window, we can safely say the downstairs door won’t be accessible for another week).

We can also safely say the fly fishing season — at least on our non-tailwaters – will be starting later than usual.

The lord giveth, and he taketh away.

Winter started with a lot of rain and snow, but that tapered off for upwards of six weeks, at the end of which our snowpack actually dipped below 100% of normal.

Those lackluster numbers (the cause of much apprehension among the state’s water users) are now history, and I’m seeing reports of a snowpack in the “160% of normal” range around the state.

Tahoe ski resorts are reporting record winters (“biggest in 25 years”), and gleefully extending their seasons — perhaps as late as the Fourth of July.

Their Gain; Our Loss?

All that water is good for most of the state — and high-water events are needed to rejuvenate bug and fish habitat — though most fly fishermen share humanity’s overall self-centeredness, so we’re not fans of the massive, long-lasting runoff that often accompanies record snowpack.

In a typical year, fly fishing the season opener in Northern California often meant watching the flows cruelly ramping up the week prior to the opener (end of April). I always suspected the late April opening date was evidence of a cruel sense of humor at Fish & Game, though the availability of year-round waters suggests at least a hint of humanity.

Typically we’re fishing the Upper Sac at something approaching worthwhile flows somewhere in late May to early June.

High snowpack changes all that, and in fact, one year (prior to my moving here), flows remained unpleasantly high through the Fourth of July (I believed the “optimistic” reports of a fly shop, and largely wasted the weekend).

We could easily see that again.

It gets worse – at least if you’re a small stream junkie.

Sorta.

Small streams overflow quickly and remain that way during the snowmelt, and worse, many remain unreachable long after the season “officially” opens (snow drifts are poor at recognizing the state’s legal authority).

Then again, some alpine streams clear up and become fishable before the rivers farther down the watershed, though in a wet year, a trip to an alpine stream could find you in the dentist-drill-esque company of a bazillion mosquitoes (see above for the “taketh & giveth” thing).

Saving The Early Season

First, you might give up on the idea of an early season trial for that new 1-weight rod. Yet the Underground — ever the California’s fly fishermen’s friend – will bravely suggest Four Ways to Beat The California Snowpocalypse (see, eastern media aren’t the only ones capable of sensationalizing snow):

Fish tailwaters, where flows will be high but controlled
Fish lakes, which — outside of poor water clarity — don’t much care about runoff (a good, if often overlooked, choice)
Learn to love soft-ball sized split shot
Leave the state and run (like some kind of pathetic sissy) to a less-rampant snowpack

Frankly, I’ll probably opt for #1 and #4 – gravitating to #2 as soon as I can. (Yes, I may be returning to Tennessee this year after a several-year absence.)

For now, I’ve got websites to launch.

See you under water, Tom Chandler.

We Discover What’s Wrong With Half The Country (and, The River Kinda Blows…)

December 6, 2010, by Tom Chandler 8 comments

It’s Monday morning (better check yourself for a pulse), and while my cold’s hanging on, the back’s better, Little M’s happier, and a very fast new desktop computer is on its way.

Writers, consultants and web types really don’t need what you’d call high-powered hardware (at least not these days – at least not when they run Linux, which is a damned fast OS to begin with).

But like most deviants (I did say “writers”), my need for speed is a very real – if wholly emotional – thing. That true even though writers primarily harness those galactic levels of computing power – in the long, (frequent) spaces between words – to do the following:

Make the cursor blink.

It’s a little like putting on $500 breathable waders and then never getting out of the drift boat, or buying a nano-death-tech, extraterrestrial-level $700 fly rod to ‘challenge’ 5″ brook trout on a tiny stream.

What’s worse, to my mostly male readership (and to me), the above makes perfect sense.

Many of you are probably shaking your heads right now and re-reading the previous sentences for a clue to what doesn’t make sense.

Which leads us to our Thought For The Day (At Least This Early in the Day):

Half the planet’s crazy.

The River? Forget It

It drizzled yesterday and rained all night, and with the watershed’s low-lying snow being converted from yard decoration to river water in a hurry, the predictable’s happening:

Upper Sacramento River Flows (click for latest update)

(Don’t forget – links to local river flows, weather and road conditions here on the Underground.)

Planning to go fishing?

Better plan to go elsewhere. Me? I’m trying to finish a piece for the Blood Knot e-zine, offer some help to folks using point-and-shoot cameras, and yes – I’ll soon have a new computer to rig.

I hope it’s really fast.

See you anywhere but the river, Tom Chandler.

Fly Fishing The Upper Sacramento With Wayne Eng (or, Ahhhhh….)

November 13, 2010, by Tom Chandler 3 comments

Back from a refreshing day on the water (first in a while). Report coming soon. Until now, wish you were here…

Wayne Eng, the Upper Sacramento and a cloudy sky

Wayne Eng, the Upper Sac and a handful of clouds

We Boldly Predict Rain On the McCloud & Upper Sac (or, It’s Raining As I Write This)

October 23, 2010, by Tom Chandler No comments yet

It’s coming down pretty good (6:30 am, current forecast here), and for all the fly fishermen who typically populate the Upper Sacramento and McCloud Rivers this time of year (including several clubs), waking up to the sound of a driving rain on the roof isn’t listed on anyone’s “Ten Favorite Things To Hear On A Fly Fishing Trip” bucket list.

Fly fishermen have a love/hate relationship with rain; a little damp drizzle or light rain tends to fire the BWOs (or simply keep them on the water longer), which brings up the trout.

It can also start washing October Caddis into the river, turning the biggest trout you’ll see all year into real surface-feeding predators.

On the other hand, the heavy stuff – especially when driven by a little 15 mph wind (the case now) – isn’t so helpful.

We’ve all fished those days where – despite swaddling yourself in the finest rain gear money can buy – you end up sloshing a little by lunch, and by the time you get back to your home/hotel/tent/cave, you’re a wrinkled, pasty-looking “before” picture for an anti-aging product advertisement.

Flows on the Upper Sacramento have only gone up 40 cfs or so, suggesting we haven’t seen much rain yet (probable), though the forecast for today and Sunday is simply “rain.”

My hints for rainy day survival on the Upper Sacramento & McCloud Rivers?

The Big Bug

A little spike in flows can really get the trout feeding. I try to cover a lot of water using a big October Caddis dry, and I’ve been reminded a couple dozen times that shallow bankside feeding lanes can be hugely productive (“reminded” as in catching a great big trout out of nine inches of water after wading through miles of similar water without fishing it).

Just before noon, I try to find myself on a good BWO flat – a smooth-ish stretch of water that offers plenty of places for trout to feed, yet is bordered on its upstream end by a long riffle.

A good riffle is a bug factory (especially BWOs), and because trout aren’t stupid (at least when it comes to lunch), they’ll tend to congregate in the better chow lines.

And trust me – after you’ve put down a handful of these spooky fall trout – the availability of a few more is a real silver lining.

In ugly terms, more rising fish means more chances to work the kinks out of your small bug/wary trout game, and some of us experience a lot of kinks.

Finally, a lot of the water that creeps inside our little protective bubble of high-dollar Gore-Tex sneaks in through our sleeves, so make sure those neoprene wading jacket cuffs are reasonably tight.

See you in the rain, Tom Chandler

Fly Fishing The Upper Sac or McCloud This Weekend? Better Pack The Cold Weather Gear.

October 21, 2010, by Tom Chandler No comments yet

This is one of those fall weekends where you can have trouble finding a place to park along the more popular stretches of the Upper Sac and McCloud, only this time, the hordes are arriving just in time to meet the first hard weather of the fall:

Bring the cold weather gear (all of it).

That’s how it is. You’re getting ready to head north for your favorite fly fishing trip of the year, and somewhere upstairs an entity throws a few levers and pushes a few buttons and suddenly some blogger is writing an article warning you to bring your cold-weather gear, but to come anyway because it shouldn’t rain enough to blow out anything.

Naturally, the first nasty weather of fall tends to light up the fly fishing a bit, and cloudy, drizzly days can do wonders for the BWO hatch, though clearly, I’d rather not share the wonder of my favorite BWO runs.

It’s the kind of thinking that qualifies a lot of fly fishermen as hypocrites; we’re happy as hell when everyone else has a good time on the river, but we’re happier when it doesn’t intrude on our good time.

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

Heat Wave Continues, And Water Temperatures Climb. When Will You Voluntarily Stop Fishing?

July 27, 2010, by Tom Chandler 22 comments

It’s another 90 degree day in Mount Shasta – a good 5-6 degrees warmer than “normal.”

In fact, it’s been far warmer than “average” the last couple weeks, and while the heat feels good – especially after winter decided it was never going to leave – I am starting to wonder at the effects of sustained high temperatures on the trout.

The leading edge of last night's thunderstorm... which missed us to the North (damn).

For example, the water temps on the Upper Sacramento River (at the Delta – the warmest stretch) have oscillated between 65 and 70 degrees.

Trout tend to stop feeding at water temperatures much above 65 degrees (I’ve seen 68 degrees listed as the magic number), and 75 degree water is typically fatal to trout, who simply won’t get enough dissolved oxygen to breathe.

Note that I’m not advocating anglers avoid the Upper Sacramento River; the Upper Sacramento and Lower McCloud are essentially tailwaters, so temperatures on the upper/middle stretches of both will remain nicely fishable year-round.

But what happens to the lower stretches of the Upper Sacramento – or my beloved small streams – if our current heat wave continues?

Upper Sacramento River Water Temperatures

With temperatures swinging between 65-70 degrees, I don't know if I'd fish the lowest stretch of the Upper Sacramento River (click image for latest flow/temp info)

I’m not sure, though I’m taking a water thermometer on my next small stream trip.

I’ll probably discover temperatures are plenty low on the nearby small streams, which are running slightly higher than normal.

Still, if the current heat wave continues, things could get a little grim come mid-August. Will we come to the point on some waters where the Undergrounders stop fly fishing voluntarily?

Or should California Fish & Game follow Montana’s lead and institute water-temperature-based closures?

Local fly fishing guide Craig Nielsen offers a surprising (to me) admission:

“I already closed my season on the Klamath River. In fact, when fishing for rainbow trout, I tend to stop fishing stretches of water when the temperature goes over 65 degrees. You get temperatures in the higher 60s, and the mortality goes way up.”

Note that legislating closures would be difficult on waters like the Upper Sacramento, where temperatures vary widely over the length of the river. Close just the bottom five miles?

Unlikely.

Thoughts from the Undergrounders?

See you tapping the thermometer, Tom Chandler

Fly Fishing a Small Stream For The Very First Time (or, Little M Goes Fly Fishing)

July 18, 2010, by Tom Chandler 17 comments

If I’m going to babysit Little M, I figure I might as well babysit her on a stream – where there exists the faint possibility of a little casting practice, if not moments of outright fly fishing.

On Friday, I initiated Phase 1.

Due to the high snowpack, the nearby streams had been too high to fly fish – especially given the very real constraints of fly fishing with nearly 35 very tippy pounds on your back.

After months of high flows, the small streams are finally looking good.

Now – with levels falling to fishable and the first half of Friday at our disposal, it was time Little M and I went fishing (and playing, and splashing, and throwing rocks into the waters, and…)

I wet waded (yes, it’s still very cold), but given my status as Hugely Overprotective New Dad, I didn’t wade much at all, preferring the very sure grip of the Patagonia sticky rubber soles on the dry rocks.

Meski – always game for anything having to do with the outdoors – was puzzled when we didn’t hike more than 100 yards to a stream, where I unlimbered the long, silly stick I’d been carrying.

Two casts later, I landed the first trout of the day.

Which she didn’t really notice.

I quickly hooked two more (landed one), and you could say they got her attention.

Finally, The Moment: I landed a little rainbow trout, and Meski – now peering intently over my shoulder directly at the run – clapped her hands and shrieked like an air raid siren.

Bingo.

Sometimes the light hits 'em just right; Meski's first close-up trout.

Little M’s at the stage where there’s clearly a dialog going on, but to the rest of us, it’s just not clear what that dialog is. Some words (hat, eye, airplane, hike) are fairly clear to those of us outside the bubble.

Others words and phrases are not so apparent.

Which is what I witnessed when I held the trout a few inches from her face, and she leaned in to look it in the eye, babbled away, touched it on the nose with her finger, and then shrieked again.

There is no more delightful noise on the planet than a small child’s happy shriek, and I’ve come to realize it’s the sound every fly fishermen would make each and every time they caught a trout if the process of becoming an adult hadn’t civilized much of the joy right out of us.

In other words, maybe trout streams should be noisier – but happier – places.

Fishing An Old Friend

I fished an old 7.5′ Fenwick 5wt glass rod – the factory counterpart to the first real fly rod I ever owned. That original Fenwick 7.5 5wt – which I built from a blank in my early teens – met an unfortunate end in a Santa Clara garage a good 15 years ago, and while I dabbled in graphite for a while (then bamboo, then back to fiberglass), I kept my eyes peeled and snatched up another old 7.5′ Fenwick – purely for nostalgia’s sake – when I had the chance.

This used to be the label you *wanted* on a fly rod

At this point, I’d love to retroactively wrap my choice of rod and Little M’s first fly fishing trip into one giant symbolic heap – the kind of thing writers often do after the fact.

But I won’t.

In truth, I chose the rod because I wanted something capable of taking a beating – a near certainty when a small stream, trees, a backpack and a 20 month-old are involved.

Only later did it occur to me that I’d artfully combined two eras in one trip.

A nice moment, perhaps, but in truth, the battered, cracking old Fenwick fished beautifully at close and medium range, and if it had one flaw (for this trip), it’s that it has a bit too much power in the butt.

I very quickly remembered that fishing for small fish on a 5wt meant sideways hook sets, which give the little trout a fighting chance of actually staying submerged.

When I go back, I’ll probably arm myself with a 7′ 3wt Diamondglass or a timeless Winston 8.5′ 3wt glass rod (a gift), but either way, I won’t go without a couple more Beetle Bugs (basically a red Adams), which not only catch trout left and right, but do so without a hint of unneeded sophistication (what we fly fishermen characterize as “technical”).

Ahh, the Beetle Bug - the Official Bright Red Fly of the Trout Underground

No matter what fly rod or fly is involved, one truth remains inviolate; there is only one first time, and while I doubt Little M will specifically remember this trip, I know I’ll never forget it, mostly for the shriek – and the picture you’ll find at the end of this report.

See you on a small stream (getting all geeky and proud-daddyish), Tom Chandler.