Too Many Fish. Too Little Fall.
A Trout Underground Essay: ©2006 by Tom Chandler
Fly fishing in the fall can leave you a little ragged. Or clinically insane.
If it wasn't for all the wear and tear on the part of my brain that's saddled with making decisions, fall would be my favorite time of the year.
Spring holds the promise of big bugs and fish grown dumb over the winter, but it's tempered by high runoff, uncertain weather and tough wading.
Summer flows are more stable, but the heat often turns fishing into a morning and evening affair, though there's some refuge to be found higher up in the mountains.
Winter fishing can be excellent, though I wonder if that perception isn't helped along by the empty spaces between trips - and a sense of accomplishment that comes from fishing when most everyone else is watching reality television.
By comparison, fall is close to perfect: the flows are reliable, the weather isn't too outrageous, and the hatches are fairly reliable (if not always intense).
In truth, fall's biggest failing is that everything is happening at once, and with your range of choices narrowing with each passing week, there's a nagging sense of urgency underlying the whole enterprise.
If you're not careful, you can cross the line from confident predator to stressed prey, falling victim to Imaginary Fish Envy – that ugly condition where you're sure your buddies are catching bigger fish than you on another river.
Living In It
Though I abandoned the Bay Area years ago and moved to a great trout river, there's still work to be done (most days anyway), so it's not as if I can fish seven days a week.
And even if I could, there's no guarantee I wouldn't miss something. Maybe I'd be chasing Brook trout on an alpine lake the day big Brown trout started eating October Caddis day on the McCloud.
Or I could be standing on the banks of the McCloud when I should be on the Rogue, watching trout - and the odd steelhead - slurping #14 Flavs.
Of course, you can't be everywhere at once - and that's true all four seasons - but for some reason, it only seems to matter during fall.
(Does this mean my obsessive compulsive leanings are seasonal?)
Top to Bottom
As fall proceeds, tiny alpine lakes (with their tiny brookies) are getting colder, and the first good snow closes access to many of them. You won't see them again until early next summer, and even if the fishing isn't that startling, it seems like a long, long time.
A handful of lower-level lakes don't get snowed in so early, but at some point the cold turns off the fishing there too - typically before the ice comes.
Meanwhile, the Upper Sacramento and McCloud are picking up some serious steam, steelhead are flooding the Klamath and Rogue, and the Lower Sacramento is experiencing a tidal wave of drift boats.
And there are the places I'm not going to mention in an article.
In an environment like that, even a quick afternoon trip to the river becomes an emotional wrestling match.
Downriver for the spotty-but-could-be-cosmic BWO or PED hatch? The McCrowd? Pocket water? Run north to the Rogue?
The Tackle Agony
If you're a gear freak, fall can be hard on your nerves. You can start a trip throwing a bushy, #8 October Caddis, but end it with 7x and #22 BWOs.
For someone who needs to have exactly the right setup in their hand (and I've seen people walking along the river holding three rods), I'm sure it can be a trying time. I'm more of a generalist - and a smooth bamboo or fiberglass 5/6wt works wonders - so I don't suffer like some of the gearheads I know.
Cold weather gear makes every trip to the water a more involved affair, and though my body unfortunately tends that way already, you can easily end up looking like fly fishing's equivalent of the Michelin Man.
Of course, it's worth it to extend the fishing season for even a few more weeks, and if the weather cooperates just a little, you can be on the water up here in Northern California pretty much every week of the year.
And even then, it feels like there's still too much fishing to do. And too little time to do it.
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