Posts tagged: upper sacramento river

The River Goes Up And Down. The Fly Line Just Rolls On

February 26, 2008, by 6 comments

The Upper Sacramento’s flows are yo-yoing up and down, and we’ve entered the stage of winter where uncertainty turns fly fishing into a local’s game.

The flows ran well over 6,000 cfs after last weekend’s warm storm, and while they’re down below 3,000 cfs, we’ve still got a lot of low-altitude snow just itching to melt.

hoarfrost
Morning hoarfrost on my porch railing

When the low-level snow melts — the majority of the flows enter the river via the tributaries — you can still find decent fishing by running way upriver, or by searching out those few fishable-at-high-flows nooks even friends don’t tell each other about.

Later in the year — as the higher altitude snow starts to melt and Lake Siskiyou begins to spill over the dam — the real runoff event begins, and because that’s flowing from the top of the river, your fly fishing options are deeply reduced.

The difference between the two runoff events isn’t always clear, though I recall the big runoff event always seemed to start two days before the season opened in late April.

That may not be strictly factual, but I am willing to say it always seemed that way.

Life was hard in the old days.

The Dunsmuir Visit

I got a good look at the river while I was in Dunsmuir working on the Trout Underground’s Ancestral Home (back on the market, kids). Frankly, it looked high, but in pretty good shape.

Because I’d rather be casting a bamboo fly rod than working, I also stopped by Chris Raine’s rod shop where — with his hip issues largely behind him — he’s got a dozen bamboo fly rod blanks in the works.

One of those rods was his prototype 8.5′ hollowbuilt quad, derived from one of his best-selling tapers — his 8′ 5wt Upper Sac Special.

I wasn’t expecting much; the Upper Sac Special is a hex (a six sided rod), and his new 8.5′ is a quad, and the hex/quad and 8′-8.5′ conversions are hardly straightforward.

Still, the prototype was pretty damned close. I think the 8.5′ prototype was best as a 6wt and maybe the upper half could go a hair thinner, but most astonishing was the lack of weight in the hand.

You don’t buy hollowbuilt bamboo rods because they’re lighter (they usually are, but it’s about the casting action), but the prototype was very, very light in the hand, especially for a rod that threw a DT6 a good 65 feet without any histrionics.

The fly line just kept unrolling, and the only real barrier to this being the cosmic 8.5′ 6wt was the close-up casting. I think he’ll get it right.

No, the taper’s not quite ready for prime time, but the next one will be, and my mission at that point will be to distract Raine (“look, over there — away from this just finished rod“) and steal the thing.

It’s not foolproof, but it’s a plan. Man’s got to have a plan.

My other plan is to get the hell out of the house and do something later this week. I don’t know if it will involve trout or skis (or both), but you’ll likely hear about it here.

See you on the river, Tom Chandler.

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In Event of Emergency, Break Glass. Grab Fly Rod. Go Fishing.

February 7, 2008, by 7 comments

Fly fishing the Upper Sacramento River in winter
Fly fishing the Upper Sacramento River in winter isn’t always about the bugs.

In the middle of a gray, snowy winter, the phrase “making hay while the sun shines” acquires a patina of meaning that simply doesn’t exist on your average warm, summer day.

I don’t know if an itch to go fly fishing instead of working necessarily qualifies as an emergency, but it damned well felt like one. We haven’t exactly seen an overabundance of sunny days, so when one appears, you fail to take advantage at your own peril.

An Upper Sacramento Rainbow in late afternoon light 
Does the lack of this constitute an emergency?

So I grabbed a fly rod and skis, packed the Lowe winter day pack, and loaded the tail-wagging Wonderdog into the Bronco.

The ski trip in was all downhill, so I had ample time to focus on Wally the Wonderdog’s tendency to chase me downhill, then cut in front of me when he got ahead (think it’s that hunting dog instinct).

shadowportrait
A portrait of the writer as a shadow.

Still, I arrived sans face plant, got unpacked, put on waders, rigged the 8.5′ 4wt Diamondglass rod, and watched.

And watched.

No risers, though there were midges on the water. If prior winters are any indication, we’re past the point where you can count on an olive hatch, though you shouldn’t necessarily count them out either.

 A Diamondglass fly rod
This is one cool midge rod. Sadly, it isn’t being made any more.

For once, I was prepared. The 8.5′ 4wt Diamondglass rod is ideal for this kind of technical winter fishing, and I tied on what’s been a killer midge for me — a glass bead variant of the Yong Special.

It’s a nothing fly — basically black sewing thread wrapped on a hook to give the body a taper. I add a pearl glass bead to imitate a detached blackly larvae (found in huge numbers way downriver), but figure the glass bead won’t hurt even in the absence of blackflies.

I tied it behind a BWO parachute, and fished one short stretch of river for about 90 minutes.

The result was a pair of hookups; the fish in the picture above simply came unbuttoned, but the 16" rainbow below — photographed after the light was gone from the canyon — made it all the way to hand.

coldrainbowtrout
Curse the poor quality light; it’s another rose-colored Upper Sac Rainbow

After releasing the fish, I kinda wish he’d come unbuttoned too; my hands stung like I’d been playing catch using a porcupine as the ball.

In fact — once the sun disappeared behind the canyon walls, everything got kinda cold, and with my sun-and-trout-related emergency deftly averted, I packed up my gear and started the slog out.

The long, uphill slog.

Which I would do again in an instant, though today I actually do have to work.

Every winter, there comes a time when I’d basically kill to see just one Green Drake get eaten by a trout, but that kind of electric moment is months away.

Instead, there’s a spare elegance to fishing in the winter, provided you meet the cold, the snow and the tiny flies on their terms instead of yours.

See you on skis, Tom Chandler.

thetracksback
Halfway up the hill.

Well Known Dunsmuir Trout Poacher Busted, Convicted, and Blown Out of Town

February 3, 2008, by 12 comments

If you’ve spent any time at all in Dunsmuir, you might have met Larry Baker — local real estate blowhard and bad cafe owner.

image It was no secret that Baker was a trout poacher of impressive proportions, but it wasn’t until game warden Joe Powell arrived that Baker got caught (and caught bigtime).

Before Baker pleaded guilty to the numerous poaching charges against him, I spoke to Powell, who said he and his fellow wardens had been “living in Baker’s back pocket” without Baker knowing it.

It wasn’t an idle boast: Powell’s apparently half ghost. Several of us have experienced the same phenomenon along the river; one minute we’re apparently fishing alone, and the next, Powell’s standing right next to us, checking our hooks for barbs.

It’s as if he erupts from the earth itself. He’s the Ghost Warden.

You can read the whole sordid “gotcha” story in Tom Stienstra’s column (hint: it includes river-side surveillance, high-tech equipment, and sting operation I wish we had on tape), but here’s the happy, fairy tale resolution (if you’re a trout):

The case ended in January when Baker pleaded guilty to five counts of violation of the Fish and Game Code, including unlawful take, unlawful sale of trout, illegal fish in an eating establishment and littering, according to the DFG.

Baker was ordered to pay $5,323, sentenced to 30 days in jail, placed on three years of probation, and banned from fishing in California or accompanying anybody fishing for three years.

In addition, Powell said, Baker sold his restaurant and is moving out of state.

There’s a moral to this story, Powell said: “You never know who’s watching.”

Baker got off lightly considering how many years he’d been poaching, but then, the town isn’t plagued by him any more, so I’ll take it. (How do you know Larry Baker’s lying? You check to see if his lips are moving.)

My favorite detail in this whole sordid mess? The wardens taped Baker throwing an empty salmon egg jar into the river, then tacked an in-your-face “littering” charge onto the end of the rather impressive list of poaching charges.

That, my friends, is Pure Warden Style.

Thanks Joe! And good-bye Lying Larry. We won’t miss you, even for a second.

Old Season Ends, New Fly Fishing Season Begins on the Upper Sacramento

November 19, 2007, by 15 comments

In years past, the general trout season ended on November 15, and for a lot of us fly fishermen, the end of year party was more like a wake. Now with fly fishing allowed year-round on the Upper Sacramento, the Trout Underground takes stock.

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