Which is why they send me photographs like this from their smartphones:

This still-warm, dying-October-Caddis-driven photo comes courtesy Chris Raine, the bamboo fly rod builder who clearly knows what it’s like to have bamboo slivers driven up under his fingernails (how else do you explain this photo, which — not to belabor the point — isn’t the only one he sent).

Important Announcement

Starting next week, the Underground will be taking applications for the position of “New Best Friend.”

No health benefits, but you get to walk Wally the Wonderdog.

See you anywhere but the river, Tom Chandler.

I got a pair of those ponderous head shakes that tell you the fish is big (or he’s foul hooked), and then the reel went from zero to ohmigod speeds in a fraction of a second.

That’s thrilling stuff, but hardly Jack London-esque — unless the fast-moving trout decides to run under the only laydown on the whole run.

Well played, Mr. Trout.

It was cold and I was wet and trout were going everywhere, so this is the only pic I got (it's the smaller of the two)

I waded over and sized up the situation. The trout was still on, apparently hanging around just downstream trying to figure out what was going on.

The fly line dove under the tree and made a right-angle exit downriver.

I remember thinking “I can fix this. This won’t be too bad at all.”

Which is when things started to go sideways.

Hey, This Clear Liquid Is Cold

Sometimes — for brief moments — I fancy myself a Man of Action, though at my age, you’d think I’d connect those moments with what inevitably follows.

Which is generally humiliation.

I waded up to the downed tree, put the rod in my left hand, reached down into the water with my right (a lot farther down than I originally thought, which should have been a clue), and lifted the tree.

So far, so good.

But sliding the rod under the tree took me a little deeper than I anticipated, and that extra couple inches meant the top of my waders (and the side of my head, and the neck opening of my jacket) got… submerged.

At the time it happened I realized it was trouble, but I’d started and you know how it is — you’re already there so you decide to brazen it out.

I distinctly remember straightening up — a huge wad of wet, decomposing leaves clutched in my hand along with my still-attached-to-the-trout fly rod — thinking I had the fish and I was still dry.

Which is when the 39 degree water hit my skin.

It kinda takes your breath away.

Shrinkage was body-wide and immediate.

I managed to land that trout — the second of the day. It went between 18 and 19 inches (Raine put measuring wraps on my rod at 16″ and 18″, suggesting a distinct lack of faith in my ability to catch 20″ trout).

The other trout fell just short of the 18″ mark.

I was wet enough that I squished when I walked, though — thank god for the Nano Puff jacket — I warmed up a bit after I got past the shock, though my feet never really enjoyed the trip.

Taken as a whole, that’s still not a bad day.

The Nitty Gritty Details

The air was around 40 degrees, the BWO hatch was light and only lasted an hour, but I still managed to get seven rising fish to eat the bug.

At just under one grab every eight minutes, that’s Happy Hour as far as I’m concerned.

The hook popped out of three with only slight resistance (it’s a #22 cripple after all), and I landed two of the four I hooked.

That’s not a stirring percentage — and I sometimes catch myself wondering WWGD (What Would Gierach Do) — but the fish are big and the hook gape is probably best measured with an electron microscope, so I’ve largely done away with fly fisherman’s remorse.

The 8’3″ 5wt Raine hollowbuilt has confirmed its status as a killer BWO rod — you need to make longer casts than you think on this stretch because wading any closer means the trout simply stop rising.

Thirty feet is a gift. Forty is common, and casting at an upstream or downstream angle can leave you with surprisingly little fly line on your reel.

It’s cold up here (we’ve got two inches of snow on the ground as I write this), but we’ve reached the Bonus Portion of the year; the “real” Upper Sac winter when the little fish go into hiding and the big fish start eating BWOs — provided the hatches come, the sun stays behind a cloud, you’re on the right piece of river, and the fly fishermen don’t wade too close.

See you on the river (literally), Tom Chandler

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.

On June 4, 1991, fishermen and residents of the area saw nearly 40 miles of the Upper Sacramento River essentially sterilized, and oddly enough, we were probably lucky it was metam sodium and not something more persistent.

Luck, I guess, is relative.

An ABC TV news team did a story about the anniversary (which I’d forgotten), and if you look hard, you’ll notice Wayne Eng’s backside (probably his better side) several times in the footage.

Also, CalTrout’s Curtis Knight makes an appearance.

Since the spill, Union Pacific has replaced the wooden ties in the canyon with concrete, built that monstrous super trestle, and now uses “pusher” engines to reduce the strains on the cars in the middle of trains (which are the most likely to derail).

Still, a 2003 derailment in the Upper Sacramento River Canyon saw a tanker of hydrochloric acid come off the tracks within spitting distance (literally) of the river, suggesting that the safety of the river is largely an illusion.

So while UP has taken steps, it still could improve the way it builds the trains headed up and down the canyon (the spill was caused — in part — by empty cars in the middle of the train, which can be more easily pulled off the tracks when loaded cars are attached to the front and back of the train).

More derailments are inevitable. What they mean to the river so many of us have come to love as our own? That one’s largely up to lady luck.

See you holding my breath every time a train passes through the canyon, Tom Chandler.

Opening day on the Mccloud and Upper Sacramento Rivers has traditionally found anglers keeping a wary eye on the flow gauges while scoping out the weather forecast — and likely praying that PG&E didn’t wholly screw up the McCloud the day before opening day.

Oddly, damned little has changed over the years, though at least you can fish the Upper Sacramento before opening day. What about the very popular McCloud River?

Hell, I’m too lazy to even speculate, but fortunately, others aren’t. Here are the Underground’s notes on Opening Day (or, The World According To The Trout Underground) — aided by the thoughts of a couple local fly fishing guides.

First, The Joe Kimsey Memorial

Those in the area on opening weekend might want to drop by Dunsmuir City Park on Saturday at 3 p.m., where a tribute/wake/remembrance of Joe Kimsey will take place.

We mentioned Joe’s passing here, and while Joe was buried some weeks ago (in his trademark red suspenders), this is a chance for some of many fly fishermen Joe touched to say good-bye (informal).

Where: Dunsmuir City Park
When: Saturday, April 30, 3:00 p.m.

Bob Grace at the Ted Fay fly shop said it’s an informal gathering (that would be “Red Suspenders Optional.”

Alert Underground Reader Ed also shared this video featuring Joe Kimsey (Joe starts at the two minute mark). It’s vintage Joe (“Pardon my french”), and worth a few minutes.

Opening Weekend Guesstimations

The area’s cool spring continues, which means our runoff hasn’t really started yet, though when it does, it’s going to last a long time.

The question now is this: Will the Upper Sacramento and McCloud Rivers — currently fishable in places, though clearly threatened by runoff — hold up until opening day?

The answer lies in the Mt. Shasta Weather Forecast

Which suggests our cool spring is going to continue at least through the weekend.

Normally, we’re seeing temperatures heading upwards of 70 degrees (last year we didn’t really see 80 degree temps until June). That melts snow, which makes runoff, which blows rivers out.

That, it seems, is not going to happen this year.

The Upper Sacramento

Currently, the Upper Sacramento River is running between 2000 cfs and 3000 cfs at the Delta (link to the Upper Sacramento River flow gauge here. As local guide Steve Bertrand pointed out (and many others have discovered to the tune of aching feet), at anything above 2000 cfs, you tend to cover a lot of ground to find “fishable” spots.

At 3000 cfs and above, Bertrand starts looking for other rivers.

“It’s a good year to take advantage of our cool spring,” he said. “Once it warms up and that 170% snowpack starts to really melt, the river’s going to boom.”

Visitors should note that the Shasta Retreat Parking Lot is closed, so getting up to the area around Mossbrae Falls will require different access (blame Union Pacific).

The Lower McCloud

First, large chunks of the Upper McCloud are locked in the grip of snow drifts, so if you’re headed there on opening day, be prepared to park and walk.

The Lower McCloud is running 1600+ cfs at the lake, but is apparently fishable at Ah-Di-Nah and will likely remain so while PG&E is plays its usual game of starving the mile below the dam (and above Hawkins Creek) with 100 cfs flows.

Also:

• The Nature Conservancy section will probably not be accessible by the opener due to snow drifts
• The road to Ash Camp is blocked by rockfall, though this might change by the opener

This year, anglers enjoy the benefit of multiple McCloud River gauging stations, so take advantage of them:

Below McCloud Dam
Ah-Di-Nah
At Lake Shasta

Currently, the stretch below the dam and above Hawkins Creek (about a mile) is quite low, but PG&E has issued a warning about water spilling over the dam, and those flows could go up very dramatically (and very quickly).

If they don’t, you can still expect a fair number of fly fishermen to enjoy your low water with you.

As Craig Nielsen says, “Bring your own rock and enjoy the company of your fellow anglers.”

Opening Day Picks by Local Luminaries

Local Guide Steve Bertrand

“I had one of my best fishing days ever on the Lower Sacramento last week, and with Keswick releases apparently stuck at 6000 cfs, it could become on of those ‘days of a lifetime’ on the water for an fly fisherman.”

“I prefer to guide the Lower Sacramento from the jet boat with a single angler (more fishing time), but also take pairs down in my drift boat.”

“Hat Creek doesn’t blow out, so it might also be good.”

Steve’s Sleeper Pick: “McCloud Reservoir offers fly fishermen who are willing to cast streamers a shot at some big brown trout.”

Local Guide Craig Nielsen

Choice: “The McCloud Until the Dam Spills, though the Lower Sacramento is silly good right now.”

Backups: “Fall River and Hat Creek are seeing good hatches right now, and aren’t as affected by runoff.”

“Bring your own rock; it’s always going to be crowded on opening day because not much is fishable.”

Craig’s Sleeper Choice: flows on the Klamath scheduled to go to 2600-3025 cfs on May 1; that could be amazing fly fishing. Stay tuned.

Local Guide Wayne Eng

Choice: “The Upper Sacramento River is running high, but it’s definitely fishable, and you’ll have a a shot at catching your biggest Upper Sac rainbow of the year. They’re in great shape, though watch out for the late spawners and spawning redds.”

Sleeper Choice: “Some of Upper Sacramento trout are actually coming up and eating March Brown mayflies — a midday hatch found mostly on the middle river. You have to find the right place, but you can catch trout on dries.”

I’m ducking back into my text editor now in an attempt to get some work done, but you’ll hear more from me soon.

See you on opening day, Tom Chandler.

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

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.

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?

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

Confused?

The Upper Sacramento River's wild trout could be facing a tough, tough year...

California’s Department of Fish & Game was forced to suspend stocking activities in 2008 by a 2006 lawsuit alleging stocking was damaging native species populations. F&G was supposed to have prepared an EIR long ago, but hadn’t, and the lawsuit brought the state’s stocking activities to an abrupt halt in most of the state.

While the stocking program may have halted, the original fish harvest limits remain in place.

That means no rubber trout are finding their way into the Upper Sacramento River this year, yet the five-fish limit remains in effect from Shasta Retreat to the Sweetbriar bridge.

Once the river drops to a fishable level again, I fear for the wild fish populations in the catch & kill stretch, which will bear the brunt of the fish harvest.

According to a Redding Record Searchlight story, several popular fisheries were recently added to the “OK to stock list,” and local fly fishers will recognize some of the names:

Baum Lake, Grace Lake, Lower and Middle Burney Creek, McCloud Reservoir, Middle and Upper Hat Creek, and Whiskeytown Lake in Shasta County; as well as South Fork Battle Creek and Deer creeks in Tehama County

McCumber Lake will probably be OK’d soon, and while all this is happening, Fish & Game’s been dumping huge numbers of hatchery trout in Lake Siskiyou (the lake that feeds the “Upper Sacramento River”), and catch rates have skyrocketed.

Time To Fix It

I’d love to see all but a small piece of the Upper Sacramento River managed for sustainable wild trout populations over rubber trout and stringer-filling harvest limits.

Wild fish cost us little or nothing when compared to rubber trout, and reasonable limits or catch & release fishing end the ridiculous – and expensive – put & take games that actually cost us money.

My thinking is this: If we’re going to offer up a five fish limit, then we’d better offer up the rubber fish to meet that limit – else our wild fish populations are going to take a hit.

I’d suggest it’s time for an “emergency” reduction in harvest limits on the Upper Sacramento – before the river falls and the carnage begins.

See you on the phone, Tom Chandler.

My week has been consumed by work, teaching, and a really ungratifying series of computer hassles.

And people wonder why we fly fish?

The Weather

Up here at Trout Underground/Man Cave World Headquarters, the forecast high temp is only 65 degrees – and it’s falling over the weekend.

With only a couple days above 70 degrees so far this spring – and most of our above-average snowpack still squatting on the surrounding mountains – you don’t have to be a Wall Street trading program to know what lies ahead for the Upper Sacramento.

A long, long runoff event.

Normally, It’s a Race

Usually, the season opener (in late April) becomes a race between warm weather and the calendar.

If the calendar wins, the warm water doesn’t show up until after opening weekend. (The happy fishermen frolic and rejoice in their good fortune.)

If the weather wins, we typically get highs in the 70s and 80s, jump-starting the snowmelt and high water a week or two before the opener.

(And the happy fishermen don’t rejoice until the runoff ends.)

Not This Year

This year, we still haven’t seen warm weather (and won’t for the immediate future), yet the river’s been quite high.

With many, many feet of snow in the hills, most of the alpine lakes might as well be 5,000 below the ocean’s surface.

And many of the small streams? Unreachable – some for another month.

Yet I know of one stream that may just be fishable. Plans are being made. Equipment being readied. And negotiations begun over timing.

And while the Upper Sacramento may not be in prime shape, reports suggest the McCloud, Pit and other rivers are going big guns.

So there’s still plenty of room for rejoicing.

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