And while the Wonderdog is fine with a quick circle around the block, he’s not really alive unless he’s in the woods, sniffing everything in sight for clues to other animals.

So many bushes, so little time... The proud, noble (wet) Wonderdog surveys the Upper Sacramento

So the choice was clear: In the couple hours I had available, I could run downriver to a fairly reliable BWO hatch – a place the Wonderdog wasn’t welcome – or reconnoiter upriver, where the deer and the Wonderdogs play (though the BWOs often don’t).

Despite the spotty hatches, I stayed upriver, and Wally the Wonderdog and I had a fine adventure – a day out bereft of other people, disasters, bugs and yes – trout.

Let’s get the ugly bits out of the way.

From 12:30 until 3:00 – and on four different pieces of water – I saw the following bugs:

None.

From 12:30 until 3:00, I saw the following number of rising trout:

None.

From 12:30 until 3:00, I witnessed the following number of grabs:

One.

That last came courtesy the Big Bug – an October Caddis I tied on after the lack of BWOs became apparent. It’s a little late in the year for the big dry to reliably attract grabs, but in the absence of other clues, it’s not a bad backup.

Despite the overcast and constant light drizzle – perfect BWO weather – I never saw a bug.

In truth, the winter hatches on the upstream part of the river are far more sporadic than those of the mid-river region, and while I told myself I was scouting water in the hopes of finding close-to-home trout, I also knew it was a long shot.

Still, when Wally the Wonderdog reminds you with a searing glance that he hadn’t been fishing since the height of the October Caddis hatch, your priorities tilt away from trout and towards the dog.

True to form, the Wonderdog was like a racehorse breaking from the gate; constantly in and out of the water, he ran around like the Energizer Hound, sniffing every bush and shrub for signs that other animals might be abusing his wilderness.

The lack of snow is troubling - though not so much to the Wonderdog...

On a handful of occasions he spotted water drops falling from overhanging limbs and hitting the water, and – thinking they were rising trout – ran full tilt into the water after them.

If they had been rising trout, I’d have sighed and rolled my eyes. Because they were just water, the whole event became good clean fun.

If it’s one thing fatherhood is teaching me, it’s that you can rage against the universe when things don’t quite work out, or you can sit back and try see the humor in it all.

While us humans wrap ourselves up in a Gordian existence cluttered with expectation and righteousness and denial, the Wonderdog sees rings on the water and runs in after the trout that must be there.

He’s more excited than I am when I hook a fish, and he’s also (apparently) the more forgiving of the pair when I don’t.

Thus, today’s heavy-handed morality play; If a big, dumb dog can have the time of his life running up and down a cold, wet, apparently trout-less river, why can’t the big, dumb human with him?

The Gear Stuff

New on the testing front are a pair of Orvis “Sonic Seam” pack & travel waders (disclosure: Orvis – apparently knowing of my love for hike-in trout – sent these to me for testing).

Look for an introductory post soon.

Also, the Underground’s wading boot test is winding down, and while I’ve already made my preferences clear in prior posts, a final wrap-up is necessary in the interest of closure if nothing else.

Also, Orvis replaced my broken Zero Gravity 6wt with a similar Hydros model, and while it’s not exactly 6wt season up here, I plan to beat on the thing a bit to see what happens.

See you on the river (Wonderdog in tow), Tom Chandler.

A portrait of the blogger as a wet (but warm) troutless fly fisherman

One of two for Chris Raine.

That applies in spades to this year’s winter fly fishing on the Upper Sacramento, where a long, long string of warm, sunny, non-BWO friendly days finally fell apart in yesterday’s rain, and Chris Raine and I headed for a stretch of dry fly water, hoping to score a good BWO hatch – the remnants of which might just still be holding on (it’s February after all).

The weather was good: the rain fell a little heavy at times, but it was wet enough to keep the olives on the water, and gray enough to make the trout feel safe enough to populate shallow feeding lies.

Sadly – in a clear example of personal responsibility fleeing the land – neither the BWOs nor the trout fully cooperated; in the long half mile stretch of water we could see, we found rising fish in… about 30′ of it. The hatch was light, and half-dozen fish we saw were only working intermittently.

If you think that’s a complaint, it’s not; we each had a shot at 2-3 working trout, and while Raine landed two and I netted one, the truth is only a massive whiner could expect more from the deeper recesses of winter.

Raine's first fish was gorgeous; light colored, big dark spots... (click image for bigger version)

Raine’s first trout was a very stocky 16″-17″; his second a more sedate 15″ trout. Mine came in shorter than both, though on the drive home, I maintained mine earned extra inches because he required a tougher drift. Raine, inexplicably, disagreed (clearly, I need some new friends).

The Gear Geekiness

Some bamboo fly rod users refuse to fish their cane rods in the rain (a practice which denies their existence as fly rods instead of museum pieces), but I love the practice. The varnish never seems so smooth, and the grain never quite so real as when it’s magnified by drops of water.

I love the look of bamboo fly rods in the rain; they smell like... varnish.

In honor of the fact I got a free sandwich out of the deal, I fished my Raine 8’3″ 4wt Hollowbuilt bamboo fly rod, which is about as perfect a rod as you can get for this sort of thing. Raine – who’s been building a lot more than he’s been fishing the last couple months – dragged along his prototype 8’3″ 5wt staggered ferrule hollowbuilt, a rod I covet, and not just because it’s amazing fishing tool.

It’s what I call a “builder’s rod” – a prototype where the cane for the butt section is flamed and striped, while the tip section is a mismatched, medium-toned cane.

At times I get tired of the relentlessly cosmetic obsessives that often populate the bamboo fly rod universe, and a “builder’s rod” makes a statement – this is a fly fishing rod, not some over-delicate, self-centered freak show attraction.

With feet as big as Raine's, you gotta figure wading's easy.

I did fully intend to test the Patagonia soft shell under rainer conditions than past trips, but it rained steadily and hard for a while, so I opted to hide the soft shell under a very lightweight backpacking rain shell, and I think I still came out ahead in the bulk department over my stops-bullets full on wading jacket.

With a series of low-intensity storms on the way, there’s a chance for more weekend adventures.The river was just picking up a little color, but flows were good, and yes, the wily fly fisher strikes while the rain falls. It’s like Christmas, you know.

I’ll see you on the river, Tom Chandler.

Hell, I even threw you a bone about a couple good places to eat.

Well, Undergrounders, your time is waning; Wayne Eng and I found the October Caddis bite (the big, big dry) still working on the Upper Sacramento, though it’s clearly winding down.

One of only a few pictures worth showing; Wayne high-sticks a big dry.

Is there still time to abandon your family and catch trout on big dries in the afternoon? Probably. Will it last forever? Certainly not.

By this time last year, we were past our first big snow storm of the year, and I was well into my wrestling match with Satan’s Snowblower.

This year, it’s been cold at night, but the days are clear and sunny, temporarily prolonging the October Caddis dry fly bite.

In truth, it’s something to marvel at; you’re wearing layers of warm clothing, the water’s cold enough to sting your fingers, there’s ice on the rocks, yet good-sized trout are eating #8 dry flies off the surface.

Fly Fishing By the Numbers

Wayne and I descended into a canyon section of the river, looking not so much for numbers of trout as a couple better specimens. It didn’t work out that way – I landed four in the footlong range and lost more than that to slow/poor/limp-wristed hook sets (it’s a big fly), and Wayne did about the same.

Closeup, flash-lit photo of today’s star attraction; these trout are gorgeous.

Leaves carpet the banks of the river, and trees are completely bare. In short, it’s what winter looks like on the Upper Sacramento (sans snow, and we’re going to talk about that in a bit).

The canyon stretch was dark enough that 80% of the pictures were unusable due to camera shake (the result of too little light and too-slow shutter speeds).

I fished an 8.5′ 5wt Steffen Brothers fiberglass fly rod, which Wayne tried and promptly wanted to steal. One thing’s true of good glass rods – everybody who tries one is well and truly surprised by the experience, and about half want to buy one immediately.

Our intrepid blogger trying to be sneaky (I missed this fish). [Wayne Eng photo]

I’ve said it before (and because I post often I’m doomed to repeat myself), given the dueling aspects of cost, durability and the demands of under-60′ casts and playing fish on fine tippets, there probably isn’t a better material for trout fly rods than fiberglass.

And speaking of gear, I test flew a new Patagonia soft shell jacket – something worth a post in the near future.

Soft shell technology is firmly rooted in other outdoor sports (mountaineering, skiing, etc), and we’re seeing it trickle into fly fishing clothing, and I’ll give you the reasons why you might (and might not) want to look at it.

See you on the (still largely empty) river, Tom Chandler.

Wayne tentatively identified this as a Chevy Superglide Powerglide transmission. It’s been there forever.

fly fishing, fishing, upper sac, upper sacramento river, rainbow trout, october caddis, dry fly fishing, fiberglass fly rod

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Sometimes winter fishing is great drama. Other times, you get in the drift boat and just soak up the sun, which feels pretty damned good in the middle of a snowy winter.

I won’t cop to being lazy as much as relaxed; I sporadically fished a dry fly but Dave Roberts and I were both looking for the midday hatches; BWOs early with a chance for some March Browns later.

So we drifted along, caught up on life — which has gotten a little more complicated for both of us lately — and stuffed our faces with great big deli sandwiches (get the spicy mustard), and argued about the proper side of the fly reel for the handle.

He says left-reelers are at best misguided (at worst, we’re limp-wristed, wrong-sided, overly sensitive writer types who are bad for the sport).

I say right-reelers are uneducated, unevolved apes who need right-mounted handles because their leftside knuckles are worn away from dragging on the ground.

The knuckle-dragger himself; now guiding and tying custom flies fulltime.

With that settled, we got down to the serious discussions of fly patterns, and now that he’s guiding and tying flies pretty much fulltime, he showed me a couple of really pretty March Brown patterns we were hoping to test.

Right on cue, the BWOs started coming off, but with our #1 slot occupied, we headed downriver a bit to a spot that Dave — despite fishing this river constantly for more than two decades — really only found last year (that’s a lesson in something, but I was too lazy to decipher it).

Initially, the trout weren’t much on the rafts of BWOs that went by, but you could say they took note of the March Browns that started popping at the end of BWO hatch.

It’s really too early for the March Browns, but they were hatching lightly last time I made it up, and this time — only a few weeks ahead of schedule — the hatch was stronger.

Maybe they couldn’t wait to see the sun either.

More Fly Fishing

With the fish chasing March Browns, we fell into our usual program. Outside of a few hero casts, we were just a couple of kids insisting the other take the next shot then trash talking each other when we missed the fish.

You don’t keep track in moments like that, so all I can say is we caught a fair number of trout, including a pair of cutthroats (now the Official Trout of the Dave Roberts Web Site).

My biggest was a 14 incher, and Dave hooked something large that immediately ran deep and wrapped him up on the bottom.

Clouds kept moving in, shielding the sun and reminding us we were still in the deep of winter, and once the hatch ended, the river acquired the steely glint that suggested the bite was finished.

Turns out it was, but we weren’t far from the take-out ramp and a truck heater.

 
Elk looking for a little snow-free forage.

For the gear-minded among you, Roberts fished a Raine Upper Sac Special (8′ 5wt), and I — feeling kinda basic — went with an 8.5′ Thramer PX (similar to a Granger/Phillipson 8.5′ rod) and an old Heddon reel (a copy of the Hardy Lightweights).

In keeping with the unhurried pace of the day, I think I changed flies exactly once (yes, Dave’s March Brown patterns do work).

Of course, that’s my take on the day. Now that Dave is posting his own fishing reports, you can compare the two entries and decide for yourself. It’s interesting to read his take on the same day (even if he is an unevolved, knuckle-dragging, right-hand-reeling ape).

See you some Winter day, Tom Chandler.